Your little girl is quite big now, she laughs, you can leave her alone for an hour or two, and he grumbles, an hour or two, is that all the time you’re allocating to me? Supposing I want more? A light and mischievous wind blows at them, from those days, from their history, a little comma in the chronicles of the nations, but nearly twenty years out of their lives, and she remembers how he supported her back then, you’ve done the right thing, stop blaming yourself, you’ve been done an injustice, this job should have been yours, and she asks, does she have a family, does she have a husband and children? and he says, she was talking so much I couldn’t take it all in, but she definitely had a child or two with her.
And what’s a hedge fund anyway? she asks, and he chuckles, is it urgent for you to know that right now? And she says, not really, I can wait until you come round here to explain it to me, and he says, sorry, Dini, there’s no point, the day you say you’re giving up I’ll gladly come to you, but this child of yours is driving a wedge between us, it’s either me or him, and she tries to steady her voice, good night, Gidi, and he sighs, good night, and she sees him lying on their bed, reading without spectacles, the book close to his eyes and sinking over his face when he sleeps, and the little lamp is still on, she doesn’t want to lose him, a last spark remains precious to her heart, a slender reading light, but she can’t give up the child either, and she leaves the bed and wanders round the house, peering into her mother’s bedroom; she’s lying on her back with eyes closed and hands folded on the blanket, her limbs in exemplary order as if arranged in readiness for the coffin, and again she wonders about this new phase in her mother’s existence, she’s turned over the past year into an almost supernatural being.
At a time when most old people of her age are concerned exclusively with their aches and pains, burdening the members of their families with their ailing bodies and soon-to-be-vacated minds, her mother of all people is succeeding in hovering above the needs of her corporeal existence, she doesn’t ask for anything and doesn’t complain, letting Rachela wash her limbs and change her nappies, munching obediently and swallowing her medications, and beyond this she is barely present in reality, and yet, in a few moments of lucidity she surprises them with clear and rational observations, until it seems to Dina she’s only pretending to be asleep, she’s listening to them as attentively as ever, monitoring their activities as if wanting to know how they will run their lives after her death, located in a kind of third form of existence, which isn’t life and isn’t death, isn’t growing and isn’t static.
How simplistic is this crude distinction, her mother is trying to say, as it seems the very qualities that made her life difficult are good for her in her latter days, there are those who live well and those who die well, and indeed, how well her third form of existence suits her, a new nobility is perceptible in her features, oy, Mum, in the very place where all are withering you are flourishing, she says aloud, and her mother opens her eyes and smiles a mischievous smile at her, and she has no idea if there’s deep understanding in it or utter detachment, and she flops down, exhausted, in the armchair facing her. How do they know what’s the right thing to do? How do they know where the mistakes lie? After all, only with the passage of the years does the full picture become entirely clear, and although her mother is silent it seems to her she knows the answer, knows there is no answer, apparently most things aren’t absolutely right or absolutely wrong, the question is what are we to do with them, and again a smile rises to her lips and her fingers move on her arm in circular patterns as if she were holding a pen and writing, and Dina sprawls in the armchair and in some implausible fashion she feels protected, more so than she has ever felt before. How can this moribund old woman protect her? What a comical thought, and yet firm and enduring, and it seems to her if she falls she’ll catch her, and her grasp will be as soft as this blanket that she pulls from the open wardrobe and wraps around herself and thus she falls asleep, sitting in the armchair facing her smiling mother, just as well Gideon didn’t come, she thinks, nights with him have become more of the same to me and a night like this hasn’t happened yet, and nor will it, because everything’s bound to change.
In the morning the ringing of the phone wakes her, and she’s just a little bit excited seeing his name on the screen, perhaps he regrets refusing me, perhaps he’ll suggest he comes round tonight, but he’s being hard and practical, Nitzan came home early this morning and since then she’s been lying on her bed in floods of tears, crying incessantly, he reports, she won’t tell me what’s happened. I have to leave soon, so you’d better come home and relieve me, she can’t be left alone, and she says, of course, I’m on my way, dressing hastily and saying goodbye to Rachela, who’s already busy in the kitchen, humming some mournful tune. What’s happened to her, what can this be, only yesterday they parted company and everything was fine, it must be that boy, only the pains of love drive girls to take to their beds, and when she enters the building Gideon is already on the stairs, nearly a month since she’s seen him and her heart goes out to him, so you didn’t have a girl at home last night, she remembers, you could have come to me.
Let me know if you get anything out of her, he cuts her short and she says, of course, will you be back by four, I’m teaching this afternoon, and he replies, no problem, and already he’s disappeared, and she stands on the threshold of the apartment, which looks to her suddenly spacious in comparison with her mother’s house, surprised to find just how well the apartment is functioning without her. Clean and orderly it’s all set out before her, the sink empty of utensils and the fridge full, the cat dozing on the sofa, sleek and pampered, and she goes into Nitzan’s room, the curtain is flapping vigorously over the bed, a cold breeze is blowing and she hurries to close the window, but a sharp cry from the bed stays her arm, don’t close it, I need air, I’m suffocating.
What’s happened, Nitzi, she sits down beside her and tries to draw the fragile form towards her, but her daughter recoils from her touch, leave me alone, she yells and throws off the blanket, face flushed and eyes swollen, and Dina coaxes her, tell me what’s happened, let me help you, and her daughter shakes her head tearfully, I’m beyond help, I want to die.
Relax, sweetheart, that’s how you feel now but in a day or two you’ll feel better, she promises her, what’s happened, has he left you? and Nitzan peers at her in astonishment through the tangled mass of wet hair, who? and after a moment of confusion she asks her, how do you know? And Dina says, I saw you here together a few months ago, I still don’t know why you needed to lie to me.
Because he’s older than me, Nitzan wails, I was afraid if you knew how old he was you wouldn’t let me see him, he’s nine years older than me, and Dina says, that really is a huge gap at that age, amazed to hear how much authority her daughter attributes to her, the power to separate a pair of lovers. So all this time you’ve been together? she asks carefully, and Nitzan sits up and leans against the wall, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, not exactly, she says, he really wanted that but I was scared, it took me a long time before I started trusting him, and now I regret it so much, she groans again, pulling the blanket over herself, and Dina asks, what is it you regret?
On Sabbath I had the house to myself, she whispers urgently, Dad wasn’t here, so I invited him and we were together all day, and in the end you know what, it happened, for the first time, because I always wanted to wait, I felt it was too soon for me, but on Sabbath we were having such a good time together and I thought well, why not, I love him so much and he loves me, and then he didn’t contact me but I wasn’t worried, I reckoned he was busy, and yesterday I went to his house after I’d been at your place, and he was kind of cold, like we were strangers. And suddenly he said he was already moving on, he’s met up with his ex and decided what he really wants is to go back to her, and that was after we slept together, I’ll never go with anyone again as long as I live, and Dina absorbs the painful information in silence, her body tensed and the words thumping her
with clenched fists. This hasn’t happened, why did it happen, she’ll make sure it doesn’t happen, but it’s already happened, the moment came and she was incapable of doing anything to help her, how bitter is the total powerlessness of the all-powerful mother, how easy it was to cheer her up when she was little, a sweet on a stick, an ice cream tub, the moon in the sky, and now what, on the very threshold of her love-life she’s been dumped, and she feels she could happily rip that boy to shreds, how dare he violate her youth, like twins in the womb they lay on that bed, half-clothed, how shocking the sight had been, did she see the desertion there between them, this was exactly the way her twin brother abandoned her on the very threshold of her life, leaving her to tremble alone in the dark like a frightened rabbit.
I’m sorry, my darling, she sighs, cautiously caressing the scrawny arm, it really is terribly hard but everyone goes through it one way or another, the main thing is not to take any blame on yourself, don’t let it damage your confidence, and Nitzan interrupts her, oh, Mum, it must be my fault, I disappointed him, and that’s a fact, if he wanted me so much, how come everything changed? And Dina protests, that’s nonsense, there are some men around who lose interest once they’ve got what they’re after, and that’s their problem, how can you blame yourself? There’s poison in that way of thinking, steer well clear of it.
Has this happened to you too? Nitzan whimpers, and her first impulse is to invent for her some truly horrific desertion stories to serve as consolation. Not really, she admits, but it didn’t happen to me only because I was so afraid of rejection I preferred to stay by myself, can you imagine it, I had my first boyfriend at twenty-four, and even him I was with mainly because he wanted me, and Nitzan sighs, maybe it’s healthier that way, at least nobody hurt you, but Dina interrupts her, what’s healthy about it? I hurt myself, nobody can hurt us more than we hurt ourselves.
So were you with Dad only because he wanted you? she asks, and Dina says, no, with your father it was different, the love I felt for him was stronger than the fear, apparently, but believe me I’ve been through all kinds of desertions, Nitzi, anyone who hasn’t been deserted has never been connected, and if you’re not connected you’re not really alive, no challenges, no growth, I’m sorry, my darling, this is the price of living, of daring, just don’t give up, as you once said to me yourself, don’t give up on what’s important to you, and Nitzan interrupts her, that’s enough Mum, all this pathos! and for the first time a smile appears on her puffy face, and Dina is embarrassed, I really believe in what I’m saying, and Nitzan says, of course, but why does it sound as if you’re moving away from me?
Returning to her car after the lecture she soon finds herself on the road leading to her house, and it comes as no surprise to her, her hands and her feet guiding her this way; after all this is what coming home is like, like the leaving of it, almost casual, without proclamations and promises, and so when the three them sit down together round the table for the first time in weeks, and eat supper, this too will be low-key, and perhaps when the invitation comes to meet the child, it will be the same: here is the little boy, do you want to be his mother? Here comes the moment of truth, can you stand up to it? I know you, he said, you’ll get cold feet, you’ll run away, and what if he’s right, because this evening for example when she sits between the two of them she feels she’s lacking nothing; Nitzan is tucking with great gusto into the fried eggs that Gideon served up, dipping fresh bread in the yolk, and apparently feeling much better, and Dina marvels at the way the consoling power of motherhood is gradually returning to her. It never occurred to her that her mother could help her in a time of adversity, on the contrary, all she could expect was the admonitory finger wagging at her, I told you, I warned you, and only now, when she can hardly speak and there’s no knowing if she understands, it seems to her she’s supporting her, and even this is a straw she’s prepared to clutch at, the straw of an embrace from those desiccated arms, and who knows, maybe this is the reason Nitzan is stronger than me, she reflects, if I were in her shoes I’d be weeping bitterly day after day, not stuffing myself with fresh bread and fried eggs but throwing up my stomach contents, scraping the skin that he touched, I’d be inconsolable, inconsolable, while she’s already taking her seat on the sofa in front of the TV. Mummydaddy, she calls them with a sweet smile as she used to when she was little, come on, let’s watch a movie together! It’s been ages since we’ve done that. And they too smile at her in the old style, how endearing she can be, little rabbit, cute and lively squirrel. How they used to enjoy those mock-arguments, which does she resemble more, squirrel or rabbit, and what do we give her to eat, carrot or nuts, and now she’s been dumped, but her fingers are already on the remote, flicking through the options, and she’s calling out the titles of the films. We’ll find something we’ll all enjoy, she announces, with such strange exuberance that Dina begins to suspect, and even to hope with all her heart, maybe the whole of this crisis was staged for her benefit, a ploy to bring her home, and she turns to Gideon with a question in her eyes. Leave it, he grimaces, you’ll never find a film we all like. How taciturn he is this evening, digesting her presence in silence, keeping his distance, where was he last Sabbath? Who was he with?
Give over, Dad, you’re always spoiling things, Nitzan complains. Look, this is a movie my friends recommended, come on, let’s roll it, and Dina is already sitting beside her on the sofa, what difference does it make which film they see, just to be together, the three of them like this, in the forgotten intimacy of a domestic evening, but Gideon is grousing as always, what’s this about? You know I hate melodramas, let’s watch a documentary, and Nitzan reproaches him, oh, what a misery-guts you are, this is a really cool movie about a teacher having an affair with his pupil and she has a baby and gives it up for adoption, and then it all gets complicated.
You can bet it gets complicated, Gideon mutters, turning to Dina with an icy glance and she avoids his eyes and knits her fingers together hard, and Nitzan asks, what’s going on? Is it because of the adoption? Woops, how sensitive everyone is here, come on, get over it, you’re grown-ups aren’t you, and already she’s turning off the light and sitting with legs folded, laying her head on Dina’s shoulder, and she for her part is stunned by the rapid and inexplicable turn of events, in the course of this day and also on the screen before her, where the child is given up for adoption by his biological father, who doesn’t know anything about it until his pupil comes back into his life, and then a loud snort is heard from Gideon’s armchair, and Dina wipes away the tears that have flowed unchecked this past hour, what a nightmare, Nitzi, what a terrifying film, and Nitzan whimpers in her arms, you’re right, I don’t know why my friends raved about it so much.
We’re surrounded by enigmas, Dina sighs, large and small, her temples pounding and her head aching, what’s her daughter trying to tell her, what’s this evening trying to tell her, how confusing the signs are, and when Gideon emits another snort Nitzan bursts into laughter, and at once her voice breaks, oh, Mummy, I love him so much, I can’t believe it’s over, all my life I’ve never loved anyone like that, and Dina presses her to her heart, time will soften it, my darling, every day will be a little easier, and there will be many more loves, I promise you, and she caresses her body slowly, the new-old love that the girl is lavishing on her suddenly, the memory of their close contact, memory of her childhood, this exists, it’s yours, perhaps this is what you’ll understand at the moment of truth, this was and therefore it exists, even if it never returns but only flickers from time to time in what remains of your life, this isn’t the sun but memory of the sun, distant rays of warmth, most people are satisfied with this, what about you?
I want to sleep, Nitzan wails, I want to sleep and not wake up, how can he stop loving me? And Dina escorts her to her bed and spreads the blanket over her, the heating’s already been turned off and cold spreads through the house. The love that you’ve experienced won’t be taken from you, Nitzan, it’s yours, both the love with
which you’ve loved and the love with which you’ve been loved, it’s stored up inside you, we’re like cyclamens, like all plants with bulbs and tubers, we have mechanisms for storage and renewal, do you hear?
Yes, Mummy, the girl mumbles agreement with eyes closed and turns on her side, and Dina leans over her and kisses her forehead again and again until her breathing steadies and she falls asleep. No reason to worry, she’s sleeping, she’s eating, she’ll recover. I wish I could take the pain from her but she’ll get through it, she has strengths, and she gets up and goes cautiously into the master bedroom like a trespasser, checking out the double bed which is arranged in meticulous order, for some reason it seems no one has slept in it for a long time, I’m returning to my house, to my daughter, so why does it seem to me this is a separation?
One week later precisely the phone will ring after midnight, while outside the rain is teeming, with thunder and lightning, and she responds in panic, sure this must be her brother calling to report her mother’s death. Mum, Mum, her heart pounds as she fumbles for the phone in the dark, but an animated voice with a heavy Russian accent is calling her name, Dina? This is Tanya from the institute, I told you there are pleasant surprises too, and here it is, we’ve been offered a little boy, you can come and see him. I’ll send a picture and details via email and you can give me your answer tomorrow.
The Remains of Love Page 39
