“Hello, how are you?” said Nahum in Hebrew.
“Are you talking to me?” she asked in English.
“Who else?”
“Do we know each other?” she persisted, not understanding a word he said.
“Of course,” he replied, still speaking Hebrew, “But we can talk later.”
He moved on until, encountering a pleasant young waiter with a tray of drinks, he said, “Hello. How’re things?”
The waiter, realizing that the man in the shabby jacket was addressing him, was grateful for the polite attention. It was most unusual for anyone to greet him during his working hours at the hotel. Journalists were a special breed, after all, he thought as he answered, “Fine, thanks,” and offered Nahum a glass of whiskey from the tray.
“No, thanks. I’m not thirsty. So how are the wife and kids?”
“I’ve just got out of the army,” the young man answered, “I’m not married yet.”
After thinking for a moment, Nahum said, “No hurry. It’s not urgent.”
He continued to press through the crowd. The crime correspondent, Yitzhak, was deep in conversation with an English journalist when he noticed Nahum making his way to the speakers’ platform. He excused himself and whispered to Avraham, “Do you see what I see?”
He looked in the direction of Yitzhak’s nod and froze.
“I don’t believe it,” he murmured, “I don’t believe it!”
As if they had planned their move in advance, the two men started towards Nahum, with Yitzhak in the lead.
“What are you up to?” he asked Nahum, referring to his inappropriate appearance in those elegant surroundings. Peterson, however, gave him no opportunity to pursue the point. He extended his hand and said, “Hello. How are you? I’ve known you for thirty years already.”
Yitzhak was stunned. He had met Nahum barely two years earlier, when he came to work for the newspaper. Puzzled, he shook Nahum’s extended hand and the latter repeated, “Hello. I’ve known you for thirty years.”
Rikkie and Avraham were standing nearby and Avraham asked angrily, “Why are you dressed like that?”
Nahum looked blankly at him and Avraham scrutinized him from head to toe, about to reprimand him, when the announcer requested everyone to be seated.
“Tuck your shirt in and go up to the speakers’ platform, ”Avraham growled impatiently. Nahum stood where he was, still regarding his editor as if were a complete stranger.
“Snap out of it,” Yitzhak said, “they’re about to begin.”
Nahum turned his back on them and started up the steps to the platform. Avraham was fuming, he wanted to yell at him for the way he had turned up on such as important evening, as if were issuing a defiant challenge to Avraham. It was inconsiderate, arrogant. He wanted to understand what was happening to Nahum lately. Why was he behaving so strangely? He thought the trip to Switzerland would be good for Nahum, who had become so withdrawn and dull in recent months. What was it all about? What was wrong with Nahum?
The opening by the piano and violin came to an end. Silence reigned in the auditorium. The audience was waiting for Nahum to reach his seat on the platform, when Rikkie called his name. All eyes turned to her as she pointed her imaginary pistol at him and pressed the imaginary trigger. Nahum did not respond. Like everybody else, he stared at her. When he did not move, she shouted, “Nahum, I’m shooting! Ta-ta-ta!”
“Madam,” he said, “are you talking to me?”
Rikkie needed no further proof. This was the first time he had failed to play his part in their silly, private game. To her dismay, she understood what nobody else understood in the auditorium full of people: Nahum was not himself.
Everyone was looking at her with a mixture of ridicule and amazement. She could not bear it. Some were laughing openly. One man mimicked her imaginary pistol shot and muttered something in English, as she fled from the auditorium. Nahum sat down in the seat reserved for him at the center of the table.
29.
Edna came home early and was surprised to find the house empty. She wondered where her husband had gone on this day that was so important for him. She sat waiting in the living room, becoming increasingly anxious as time passed. She phoned the newspaper and Theresa answered that the office was almost empty. Most of them had left early because of the conference. Nahum had not come in that day. In fact, she hadn’t seen him since he left for Switzerland over three weeks ago. Was something wrong? Edna told her that everything was alright, she was just wondering. Yes, she’d tell him that Theresa missed him and sent regards. Edna sat staring at the door after hanging up.
Nahum phoned, “I can’t find my way home,” he said.
“Where are you?” she asked in alarm.
“At a gas station.”
“Which one?”
“Just a minute, Edna, I’ll ask. Excuse me,” she heard him say, “what gas station is this?” He came back on the line and said happily, “Paz. It’s the Paz gas station. I asked. See, you can rely on me!”
“Let me talk to the attendant, Nahum.”
The manager came on the line and she discovered that her husband was within walking distance of their home. The manager put Nahum on the line and Edna asked him how it was possible that he had not recognized their regular gas station.
“I’ve never filled up here, so how could I recognize the place?” he said impatiently.
She dropped the matter and urged him to come home quickly so that he would not be late for the conference. She spoke calmly, clearly and slowly to hide her fears.
“Drive to the end of the street, turn left, go for another four blocks and you’re home. Will you find the way?”
“Don’t you trust me to find my own way home?” he asked in a hurt voice.
“Of course I trust you,” her voice shook as she answered as he slammed down the receiver.
She sat staring at the door again.
The hands of the big clock crawled from minute to minute. In the end, Edna took her sweater from the cupboard and hurried down the steps. She made her way to the gas station. Not a car was in sight. A girl in a man’s overall was sitting and waiting for customers. Sorry, she couldn’t help. She hadn’t seen anyone.
Edna went home. The headlights of car after car passed her.
“The conference. Maybe he’s gone straight there,” she mumbled.
She grabbed her keys, locked the front door and hurried down to the car. When she reached the Hilton, she saw Nahum’s car parked in the middle of the driveway. She found a parking spot near the entrance of the hotel and dashed to the auditorium in time to hear the master of ceremonies say: “Nahum Peterson! Allow me to introduce Nahum Peterson!” followed by thunderous applause.
Why had he gone without her, she wondered. She’d left him a not explicitly saying that they would go together. And why hadn’t he bothered to shave and change his clothes?
She stood by the door watching him in confused surprise. When she relaxed a little and focused on what was happening in the auditorium, she became aware that the applause had died down while her husband was still sitting at the center of the table, rubbing his hands together. The Master of Ceremonies went to him and assisted him to his feet; then he led him to the microphone.
“Nahum Peterson – the microphone is yours!” he declared.
Nahum stood rubbing his hands in front of the microphone, hesitantly looking at the expectant audience sitting in the darkened auditorium.
Edna found a vacant seat and sat down, waiting with everyone to share her husband’s hour of glory. One of the peaks in his career. She sat and waited.
30.
Spotlights suddenly illuminated his flushed face, dazzling him and causing him to raise his hands to protect his eyes. The shafts of light came at him from all directions, showing him as he stood, ungainly, stooped and confused. After a minute o
r two, he clasped the microphone in both hands and leaned on it as if it could protect him from the surging rustle of people in the dark auditorium. After a pause, still dazzled by the spotlight, he detached the mouthpiece from its stand and put it close to his pursed lips.
“Good evening, dear friends and colleagues,” he said with feeling. “We have gathered here this evening to discuss an important subject…the right of the public is the right of the constitution…democracy…oblibob…oligates…defense…defense…paparazzi…paparazzi…paparazzi.”
Nahum fell silent. His eyes darted from side to side in panic. People began to whisper in the depths of the auditorium beyond the blinding lights. He stood in the center of the platform, awkward, confused and helpless. It was obvious that he did not know how to continue. He extended one hand to the audience as if asking for a moment to collect himself. They waited.
“The right of the public to know…know…know…the right of the public to-to-to…”
He stopped. A murmur arose in the auditorium. He put both hands around the microphone and bent his head over it to get his mouth as close as possible, in a new attempt to organize his words.
“Good evening dear friends and colleagues,” he roared, “we have gathered here this evening…by the right of the public to know the right of constitution in democracy of defense…defense…defense paparazzi.”
Beads of perspiration glittered on his forehead. He stood in silence. The audience sat in stunned silence. There was not a sound to be heard.
Eventually, somebody stood up, clapped his hands and said, “Bravo!” Nahum shielded his eyes with one hand and peered into the darkness. Although he could not possible see the speaker, he said, “Aha. I know you. We’ve known each other for ages! How are you?”
Then he was silent again, standing in the circle of light as if waiting for a firing squad to rise from the audience and shoot his body to pieces.
Someone else began to applaud and cry, “Bravo, Nahum!”
Quick to answer, Nahum shouted again, “I know you. I know you. How are things with you? We’ve known each other for ages. For thirty years I’ve know you, thirty years!”
People in the first row started to cheer. One after another, they rose to their feet, cheering and clapping in unison. Nahum looked into the tumultuous darkness, pointed and said, “I know you. I’ve known you for ages. You, too. And you. Yes. And you and you and you. For ages. I know all of you.”
His voice rose louder and louder, until he was screaming, “All of you! I know all of you, for years, everyone one of you!”
After many repetitions of these words, he started to laugh. Holding the shaking microphone against his wide open mouth, he roared with laughter. Gradually, the bursts of laughter began to alternate with shuddering sobs and the words,” …know you…I know every one of you…ages and ages…thirty years…even more…much more…”
His shouts were drowned by the mounting applause.
Someone mercifully remembered to douse the lights that held Nahum captive, sending him into protective darkness.
31.
Edna woke up first. More correctly, she was first to get out of bed; she had not closed her eyes all night. She washed her face, made herself a cup of coffee and came to sit on the bed. She gazed at Nahum’s face, asking herself how she could have denied such an obvious situation, “How could I have buried my head in the sand, letting Nahum deteriorate so far?” she thought. “The writing was on the wall and I alienated myself from the facts in front of my eyes,”
Rikkie phoned to ask after Nahum. She said that Avraham was very angry about Nahum’s embarrassing, irresponsible behavior. He told the staff that Nahum had caused irreparable harm to the paper. Rikkie said he wanted to speak to Edna and she asked Edna not to repeat what she had just said.
“How are you, Edna?” Avraham came on the line.
“Worried.”
“I suggest that you take him to see a doctor at once,” said Avraham and, after a protracted silence, he added, “I think there’s no point in Nahum coming to work in his condition. He’s in need of medical attention. Something’s very much amiss! Anyway, I’m here if you need help, Edna. You know that.”
Friends and acquaintances called constantly and Edna had to offer half-baked explanations.
“Nahum’s suffering from exhaustion.” Yes, she would see a doctor. Yes, she’d send him for tests. She took the receiver off the hook and observed her slowly awakening husband.
“What’s the time?” he asked sleepily.
She stroked his forehead gently and said, “We both have a day off, today. Go back to sleep; it’s only a little before eight thirty.”
“Morning or evening?”
Edna’s concern, which had been dulled by her drowsiness this morning, now forced itself on her consciousness.
“Nahum,” she pointed out, “last night at eight thirty you were at the Hilton Hotel. How can you ask if it’s now morning or evening?”
“Really?” said he, slowly opening his eyes. “What was I doing at the Hilton?”
Without waiting for an answer, he got out of bed and left the room. She was stunned by his question. He had no memory of what he had done the night before at the Hilton. Edna, who was prepared to erase the embarrassing event from her mind, was now forced to understand that she could not continue to evade the new reality into which she had been flung so suddenly. She was now certain that Nahum’s strange questions this morning were directly connected to his behavior last night and that his bizarre behavior had been developing over a long period. She did not know at what point he had begun to change, nor could she predict how it would end. The riddle of his behavior on the trip to Switzerland was now solved. His mood changes, confusion, apathy, his dependence and fearfulness, together with the mistakes he made and getting lost, were all of a piece, all one weave. She had ignored a long, ongoing process.
“Where the hell is my toothbrush?” he shouted.
“In the white cup, as always,” she answered quickly.
“Where in the cup? I’ve turned all the cups over and it isn’t here!”
“What cups are you turning over? There’s only one cup with toothbrushes. Where are you?”
“In the bathroom, Edna. I’m washing myself. Where else should I be?”
She went to the bathroom, but he was not there. She hurried to the kitchen, where she found him leaning over the sink, his clothes soaking wet and cups scattered all around him.
Barely controlling her anger, she said, “Nahum, why have you taken out all the cups? Look at the mess you’ve made!”
He answered as angrily, “I can’t find my toothbrush. What do you expect me to do?”
She wanted to ask him since when did one look for a toothbrush in the kitchen. She wanted to demand that he explain why he said he was in the bathroom when he was in the kitchen, why he scattered the cups and why, why was he so furious. She turned to him and her eyes filled with tears at the sight of him and she said nothing.
“Look how wet I am! Where have all the towels disappeared to, Edna?”
“Just a moment, dear,” she said, “I won’t be long.”
She returned quickly with a towel and his toothbrush.
“Where did you put them? It’s time you were more organized, Edna!” He began to fumble in his pockets, “Have you seen my glasses?” he asked anxiously.
She went to him and took the glasses from the top of his head and put them in his hand. He sat down and gave her an embarrassed smile. She sat next to him. He stood up and went to the bedroom. Edna followed.
“Nahum, maybe we should see a doctor?”
“Why?” he asked. “I don’t recall complaining about any pains or fever.”
“You haven’t been yourself for a long time. You can’t seem to concentrate. You forget things. And how do you explain the way you behaved last night? She did not
want to be too explicit, in case she embarrassed him with the details. She stole a glance at him, to see if she had hurt him by being too direct. He was not at all hurt.
“What do I forget, Edna? What behavior are you hinting at?”
She was at a loss. Her growing distress suddenly, surprisingly, gave way to a sense of relief. She laughed, trying to identify the source of this puzzling relief. Then she understood – it came with the realization that she was not the only one who had been in denial about the change in him. Nahum himself had brushed it aside. He was still busy denying his condition.
“So,” she told herself, “it wasn’t only me who allowed it to go on.” She stopped laughing.
“Nahum, listen to me. Maybe you’re going through a bad patch. Maybe you’re under pressure at work. Why shouldn’t we go to a doctor and prevent a worse situation from developing?”
She prayed that it was not a brain tumor.
“I don’t need a doctor. I’m not sick,” he said sadly and went into the bathroom.
He was smiling when he came back, “What time is it, Edna?” he asked.
“It’s five minutes later than the last time you asked,” she answered with a helpless expression on her face.
Nahum wanted to remove the sadness from his wife’s face. He said, “Edna my sweet, I don’t remember asking you the time.”
“Yes, Nahum, you did. Five minutes ago. I clearly remember that it was eight thirty and it is now eight thirty-five.”
He waited for her to finish speaking and then asked, “In the morning or in the evening?”
Their eyes met. Edna’s throat became dry, making it difficult for her to speak. In any case, she did not intend to use her voice. She had nothing left to say. She went to him and silently stroked his face. She let her fingers stray to his eyelashes and he lowered them at her touch. One finger moved over the soft eyelid, so lightly that he barely felt it sliding gently down to his cheek. Then she kissed him on both his eyes and on his cheek.
Until Sweet Death Arrives Page 12
