A. Yehoshua - A Late Divorce

She looks at me. “He wants to read it.”

I smile caustically. Is she joking or being mad or both? She has a right to her mad jokes if I were her I’d make them too how tempting to be absolved of all legal responsibility for one’s words.

She opens the bag of strawberries she takes out a ripe berry she smells it and gives it to the dog who gulps it down.

“You’ve written so much here… must I read all of it?”

“I’m afraid you must before you sign. That’s how we generally do it.”

“We?”

“I mean we lawyers.”

She holds the document close to her eyes trying to make something of it but grows tired at once and hands it back to me.

“Maybe you’ll read it to me. I can’t see a thing. My glasses broke… I told Ya’el… I couldn’t read that book she gave me either…”

I take the document from her carefully wipe off the traces of the dog’s saliva and begin to read slowly. The dog gobbles ripe strawberries from her hand nuzzling the tom bag. Kissinger sits in a palatial garden by the Nile explaining the disengagement agreement while the photographers scramble with their telescopic lenses through the distant bushes. Here and there I pause to analyze the hidden meaning of some passage to point out a pitfall I’ve avoided or a loophole I’ve managed to close. But what does she understand? She doesn’t say a word just tightly grips the collar on the dog’s neck. At last I’m done.

“And the baby?” she asks. “She doesn’t wake you up at night anymore?”

“The baby?? Hardly ever.”

“I keep forgetting her name.”

“Rakefet.”

“That’s right, Rakefet. Write it down for me here, please.”

I write it down on a small piece of paper and give it to her.

Silence. The suspense is killing me.

“Why didn’t Ya’el come with you? Why did they send you by yourself?”

“She’ll be here tomorrow. So will he. We thought that… that it would be best… professionally speaking… if I’d explain things quietly to you first…”

“Why didn’t Ya’el come? Something’s happened to her…”

“Nothing has happened. She’ll come tomorrow or the day after. I’ll bring her.”

All at once the dog growls he’s already eaten the paper bag now he’s eating the air that was inside it. Once again total silence. It’s time for her to sign now I know these silences well.

“All you need to do now is sign here in the corner. At the bottom. Unless you have any comments to make.”

But suddenly she gets up the papers fall to the ground she’s having an anxiety attack.

“Why didn’t Ya’el come with you? Something’s happened to her…”

Well well well good morning. The devils have woken up.

I quickly gather up the papers.

“I swear to you nothing’s happened. She just didn’t sleep well last night. She was tired. Now if you would sign here… we don’t have much time… the rabbi’s expected by the end of the week. He came back from America especially… you agreed by mail… you promised…”

I’m getting into hot water. The dog senses my agitation he pricks up his ears and growls loudly. The golem standing on the path shuffles toward us his straw broom aimed at the sky. How can I leave without her signature? My mother was right why did I get involved in their affairs. No one ever taught me in law school how to give legal advice to the insane someone should write a book about it the obvious candidate is me.

“I say it’s best to sign now. That’s all there is to it. Because it’s a good agreement that guarantees all your needs. Even if you should remarry someday, he’ll still have to support you.”

And I take hold of her shoulder.

But she backs away in a fright still gripping the dog’s collar he’s barking now he lunges at me clumsily. The filthy old mutt. I let go of her at once.

“Maybe you’d like to think about it some more…”

She nods like a little girl.

“I’ll leave it here with you and tomorrow or the day after Ya’el will pick it up. Perhaps the two of them will come together.”

“Ya’el will come?”

“Of course.’’

She beams radiantly. I’m careful not to touch her again I don’t want the dog to get the wrong idea. Suddenly something straw-like tickles the back of my neck the golem has arrived he’s standing silently behind me. I smile forbearingly and grab the broom that’s prodding my head. The dog’s whining again he won’t attack him though he’ll attack me lie’s lost all his family instincts.

“Well, then, I’ll be off. Is there anything you’d like to ask or request before I go?”

She smiles affectionately at me.

This is where true liberalism began. I could write an interesting book about it. Thirty years ago they still tied up the crazies today they tie up anyone sane who gets in their way. I make a fast getaway. Not that it hasn’t been an experience. It certainly has been. But from a legal point of view I haven’t accomplished very much. I hurry to the gate it’s already half past four. Time’s flown like crazy today. It’s not ideas I’m lacking it’s time. If I had the time I could have written three books already but what would Gaddi and Rakefet eat? Books. It’s a good thing that check for a hundred thousand is waiting for me otherwise it would have been a wasted day one without a single legal orgasm.

It’s already twilight when I get back to the office. The corridors are dark. More shady customers are still waiting on the bench outside Mizrachi’s office. What brings them to him I ask myself it’s not his brains he doesn’t have any it must be his cut-rate prices. I open my office and tum on the light. She’s gone. I open the drawer right away I can feel there’s no check in it. What’s going on here? Good Lord! Where is it? Where did the bitch put it? I go through all the files and papers. This is all I needed. The end will be a heart attack. I’ll kill her I’ll really kill her let’s see what court will dare to convict me I expressly said put it in the drawer so she put it somewhere else and someone came and stole it. God in heaven have pity! I jump for the telephone to dial the police but I know them they’ll just send me some illiterate Ali Baba. If only I could cry I’d sell tickets to the thousands who’d like to see me I’ve ransacked the office she must have stolen it herself. Why not? For the past month she’s been warming herself by the heater and plotting it.

“Gaddi, quick, get me mom, on the double, not a word out of you…. Ya’el, I’ll tell you all about it afterwards, now I just have one question, do you know anything, did my secretary call about some check?…No? All right then, goodbye. I’ll explain it all later. If I don’t come home tonight, look for me in intensive care. It’s nothing to worry about, just a hundred thousand pounds down the drain…. What?…Later!”

I hang up madness coming over me. I yank all the drawers from their grooves I search the inside of the desk I tear the map off the wall and look for the check behind it. I go through the office like a storm I have to get my hands on her but how? Her family of cavemen doesn’t have a telephone finally I find her address written in a little notebook thank God I was smart enough to jot it down when I hired her only what kind of address is it some housing project with two numbers and no street I call the police to get directions I switch off the light leaving the office in a shambles behind me.

It’s already evening I drive down to the lower city through Wadi Salib through Wadi Nisnas through Rushmiyya where the hell am I. Don’t they even have Hebrew names for all these wadis all this desolate earth these narrow crooked streets stuck to the mountainside all at once the road comes to an end. I begin climbing up and down stairs I’ve never been here before a government project grafted onto deserted Arab houses twining grapevines water in the gutters sand weeds bursting through broken sidewalks farmland turned into a slum a dark store here and there lit by a kerosene lamp groceries where they spike the cottage cheese with hashish it looks like I’m in for another adventure. What a wasteland. Such quiet passive people how slowly they walk it’s only on television that they start to shout they’re all carrying packages now matzos for Passover when I grab them to ask the address they look at me calmly what family is it that you want. Pinto? But which Pinto? A good question that I feel I’m going to cry the Pintos who sell eggplant in the market the night’s still young if I have to I’ll visit every Pinto within miles.