Shoot Me, I'm Already Dead

by Julia Navarro

  “Why are you doing this to me? Why?”

  “Mikhail, darling, I’ve told you, nothing is going to change. Monsieur Beauvoir knows how important you are to me, and he is willing to treat you as his own son. There is more than enough room in his house for you to be comfortable, you know his parents, they are friendly and discreet and will not interfere in anything. But if you don’t want to live with us, Samuel has no objection to your continuing to live here. We will be together still, there will only be a partition wall between us, and I will carry on looking after you. But the best thing would be for you to come to our house.”

  “Shut up!” Mikhail shouted, his face distorted with tears.

  Irina tried to hug him but he wouldn’t allow it. She was the only mother he had ever known, his only link to his memories of his father, of his native Russia. He had not forgotten. Sometimes he was awoken by nightmares. He dreamed that he was trying to catch up with his father, but he was walking and never reached him, and then he felt a cold that chilled him to the bone. When he was little and woke up screaming, Irina immediately came and wrapped him in her arms. And so did Marie. The two women took turns and were always there to soothe his cries.

  “Mikhail, you are the person I love most in the whole world, and I need you to understand that I am going to get married,” she said, swayed by the boy’s tears.

  “You say that you’re getting married to be more secure, and to never have to worry anymore. Suddenly, you care about respectability, about what others might think of you. I don’t believe it!”

  “You have to believe me. I am old enough for it to be better not to be alone, to have a shoulder to lean on . . .”

  “And you don’t trust me? You think I would betray you? You say that I am like your son, so what kind of son must I be if you need to go find security somewhere else?”

  “You have to live, it wouldn’t be fair for you to have to look after me. You are becoming a very talented musician, with a great career ahead of you. No, you mustn’t think about me, even less must you worry about me. One day you too will get married . . . We have walked a long path together, Mikhail, but you are old enough now to strike out on your own, without anything to tie you down, without responsibilities.”

  “All right, then I’ll go . . . Yes, I won’t stay here . . .”

  “But what are you saying?” Irina protested, scared by the boy’s emotional state.

  “No, I’m not going to live off Samuel’s charity, much less Monsieur Beauvoir’s. You said it yourself, I have my music, I can make a living.”

  “That’s not necessary, and we don’t need to separate . . .”

  “You decided that, Irina.” And with that he got up and left the room.

  That night they ate dinner in silence. Each one of them was sunk in their own thoughts. At the end of the meal, Samuel told them what his immediate plans were.

  “I told them at the laboratory this afternoon that I’m going on a long voyage and that I don’t know when I’ll be coming back. They have asked me to give them some time to find a substitute. I don’t think it will take them very long. Meanwhile, I will put my business here in order. Tomorrow I will go to the notary to sort out the question of the rent for the florist’s shop.”

  “And me? What about me? Do you care what’s going to become of me?” Mikhail spoke reproachfully.

  “What will become of you is whatever you want to become of you. You know you can rely on me as much as you can rely on Irina, and that both of us are ready to do our best for you.”

  “Really? I don’t quite see it like that . . . Irina has decided to get married because it’s what’s best for her, and you are going back to Palestine. Tell me, which of the two of you thought about me?”

  “What do you want to do, Mikhail?” Samuel asked seriously.

  “He wants to go, but it’s a crazy plan . . . He wants to work . . . and there’s no need . . . ,” Irina said.

  “To go? Why? You still have to finish your studies, you’re a good musician but you could be even better. You don’t have any need to work.”

  “I already work, don’t I? You remember I’ve appeared in a number of concerts and the critics have always been more than favorably disposed toward me.”

  “Yes, a child prodigy, an adolescent prodigy, a young prodigy, all you need is to become a musical prodigy,” Samuel replied.

  Irina excused herself and went to her room. Mikhail’s attitude was affecting her so strongly that she was starting to doubt she had the right to make him suffer so.

  Samuel and Mikhail were left alone and remained silent for a few minutes. Then Samuel got up and as he was about to leave the dining room he heard Mikhail speaking in a very low voice:

  “May I come with you to Palestine?”

  Samuel looked directly at him and replied without thinking:

  “Yes, why not?”

  And there they were, on the deck of the ship, watching the docking maneuvers. Mikhail anxious to leave the ship and discover the land he knew about from the Bible; Samuel asking himself if he would be capable of rejoining the simple life of Hope Orchard once again.

  They disembarked around midday, when the sun had heated the air and what little breeze there had been had died away.

  They walked among the crowds of people and for a moment Samuel was confused, such was the change that had taken place. He found an Arab peasant who agreed to take them to Tel Aviv in his cart, into the new city that had sprung up by Jaffa and was inhabited by Jewish immigrants.

  “We’ll stay for one night, I’m interested to see what it’s like.”

  They found accommodation in a modest hotel that looked onto the sea, and then, without giving in to their tiredness, they walked down to look at the city. They went everywhere, with no fixed plans, and looked at everything with curiosity. Samuel was moved to see rows of houses, simple and small with well-cultivated, if miniscule, gardens.

  “Look, look . . . ,” he said admiringly to Mikhail, who looked at the houses without seeing much about them that was extraordinary.

  The city had schools and shops and cafés, and many of its streets were unpaved.

  “What do you think?” Samuel asked.

  “It’s like a rundown village, and if it weren’t by the sea it would be an ugly rundown village,” the boy replied sincerely.

  “What are you saying! When I left this place there was nothing, and now there’s a city. Look . . . look over there . . . Don’t you see?”

  But Mikhail wasn’t able to generate any enthusiasm for anything; in fact, he was a little worried that where he saw only a large village, Samuel saw an entire city. He didn’t say so directly, but he did not like Tel Aviv, and found nothing attractive in its modest little houses, almost as modest as the people who lived in them.

  “Are they all workmen?” he asked Samuel.

  “Workmen? No, of course not, there are all kinds of people here: teachers, musicians, doctors, lawyers . . . What a strange question!”

  “I’m asking because of their clothes . . . I don’t know . . . They all look like workmen.”

  Samuel explained once more that the Jews of Palestine were building a classless society, that no job was looked down on, however humble it might be, and that it didn’t matter if you were a farmer or a lawyer, because everyone had been set down here in this difficult land and they had no time for social conventions.

  After a long stroll they stopped in a very busy-looking café. Samuel entertained himself by listening to the fragments of conversation he could hear all around him, and although Mikhail said he was tired, it was a while before they went back to the hotel.

  “Everyone speaks Hebrew here,” Mikhail said in surprise.

  “Yes, this is one of the common tasks that all the immigrants are undertaking, to reinstate the language of our forebears as our common tongue.”

 
“It’s a good thing that Marie made me study Hebrew with the rabbi, or else I wouldn’t understand a thing.”

  “It’s more important for you to study Arabic, or else you won’t be able to talk to our neighbors.”

  Ever since the day that Mikhail had asked Samuel to be allowed to accompany him to Palestine, Samuel had insisted that the boy study Arabic. It had been an intensive course, but desperately inadequate for Mikhail, who had insisted throughout the crossing that Samuel should carry on teaching him.

  The next day, with the help of the hotel manager, they found someone who would take them to Jerusalem. Mikhail was impatient to see the city and did not stop talking throughout the whole journey. When they reached Jerusalem, Samuel was surprised to find that he was feeling very moved. They walked past the Damascus Gate and Samuel had to hold Mikhail back, so keen was he to dive into the Old City.

  “Wait until tomorrow, we need to go home first.”

  The afternoon was coming to an end when Samuel started to point and show Mikhail Hope Orchard.

  “Look, look, it’s over there!”

  Mikhail saw nothing but a stretch of land filled with olive trees and, beyond the olive trees, fig trees and orange trees. The fence was made out of blocks of stone and was little more than a meter high, and in the distance were two simple buildings, almost nothing more than huts. He couldn’t understand Samuel’s enthusiasm, and had expected that Hope Orchard would be something a little more impressive.

  Samuel got down from the cart, he wanted to arrive on foot at what had once been his improvised home. He needed a few minutes alone to bring the countryside, the smells, the sunset light into his mind, and Mikhail stood next to him in silence, respecting, at least, Samuel’s desire not to say anything.

  “Samuel!” Kassia’s shout alerted everyone at Hope Orchard.

  The woman ran to them, and took them in her arms without giving them a chance to say anything.

  “You’re back! You’re back!”

  Kassia and Samuel cried and laughed and both talked without stopping. Samuel asked about Jacob, about Marinna, about Ahmed and Dina, about all the friends whom he had suddenly realized that he did actually miss, more than he had thought. Neither of them paid any attention to Mikhail, who observed the scene dumbfounded.

  A girl of roughly his age came running toward them. He thought she was beautiful. She called Samuel’s name and he could see that she was crying.

  Marinna joined in the general embrace and could also not hold back her tears. Jacob and Ariel came after her, and after them, Ruth and Igor.

  They were all talking at once, wanting to fill the years of absence with their words. Ruth and Igor observed the scene smilingly, waiting for Ariel to introduce them. Meanwhile, Igor came up to Mikhail and shook his hand.

  “I’m Igor, Ariel’s son.”

  “I’m Mikhail.”

  Igor introduced his mother. Ruth realized that the boy felt confused, and absent from the general joy, so she interrupted their talk.

  “Well, shouldn’t we introduce ourselves? I’m Ruth, Ariel’s wife, and this is our son Igor. This young man has already told us his name is Mikhail . . .”

  Laughing and hugging each other they walked home. Jacob kept asking questions, and Ariel kept interrupting him to bring Samuel up to date about all that had happened since he left; meanwhile, Kassia ordered them all to come in and have some supper.

  “If we had known you were coming today then we would have cooked something special. You don’t know how lucky we are to have Ruth, she’s a great cook, we’re all growing fat.”

  “Samuel will think that the rest of us never cook anything. You know that here at Hope Orchard we all do everything. Kassia wouldn’t permit it to be any other way,” Ariel said with a laugh.

  “If I can beat olives out of a tree, I don’t see why you can’t make soup,” Kassia replied with a huge smile.

  “And Louis? Where’s Louis?” Samuel asked.

  “Ah, Louis! Our friend is dedicating himself body and soul to politics. He’s going all over the place trying to organize for Poalei Zion, he writes articles in a Hebrew newspaper, Ahdout,” Jacob replied.

  “In Hebrew?”

  “Yes, it’s not like the newspaper has a large circulation, only about a few hundred copies.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to publish it in Yiddish?” Samuel asked.

  “We all think so, but Ben-Gurion doesn’t. You know about him, a real character, Louis admires him deeply,” Kassia said.

  “Yes, I think I heard about him before I left. So Louis is no longer at Hope Orchard . . . I would so much have liked to see him . . .”

  “You will see him, he comes and goes, this is still his home. He only leaves every now and then, even though he takes months to come back. He’s also got his obligations with Hashomer,” Kassia said.

  His friends explained that Hashomer, “the watchman” was a Jewish self-defense group.

  “Yes, I heard before I left Paris that colonists in the north were organizing themselves into groups to protect their farms . . .”

  But to Samuel’s surprise, Hashomer turned out to be something more than this. Jacob’s face grew serious as he told him.

  “‘The watchman’ have managed to arm themselves; they cover their faces like the Bedouin and protect the farms in the north. Louis says that it’s the best solution; up until now the farms have needed to have guards to protect themselves from thieves, but it is better that people protect their own property.”

  “And what about the authorities?” Samuel wanted to know.

  “They let it happen. Hashomer has its own leaders, its own rules . . . They have won the respect of the Bedouin. They couldn’t imagine the Jews would be capable of defending themselves,” Jacob continued.

  “I should go and see Ahmed and Dina. I’ve missed them both very much. I’ll go over to their house and bring them back here.”

  There was a sudden silence, which surprised Samuel. He saw Kassia looking uncomfortably down at the ground, and a grimace of pain on Marinna’s face. Jacob also looked serious, and Ariel and Ruth seemed worried.

  “What has happened? Ahmed isn’t sick, is he?”

  “No, it’s not that . . . It’s just that recently we don’t see each other very often,” Jacob said.

  “How can that be? His house is only two hundred meters away, and he needs to come past your door on his way back from work . . . What happened?” he asked in alarm.

  They all spoke at once, but no one could explain what had happened. Marinna asked them to let her speak.

  “Ahmed wouldn’t allow Mohammed and me . . . You know that we’ve always been friends, and . . . Well, we were in love and Ahmed insisted that Mohammed break off the relationship. Either I had to convert or there was nothing that could be done.”

  “And Mohammed?” Samuel’s voice was sad.

  “He couldn’t resist his father’s wishes. You know that for the Arabs, it is unthinkable that a son disobey the wishes of his father. Ahmed sent him to Constantinople; he came to see me before we left, we cried and spoke a lot together, but it is all finished between us. Ever since then we feel uncomfortable around Ahmed, and he feels the same around us.”

  Marinna had described the situation sincerely and without embellishment. Mikhail looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Although Samuel had spoken of her as a very beautiful young woman, he could not have imagined that she would be quite so lovely. But it was so. Marinna’s beauty was difficult to pass over, so he thought that this Mohammed must have been a pretty stupid fellow to have abandoned her.

  “We still deal with Ahmed, my son Igor goes to the quarry every day. We are still good neighbors,” Ariel said, trying to calm the situation as he saw the expression of worry in Samuel’s face.

  “I am sorry, Marinna, I am truly sorry, I know how important Mohammed has b
een for you. But even so, I have to go see him. It would be impolite not to, and he would take offense. You know what I think, that we should behave as neighbors, that we share the same land and the same problems.”

  “You have to go see him and invite him to the welcome party. Don’t worry about me, I’m not a little girl. To begin with . . . well, I thought that I would not be able to cope with such pain, I even asked my parents to send me back to Russia. I said that I would prefer to live in poverty there, without any hope, without any future, rather than stay here. But in the end I have accepted my fate. Samuel, you must go see him.”

  Samuel gave her a grateful hug. He loved Marinna, he had known her since she was a child, when she had been a cheerful adolescent, and now she was a full-grown woman. And at this moment he loved her all the more for her generosity and sincerity.

  “But I won’t come back with him unless you tell me that you will eat with us. I wouldn’t have you suffer, not for anything in the world,” Samuel said.

  “He won’t want to come, and neither will Dina, but I promise you that if they do I’ll stay. I’m not going to miss your welcome party,” she said, and made an effort to smile.

  Samuel left deep in thought. He felt Marinna’s pain. He walked slowly and as he walked he saw Ahmed smoking on the threshold to his house. He seemed to be distracted, caught up in the scent of the orange blossoms and the soft sunset breeze. When he saw Samuel he called out his name in happiness and went toward him to embrace him.

  “Samuel! Allah bless you and bless the day that has brought you back to us.”

  The two men fell into a heartfelt embrace.

  “My friend, you have grown old,” Ahmed said as he patted Samuel’s back.

  “And so have you. Do you think I don’t see your grey hair? I am so happy to see you. And what about Dina, and your children? And Zaida? I want so much to see them all . . .”

  Ahmed invited him to enter his house, and he was met there with shouts of joy from his friend’s mother-in-law and his wife. Zaida insisted that he drink some pomegranate juice, and Dina laughed with joy at the reunion, while Aya, now a young woman, looked on timidly.