A. Yehoshua - A Late Divorce

— Right.

— Yes…

— Never mind.

— I’ve been one my whole life, haven’t I?

— My whole life… never mind…

— No. I mean that I’ve been a good fellow all my life. I’ve been a decent husband, a wonderful father, a devoted uncle, a conscientious member of the clan — and now that I want a small time-out for myself, everyone is furious with me. Tsvi? You’re asleep…

— Yes, you are.

— It’s almost three. Get into bed. I’ll take a rain check. I’ll just stay on a while longer with that ha ha ha mouse of yours. Maybe I’ll discover where his hole is. It looks like he’s moved in with you. Get into bed, tum out the light… I’ll sit by myself in the dark…

— What?

— At the bank. Why do you ask?

— Phone me at the bank. And if you want those shares, just let me know. I’ll take out an option for you.

— Fine. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I mean today. Don’t forget that it’s Friday. I quit work at one.

— When?

— You want me to wait for you downstairs? I know where it is.

— No problem.

— Let’s leave it open. I’m dying to know what you do with him. What you talk about. Is it ever about me?

— I understand. Do you think he could see me sometime too?

— All right. It’s something to think about. Try to find out.

— All day?

— When is he going back?

— No. To America.

— Shhh. How can you talk like that?

— Don’t expect me to believe you.

— What???

— How can you talk like that? Just the thought of it! If words could kill, there wouldn’t be a living soul left in this world. You’re groggy. Go to bed. I won’t be working on the day of the seder. If you’d like, I can drive you up north.

— That morning.

— Think it over. I’ll be glad to do it.

— All right. Now go to sleep. We’ll at least be in touch by phone. Thank you for having sat up with me. For being so patient. You’re so good to me. I swear, I knocked just like a little bird and you woke up right away…

— Go to sleep. You have some hard days ahead of you.

— Never mind, turn out the light. I have the key. I’ll lock up when I go. Don’t you remember giving it to me a month ago?

— I know I returned it. But I made myself a duplicate.

— In case you might be sick or something and couldn’t get out of bed.

— Let me keep it. It makes me feel better about you. I’ll never let myself in when you’re not here. You can have it back whenever you want.

— Yes.

— No.

— Maybe.

— Fine.

— Don’t worry. I won’t touch you. Maybe sitting here and thinking will calm me down. I’ve become like a child again. I’m having a second childhood…

— Good night, my dear. Until tomorrow. Just let me give you one hug… one kiss…

— It’s not Tsvi, Mr. Kaminka, but it’s all right.

— It’s all right, Mr. Kaminka. I’m a friend of his. Tsvi knows that I’m here.

— He’s asleep now, but it’s all right. We were just having a chat.

— No. Who’s Yosef? I’m Refa’el Calderon. He’s never mentioned me? We do business together.

— No. I work in a bank.

— I was just passing by and dropped in to chat.

— Refa’el Calderon. I dropped by to help him with something… with a mouse…

— No, don’t be alarmed. There’s a mouse here ha ha ha. We just saw him a few minutes ago. Tsvi’s known about him for several days, but wasn’t sure where he was hiding. So I told him the best thing was to wait for him at night, in the dark. He’s a little squeamish, and I don’t mind such things. I grew up in the old Jewish quarter of Jerusalem — we were used to mice there…

— Yes, a real mouse. It’s nothing to be scared of. If you ask me, it’s an old one that may have been living here for a long time. It’s odd, though, how it should have managed to get up here… because you’re on the third floor…

— A dog?

— Ah, the dog we saw there. I remember him.

— In the hospital.

— I drove Tsvi up there on Tuesday.

— Calderon. Refa’el Calderon.

— No. I didn’t take part in their conversation. I was standing off to one side. It was then that I noticed the dog. A big fat one with a tawny coat.

— Yes. Exactly. I thought it was some hospital dog that she had gotten friendly with.

— It lived here? Then you couldn’t have had a mouse. A dog would have gotten it.

— Of course. How long has this apartment been yours, if I may be so free as…

— Well now, that’s quite a while. But please, don’t let me bother you. It’s very late, and there’s nothing to catch a mouse with now anyway.

— Nearly three o’clock…. How’s that?

— Your wife? In what way?

— No. I was off to the side and didn’t hear anything. I know nothing about it… What’s that?

— Yes. Tsvi had spoken of it vaguely… you’ve come to separate.

— Begging your pardon?

— Yes. To get divorced. Something of the sort. I didn’t really discuss it with him. I just drove him up there because the public transportation is so poor.

— In what way?

— I didn’t notice anything. She talked sensibly enough. In fact, at first I didn’t even know where I was taking Tsvi. I thought it was to some home for the elderly or something… I don’t know the northern part of the country at all…

— Yes. Yes. In the end I realized that it was no home for the elderly.

— From a Jerusalem family. Third generation.

— Exactly. A thoroughbred Sephardi, you might say.

— She is? You don’t say. You don’t say.

— Half of one? On her mother’s side? How didn’t I sense it? I always do. I never would have thought… she doesn’t look it in the least… you don’t say!

— Come again?

— Abrabanel. Of course. It’s a well-known family.

— From Safed? But there was a branch of them in Jerusalem too. How curious. Tsvi never said a word about it. That explains to me something about myself. So Tsvi is also part… very interesting! Most agreeable.

— Begging your pardon? No, I just…

— The way I talk? In what way?

— I never noticed.

— That’s odd. My girls also tell me that I sometimes talk strangely.

— Hebrew too. But not exclusively. I had one grandmother who spoke only Ladino.

— Just Hebrew. There are two girls.

— They’re grown up already. I don’t know why I keep calling them girls.

— Going on twenty-three. They’re twins. Beautiful, fair-skinned girls, you’d never know that they came from a Middle Eastern family. Almost blond…

— I’m sorry to say that I was never blessed with a son…

— Begging your pardon?

— A Sephardi expression? I didn’t know there was such a thing. I thought we all spoke the same Hebrew.

— In what way? I never noticed.

— Yes. We were always careful with our diction.

— A mixture? You may be right.

— I’ve never paid it much attention. Whatever comes to mind. One takes one’s words where one finds them. You’re right. Everything today is all mixed up. We live in a mixed-up age…

— Now that you mention it. I never thought of it before.

— Mostly newspapers. I have no time for books. Tsvi told me that your field is Hebrew language and style. That explains your ear for it.

— In the investment department of Barclay’s Bank. It’s an affiliate of the Israel Discount Bank. But I’m truly sorry for keeping you up. Very truly. Tsvi told me how tired out you were by the flight from America. I remember how he called his sister in Haifa several times on Sunday and kept being told that you were still asleep.

— Are you sure?