Until Sweet Death Arrives

by Amnon Binyamini

  Nahum completed the first round of his route. Michael touched his own forehead and found no trace of sweat. He quickened his pace and concentrated his eyesight so as to keep eye contact with Nahum. Someone was walking behind the journalist. The darkness wasn’t easy on Michael’s eyesight. He was busy concentrating on his pace, trying to match it with the pace of his neighbor, walking right below. During that time, a figure kept lurking behind Nahum, like a troubling shadow. Suddenly Michael remembered seeing the fellow following the journalist. No, he could not recognize his face. The darkness and the distance didn’t allow for that. But the wide hat he was wearing he could surely recognize, despite the darkness covering the street below. Nahum quickened his pace.

  Michael quickened his walk on his floor tiles. He kept touching his forehead again and again. His hands were wet. A sticky drop of perspiration that just appeared on his soft skin trickled down into his mouth. Its salty taste was truly enjoyable. It gave him the feeling that he was drawing the maximum potential from his sick body. Suddenly, he saw Nahum lose his balance and fall down. Michael grabbed the window ledge firmly. He began to feel dizzy and started to lose his own balance. He tried to concentrate his eyesight, and he managed to see the suspicious figure trying to pick Nahum up. Even though he was far from his neighbor, he was able to see that the figure was having a hard time picking Nahum up. The journalist remained lying on the ground. The figure slapped his face a few times, but Nahum remained where he was. Michael decided to make a move. He jumped from his place and hurried to the floor above his apartment and pounded furiously on the door of the Peterson family. While his hand banged, he cried out loudly:

  “Mrs. Edna! Mrs. Edna! Open the door right away! Something has happened to Mr. Nahum!”

  As soon as he mentioned her husband’s name, the door opened and Edna appeared, terrified.

  “What happened to Nahum?” she asked, petrified.

  “I saw him fall. He is lying on the sidewalk,” he answered and pulled her, forcefully, towards the staircase.

  They hurried down without Michael having to explain what occurred. Michael was quicker than Edna and they both ran as quickly as they could towards the dark street.

  “There he is lying across the street,” pointing towards Nahum. As they approached him, someone got up from where Nahum was lying on the ground. He stared at the people getting close to him and started walking backwards quickly. In his hand was a wide, round object. Suddenly he began to run and disappeared.

  Edna rushed towards her husband lying on the sidewalk and touched his forehead.

  “Nahum,” she cried, terrified at seeing him lying unconscious on the ground. Nahum did not respond. For a moment she stared at him, without knowing what to do; and then she shook him strongly. His eyelids opened. He did not utter a word. His eyes had an uncomprehending look to them.

  “Mr. Nahum,” Michael’s voice was gentle as he tried to lift his inert neighbor, “You fell, Mr. Nahum. Come, let me help you up.” Nahum stopped him with a gesture.

  “Are you hurt?” Edna asked in dismay.

  Instead of answering, he held out his hand and Edna immediately took it and pulled him to his feet with Michael’s help. Steadying him between them, they walked him towards the building. They were silent until they reached the entrance, where Edna came to a standstill and asked, “What did he have in his hand – the man who ran away?”

  “A hat,” said Michael. “I saw him wearing a big hat when I was watching from my window.”

  “A hat? Are you sure? It didn’t look like a hat.”

  They settled Nahum in an armchair when they finally got him upstairs. Edna gave him a glass of water, which he swallowed quickly, before asking, “What happened to me?”

  “You fell while you were walking,” Michael told him.

  “I fell?” Nahum said, finding it hard to believe.

  The telephone rang and Nahum’s hand jerked convulsively, almost spilling the remaining water in the glass. Edna reluctantly went to answer it.

  “Yes. No, I haven’t spoken to him yet. What’s the hurry? Alright. If you insist. I’ll do it tonight.”

  She stole a nervous glance at her husband and continued to speak on the phone. “No. Don’t call me. I’ll call you after I talk to him. Alright. I’ll do that…yes…tonight!”

  She returned to Nahum, looking downcast. Nahum, on the other hand, had revived. His voice was confident and carried no hint of his recent mishap when he asked, “Who was that on the phone?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, in a voice clouded by anxiety, she asked, “Nahum, do you really have to publish that article?”

  “What article?”

  “About the head of the town council. I mean Gill Ravid.”

  “Who is Gill Ravid?” He sounded perplexed.

  “Bribery. Money to Switzerland. Five hundred thousand shekels. MK Akuka. Development town. Head of the town council. Gillie. Remember?”

  He was now absolutely awake.

  “Gillie Ravid,” he said offhandedly.

  Then he returned to his early question, “Who were you talking to on the phone?”

  “Nahum,” she blurted, “Maybe you should postpone that article?”

  He sat up and roared, “Who asked you to do this? Did that phone call have anything to do with it? Who were you talking to?”

  She tensed, fiercely guarding her secret. Then her face softened and her shoulders relaxed. She tilted her head and said with a submissive smile, “I was speaking to Shuki, my partner. We have a client who’s loaded with assets; he came to our office twice today. He’s a personal friend of Gillie Ravid and he made it clear that if his friend is slandered in the press by Shuki’s partner’s husband – that’s how he described you – he’d take his business elsewhere!”

  “And what did Shuki have to say to this client?” Nahum wanted to know, beginning to pace up and down in the living room.

  Michael, who had been sitting in the armchair next to Nahum, now left the apartment, unnoticed and without being thanked for his help.

  “I don’t know what Shuki said to him,” Edna said, “since I wasn’t in the office, but Shuki hasn’t stopped calling here, begging me to have a word with you about the whole thing.”

  “And what did you say?” Nahum was standing face to face with his wife, frightening her with his heavy breathing.

  “I told him I don’t interfere with your work. But he wouldn’t stop calling. In the end, I agreed to put his suggestion to you without any endorsement from me.”

  “What do you think I should do?” he asked her dryly.

  “Give him the same answer that you give everybody else.”

  She looked at him with the beginning of a smile and he burst out laughing. Edna wrapped her arms around him and laughed with him.

  Suddenly, he said, “Get him on the line. You said he’s waiting for an answer, no?”

  Still giggling, she dialed her partner’s number and handed the phone to Nahum. When Shuki answered, she stood beside Nahum and listened to the conversation.

  “Hello, Shuki, how are things at the office? I’m glad. Good to hear it. Yes, Edna told me. What do you expect me to say? Did you stop to think what my answer would be? I can only express my regret. It’s a pity you asked this of Edna. It’s a pity you asked it of me. It’s a pity you won’t let up. I’m ashamed and embarrassed to hear what you ask. You should spare yourself such embarrassment. No, I don’t want to reconsider. Stop it. I’m asking you to stop.”

  Nahum started to shout. Edna had never heard her husband so furious. With his mouth close to the receiver, he asserted, “This Friday, this Friday, not next week, this week, do you hear? This week. Everything is going to be published this week. Do you hear? This week!”

  Edna was horrified by her husband’s unrestrained behavior. She shook him forcefully and cried, “Nahum! Calm down! That’s eno
ugh. Enough. I beg you.”

  She replaced the receiver and sat down without speaking. He retreated into his thoughts, pacing the room like a caged tiger. When he became aware of her silence, he sank mutely into the armchair. They sat like that for a long time until she eventually rose and went gloomily into the bedroom. Nahum went on sitting in silence, hardly batting an eyelid as he gazed at the wall, deep in thought. In the end, he got to his feet and went to his study.

  He had a powerful urge to connect the tape recorder and spill out everything that was locked inside him, threatening to burst out. He bolted his door. Tonight he wanted to be alone. Gill wasn’t the reason for his emotional turbulence. Gill was a professional concern, nothing else, however important. Something entirely different was troubling him. Gnawing at his insides without relief. Depressing him and uprooting his peace of mind. He turned on the recorder and picked up the microphone. The tape began to turn, ready to store new information. Nahum walked restlessly around the room, thinking. Walking and thinking without a moment’s rest. Something was taking shape in his mind and when he was ready, he said:

  “I daydreamed

  I was on a high mountain.

  And then I was tumbling into the abyss.

  And each downward tumble

  Stripped away a item of my clothing.

  And I looked for an outcrop

  to slow my fall,

  but there was none.

  And the longer the journey into the abyss

  lasted, the more clothes I lost.

  Clothes that had protected my skin,

  That had conserved my body heat,

  that had defended my dignity.

  But suddenly the dream dissolved,

  dissolved as though it had never been.

  It dissolved before the riddle was solved,

  The riddle that had tortured

  my thoughts for so long:

  When I reached the foot of the mountain,

  devoid of any covering or clothing,

  would I feel embarrassed or disgraced?

  Or perhaps, perhaps I would not know at all

  that I was left naked?”

  Aharon was hiding on the balcony of Nahum’s study, watching him talking softly into the microphone. He opened the door slightly, the better to hear, as he had done so often before. Tonight he did not understand much of what the journalist was saying. Who was he referring to when he used words like abyss, clothes, clothing, mountain? Perhaps he was referring to him, Aharon? Perhaps he intended to publish things about him, in spite of their agreement? Perhaps he should not trust the journalist’s promise? He would have to be more on guard. And why was Nahum lying on the sidewalk?

  Aharon climbed over the balcony railing and grabbed the drainpipe. He slid quickly down to ground level. With a final look at the light in the window of the journalist’s study, he vanished into the dark among the sleeping buildings.

  25.

  November 29th, 1994

  Edna was frying the traditional potato pancakes for Hannukah. The oil surged and splattered. She was putting a lid on the pan when the doorbell rang. It was too early in the evening for a visitor, she mused, and Gilat and the grandchildren were not due to arrive till seven. She put her eye to the peephole and saw, standing in line on the other side of the door, a short, fat man, a stocky woman with garish makeup and three children dressed in suits. She had no idea who they were. The man and woman were loaded with packages. They had most likely come to the wrong address, thought Edna as she opened the door.

  “Yes?” she smiled.

  The two adults exchanged a glance. Edna waited patiently for them to speak, her gaze drawn to their festive outfits.

  “Does Mr. Nahum Peterson, the journalist, live here?” the man asked and Edna answered in the affirmative. Noticing the discomfort caused by the packages they were carrying, Edna invited them in and seated them in the living room. She waited politely for them to explain their visit, noticing that the woman and children sat with their arms folded, almost immobile in their chairs. They seemed to be accustomed to this position.

  “My name is Ronnie Rotem. The children are on their Hannukah vacation from school. We decided to take a drive to Tel Aviv and, since we’re here, we thought we may as well take the opportunity to visit Mr. Nahum Peterson.”

  After a brief look into her husband’s eyes, the woman said, “I made some doughnuts for you.”

  Ronnie nodded in the direction of the youngest boy, who needed no further encouragement before reciting, while keeping his arms tightly folded, “Daddy bought a present for Mr. Peterson. He wants me to give it to him.”

  Edna smiled and asked, “From where do you know Nahum?”

  The woman answered at once. “The journalist, your husband, thought that Ronnie took a bribe and did bad things. In the end Ronnie was okay and your husband didn’t write nothing bad about him in the newspaper, only Gillie and now Gillie’s in jail and Ronnie came out of every-thing okay.”

  Edna remembered the affair involving the head of the town council, somewhere in the south of the country. She said “I didn’t know that Nahum had interviewed anyone besides Gill Ravid, in your town.”

  She went to tell Nahum that he had visitors. While they were waiting for him, she served some refreshments and made polite conversation. He was wearing his blue tracksuit and sneakers and the earphones of his walkman were in place when he emerged from the bedroom.

  Edna went over to him and said, on a note of surprise, “What are you wearing, Nahum?”

  “A tracksuit, Edna. Don’t you recognize my tracksuit?”

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Edna was embarrassed by his appearance.

  “Well, where do you think I am going?”Rather offended that she should question his behavior, he added, “I’m going for my usual walk, Edna!”

  Seeing her eyes move to his earphones, he said, “I’m going over my speech, remember?”

  “But I told you, you have visitors, Nahum,” said Edna trying not to lose her temper.

  “Are the grandchildren here already?”

  He still had not noticed the family sitting in his living room. He removed the earphones, turning his head as he did so, at which he saw Ronnie and his family, who were now preparing to leave.

  “These people are waiting for you,” Edna said.

  Nahum scrutinized Ronnie, then transferred his gaze to the wife and children, who immediately folded their arms and stood still.

  “Have you come to light the Hannukah candles with us?” he asked.

  Nobody answered. The woman was delighted to see him. “Come see what I made for you,” she said and extracted a doughnut from the large bowl she had placed on the living room floor.

  Nahum thanked her heartily and bit into the doughnut. The boy looked at his father, unfolded his arms and brought one of the wrapped packages to Nahum.

  “Daddy wants me that I must give you this present,” he said and returned to the folded-arms position.

  Nahum carried the package and the bowl into the kitchen. When he returned, jovial and pleased, they were already at the apartment door.

  “Happy Hannukah,” they chorused.

  “Happy Hannukah and thank you,” he answered. “I’m most grateful!”

  “You’re a good man,” said Ronnie on the threshold.

  “Many thanks,” Nahum smiled and when the last of the children was in the corridor, he enquired, “Do you live in this building?”

  “No, we’re still in the same place. We’re just visiting the city because it’s the Hannukah school holiday.”

  “I see,” said Nahum and after a further polite exchange, they departed.

  Edna was furious. “I’ve never seen you so condescending!” she said as he shut the door.“Why did you treat them like that?”

  “What did I do?�
�� he asked, awed by the blazing anger in her eyes.

  “How can you ask? Is that how you receive guests? In those clothes? How could you ask them if they live here?? Do you think everybody understands your weird sense of humor?”

  Nahum fell silent. He looked at her sadly. She waited for him to answer, but he simply looked into her eyes without saying a word.

  26.

  March 1995

  Gilat was in the shower when the phone rang. She wrapped herself in a towel and hurried to the telephone in the bedroom. Ever since the morning she had come in and found it looking as if a hurricane had struck, she kept the room scrupulously clean and tidy.

  Even now, in a corner of her mind, there remained the sight of the papers and scarves and stockings all over the floor and Dov rummaging in the drawers, reading and discarding scraps of paper. She hoped to erase the entire memory by her fastidious orderliness.

  “Exactly what are you looking for?” she had asked.

  He was holding her personal telephone book in the palm of his hand. With a shaking finger ,he indicated a number with no name next to it. “Whose number is this?”

  She couldn’t remember. She was becoming agitated, but in a surprisingly calm voice she managed to suggest, “Why don’t you dial it and find out?”

  “I did.”

  Gilat was relieved. The pounding in her temples faded and she said, as she bent to pick up the items scattered on the floor, “Are you satisfied now? Whose number is it? What did she say?”

  “He. Not she. And he refused to give me his name.”

  At the sound of his voice, she remained stooped over the carpet, experiencing a sudden longing to lie down and pull the soft cloth over her body, to scoop up her belongings and cradle them against her heart. Anything, except to stand up and look at him.

  In the end, she straightened and was able to say, “Give it to me. I’ll make the call here and now, in front of you. We’ll find out who it is.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll handle this on my own.” said Dov, walking out of the room while his wife subsided slowly onto the carpet.