Marek Hlasko - All Backs Were Turned

She didn’t move. She was still watching the door behind which Dov had disappeared.

“That man has insulted me,” she said quietly. “Even though I did him no wrong. I’ve barely been in this town fifteen minutes.”

“One often pays for the wrongs done by others,” Israel said. “Every Jew ought to know that. Hasn’t your mother ever told you that?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not Jewish,” she said. “My husband was a Jew. That’s why I came here, to see the things he told me so much about. I didn’t come here to be insulted.”

“Dov won’t change,” Israel said. “I can apologize for him if you want me to.”

“My husband told me that when you welcome somebody in Hebrew, you say, Blessed be the one who cometh hither. Doesn’t anybody say these words anymore?”

“Of course they do,” Israel said. “Plenty of people say them. And feel that way about strangers. Actually, I don’t know anybody who doesn’t. And of all the people I know, Dov is usually the one most likely to.”

He moved off, carrying her suitcase; after a moment, Ursula got out of the jeep and followed. They crossed the yard and approached the fat woman’s house; the fat woman herself was still standing in the doorway.

“Let’s see that room,” Israel said. He walked in, shouldering her aside.

The room she showed them was bright and clean.

“You won’t find a room like this for fifteen pounds anywhere else,” she said. “I’m renting it only because my husband—”

“For fifteen pounds we don’t want it,” Israel said. “You settled for ten.”

“Ten? I think you have trouble understanding Hebrew. How long have you been in this country?”

“You said ten,” Israel said.

“There must be some mistake. Ask your friend. If Dov Ben Dov says I settled for ten, I’ll agree. My loss. I don’t need to make a profit. Others die of hunger, so I can suffer a loss. It won’t kill me. But ask Dov Ben Dov. I want to hear it from his mouth.”

“Dov has said too many things for which he later had to appear in court,” Israel said. “It’s best to leave him alone.”

“You want to ruin me!”

“No, I don’t,” Israel said, picking up the suitcase he had already placed on the bed. “We’ll find a different room.”

“Did I say no?” the fat woman asked. “Did I say you can’t have it? Let it be my loss.” She turned to Ursula who was still standing in the door. “What is it, dear? You look depressed.”

“No,” Ursula said, “I’m just tired. And hot.”

“I’ll make you some coffee, dear,” the fat woman said. “Coffee is what keeps one alive here.”

“Right,” Israel said. “Then it’s settled. Wash up and have some coffee. I’ll go home and drink something too. When you’re ready, just honk the horn. I’ll leave the keys in the jeep.”

Back home, he took a bottle of beer out of the refrigerator in the kitchen and walked into the room. His hands trembled with anger as he poured the beer into a glass.

“You have some strange ideas about making money, Dov,” he said. “Most people are really odd; they don’t like being insulted.”

“Did he say something rude to her?” Esther asked; she was still rosy from sleep, like a child.

“Not at all,” Israel said. “He only implied she looked like a whore. Apart from that, he was really charming. If she spoke Hebrew better, she’d have told him he was very sweet. The reason she didn’t is that her Hebrew isn’t too good.”

“Dov was right,” Esther said.

Israel turned to her. “Why was he right?” he asked. “Who gave him the right to insult somebody he’s never met before?”

“I saw the way she was looking at him,” Esther said.

“And how was that, if you don’t mind telling me?” Israel asked.

“As if there was something about him she didn’t like,” Esther said.

“Like what?”

“His clothes,” Esther said.

“Don’t try to defend me, Esther,” Dov said. “The best lawyers in this country tried, but in the end they always lost the case.”

“You don’t need anybody to defend you,” Esther said. “And nobody could do it.”

“Then what do I need, Esther?” Dov asked.

“You need somebody who’d love you,” Esther said. “Though I doubt anyone would know how.”

“This is the second time today you’re meddling in my affairs,” Dov said. “I haven’t asked for your opinion.”

“That woman hasn’t asked for yours either,” Esther said. “She was just sitting in the jeep and looking at you. And I happened to be standing by the window and saw it all.”

“Esther,” Dov said, “I have enough troubles as it is. Don’t add to them. Stand by the window, stand on your head, stand where you like, but leave me alone.”

“Look, it wasn’t me that was looking at you.” She regarded him for a moment in a stony, unfriendly fashion. “And it wasn’t me that didn’t like your clothes,” she added, storming out of the kitchen.

“There’s one thing she forgot to say,” Israel said.

“What is that?”

“That she could have moved away from the window. Or turned around and looked at something else. At this picture of your brother in uniform, for instance.” He stepped up to the wall and pointed at a picture of Little Dov that hung there in a coral frame. It had been taken when Little Dov was serving his time in the army; he was dressed in a paratrooper’s uniform. “She could have looked at this picture. But she didn’t.”

“Are you implying something, Israel?” Dov asked. “Don’t forget she’s my brother’s wife.”

Israel turned to Dov and looked at him in silence. He smiled, but his eyes remained hard.

“I hope she is not forgetting that,” he said after a pause. He pointed again at the picture. “It must be a recent one. Esther and Dov met in the army, didn’t they?”

“Listen, Israel,” Dov said. “Esther was born in this country like me and my brother. She has learned to speak her mind. Nobody should hold that against her.”

“I understand,” Israel said. “What you’re saying is that you who were born here are different from the rest of us. Different meaning better.” He heard the blare of the jeep’s horn and placed the glass of beer he was holding on the kitchen table. “I have to go,” he said. “I’ll drive her around Eilat and then come back. And I’ll apologize to her for you.”

“Don’t,” Dov said. “I didn’t mean to insult her. I have no idea how it happened.”

“I will,” Israel said. “You know why? Because I’m afraid that you may suddenly decide to apologize to her in person. And that would be the worst thing that could happen, Dov. Because the worst thing is not that you offend people or get into fights; it’s that later you want to apologize to them. That’s when the real trouble starts. And that’s what I’m afraid of.”

They heard the jeep’s horn again and Israel walked out. Dov got up, went to the window, and looked at Israel and Ursula. Then he turned around and looked at his brother’s picture and saw that it was somewhat askew. Israel must have shifted it a little, because the wall was slightly paler along one side of the frame. He stared for a moment at the picture, at his brother’s eyes, which watched him mirthlessly, at his blond hair sticking out from under the paratrooper’s cap, then he stepped up to the wall and moved the frame into place.

URSULA WAS ALREADY SITTING IN THE JEEP. SHE HAD put on a pair of somewhat dirty blue jeans. Israel smiled at her, then looked down at his own pants; they were exactly the same shade of blue and just as dirty.

“Where shall we go first?”

“I have no idea,” she said. “What’s worth seeing around here? You must know.”