Kashua Sayed - Second Person Singular

After dropping everything off at Noa’s, I went back to the house to pack up the CDs and the books. The bag with the stuff from Yonatan’s drawers, I decided, should be thrown out somewhere else, far away.

TWO-HUNDRED SHEKEL NOTES

“I’ll be back in five minutes,” the lawyer told Samah, who was holding the phone in one hand and sending the graphologist a fax with the other. On the way down the stairs he bumped into Tarik.

“So?” the lawyer asked.

“Good news! In the end the prosecution were the ones who were reprimanded.”

“You didn’t have to ask for a continuance?”

“No, the police never even managed to bring in the accused.”

“Great,” the lawyer said, smiling a genuine smile. “All right, I’m headed out for five minutes. Your coffee’s waiting for you, probably already cold.”

The lawyer was happy he hadn’t had to ask the court to reschedule the hearing. He took it as a sign. Maybe everyone was not against him and maybe the luck he had always had had not run out. Just one tiny little inquiry and then it’s over, the lawyer promised himself. One more thing and then I’m putting this entire thing behind me. I don’t care if this Amir is alive or dead; if his mother spoke to him or not. Enough. After I look into one more thing I will go back to believing in my wife’s version of events.

“Oh, good morning,” the lawyer said to Meirav when he saw her behind the counter of the used bookstore reading the paper.

“Good morning,” she said. “What’s up? What are you doing here on a Sunday, in the morning no less?”

The lawyer laughed and hoped he sounded credible. “You’re right,” he said, looking around for Yonatan’s boxes, “something is up.”

“What?” Meirav asked.

“On Thursday I came in and bought The Kreutzer Sonata, you remember?” He showed her the book.

“Yeah, I remember. What about it?”

“It’s a great book. I just wanted to ask if you knew who sold it to you?”

“Sure,” she answered. “I was the one who was working when all the stuff came in on Thursday. Why?”

“Do you think you could give me, I don’t know, the person’s number or e-mail or something?”

“No, sorry. We’re not allowed to give out the numbers of sellers or buyers. If it’s something important and you really need his info, you better talk to the owner.”

“I understand,” the lawyer said. “It’s kind of like attorney-client privilege or something, right?”

“The owner’s pretty strict about it,” Meirav said. “He’s worried people are going to steal his clients or, even worse, his sellers.”

“Okay, fine,” the lawyer said, opening the book. “The thing is, Meirav, that while I was reading I found these between the pages of the book.” He produced a pair of two-hundred shekel notes.

“Oh,” Meirav said, looking confused.

“I think these might be Yonatan’s,” the lawyer said, watching her face for a reaction.

“Yeah, they must be.” She typed something into the computer. “I’ll call him and tell him to come pick it up.”

“Hi, is this Yonatan?” Meirav said into the phone. “Hi, I hope I’m not disturbing you. My name’s Meirav and I’m calling from the used bookstore. We met on Thursday when you brought the books in, remember? No, no, everything’s fine, it’s just that someone found two two-hundred shekel bills in one of the books. Yeah. So I was thinking, I don’t know, maybe we could send it over to you or you could come by and get it.” Meirav was silent, she nodded her head and looked at the lawyer. Then she said, “I don’t see why not, it’s your money.”

The lawyer gestured to Meirav that he would like the phone. She said, “Just a second, the customer who found the money wants to talk to you. Just a second,” and she handed him the phone.

The lawyer took a deep breath.

“Hello, Yonatan?” he said, his voice rising at the end to form a question.

“Hello,” said the voice on the other end of the line. The lawyer could hear noise all around him.

“I bought The Kreutzer Sonata a little while ago and. .” the lawyer’s voice wavered.

“I know, it’s okay,” the other man said. “It’s fine. I don’t want the money. Do whatever you want with it. Give it away, take it, give it to the store, I don’t care.”

“I understand,” the lawyer said, wondering what to say next. It sounded to him like the voice on the other end of the line had left the noise and was searching out a quieter place. “The thing is, aside from the money, I also found the note.”

“What note?”

“A note in Arabic, and that’s why I’m here.”

“Sir,” the other man said impatiently, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’m heading into a class so I’m going to hang up now.”

“Do you know Arabic, Yonatan?” the lawyer asked, looking over at Meirav, who was starting to fidget, apparently regretting ever handing the phone to the lawyer.

“Why do you ask, sir? Who are you?”

The man’s response told the lawyer that he was on the right track.

“Yonatan,” he said, this time more forcefully. “Do you know someone by the name of Amir Lahab?”

“Who are you?” The lawyer could hear the fear in the man’s voice. “Can you please tell me who you are?” the man said, practically begging.

The lawyer decided to end this part of his investigation. “So, should I bring you the money when we meet up?” he asked.

“Why should we meet up? I just told you that I don’t want the money. What do you want from me?”

“No problem,” the lawyer said, smiling at Meirav. “No problem. I’ll bring the note, too. Okay, have a good rest of the day. They have your address? Great, excellent. Okay, see you soon.” The lawyer hung up the phone without waiting for a response. He looked at Meirav and grinned. “What kind of person says no to cash?”

“He wanted it?”

“Of course,” the lawyer said. “He sounded really busy, though. He asked that I take it over to his house. Sounded like a nice guy. And he definitely has good taste in books.”

“No doubt,” Meirav said. “There were some amazing books in there.”

“Okay,” the lawyer said. “I’ll head over there. Could you tell me how to go? What’s the shortest way to get there?”

“To 35 Scout Street?” she asked, looking at the computer screen. “The best thing to do is take Bezalel Street all the way to Herzl and then make a left.”

“Great, thanks a million.”

ASIGN AND A BELL

The lawyer was feeling pleased. He’d taken care of everything he’d set out to do. His wife was at home with the kids. How could he have thought, only earlier that morning, that she had beaten him to the punch and filed first for divorce? The matter of her car and the five floors of the parking garage also brought a smile to his lips. True, he hadn’t yet found an intern. Only two out of three had shown up and neither had made a particularly good impression, especially not on Tarik.

“Both goody two-shoes,” Tarik had said after the interviews. “So what, so they have good grades? They’re both spoiled little girls who’ve never seen anything outside a textbook and don’t know a thing about how the world works.”

“So we’ll wait for next week, there’ll be more candidates,” the lawyer said, laughing. “And yes, they really weren’t very kind on the eyes.”

He was also pleased that he was close to finding the answer to the riddle. And now, on his way to Beit Hakerem, that was all that remained of the whole sordid affair: the riddle, the challenge. He had seemingly forgotten about his wife’s involvement in the matter and now only sought to find out who Yonatan was, who Amir was, what the two had to do with each other, and how the whole thing had happened.