Marek Hlasko - All Backs Were Turned

“Defendant Dov Ben Dov,” the judge said. “Stand up.” He pushed his glasses to his forehead and peered from under them at Dov’s dark, stubborn face. “Is it true that the man standing next to you is guilty? This man who is much weaker than you are? Answer me according to your conscience. You mentioned having a conscience, didn’t you?”

“That’s what he says,” Dov said.

“And you sat at a table and drank beer, yes?”

“I don’t remember what I was drinking,” Dov said. “But when that fight broke out, my back was turned. I had dropped my cigarette on the floor, and I was looking for it when the fight by the bar broke out. I don’t like leaving burning cigarette butts on the floor. That’s what I told the police.”

“You always have good witnesses, Ben Dov,” the judge said. “Nobody ever admits he saw you brawling. This time it’s the same. All backs were turned. But watch out; it may happen one day that everyone will turn his back when it is you who is getting hurt. Have you ever thought of that? And what about your conscience, which you spoke of having just a few minutes ago? Does it allow you to put the blame on your weaker friend just because you know this is his first offense so he will incur only token punishment? Does it allow you to take advantage of a weaker man only because he happened to be there?”

“I told you, I’m not weaker than he is,” Israel said. His lips had suddenly turned white.

“Are you sure?” the judge asked.

“Sure I’m sure,” Israel said.

“Speak politely when addressing the court,” the bailiff said in a wooden voice.

“I’m not weaker!” Israel yelled. “No, I’m not!” Suddenly he pushed the cop away, fell to his knees and grabbed the chair he had been sitting on by the leg; he tried to lift it up with one hand, but couldn’t do it. The chair fell over and he, kneeling by it on the floor, began to cry in helpless rage.

THEY WERE SITTING IN A SMALL RESTAURANT BY THE sea; they had just finished eating. Israel turned to Dov.

“Do you think I can manage?” he asked.

“Sure you can,” Dov said. “Many guys work there and they manage okay.”

“You said before that maybe I wouldn’t.”

“No,” Dov said wearily, “I didn’t say that. You should know how it is with a new job. In the beginning it tires you out, then you get used to it, and then you stop enjoying it. It’s almost always like that.” He stopped a passing waiter. “Bring me a glass of brandy,” he said.

“Don’t drink brandy, Dov,” Israel said. “Better have some coffee. It’ll make you feel better.”

“I don’t want to feel better,” Dov said. “I want a shot of brandy, that’s what.”

“Will he come?” Israel asked. “I’m beginning to worry.”

“No need to,” Dov said. “He’ll come. Look at those girls and stop worrying.” He pointed at two girls drinking coffee at the next table and held his hand in the air until one of them turned her head in his direction. “Just look at them.”

“What do you want?” the girl asked.

“You can turn around again,” Dov told her, letting his hand drop. “One more disappointment,” he said, looking her straight in the eye.

A stout man in a khaki shirt walked into the restaurant. He stopped in the middle of the room and stood there, holding a pair of sunglasses in his hand. Sweat trickled down his face. Finally he saw the two men and began making his way toward them, never once apologizing to the guests he squeezed past, jostling their tables with his strong, heavy body. The chair he lowered himself into creaked loudly under his weight.

“Sorry you had to wait for me,” he said. “It took me half an hour to find a parking space.”

“It’s okay,” Israel said. “The important thing is that you came. We haven’t been waiting long.”

The stout man didn’t look at him.

“When do you want to start work, Dov?” he asked.

“Tomorrow.” Dov finished off his warm brandy and placed the glass gently on the table.

“Do you know what the pay is?” the stout man asked.

“No,” Dov said. “But I know you. It can’t be good.”

“Whatever it is, it’s fine with us,” Israel said, but the stout man didn’t look at him this time either. His gaze was fixed on Dov’s face and the joined eyebrows.

“Dov,” he said, “you had ten years to find yourself a good job and settle down. Why didn’t you? Lots of people were ready to help you.”

“When can we start?” Dov asked.

The man didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he said, “You, Dov, can start tomorrow.”

“That’s not what I asked. When can the two of us start?”

“Dov, this is not a job for him. I never told you I’d have work for both of you. I said I’d have work for you. And only because it’s you. ”

“You’re wasting your time,” Dov said. “We’ll find something else. You have a garden by your house, don’t you? So go home and water your flowers.” When the stout man didn’t answer, after a while Dov said again, “You’re wasting your time sitting here.”

“Why do you insist on towing him along, Dov? He’s not your girlfriend. And he can’t work at the jobs you can. You should know that.”

“Yeah,” Dov said. “Like I said, you’re wasting your time. Just get up and leave, okay? You haven’t ordered anything, so there’s no reason for you to stick around. They won’t charge you just for sitting down.”

“You’re like a pretty girl, Dov,” the other man said slowly. “Whenever two girls are inseparable friends, one is pretty and the other so ugly it makes your eyes hurt. You insist on taking this guy along wherever you go, even though you couldn’t find a less likely man to team up with in the whole world.”

“Gimme a chance,” Israel said. “Believe me, I’m strong.” He leaned toward the stout man. “Ask Dov. Yesterday we had a fight with some men in a bar. Ask him how I managed.” He touched the stout man’s shoulder, but the man shook off his hand and turned to Dov.

“Strong men always think they can do something for the weak. And wise men think they can improve the minds of fools. It never works. In the end strong men go down because of weaklings and wise men go mad because of fools. It’s always been like that. How come you decided to ask me for help?”

“I’ll tell you,” Dov said. “I came to you because I was sure all honest and respectable men would turn me down. The way you did. And I know you well and know you’re a scoundrel.”

They looked at each other and suddenly the stout man burst out laughing.

“Hey, lover boy!” he shouted at the waiter. “Get us a bottle of brandy.” He gave the waiter a shove with his heavy hand sending him halfway across the room. Then he turned to Dov. “Mark my words. There were once two wise guys in this world; one was named David and the other Goliath.”

“Right,” Dov said. “I’ll remember that.” He was looking straight ahead, at the sea, where the first lights were beginning to blink, then he turned his head to the left and looked toward the lights of Jaffa. “But it’s better to be Goliath and die from a stone than to be David who became king, but was the cause of many tears.”

“You said that, Dov, I didn’t,” the stout man said. He picked up a glass and held it in his hand. “You have a brother in Eilat, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“When you were in court today, the judge must have told you that if you got into any more trouble, they’d lock you in the slammer for quite a while. Look, I know you; you just can’t keep your nose clean. Tel Aviv is bigger than Eilat; if anything happens here again, the judge will forget about your heroic past—”