A. Yehoshua - A Late Divorce

“Does something hurt you, Gaddi?” I asked.

“My heart.”

“That’s not where your heart is.” I smiled. “Let me see.”

He slowly moved his hand toward his heart.

“They’ll arrest you at the gate,” said the morose young man.

“Shhh.” The old fellow hushed him with a smile. “No one will be arrested.” He tried driving the young man away.

“Your only chance is to escape through the hole,” the young man persisted.

“What hole?”

“Over there,” said the old fellow, pointing toward an overgrown corner of the fence.

“Over there…” echoed everyone, pointing in unison.

“That’s enough!” shouted the old fellow angrily. “Clear out of here…. Stop bothering him…. Don’t pay any attention to them.”

But they did not clear out. Instead they pressed even closer. The blonde kept rubbing against me, drawing on her cigarette without removing it from her mouth or even opening her eyes, draping herself all over me, soft, light and invertebrate as though her illness had sucked out her insides. Where was I? The breathing in and out around me space. The great bare sea. Red lights twinkling from towers on the Carmel. The world through a glass darkly still it moved. Time can never stop flowing but sometimes there is an air lock in the middle of it. The woman’s boneless hand coiled lightly around my stomach. A chill ran down my spine. I tried gently prying her loose but she adhered to me. A uniformed nurse passing by stopped to look at us, wondering if I needed help. But I looked back at her unconcernedly.

“The lawyer isn’t coming today?” asked the old fellow.

“He’s waiting for us at the gate. This is his son.”

“His son?” He was thrilled.

Voices reached us from the library. I fought my way back there, the crowd jostling after me, feeling deeply fatalistic. Father was speaking in Russian to mother, who was answering him with her quaint accent. The sweet Slavic sounds made me shiver. The switch to Russian, her being made by him to speak the language he had taught her, had always signaled a new, more intense stage in their quarrels.

I let the voices draw me on a few steps at a time, the crowd keeping pace with me, enveloping me in thin static. The soft body covered me like a quilt, its gelatinous hand creeping through my clothes, caressing my bare skin. Other bodies swayed heavily against me. A strange, sudden lust stirred in my chest. Someone laughed madly, half aloud. Now the giant made for us too, eyes riveted on something in our midst. The crowd tried blocking him but he strode powerfully through it, slowly yet irresistibly pulled the bright locomotive from under Gaddi’s arm, and continued on his way. A cheer went up from the crowd. He too flashed something like a smile. Gaddi was shaking all over.

“Don’t worry, he’ll give it right back,” the old fellow reassured us. “He just wants to look at it… I’ll get it back for you in a minute…’’

The library door opened and Horatio emerged, wagging his tail and shaking scraps of paper from his fur. After him came father, his face blanched, his tie askew, an extinguished cigarette in his mouth. A scrap of paper fell from his jacket too. Despair stared from his eyes. The dog tried ponderously to jump on him and lick him but father flung him rudely aside.

The crowd of patients; ran up to him, shook his hand too, begged for more cigarettes. The old fellow pushed and pulled, trying to keep order. Father’s eyes met mine above their heads.

“Tsvi ruined everything! He made her think… she wants it all now… the house… everything. Ya’el is still talking to her inside… don’t go in… damn you, what have you done?”

“Here’s the lawyer!” someone shouted.

And indeed up the path in the early twilight came Kedmi, irritably waving his arms and shouting something. The patients moved back. The blonde woman released me. A low baying went up like the sound of hounds scenting prey. Kedmi rapidly approached us.

“What’s going on here? What have you been up to? Did you decide to settle down here for good?”

The patients turned to him. The old fellow sought to shake his hand too, but he rebuffed them, walking right past them.

“Yes? I beg your pardon, gentlemen. Please… let’s have a little air… give me some room here… another time…”

They frightened him yet he provoked them, unable to control himself.

“What is this, some kind of happening? What do they all want? At least let me have my child back. Where’s Ya’el?”

He pulled Gaddi toward him, hugging him hard.

“Where’s the locomotive?”

“He took it.”

“Who did?”

“He’ll give it back,” cried the old fellow. “He’ll give it back right away. I’m responsible.”

“Nobody asked you,” said Kedmi sharply. Without further ado he flung himself at the giant and tried extricating the toy.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Gulliver, taking things from little children…”

The patients surrounded Kedmi in an uproar. “He’ll give it back! He’ll give it back!” they shouted while I tried to restrain him. The giant clutched the locomotive with a terrified look, crushing it against his chest with his great paw while Gaddi watched in silent agony.

“That’s enough, Kedmi!” shouted father. “I’ll buy him another one.”

Kedmi was repulsed, flushed with rage.

“Where are all the nurses? Where are all the doctors? Where is the management? This is total bedlam! Come on, Gaddi, let’s find mom and get the hell out of here.”

Like a whirlwind he spun toward the library, kicking Horatio out of his way and flinging open the door. In the thin, dimming light inside mother was standing and talking to Ya’el, who sat listening quietly, her arms on her chest. The floor was littered with paper. Kedmi bent to pick up a piece of it and laughed bitterly. In a crushed voice he said to father:

“Well, this is the end. Extraordinary… she actually finished thinking…”

“I tore it,” declared father, while fresh anxiety shot through me. “Never mind now. It’s none of your business.”

“It’s none of my business?” marveled Kedmi in his quick, husky voice that was already a thought ahead. “You’re right, it’s none of my business! I only wish you had told me that a year ago. I couldn’t have put it any better myself: it’s none of my business and never will be… I’ve had it…’’ He crumpled the scrap of paper, shredding it in his hand. “If I had known you only wanted it to rip it, I would have given you blank pages…”

“Knock it off, Kedmi!” I broke in.

He looked at me jeeringly, “Ya’el!” he cried suddenly.

Mother and Ya’el stepped outside. A new light shone in mother’s face. She seemed very calm. Ya’el hurried to father and hugged him, whispering excitedly while mother nodded in agreement. All at once the patients surrounded her as though she were their queen, and the old fellow linked arms with her. Kedmi was already hurrying Gaddi away. Mother regarded me timidly, wanting to say something, to explain, but unable to. I backed slowly away as she stepped toward me, my briefcase swinging in my hand. I took a last look at the patients, my eyes lingering on the boneless blonde, who stood leaning against a tree. Next to her on a bench sat the giant, the crushed locomotive at his feet. I turned to go.

Mother whispered something to father. He called to me, his arms limp at his sides. I halted.

“Come over here. Mother asks you to forgive her.”

“Never mind. Forget it.”

“Forgive me,” said mother. “I’m asking for your forgiveness, Asa.”

“What for?” I mumbled, turning red. “Forget it.”

“Forgive me, Asa.”