The World of the End

by Ofir Touché Gafla

  Even now, a year, three months, and nine days since that bedeviled day, we are unable to comprehend the enormity of our loss. Even now, first thing each morning and last thing each night, we think about Marian. We’ve already spoken volumes with you about her and we’ve defined her absence in every imaginable way. Of course you’ve already heard all about the trial, which was no more than an insignificant reprieve to our lives, because when suing the amusement park we were disgusted by those who insinuated that greed stood behind our claims (all the money in the world won’t change the fact that we’ve been impoverished for good by her absence), and we turned to the justice system to let out a fraction of our pent-up anger, to blame someone, to claim a modicum of revenge. They brought their experts and we brought ours. They called her death a “regrettable accident,” we called them “negligent murderers.” Tempers flared, and when they hinted that she had not died of natural causes, we responded that it was an unnatural death because, since Icarus, it had been pretty well proven that people were incapable of flight. We so wanted them to suffer, but we didn’t know who: the Ferris wheel designer, the builder, the manager of the park—someone. Thus, the trial breathed a combative spirit into us, and each time we entered the courtroom we faked life. Each time we left, we verified our own death.

  From the moment she died, Ben was unapproachable. He wouldn’t even consider our offer to come stay with us for a while until we all regained some semblance of ourselves. He showed no interest in the trial and even managed to totally forget the matter of the adoption, which had become so inconsequential in the interim. And we won’t lie to you, we were mad at him. Maybe because his mourning was so absolute, maybe because he truly had ceased living ever since he holed up in his house, and maybe because in death we became ten times more possessive of our daughter than in life. We were even angrier when he threw the birthday party (only in hindsight did we understand why we were not invited—he apologized in his will and said he wanted to spare us the gruesome sight) and surprised everyone in his own inimitable way. In her death, his wife had taken the lion’s share of his soul, and in his death Ben took one of the last chunks of ours, because he was the person closest to her in the world.

  As a skilled righter, even he understood that some stories only have one specific ending. He didn’t try to avoid it, as we did, although maybe he did (we heard that he became addicted to working out, and we thought it was a joke), but in the end he made the most important fact of all clear: life need not be clung to at all costs. Once we realized there was no point in going on, everything became so simple. Call us morbid, but as soon as we decided to put an end to our lives the color returned to our cheeks and we waited for the verdict in the trial just in order to tie up all the loose ends of our plan. When we won, we thanked our lawyer and returned home quickly in order to write this letter. It’s funny, at this very moment we’re listening to the excited tone of your voices on our answering machine and we’re more certain than ever that we’re doing the right thing. Tali tells us she has some good news to share with us. Don’t be upset with us if we don’t return your call. At this moment we’re engaged in the last details of our suicide plan and on this day, our last, we reserve the right to total selfishness.

  And in that same vein, we’d like to impose upon you, dear friends, to fulfill the last wishes of an old couple who are determined to leave this strange world in the hands of slightly more optimistic generations. If by chance our request reeks of undue gall, feel free to refuse outright. However, if you find a touch of logic in our last wish, then consider it, see if you have the mental wherewithal to carry it out, and remember that we respect your decision even if we have no way of knowing it. At any rate, we’re leaving all we have, and you’ll be happy to know it rounds out to a neat four million shekels, to your dear children. No, that’s not a mistake. We used the plural even though we know you only have one child. We’d be delighted if you could make him a sister or a brother. Surely you’ve considered it and have put it off for another day. We’re the last people to push you and we surely wouldn’t want you to interpret the inheritance as a procreation incentive or alternately a bribe. This money is to ensure your offspring’s future. Half for Tom and half for the other one. After all, you were always like family and we always said Tom was the grandchild we never had. All we ask is for another grandchild. And the idea of leaving half our money to someone who does not yet exist very much appeals to us.

  It’s important that you know that we sold the house a month ago and that the tenants are moving in in two weeks. We urge you to use the special room in our house before it becomes nothing more than a memory.

  And one more thing, friends. If and when you decide to see our request through, do not give the children either of our names. No Miriam and no Yossef. We’d prefer one of two other names.…

  Tali, Kobi, time goads us on. For a long while now we have felt like the people of the day before yesterday, the ones for whom the only tomorrow is yesterday, and when you read this letter you’ll see that we’ve already slipped into the past. Not much is left to say. We’ve parted from Ben and Marian at the cemetery and at present we’re facing a curious dilemma. Miriam says poison, I say gas. I’m sure we’ll argue for hours. And we haven’t even chosen the music.

  Loved ones, we leave this world not with sorrow but with great relief. If in the last third of this letter we seemed gripped by a certain confusion and our thoughts began to drift, it must be our great yearning to finish all our worldly affairs and put an end to the fathomless farce we called “life.” Send our eternal love to Tom and to the other kid and teach them Shakespeare in your spare time. That’s what Marian would’ve done.

  Yours, in death as in life,

  Yossef and Miriam Corbin

  Tali placed a trembling hand on her stomach and wept.

  Kobi hugged her and whispered lovingly, “I know, sweetheart … nothing would’ve made them happier.”

  20

  Trailing Adam and Eve

  Ben couldn’t figure out what had happened to his grandma and grandpa. He’d been waiting outside their door for six hours, eager to see the octogenarian duo and to quiz them about Marian. Although the wait was dragging on, he was thankful that at least one pillar of his belief seemed to still be intact. The sign on their door read: ROSANNA AND MOSES MENDELSSOHN LIVE HERE IN MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING.

  Rosanna refrained from melodrama when she received word that her love of the past sixty-five years had been run down crossing the street. She asked to see the body, and then gave her husband’s corpse a piece of her mind for his obliviousness to the charging bus and, even more so, for not adhering to their agreed-upon schedule. “Now, instead of spending the weekend in Tenerife like two decadent old fogies, I’ll have to make drastic changes.”

  Rosanna had planned her final day sans Moses with startling aplomb. While concerned family members scoured the city for any sign of a runaway old lady, she holed up in a hotel room, a short walk from the cemetery where she had long ago reserved a double plot for herself and Moses and pulled a note from her pocket. She had carried it with her ever since she bought the burial plot. A twisted smile on her face, she dialed the number she’d scribbled on the yellowing note. The man on the other end of the line answered lethargically, and she asked him to please deliver the apparatus to her hotel room. The treadmill arrived at her door at six in the evening. At seven her heart stopped beating.

  * * *

  Ben recalled the sober look on his wife’s face when she saw the pair of old people in the double coffin and the way his grandmother, born one day after her husband, died exactly one day after he left this world, calculating their life spans with scientific precision. He remembered how his Uncle David showed up at the funeral with three Adonises in tow and how he’d made an outrageous scene by voicing his displeasure at the way his mother had chosen to leave the world.

  On the way home from the cemetery, Marian said to Ben that she envied Rosanna’s and Moses’s love for one an
other. Ben smiled. “Don’t worry, honey, if, God forbid, anything ever happened to you, I promise not to waste any time.…”

  “Don’t ever say that!” she said, smacking him on the back of the neck, “and don’t you dare ask me what I would do in her place. Not all of us are Grandma Rosie.”

  That’s for sure, Ben thought, asking himself for the thousandth time why he waited so long before gathering the courage to follow in his grandmother’s footsteps.

  “Wimp!” he muttered, tucking his head between his legs, listening to the word echo through his ears. Only the feel of a small, chilly, weathered hand on his shoulder stirred him from his guilt ceremony. “Excuse me, sir?”

  He looked up and saw the smiling freckled face of an old bespectacled woman who pointed to the door behind him. “I don’t mean to disturb you … I just couldn’t help but notice you sitting here and I was wondering whether you’re looking for Rosanna?”

  “Yes,” Ben said, rising to his feet and shaking her hand. “Ben Mendelssohn.”

  “Rosanna Parker,” she said proudly. “It’s funny, no? Both of us are Rosannas … although I’m known as Nosey Parker.”

  “You mean Rosey Parker,” he suggested.

  “No, young man, I mean exactly what I said. Nosey Parker. As in busybody.”

  “I’m sure that’s just nastiness on the part of…,” he said politely, surprised by the gentle slap on the wrist and the scratchy sound of her voice.

  “Not at all. If I wasn’t into other people’s business, I’d die of boredom … I mean, between us, if the grass is always greener on the other side then I’m sure the fertilizer is smellier, too.”

  Ben cleared his throat thoroughly and pointed at the door. “Rosanna.”

  “Yeah, son, don’t bother waiting. She won’t be back for some time.”

  “She?” he asked, his voice rising, “What do you mean she? They’re not together?”

  “With Moses? Of course they’re together. Those two are like Siamese twins. They do everything together. Word is she died a day after him while doing her physiotherapy exercises. Chilling, but romantic.”

  “Excuse me, Ms. Parker,” Ben said, trying to cover his dwindling patience with a smile, “you mentioned that she … that they would be gone for a while. Do you have an idea where they might be?”

  “Does Nosey Parker have an idea where her own neighbors might be?” she said, setting her hands on her hips and exhaling theatrically. “They set out to find Adam and Eve.”

  She let perplexity settle in his face and then explained. “Rosanna and Moses are off on a roots trip. They were of the opinion that this world offers a unique opportunity to meet your forebears, so they decided to take a trip through the branches of Moses’s family tree. Between us, Ben, if those snobby aliases didn’t prohibit us from entering the forests, the two of them would be having a much easier time of it.”

  “I still don’t see what this has to do with Adam and Eve.”

  A diabolical glint flashed through her smile. “Before heading off on their trip, Rosanna told me she wanted to get to the beginning, and that she wasn’t near ready to believe that there was a single pair of people at the root of all humanity. Moses said that if they were feeling lazy they’d just take the multi heading farthest into the past, but he knew that plan wasn’t feasible. I’ve never met anyone who’s wandered that far back, mostly because no one knows where the beginning is.”

  “So there’s no chance of seeing them in the near future,” Ben said, pouting.

  “I’d be happy to give them a message from you, if you’d like,” Rosie said.

  “Do you have their thumbprints on your telefinger?” Ben asked.

  “What do you think? Rosanna’s a friend of mine. And anyway, who knows what kind of juicy stuff she might come across on her travels. Even fourteenth-century gossip could be interesting, so long as it’s controversial and carries at least a whiff of active loins.…”

  Ben cut her short. “Sorry. I’m in a rush. I’d really appreciate it if you could call my grandparents and ask them if they’ve seen Marian.”

  “Marian?” she said, eyes alight. “Who’s she?”

  “My wife. She died fifteen months ago and I’m looking for her.”

  She nodded her understanding. “One of those stories, huh? Okay, let’s see here.” She fussed with the godget and waited. A few seconds later her face cleared and she called out in a bright tone, “Rosanna, how are you? So, how’s the journey going? Really? I’m so glad to hear that. Where are you n … 1750? Wow, you’ve really put some miles on. So, do you have a little something for Nosey Parker? Something good? Sure, sure, I don’t want to hold you up. You’ll just never guess who’s standing here by my side. Heaven forbid, not my husband, may he live forever. No. Your grandson. Yeah, I know how annoying they are with their crazy inventions, instead of a telephone, they have this business with the thumbprint. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll talk soon. Yeah, he sends you his love. He looks great, too. Of course, I know he’s married. Actually, that’s the thing. Seems your grandson has lost his wife … fifteen months ago. Relax, Rosie, not everyone’s as crazy as you are. Okay, absolute love. Maybe quit waving that flag for just a second. All he wants to know is if you or your husband have seen Marian … I see … okay, okay honey. Good luck with the others and regards to Moses.”

  Ben didn’t need any further explanations. Head down, he exchanged prints with the gossipmonger, who promised to relay any bit of information from his grandparents regarding Marian, and then left the building.

  * * *

  Two hours later he met his mom in a café in December 1999. She handed him a list of all the other family members and their places of residence. He asked whether it wouldn’t just be simpler to call them on the telefinger, saving him the trouble of going all around and meeting them face-to-face.

  “Benji, sweetheart,” she said, “ever since we were touched with the death virus our family’s been disintegrating. Everyone’s stuck in their own corner of death, and the fact that we’re here forever doesn’t make matters any better. You know how many times I’ve seen your uncles since I’ve been here? Twice, Benji, no more. I’m not complaining, but sometimes I wonder when I’ll see any of them again.…”

  “But Mom, you said you see them now and again, the way you used to do in the previous world,” Ben said.

  Deborah nodded. “Yes, of course, like in the previous world, just without the holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, funerals, and memorials.” After a moment she added, “That doesn’t leave much.”

  Ben glanced at the brief list. “You’re right. It doesn’t.” After a short pause, he added, “Still…”

  “Oh, alright,” his mother sighed. “I’ll save you one journey, because I can understand the urgency. And because I’ve already spoken with him.”

  “Who?”

  “Your uncle.”

  “David?”

  “No. Gad.”

  A fleeting smile crossed Ben’s lips. Uncle Gad. The recluse who preferred animals to humans, and spent the better part of his life with them, saving them from extinction and being one with nature, in his words. Unfortunately, four years ago, after spending the last three years of his life in a wildlife reserve in Africa, he was killed by a leopard, a terrible death albeit not inconceivable under the circumstances.

  “What is he up to?”

  “You know, same stuff. Works at the Zoombie.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Zoombie. The biggest habitat in the Other World. Enjoying himself to no end. I’m saving you the trouble of going there since it is very far away, and I wouldn’t want you to waste precious time when I know that he hasn’t seen Marian.”

  “He hasn’t?”

  “Sorry, dear. But promise me you’ll go and see your other uncle. I know he’ll be ecstatic when he sees you, that’s why I haven’t said a single word to him. Besides, you two have always been quite close back in the old world.”

  “I promise.”

&nbs
p; A brief silence ensued. Looking up, his mother saw a cloud pass over his face. “What is it, Benji?”

  “Nothing. Just another anniversary without my wife.”

  “It’s … today?” She put a hand out to her son.

  “It ought to be,” he said bitterly, rejecting her hand. “I took my life on her birthday. Thought it would be a nice surprise. That didn’t happen. But I took comfort in the fact that I’d find her a few days later, by our anniversary. Mom, she doesn’t even know I’m here. I’ve been trying to think like her, and if I’m Marian, I’m a woman who died suddenly and left a broken husband behind. I still love him but I know he’s no Grandma Rosie. And I also know he’s still young. He has a lot more living to do. I’ll always be the great love, will always outshine any other woman, but with time I’ll go from being a fresh wound to an eternal scar. By the time he makes it to this world, I’ll already be a closed door in the halls of his life and who knows, maybe one day, in forty, fifty, a hundred years, we’ll bump into each other on the street, smile diffidently, and then carry on. Maybe we’ll exchange a few words, but what’s clear is that time has staged its own revolution. Turned our love into an interesting anecdote in the ancient history of our existence. Mom, I don’t want our love to turn into an anecdote.…”

  “Ben, honey, there is no chance of that happening. After all … you … are … still … already … under no circumstances … pity … she … love … understood?”