David Grossman - The Book of Intimate Grammar

It was over in a flash. The moth drained out of itself. It twitched its antennae one last time, like a last request or warning to Aron, and then expired. The spider stood over it, somber and still. Only the web breathed. Aron trembled. He hugged himself and tried to calm down. How did it happen? Yes, but what if they were cheating on him inthere. What if they were laughing at the fool. Sudden footsteps approached. A hand touched his shoulder. Gideon stood over him, looking stern, drawn, hopeless.

“What’s up, Kleinfeld?”

“Nothing. Just sitting here.”

“I went out looking for you. Come on, let’s go to her house.”

Aron stood up. Stood up in front of Gideon. Stood up to him. “Listen, listen …”

“What’s wrong, Aron, tell me.”

“Come here … first let’s do something.” He didn’t know what he was talking about.

“What, what do you want to do?”

“I need your help with something.” Oh please, let him say it right. “See, I’ve got this tooth—”

“What tooth?”

He giggled apologetically. “I have a milk tooth left.”

“No kidding. You mean it’s still in there?” Gideon was so amazed he let a question mark into his voice.

“Yes. Just one. I want to pull it out. Now. My father told me how.”

“Why now?”

“Well, because. Because it’s really wiggling.” Because you waited for me. Because you and I know how to be friends. Because we’ll never be like our parents. “You take a string and tie it to the tooth, and then you tie the other end of the string to a door and you slam it shut.”

“That’s what your father told you?”

“Yes, that’s what they used to do when he was a little boy in Poland. You have the nerve to do it?”

“I … Well, yes. But what if … it might hurt.”

“It’s about to fall out anyway.”

They ran together, side by side, silent, serious, all the way to the shopping center, to Zadok’s hardware store, where they bought three meters of nylon string.

“We can’t do it at my house,” said Gideon hastily.

“Or at my house either. How about the shelter?”

“What if somebody walks in?”

Help. Don’t let it stop. Where were his ideas when he needed them. Oh, come, oh, come, ideas. “Y’alla.” “Where are you off to?” “Let’s go.”

They arrived panting at the junkyard in the valley. Aron had been pressing his tongue against the tooth all the way there. To loosen it. To pry out at least a millimeter of the root. But small and white, it was fixed immutably. The surrounding teeth were big, healthy meat teeth, only it was a runt. Gideon wouldn’t look at him. He was restless. Three times already he’d asked if Aron was sure it wasn’t dangerous. Aron tingled with excitement. Please don’t let him chicken out now. I’ll make him such a covenant, oh God, oh God. But when he tied the string to the handle of the Tupolino, it crumbled into a rusty powder in his hand. So did the other handle. Gideon was peering anxiously in the direction of the building. He’d already blurted out that Yaeli was probably waiting for them. Aron looked around in desperation. Wait a minute. What a couple of jerks we are. If you want my advice, said Gideon hesitantly, just leave it alone. But Aron forced the door of the old refrigerator open, and recoiled at the stench that came out of it. The stench of death. For years it must have been closed like that. He peeked inside: it was a little thing, a puppy of a refrigerator. You don’t see dinky ones like that around anymore. He tied the end of the string to the heavy steel handle. Just imagine, he giggled to Gideon, doing the Houdini in an old refrigerator like this. Don’t you dare, said Gideon, eyeing him strangely. Just kidding, said Aron. He finished tying the string and backed off a few steps. He felt too shy to ask Gideon to tie his tooth. He tied it himself. He pulled it tighter at the base and already tasted a drop of blood. This would really hurt. In one split second it would pull out the tooth. Everything inside him would be shaken up. But this was the perfect time. And the perfect friend. Cautiously he backed off a few more steps. The string was taut against his lower lip. Now quickly, slam the door, he cried through stretched lips. Are you sure it’s okay? Yes, yes, go on, let’s get it over with. Are you positive it’s loose enough? Yes, positive, don’t chicken out now. Gideon ran a careful finger over the string. He studied the knot around the handle. Suddenly he turned serious, protective, but not like a friend: more like a grownup watching over a child. Who cares. Don’t let in a single negative thought. You have to want this with all your heart. You have to believe, you have to surrender. There will be one instant of terrible pain, the way there is when they brand a new calf joining the herd. “Get ready,” said Gideon, extending his arm in front of the open refrigerator door. “On your mark, set—” Gideon closed his eyes. So did Aron, chin out. Gideon’schin was pressed to his chest. There was a loud bang. A white blade slit Aron’s lip. His jaw cracked. Blood ran. Maybe that was good. He foundered, stunned, crouching over till he was lying prone, numb, but soon there would be pain, where was it, where did it come from, oh, let it come already; and for one endless moment Aron hovered, slowly igniting, spreading, vanishing, hanging by a thread, draining inward, backward, soon to be no more, without any strength left to save himself, to fight it, giving in to it with a flutter of wonder; it came on slowly, like a dream, and he divined it there, a kind of tangled web, a fine, strong mesh at the base of him, revealing and concealing itself under the turbid waves, something made out of her ; in fact, out of Mama, that never showed in her face or voice but was her nonetheless, and when he fell he was swathed in it, enveloped in a swoon, a magic cloak that melted into his skin, merged into an already familiar and not displeasing whisper: Death is right, and all the rest is error; never revel in what you find, it isn’t yours, just put it in your pocket and keep your mouth shut. And when the pain throbbed suddenly he was almost relieved. He was still alive.

Gideon ran around him in a panic, shouting his name, scampering off, returning, approaching cautiously, sobbing: “You tricked me! You tricked me! It wasn’t loose!” And Aron, with a mouthful of blood, with a broken heart, his faculties waning, shook his head. It didn’t hurt at all, and it was loose too. He was suddenly alarmed to be lying flat on the ground like this with Gideon standing over him. Exhaustedly he pulled himself together and sat up. His jaw felt heavy and huge, and something was stubbornly piercing his temple and his ear. Gideon kneeled beside him, remorseful, angry, saying over and over that he was sorry. Aron wiped his mouth with his hand. There was blood everywhere. He touched his wound with the tip of his tongue. But no new tooth was growing in its place. Empty. An empty space. And there before him, hanging from the string tied to the refrigerator door, was his tiny milk tooth. Nothing earthshaking. Just a tooth. For fourteen and a half years it had been inside his mouth, and now it was hanging from a string.

“You be the man. You lead!”

So his mother commanded him, taking his reluctant hands and putting them firmly around her middle. “Go on, lead!” She smiled at him. He could feel her breath on his face and his body stiffened. “Try to relax! Loosen up!” She panted, maneuvering them both around the floor to the record of Swan Lake , which Yochi had once used for her ballet exercises. “You’re not leading! One two three! You’re letting me lead!” Yochi was sitting on the Bordeaux sofa with her arms crossed. She watched them blankly and made Aron feel uneasy, as though she could see the present in the past and could therefore be detached, turn renegade. “Nu, try again,” sighed Mama, wiping her brow. “You have to show her, two three, that you know how to behave, two three, with girls, two three, otherwise that friend of yours is going to snatch her from under your nose, two three, you mark my words!”