In silence she takes the glass of wine from his hand, but her silence no longer oppresses him, silence is fine when there are no pleasant words to be said, and he peers at her, standing stolidly with the glass of wine in her hand, slightly ridiculous in the evening dress tailored to her measurements, with the transparent chiffon sleeves, and her unpractised attempts at self-titivation, the lipstick applied with a clumsy hand and missing the line of the lips, the eye-pencil which has drawn a thick ring round one eye and a thin ring round the other, high-heeled shoes pinching her reddening feet. She’ll always look like a countrywoman dumped in the big city, but none of this would have bothered him if only she were by his side and not against him, and perhaps it’s his mistake, for years he’s wanted a partner more impressive than her, and even when he stood beside her under the canopy he felt disappointed and frustrated, and if he felt that way, he must surely have shared this with her in some indirect fashion, even though the words denied it, and for this he should apologise to her. Better for her too if he hadn’t married her, but she pressured him into marriage and threatened separation, and he didn’t dare lose her and hoped things would change for the better. He had only just lost his father and he needed a handhold.
Distractedly he surveys the few guests, to his surprise he doesn’t know a single one of them, some of them are sitting on the cushions, little plates in their hands, some of them wandering this way and that, deep in conversation, in thought, and it seems the same sweet anticipation grips them all, from the largest to the smallest, anticipation that the new couple due to consecrate themselves in this place will bestow on all those present the light of hope and change, grace and truth. A pleasant breeze stirs the hair, blending scents of perfumes and soaps, selected foods and drinks; like angels the white-clad waiters bestow abundant victuals upon the small congregation, and he samples the delicacies and wonders at the choice of this extensive site for a gathering of this size, have most of the invitees ducked out of it, and why?
He sees Shlomit glancing at her watch and turning to him with a look of indignation, as if he’s responsible for this delay too, and he shrugs his shoulder at her, already nearly eight and where is the couple and where is the rabbi and where is the canopy? Have the doubts that she mentioned to him come back to haunt her, and is she weeping now in the decorated limo, unable to make up her mind? And perhaps at the last moment she’s decided to heed his advice, to learn from his experience, perhaps the wedding has actually been cancelled and they haven’t had time to tell everyone, and that’s why they are so few, and he takes his mobile from his shirt pocket and checks to be sure he hasn’t missed any new messages, absently picking up another rolled and spiced vine-leaf, while Shlomit moves away from him and stretches out on one of the cushions, as if washing her hands of the whole event.
In the diminishing light the lawn turns black rapidly and the pillows are grey and her form can no longer be broken down into constituent parts, a solid mass of humanity compressed by angry memories, and he finds himself remembering the evening of their wedding in the kibbutz, nearly twenty years ago, what an orphan he was, he never felt his orphanhood as powerfully as then when he stood a long time in the shower under the stream of hot water, knowing that even now white cloths were being laid on tables outside the dining hall, in the houses nearby people were putting on their best clothes, and some were coming from far away, and soon they would be showering him with hugs and good wishes, while all he wanted to do was run out of there, grab the cloths from the tables and ditch the flowers, cavort naked and wet on the lawn yelling like a newborn baby, scaring the guests away with his antics, bringing disgrace on his family and on his bride, and already he’s convinced this is what’s going to happen here this evening. Not for nothing had he felt such a strong and sad sense of intimacy with her since the day she turned up at his office, an intimacy which he misinterpreted at first and took for attraction, an intimacy which will soon be demonstrated when she fulfils his old dream and rushes naked across the lawn, her heavy breasts bouncing this way and that, crying and yelling with the last vestiges of her strength, and running behind her the angry groom and her glowering widower father, and even when he sees her finally appearing among the cushions in a simple wedding-dress, arm-in-arm with her groom, he still believes that what he saw in his mind’s eye is more valid than anything happening now in plain sight, since her puffy eyes and flushed cheeks, likewise the deep pallor of the groom, tend to back up his worrying interpretation of the delay. Suspiciously he scans his face, jutting chin and narrow lips giving him a stern expression, within a few years his authoritative and demanding streak will come to the fore, and what will become of her then, the girl who lost her mother at the age of eight and ever since then has talked of herself in the third person, and he observes them from a distance, leaving his wife behind and clearing himself a path towards them as if he were the rabbi himself, the one person without whom the marriage would be invalid, being drawn further into the innermost circle around the couple. There is the father of the bride, now revealed as a giant of a man with a stern expression, and beside him a young woman who looks about the same age as his daughter, and the parents of the groom, elderly and tense, and although he presses towards them eagerly, not wanting to miss anything, he’s not sure he wants the bride to see him there and so he stays behind the broad back of her father, and there he will be when the canopy is unfolded almost above his head, under the sudden light of the full moon, and he skulks in the shadow of the stranger, hidden from her eyes but fully exposed to the crowd gathering around and the astonished stare of his wife, and he retreats slowly from the place he pinched for himself with so much effort, and without taking his eyes from what’s happening under the canopy he finally stands by her side.
What a charming couple, she whispers, trying to conciliate him while the rabbi is intoning; Soon to be heard in the cities of Judah and in the streets of Jerusalem will be the sound of merriment and the sound of joy, the voice of the groom and the voice of the bride, blessed art thou O Lord who makes the groom happy with the bride, and Avner is stunned by her short-sightedness. What’s so charming here? Can’t you see their unhappiness is crying out to the sky, but when the groom gently lifts the veil and hands her the goblet, the bride’s pretty eyes are seen to be calm and her face is radiant with the light of sheer bliss, all of which tells him that his wife is right this time; the Divine Presence, no less, has come down to this lawn to make the groom happy with the bride and the bride happy with the groom, and the change that he sees in her face is the finger of God sent down from on high to erase all doubts, whereas in his case the miracle didn’t happen. He himself went under the canopy and came out of it precisely the same person, and so too did the woman who stands beside him now and gazes with envy at the newly-weds, and he sighs, man and woman, woman and man, what are they without the intervention of God, tormented creatures consumed by fears and regrets, and it seems to him that once again the pain of orphanhood has been laid on his shoulders, that double orphanhood, orphaned of both his father and progenitor and of his father in Heaven.
When the crowd that has thickened around them surges forward and besieges the couple with blessings, he clutches his wife’s hand, come on, he says, there’s nothing else here we should be looking for, and to his surprise she doesn’t argue and doesn’t demand an explanation, sitting beside him in silence in the car that’s still warm, looking straight ahead at the winding road with pursed lips. Has she too realised something this evening of incomparable importance? Even when he says to her a few minutes later, after they’ve arrived at home and relieved the babysitter, I won’t be here tonight, I’ll be staying at my mother’s apartment, she glances at him with a defeated look and doesn’t say a word.
He has never looked at her like this before, as if she were dangerous, and not only he, it seems the entire universe, between the treetops and the stars, between roofs tinted pink by the sun, the windows, the shutters, is peering at her with scores of suspicious eyes,
tracking her activities. Even when there’s no one there beside her she’s subject to unrelenting scrutiny, like now, for example, when she’s standing on a chair and reaching up for the top drawer of the cabinet, where she keeps Nitzan’s childhood clothes, and some toys which a child might still enjoy playing with: building blocks and dolls and battered furry animals. One after another they tumble down from the cupboard, a deluge of toys, a cataract of sweet memories, and she sits on the floor, glancing around her again to be sure no one’s there and eagerly emptying the bags, as if it’s in the power of these ancient objects to carry her far away from here, to other days.
Here’s a grey velvet kitten, with a gloomy look on his face; she bought it her as a present for one of the festivals, and together they made up a story about the kitten who lost his mother and nearly died of hunger but then was rescued and taken into their house and became a happy little cat, and they really were convinced his expression had changed for the better too, but the long years of confinement in the cupboard haven’t been kind to him, nor to the other creatures which have lost their vitality, like her in fact, but now she has good news for this hopeless company, a child will be coming soon, a little boy who will cuddle you in his arms, let you sleep in his bed; it’s possible, she talked again today with some people, pleasant voices answered her, explained things in detail, she knows what she has to do and she will do it, the moment she’s confident enough that things will work out, she feels this power, strong and inexorable as the very laws of nature, she feels it passing through her at times, checking her capacity to contain it; is she capable of turning into an unstoppable person?
Meticulously she examines the toys, it seems every one of them is telling her in its own way a simple story of love and intimacy, and that’s what she longs for, love and intimacy, these are her needs and she sees no reason to apologise. There are some who need freedom, achievements, excitement, whereas her need is different, but no less profound, and although at the moment it’s still hard to achieve it, this doesn’t mean the idea is flawed, and she gather the toys in her lap and buries her face in the fur. You are witnesses, she whispers, you are the only witnesses to those days, long days of love and intimacy that I believed would last for ever, and it seems to her they are sighing at her until she hears his cold voice at the end of the sigh, good, I see you’ve decided to clear out the cupboard at last.
Not exactly, she mumbles, dropping the furry animals from her lap, what’s happened? You’re home early, and he sighs again, I don’t feel well, my head hurts, and she gets up hurriedly, have you had enough to drink? Maybe you’re dehydrated, it’s terribly hot today. You’re telling me? he grumbles, I was taking pictures in the valley. On his sweat-soaked T-shirt is the image of a man’s face, and he too is looking at her askance, as if detecting some dangerous illness in her, and she asks, who is that on your T-shirt, and he replies, just a face, I think, stretching it and looking down into the ever more distorted features, while she puts the toys back in the bags. I’m going to the territories this week, he says, I can take that stuff with me and hand it out to the kids.
Come and lie down on the bed, she suggests, I’ll get you a drink of water, and he takes off his shirt, only one pair of eyes staring at her now, and he’s never looked at her like this before, I need a shower first, he says, and she’s shocked, seeing the state of his chest, how thin he’s becoming these days, and she watches him with concern as he disappears into the shower. This is her fault, she’s the one who’s disturbing his peace of mind with her crazy ideas, that’s why he doesn’t feel well, that’s why he isn’t eating, she’s imposed too heavy a burden on her little family and the results haven’t been slow in coming. Nitzan is spending the night somewhere else, and Gideon is getting weaker, they need her more than she realised, need her to be steady and calm so they can live their lives, ignore her in other words, and she ties the laces of the bags and then changes her mind and retrieves the grey velvet kitten, yes, by all means, take it all away, she says to him although he isn’t listening, I have enough for one, and she strips off her clothes and gets into the bed, laying the kitten on the pillow beside her, what a cruel contest this is, Gideon, my need against your need, my happiness against your happiness, what a mistake it was to assume they were identical.
Are you asleep? he asks, stretching out on the bed beside her, his skin smelling of pungent herbal soap, and she lays her head on his chest, talk to me, Gideon, we hardly ever talk, you’re so distant from me, and he grins, I’m distant? I’m always in the same place, you’re the one who’s suddenly changing with this new lunacy of yours, look at yourself objectively for a moment: a radiant and attractive woman, with a successful family, who suddenly needs to bring up another child, just at the age when most people reckon they’re through with the responsibilities of childcare, sometimes I think we need an exorcist to uproot this crazy demon of yours.
Don’t exaggerate, she protests, it’s true it sounds extreme but in the end it’s a simple story, even an ancient one, a woman wants a child, no more and no less, and he straightens up and leans against the wall, taking off his glasses, the question is how far is she prepared to go, this woman who wants a kid, in most cases it’s the degree of the obsession that counts, that’s the difference between sanity and madness. It isn’t every woman who would endanger herself and her family to fulfil this aspiration, and if you don’t even see the danger, it proves there’s something about you that’s fatally flawed.
Of course I see the danger, she says, leaning on the wall beside him, sending out the words without checking them first, but I also see the prospects of happiness, and the danger of giving up I see as well, and he interrupts her, giving up, what are you talking about? How can you mourn for something that doesn’t exist anyway, that you never had? I really don’t understand you.
I did have, she mumbles, that is we had, another child who wasn’t born, have you forgotten him? And he groans, oh Dina, really, why is that relevant? No child you give birth to or adopt can compensate you for what you lost then, it’s twisted logic, can’t you see that? And she protests, why are you choosing such harsh words, that really isn’t what I need now, and he says, sorry, I can’t give you what you need, I’ve already told you, maybe you need a new man and not a new kid.
I don’t need a new man, she hisses angrily, I want you the way we once were, there’s no longer any warmth between us and no intimacy, that’s what I miss, perhaps if we’d been closer I’d have found it easier to give up, and he grins, what is this, cosying up to me this time, are you? You’re always complaining I’m too cold and hard, I can’t be your baby, and I’m sorry about that, but I’ll be very happy if you bring me a bottle of water, and she gets up from the bed and goes to the kitchen in bra and knickers. It’s hopeless, completely hopeless, he’ll never give way on this, and he’s right, from his angle, he can live without her, the threads binding them together are steadily unravelling. When she returns to him he’s lying there with his eyes closed, how vulnerable he looks without his glasses, what does she expect of him, it’s not in his power to give her what she wants, and she sits beside him at the end of the bed, have a drink, she says, how’s your head? And he says, no change, and opens his sunken eyes to her, I’m tired, I don’t have the energy for your dramas, I’ve worked hard all my life and I’m not looking for new challenges now, I’m sorry, if you’re incapable of letting it go we’ll have to separate, and you must decide if it’s really worth your while, dismantling your daughter’s family for the sake of some caprice.
I don’t want to dismantle anything, I want to build, she protests, why do you make everything so negative? Since when has a new child dismantled a family? A child means life and love, but he cuts in at once, no, a child means worry and exhaustion, and that doesn’t suit me now, I want a quiet life, and she mutters, in your grave you’ll have all the quiet you want, I promise you, your approach is so depressing, as if at our age a quiet life is all we have to look forward to, I don’t want to live like th
at.
So don’t live, he throws back at her, I’m speaking only for myself, this doesn’t oblige you, just don’t force on me extreme changes that don’t suit me, and she counters with, aren’t you forcing your quiet life on me, when that doesn’t suit me? And he says, maybe, but what I want is more conventional, I’m following the natural course of life and you’re the one trying to do something abnormal.
Since when have you been a paragon of normality, she complains, being left with one child isn’t such a normal thing either, and he snaps, why do you think I came home early, I wanted to rest and you’re doing my head in again, there’s no point in talking about this any more, I’m telling you, it isn’t going to happen, and now I need some sleep. She says, wait a moment, let’s agree on something. I’m prepared to let it go, but only after you’ve given it serious consideration. Let’s meet some people who’ve adopted, or just read about it in the blogs, after that you can decide, and he says, Dina, I’m not meeting anyone, I’m not reading anything, I’m not the one who’s agonising about it, I’m not interested, end of, and she clutches his hand, but how can you dismiss outright something so important to me? You owe me this much at least, to look into it before you decide.
The Remains of Love Page 29
