Песах Амнуэль - Zion's Fiction - A Treasury of Israeli Speculative Literature

In my room I found Osher sitting on my bed.

“Osher, you’re here too?” I asked.

“I’m back, Ido,” Osher said.

“But I thought you were done. You told me you’re not my girlfriend anymore.”

“That’s true, I was done, but I’ve come back now.”

“You’re not mad because of the scene I made about you and Max?”

“Oy, Ido,” Osher said in a voice I hadn’t heard for a month now. “When are you going to get it? You’ve always been too heavy.” Osher placed her hands on both sides of my head, covering my ears and temples. It was a very pleasant feeling. “Let this head of yours rest. You keep it running all the time. This is not healthy, Ido, and it does nobody any good. You and your thoughts, alone against the whole wide world. Somebody is bound to get hurt eventually.”

“But Osher,” I felt I had to protest, “I thought such things, when they happen in our lives, are supposed to make us grow, make us more ready for life or something. Has nothing happened to us during this last month? Haven’t we grown, haven’t we learned something, isn’t there some lesson we’re missing? Doesn’t this story have any moral?”

“Don’t you want to be back with me?” Osher asked, hurt. She leaned her head against my chest. She was five foot three, so she barely reached my lowest ribs, because we were both standing up. Her ribs were trembling with the beginning of a cry, and when I put my fingers over her eyes, they were salty. Then we just stood there hugging.

I still wanted to tell her lots of things. I didn’t feel this was over and done with, but it was no use anymore. For myself, I really thought I’ve grown, I’ve been through something, this month has had some value. But there was no one I could tell it to. So I hugged Osher again, buried my head in the cavity between her shoulder and neck, smelled the nice scent of her deodorant, and thought that while I was right, there were more important things in life than being right.

“Sure I want to be back with you, Osher. I’m happy you’ve come back,” I said. For a moment I became sad and wanted to cry.

We hugged each other like this, not speaking, for several minutes. My sadness passed away. I felt everything became as per usual, the way it used to be.

Osher put her hand on my hip. “What happened to your clothes? Where’s your gun?” She asked.

“I threw them all into the sea. What do I need a gun for now?”

“Great,” Osher said. “Just wear something, or you’ll end up getting pneumonia.”

“ Alte zachen! Alte zachen! Old stuff! Fridges, cabinets, washers…. Alte zachen! ” Ahmed was shouting in the street below. He’d found a new donkey, a small brown one with a patient look in its eyes; a donkey that never spoke, just pulled the loaded cart wherever Ahmed told him to. They got along famously, and Ahmed was very happy. “At long last, a donkey with no bilosophy,” he’d told me.

It’s Azulay I’m going to miss the most. A real gentleman. It was quite nice of him to come with his truck and return my late grandmother’s ugly orange wedding couch right to our living room. Despite all its cigarette holes and the stains of coffee and cum on its pillows, for me this couch meant home—and that’s irreplaceable.

Good days are back, in a big way.

We were slumped, the three of us, on the couch in front of the TV. Max was wearing worn jeans that were a bit too short on him, felt slippers with a hole through which his big toe could be seen, and his favorite New York Knicks T-shirt.

“What’s with the pizza?” he asked. I told him I’d ordered it twenty minutes ago, a gigantic tuna crème fraîche, which we all liked, with some extras. I’d also ordered a couple of large bottles of Coke, so we won’t go thirsty. I told him that if the delivery guy won’t make it within the next ten minutes we’d get the sodas for free, in line with Domino’s hot pizza policy.

My mouth was actually watering, thinking of the delivery guy ringing our doorbell, of the moment I’d open the pizza’s carton and a wonderful wave of smell, melted cheese commingled with the scents of tuna, onion, and pepperoni, would hit my nose. My stomach rumbled in anticipation of the pizza it was going to host soon. I had a feeling this was going to be a perfect night.

Channel Two had commercials and promos. In a few minutes the Haifa derby was going to start. The picture moved to Kiryat Eliezer. An excited Zuhir Ba’aloul said there already were ten thousand fans in the stands, chanting and shouting. Behind him there was a roiling sea of green scarves and shirts. Smoke grenades were thrown, enveloping the stadium in pinkish fog. Rolls of toilet paper and calculator paper flew onto the pitch. The mayhem was just beginning.

The doorbell rang. I got up to open the door. There was the delivery guy, handing me two family-size pizzas. In the nick of time. “Why two?” I asked him. He told me they now had a bargain to celebrate Domino Pizza’s thirty years in Israel. Every third customer ordering a pizza gets another, identical one, for free.

The delivery guy was looking over my shoulder, into the apartment. He asked, “Don’t you have an ashram or something here?” I told him there used to be one, but not any longer. The delivery guy asked if it wasn’t by any chance the ashram of Tony, the donkey from Florentine . I said yes, but Tony won’t be back. The delivery guy told me that with the sodas it comes up to fifty-seven shekels, sixty agoroth. I yelled out to Max that I’ve got no money for the pizzas, and he yelled back that I can take it from the Grace and Charity Box in the kitchen, he thought there was a lot of bread in there. I paid the delivery guy and added a generous tip.

I went back, sat on the orange couch, and moved closer to Osher. I lay my hand across her shoulders. Her feline body clung tight to me, and I felt her sweet ass pressing against mine. She stretched out, gently nibbled my earlobe, and whispered that she was glad we’re back together and we’ll never split up again.

“Pity about Hapo’el. Maccabi will tear them to pieces,” said Max.

“Rubbish, Maxi,” said I. “Giovanni Roso and Ben-Shimon are on a roll; they’re going to teach the Maccabi defense some good lessons. Wanna bet?”

“Quiet, shuddup, it’s starting,” said Max, as the ref blew his whistle for the opening kick. I slid my hand under Osher’s sweater, letting it cover her warm, firm breast. Moved my finger in circles around her nipple, feeling how it got hard and erect. Osher purred pleasantly and snuggled against me. A soft, long-fingered hand crept from below into my shirt, moving up slowly. “Just you wait for what I’m going to do with you after the match,” she whispered in my ear before nibbling it again, not so gently this time.

They had to move. There was no other choice. She did try to keep it together. With all the washing, all the food she had to prepare, all the cleaning up. And she had to learn how to do all these by herself. With no help. With her slowly decaying mother who was looking at them, her and No’am, but saw other persons, times past. No’am was sinking too. When not moping around, he was fighting with kids in the neighborhood, and she had to hide him away and apologize for him. For one month she was able to hold on. Lucky for her it was summer vacation at school, but neighbors would come around occasionally to check up on her, asking questions, and finally Aunt Tehila, whom neither she nor No’am had seen for quite a few years, showed up. Their mother didn’t recognize her at all. Just looked at her with those vacant eyes. No. They weren’t vacant. Transparent, for all those tears, and all the light hitting them, which should have painted reflections and images, was deflected back the way it came, as though they were two little mirrors. And she was examining Tehila, who said, “Aviva, you’ve really grown up,” and then offered her hand to No’am, who was staring at her too. And refused to approach her. “What a mess,” she said, observing their home. Then she went to her sister, who lay folded on the living room’s couch, and kissed her on both cheeks.