What can I say? They’re sure to find out about the key and then I’m fucked.
“Yes …”
But she’ll find out in the end that it’s a lie.
“No … not exactly… I’m looking for him … hasn’t he come back from Jerusalem yet?”
“No … why?”
“I wanted to tell him something.”
“Tell me.”
She smiles such a sweet smile.
What can I say to her? Lying there in those flowery pyjamas. What can I say to her? I love you. I’ve always loved you …
“The old woman’s dying … and I came here to say I’m resigning …”
“Resigning from what?”
“I’m resigning from the job … I’ve got no strength left …”
“Strength for what?” She smiles with disdain.
All these cursed questions –
“Strength to look after her. She’s really dying.”
“I thought she was looking after you … that’s what Daddy said …”
“What’s that? It isn’t true …”
That really annoys me. And suddenly I feel all weak. My breath stops short. Her feet are peeping out from under the blanket, she sits up a bit … her blouse is open … no bra … I see something soft and white, her feet disappear again … I start to shake inside … I shall kill her …
How serious he is, this boy, you could die. Blushing all the time. Anyway he’s changed an awful lot. That thick mane of curly hair and those clothes. Who bought them for him? Glaring at me so fiercely you’d think he wanted to kill me. Staring at me, studying me, those hot Arab eyes, something a bit foggy about them. I just hope he doesn’t run away suddenly.
“The old woman’s dying … and I came here to say I’m resigning …”
What a crisis. The Prime Minister’s resigning.
“Resigning from what?”
“I’m resigning from the job … I’ve no strength left …”
Strength for what? You’d think he’d been working hard lately. He’s funny, and so serious and grim. I wish he’d give me just a little smile.
“Strength for what?” I smile at him.
It’s obvious these questions are annoying him, but what can I do, otherwise he’ll run away from here.
“Strength to look after her.”
The swine! He’s looking after her? And Daddy said she was looking after him, she was in love with him.
“I thought she was looking after you.”
Now he really gets mad. I’ve offended him.
“What’s that? It isn’t true …”
I sit up in bed. His eyes are blazing. That voice of his, a bit hoarse, that cute accent. He’ll catch fire in a moment. The poor schmuck is in love with me, I know. But he’s worried about his pride, their famous pride. I must hold him, get his rocks off before he goes.
“Why don’t you sit down for a bit, if you’ve got time. You can resign later.”
A smile at last. He looks around for somewhere to sit, but the only chair’s covered in clothes. He comes to the bed and sits on the edge. Something warm and solid in the distance.
Silence. I watch him all the time. He sits there, his head bowed, trying to think of something to say.
“School finished already?” he asks suddenly.
“For me.”
She doesn’t understand anything. She never will understand. What’s hurting me. How lonely I am. With her mother and father in this lovely house. Lying there in bed with no worries. What does she know about anything? And suddenly she smiles at me, a long, nice sort of smile. I love her more and more. Maybe there’s hope after all.
“Why don’t you sit down for a bit, if you’ve got time. You can resign later.”
So sweet –
I look for a place to sit. The chair beside the table is covered in clothes, a blouse, a little bra, underwear, things I don’t know anything about. In the end I decide to sit on the bed, I sit on the edge, feeling her legs move, something warm and soft. I stare at the floor, at her slippers that I wore once, they’ve got a bit tattered since then. She’s looking at me all the time and smiling. What does she want? She’d better stop smiling like that or I’ll kiss her so hard she’ll be sorry. What’s she doing? Her legs move underneath me. It’s quiet. So quiet.
“School finished already?” I ask her, to keep the conversation going.
“For me,” she says, still smiling. “They expelled me!”
“What? They expelled you?”
“You heard me. I insulted one of the teachers and the headmaster expelled me.”
“How did you insult him?”
And she tells me what happened. Very strange. She’s really a bit unbalanced. I’ve noticed it before.
“Why didn’t you say you were sorry?”
“I was crazy.”
The warmth that she gives off. Her flushed face. This smooth skin. Tits, yes, real tits, little ones, peeping out through her sleeve. I must be strong, not give up. The time has come, the main thing is not to lose the conversation. Suppose I just take her and kiss her. What could happen? Anyway I’ve already resigned.
“They expelled me,” I say and he’s astonished, doesn’t believe it.
“What? They expelled you?”
“You heard me. I insulted one of the teachers and the headmaster expelled me.”
And I tell him about it, the whole story from beginning to end, and he listens with such concern, as if I were his daughter, trying to understand and not understanding. But suddenly I myself don’t understand why I was so obstinate. The whole business seems pointless when I describe it now.
“Why didn’t you say you were sorry?”
“I was crazy.”
And really, why not? A simple apology. That would’ve been that.
And he’s very close to me, he’s got a smell like straw. Smooth swarthy skin. All it needs is a bit of strength. Mustn’t give up now. Suppose I take him and kiss him. What could happen? He’s already resigned, hasn’t he? The main thing is not to lose the conversation. A wave of heat within, this is desire. Let him take me, embrace me, let him be strong. Suddenly I need to piss. Need it badly. “Just a moment,” I say and jump up all at once, the blanket flies off, I run to the bathroom half naked, close the door and sit down, burning inside and pissing noisily, like a cow. What a relief. What’s going to happen? Just so he doesn’t escape. I wash my face, brush my teeth and quietly, barefooted, I go back to him, finding him in the same place, sitting on the bed, thinking hard, only his head’s drooping, lying in the hollow that I left in the crumpled sheet. He doesn’t notice me coming in. He jumps up at once, blushing bright red.
“I must go.”
“Why? Wait for Daddy…”
“But he isn’t coming …”
“He’ll come … eat here, I cooked you a meal once before, was it so bad?”
I’m pleading with him.
He agrees. I put on a dressing gown and go to the kitchen, he goes into the bathroom.
I’m just about to touch her but she gets excited, jumps out of bed, scared, the blanket flies off, she runs out of the room, locks herself in the bathroom. That’s it, Arab. Go, go. Son of man go flee. Never. Say goodbye because in a moment she’ll scream. I’m desperate, I want to stand up but I can’t. The warmth of the bed that she’s left behind. This warmth at least. Here on the sheet there’s a little book – Peer Gynt. I don’t know it. I’m fed up with these poems. I put it back. I can’t get up. Looking at the hollow that she’s left in the bed, in the crumpled sheet. Putting my hand there, wanting to kiss it. My prick’s burning, hard as stone, in a moment I’ll be all wet. Just get off and get out of here, that at least. I lay my head down. Must get out of here, before I make a fool of myself. But I’ve made a fool of myself already. Here she is, coming in quietly. She’s combed her hair, she looks new and fresh, her face washed. I jump up, to flee.
“I must go.”
“Why? Wait for Daddy…”
“
But he isn’t coming.”
“He’ll come … have something to eat, I cooked you a meal once before, was it that bad?”
She’s desperate but she’s hoping too. She’s really pleading. “O.K.,” I agree, proudly, like I’m doing her a favour. She puts on a dressing gown and goes to the kitchen and I take Peer Gynt and go to the bathroom, a long slow piss, wetting my prick with a bit of water and giving it air and waiting for it to get back to its normal size. Meanwhile I read a bit of Peer Gynt but I don’t understand a thing. I’ve gone really dumb. Looking at the dark face in the mirror, washing my face, pressing toothpaste on my finger and brushing my teeth a bit, combing my hair, putting on a bit of scent. And thinking suddenly, maybe she’s a bit in love with me, why not?
A decadent meal. We ate in the dining room, on a white cloth and with the best china. I lit a candle in the middle of the table like I’ve seen them do in movies. And I cooked farmhouse pea soup and made a big tomato and cucumber salad, well seasoned. And I made a sauce too. And I fried four meat cutlets that were already half prepared, and I opened a tin of pineapple and put ice cream on the pineapple and pieces of chocolate on the ice cream. And then he helped me make the coffee and I brought in some nice biscuits. And he ate the lot and really liked it. And he asked me about Peer Gynt and I told him the plot, as far as we’d got in class.
And she gave me pea soup and salad and sauce and cutlets and fried potatoes and pineapple with ice cream and bits of chocolate. And I helped her to make the coffee and there were some really nice cookies. And it was all very tasty. We sat in the dining room at a table laid out like in movies, with a candle burning in the middle of the day because it was a bit dark with the shutters still closed. And I asked her about the play she was reading and she told me all about it. It was marvellous listening to her and eating the food that she’d cooked. I know I’ll never forget her to the day I die. And then there was a ring at the door and I thought – this is the end, but it wasn’t the end.
And suddenly at the end of the meal there’s a ring at the door. I go to open it and nearly drop dead. Shwartzy, large as life, still with the white bandage on his head, a bit dirty now. Smiling pleasantly, the fox, he wants to push his way inside but I hold the door, so he won’t see Na’im and the table.
“Dafi, are you sick?”
Him as well. If so many people think I’m sick maybe I really am sick.
“No … what’s up?”
“Is your mother at home?”
“No.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s gone to Jerusalem.”
“To Jerusalem? What’s happened?”
“I don’t know. She went early in the morning. Daddy’s there.”
“Oh, I see. They told me at the garage that he was away yesterday and today too. Has something happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“I was just worried. Your mother didn’t come to school today and she didn’t send any message, this has never happened with her before. We tried to phone here and there was no answer. When did you come back?”
“I didn’t come back … I’ve been here all the time … I just left the phone off the hook.”
“Oh …” He smiles at me playfully. “Why? If I may ask …”
You may, you may –
“I just did …”
I’m out of your jurisdiction, mister, out of your power. You insisted on expelling me before the end of the school year. Now you shall pay.
But he’s still trying to get inside, pressing forwards all the time.
“I hope nothing has happened … I was really worried … didn’t she tell you to give me a message?”
“I think there was something, I remember now, it was so early in the morning …”
“What did she say?”
“That she wouldn’t be in school today.”
“Then why didn’t you phone?”
“I forgot.”
Straight to his face.
“You forgot?”
“Yes.”
Out of your jurisdiction, mister, you’re not my headmaster any longer, you can’t do anything more to me.
He doesn’t go. Astonished, red with anger. He waves his cane in the air and puts it down again.
“There’s something wrong with you … something really wrong …”
“I know.” I look at him straight in the eyes.
Silence. Why doesn’t he go? Na’im is in there listening quietly, suddenly he moves a chair.
“But there is somebody in the house.” All at once he comes to life, pushing me out of the way and storming into the house, he bursts into the dining room, sees the table with the remains of the meal, and Na’im standing there all tensed up in the corner.
“Who are you?”
‘I’m Na’im,” he replies like an idiot, as if this is his headmaster.
And Shwartzy catches hold of him, grabs his arm, the same way that he catches hold of children during break, all excited.
“I know you from somewhere … where have we met?”
“That night. When your car got smashed up. I came to tow you in …”
“Ah, you’re his assistant?”
“Yes.”
“So what are you doing here?”
“Waiting for him.”
Shwartzy seems satisfied, walking about the room, examining the table and the cutlery, behaving as if he’s in school. I could shoot the man. Tears spring to my eyes.
“Tell your mother to contact me.”
I don’t answer.
“All right?”
I don’t answer.
“I’ll tell her,” Na’im chips in.
Shwartzy smiles to himself. And I nearly faint.
And she goes to open the door and I hear a familiar voice. It takes me a while to remember who it is, that old man, we towed his car in the night before last, he’s talking to Dafi at the door. And Dafi answers him rudely, again I’m impressed, she really has nerve. He asks her about her mother and father and she answers him with a lot of nerve. And the man gets really up-tight, starts talking sort of poisonously, in that soft voice of his. In the end he forces his way into the house, she’s got him really worked up. Walking about with a cane, he sees me and grabs me. I’m terrified, I don’t know why this old man with the white bandage on his head should scare me.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Na’im,” I say right away.
He catches hold of me roughly.
“I know you from somewhere … where have we met?”
He doesn’t recognize me.
“That night, when your car got smashed up. I came to tow you in.”
“Ah, you’re his assistant?”
“Yes.”
“So what are you doing here?”
“Waiting for him.”
And then he walks around the room a bit, like it’s his house, taking a look at the plates on the table, smiling to himself a bit. Then he says to Dafi, “Tell your mother to contact me.”
But she doesn’t answer.
“All right?”
She still doesn’t answer. Answer for God’s sake. Why is she provoking him like this? But she doesn’t answer, and he isn’t going to budge.
“I’ll tell her,” I say, just to get rid of him.
And he went. Leaving the door wide open. I went to close it. Dafi didn’t move, standing there staring at the wall. I went to her, touched her.
“But who was that?”
And she didn’t answer, just stared at the wall, pale. He made a good job of scaring us. And suddenly she turned to me, I think she grabbed me and then I grabbed her, embraced her I mean, and then we kissed, I don’t know who was first, I think it was both of us together, at first we fumbled a bit, but then we kissed full on the mouth, with the tongue, like in movies, only in movies there’s no taste, and I tasted the coffee and the cake on her lips, and a deeper smell, and it was a long kiss and suddenly I saw that I couldn’t stand it any longer, I’d die if I stayed in
that kiss, and I fell on my knees and started kissing her feet, for so long I’d been wanting to do that, but she lifted me up and pulled me into the bedroom, and she was almost naked, and then she tore off my shirt and said, “Come and be my lover.”
And then Na’im came to me, miserable and broken and said, “Who was that?”
And I didn’t answer. I felt so sorry for him. The way that bastard interrogated him, and the way he co-operated, so humbly, so wretchedly. And I grabbed him because I was afraid he’d leave me and he hugged me and suddenly we were kissing, I don’t know how it happened, who was the first, I think it was both of us together. And a deep sort of kiss, like in movies, and the taste of pineapple and chocolate on his lips, sucking at my tongue. And suddenly he let go of me and fell down on his knees and started kissing my feet, like a madman. And I saw he was afraid to stand up and he wanted to stay there on his knees, so I lifted him up and he pulled me into the bedroom and opened my dressing gown and pyjama top and then I tore off his shirt so he wouldn’t still be in his clothes when I was almost naked.
It’s wonderful. Already, so quick. But is this all? I’m really doing it, God, this, this is it, this is the real thing. These little tits, like hard apples. A little girl. And that cry. What am I doing? Inside, really inside. Inside her. Just like I thought it would be but different too. Her eyes are closed. Why doesn’t she say something? This is happiness this is the highest happiness there’s nothing greater than this there couldn’t be … and then I start sighing terribly…
I said, “Come and be my lover,” because I didn’t want him to hurt me. But he did hurt me. There was no stopping him. Enough, stop now, it’s so sweet, oh God. There’s no stopping him. This is it. I’m sure I’m the first of all the girls. If only Osnat and Tali knew. That it’s good, it’s like a dream. Na’im inside me, awesome, this smooth movement. All terribly serious. And suddenly he starts to sigh, like an old man, like somebody else inside him. Sighing in Arabic … from pleasure or pain there’s no way of telling.
“What are you thinking about?”
“I’m just not thinking.”
The Lover Page 42
