A. Yehoshua - A Late Divorce

— For me it’s a lost night anyway. I couldn’t get any sleep. The later it gets, the more awake I become. But why should you have to stay up because of me…

— Yes. It’s a hot night. It’s suddenly gotten very hot, almost summery. To think that it rained just last night!

— Tea? Surely. I’ll put up some water.

— Yes, yes. I know my way around this kitchen. I already said to Tsvi tonight, you Russians like your tea in the middle of the night. We only drink it when we’re down with the flu. Black coffee is our brew.

— No, it’s no trouble. I’ll make it. I know where everything is. There are some chocolate cookies too that I bought yesterday. But perhaps you’d like to drink your tea alone. I’ll be on my way then… it’s a shame for you to lose sleep…

— Not at all. It’s my pleasure to sit here with you.

— Thank you very much. I believe you’ve been here for nearly a week, haven’t you?

— Yes. I remember. Saturday night. I’m curious to know how you find this country now… what you think of it…

— In what way?

— That’s very interesting. You may be right. When one lives here, one doesn’t notice the change.

— Really?

— Yes. All the filth… of course…

— That too. But don’t forget that it’s only half a peace. People don’t put much credence in it. I myself know nothing about politics. Generally I support the government, whatever it is. I get annoyed when people try obstructing it…

— Yes, the one we have now too… although I must say…

— Yes. A sense of gloom.

— Yes. But it’s mostly just talk. Believe me, people are rolling in money. I know them by what they have to invest, not by what they have to say. If it weren’t confidential, I could show you now with a pocket calculator what sums are in circulation in this country and who is doing the circulating. Some of them are listed as welfare cases. I get felafel vendors coming to me with wads of five-hundred-pound notes, still smelling of cooking oil. That’s why I’m not so critical…

— Yes. That’s so. There is a group that suffers.

— I hope not.

— We true, old-time Sephardim aren’t your troublemakers from North Africa. They really have a wild streak in them… and sometimes we’re confused with them on TV… but we’re actually a well-established middle class. You’ll find us mainly in the banks, the courts and the police — not at the very top, but in responsible positions. Wherever there’s still a semblance of law and order. It goes back to British and even Turkish times, when we were sought out for administrative posts. For desk jobs. That’s where we feel best. I once said to Tsvi, this business of a Jewish state, all of Zionism in fact, is really a little too much for us. It’s all too fast, too high-powered. We were used to the Turkish pace, to the British sense of decorum…

— Yes. I know I’m really talking nonsense. Every country is like that today. Even Turkey is coming apart at the seams — I’ve read about it in the newspapers. All the lights in Istanbul go out every evening. I suppose that only the English…

— The English too? You don’t say. Well, well, then there’s really no cause to complain…

— For about half a year. We met in the bank.

— Yes. It’s a sort of investment company.

— His boss’s name is Gilat. Have you ever met him?

— Yes, of course, you haven’t been in the country. I forgot. I’ve run into him once or twice. A young, energetic fellow who knows how to play the market. I just hope he doesn’t do anything foolish. For Tsvi’s sake. All these little firms take lots of risks, but sometimes they grow very nicely. Maybe this one will too, who knows? It’s just that the market itself is so volatile these days…

— I think Tsvi has a good head for it. He’s ready to learn. He’s always asking me questions. He has imagination too, and that’s important. But one needs a great deal of experience and patience. One has to develop a sixth sense.

— Of course. There’s that too.

— No. It’s not a science. There’s probably nothing that’s less scientific. One needs to have a sixth sense. A feeling of what to hold on to and what to let go of, of where to step in and where to lay back. The Israeli market is a small one. Everyone has a finger in it. All kinds of amateurs have gone into it lately too, and that’s an extra headache. Inflation makes the profits seem large but in fact they’re on the small side. It’s not a big ball game. I don’t know how much you know about these things…

— In America it’s a different story. There you have real gamblers. Not the Jews. They’re all over, but strictly in a service capacity. But you’ll find some tough, cold-blooded Gentiles who’ll risk everything they have on one throw of the dice and calmly step out for a drink while they’re rolling. The market’s wide open there. A stock can hit bottom… practically go below zero… or take off all at once like a rocket. Here we’re more cautious. And the government interferes a lot too. It can suddenly feel sorry for some company because it has a plant in a depressed area or directors who are friends of a minister. And we’re a nervous people in general, we don’t know how to hold on to a stock. We’re afraid to go for the big gain, because we don’t really believe in it. All that will come, though… things are just beginning to warm up… Is the tea too strong for you?

— The sugar cubes? They’re here in the closet. Tsvi likes to suck on them too. Here, is this what you mean?

— No. But I’ve been here often… and I’ve seen him drink tea like that, with a cube of sugar in his mouth. I suppose he learned from you.

— Yes. Yes. All in all he’s just like you. I’ve already told him that. I too came to look more and more like my father, rest his soul. All of a sudden the resemblance breaks out.

— Right.

— Exactly.

— Begging your pardon?

— Yes. Tsvi told me. It’s really a nice apartment. It must be worth quite a few million. The location is excellent, and there are people with money today who are coming back to the city and looking for places to renovate. How far can the ocean be from here? A hundred meters? It does need some work. When there’s no woman around, the little things go untended…

— How’s that?

— Yes. That isn’t Tsvi’s strong point. What can you expect from a young man these days…?

— Still…

— Still. Don’t exaggerate. He hasn’t seen thirty yet.

— To sell? What for?

— Ah.

— I understand.

— I understand. I see. In principle let me tell you right away that I don’t recommend it. I don’t recommend it one bit. Not at all, if you’re asking me.

— Yes yes. I know. I hear about it every day… the most astonishing stories, both kinds of them, about those who made a mint and about those who lost their shirts…

— Yes. So I’ve heard. But here I’m a wee bit conservative. A house isn’t just money. It’s a home.

— That may be so… but I’d still think twice about it…

— A car is something else. Don’t misunderstand me. A car is something else. When I’ve seen some opening for a good investment I’ve advised lots of clients to sell a car, or jewelry, or even the family silver without a moment’s thought. But a house…

— Yes. But in spite of all that it’s a house. You never know.

— But why?

— Ah.

— Ah.

— And Tsvi?

— Ah.

— You think she’ll be released someday?

— Aha.

— Begging your pardon?

— In what way?

— I… uh…

— Begging your pardon?

— No… come again?

— Yes… something of the sort… I mean… I didn’t know whether you knew or not… I didn’t dare…