David Grossman - The Book of Intimate Grammar

What did she want from him. How far would she hound him. He traipsed home with Gideon and Yaeli. Today it was Gideon’s turn to carry Yaeli’s school bag. Lucky thing too, because she had a geography lesson and the atlas weighed a ton. They walked in silence at his side, and Aron told them that he’d decided to learn Esperanto when he grew up and help spread it all over the world, so that everyone would speak one language and understand each other and there would be no more secrets in society. They listened and nodded, and Aron grew elated and told them his other plan, to write a letter to the Secretary-General of the United Nations, requesting that Esperanto be written in Braille instead of regular letters so that people everywhere would read it exactly the same, and there would be no discrimination against those who couldn’t read regular writing. Yaeli said it sounded like a good idea. A dynamite idea, really. Gideon said yes, Ari comes up with some brilliant ideas. Aron blushed as he walked between them, inflated with pride, lapping up their praises. Walking with them now he knew how absurd what Mama said about Yaeli was. She and Gideon didn’t argue anymore. They seemed calmer now. Maybe even a little more open to Aron, overflowing with goodwill, smiling at him, putting him in the center. Pensively they strolled beside him, looking off in opposite directions, stroking the bark on the trees. And if they continued, thought Aron, very soon he would be able to unravel the knot inside him, to pull out one end of the string and tell them everything, so they’d understand the hell he’d been living through. Till recently. It was scary to think how recently, how short a time separated him from those terrible days. Soon. At the next cypress tree. At the car after that. Later.

They stopped outside Yaeli’s and crumbled honeysuckle leaves. She and Gideon were silent. Gideon looked down at the tips of his shoes. Aron said that if capital punishment were allowed, Menashe Anwar would hang for ruining three families, can you imagine, waking up oneday and murdering three innocent people, but still Yaeli and Gideon said nothing, they had no opinion on the matter, and Aron too was silent now; the poor victims, living peacefully, never suspecting that somewhere a man like Menashe Anwar existed, while they were growing up and going to school, and that everything was leading up to their deaths, maybe he’d even passed them on the street once, but they were totally unaware of their doom. But Aron didn’t want to sink into such dark ruminations, so he told about a special key ring the Delek gas company was handing out in honor of Independence Day, a key ring in the shape of a Mirage jet, his father had a whole collection of key rings from various stores and companies, and lately, since Edna Bloom, he had been devoting himself seriously to this wonderful hobby, he even put red plastic hooks on the salon wall to hang them up in a little exhibition, Mama was all for it. Better this than his other mishegoss, she said with a smile, and she even let him mar the newly painted walls with his collection, which kept him busy every day after work, trading with Peretz Atias and Felix Botenero, but Gideon and Yaeli still said nothing; why were they so quiet, why did they look so sad? He decided that if that’s how they were going to be, then he would be quiet too; sure, he was terrific at being quiet. Quiet was his middle name. Ha ha. But suddenly he couldn’t stand it anymore, this wasn’t normal quiet, this was a deep silence. Better they should argue, because what did he have to talk about, what would he say to them now; that he wanted to know exactly when he was going to die, he’d already told them that and it made them uncomfortable and they started teasing him about it, but he didn’t care, let them laugh, as long as they broke the silence and returned. “When I die,” he began in a quiet voice, and they looked up uncomprehending, “I want my death to be long and drawn-out.” They stared at him in dismay. “No really, I’m serious, don’t laugh!” But they didn’t even smile. “I’ve given it a lot of thought: I really want to get to know my death. To die very slowly. I mean, that’s the important thing in life, isn’t it? I mean, isn’t it? No, seriously.” Again they looked away. Shut up now. Watch out. There’s something going on here. “I mean, usually when your time comes, you’re either too old or too sick to understand, and it’s all wasted, no, really, because at the most important times of life you’re too busy worrying about trivial things to notice what’s happening and understand the important things.” He began talking fast, frantically piling on the words: “I mean, that’s howit is when you’re born, you’re too young to understand the importance of being born and living life, and at our age too, we still don’t really understand what’s going on, so obviously it’s like that when you get old and mixed up, which is why I want to die at my peak, so I’ll know death as an experience, no really, I’m serious: it’s the deepest experience you can have!” Enough. There were no words left to fill the silence, and his tongue dipped into the crater left by his milk tooth. Traitor, selling himself like that, always willing to pay more for less, and he hung his head and waited. Then suddenly Gideon blurted, “Listen, Kleinfeld, you know that youth movement camp we were supposed to go to in the Carmel mountains before Independence Day …” Aron listened.

“Well, in the end, because of the recession and the kibbutz situation, they’ve changed it around, see. All the groups are going together. The decision came from the central council. It wasn’t our decision. You see?”

He didn’t see. He asked Gideon to explain it to him.

“That’s how it worked out, we’re all going to the Jezreel Valley, and there they’ll spread us around on different kibbutzim. To help in the fields.” Gideon looked up a moment and then quickly looked down again. “It’s because of the recession, see. It’s only because of that. We’re going there to work, not to have fun.”

Aron turned to Yaeli, but Yaeli studied the honeysuckle blossom in her hand, then sucked it intently. Don’t worry, he told himself in a mature and reasonable voice, you’ll understand eventually. But inside there was panic: excuses, explanations: how could he get them to call off the camp; how could he persuade them not to go away; how could he make it all a dream. Slowly he descended into his secret place; if he really concentrated he’d be able to shield himself, though maybe first he ought to put up some more defenses, because the hour of the test was drawing near. A little dancer wearing a leotard was in there, and when Aron sat down beside her, tired and gloomy, she looked at him and smiled. Peaches, he reflected, at least two peaches a day for her cheeks. And choconut ice cream, brown and green, for her almond eyes. This time he would put up a fight, though. For her he would give it everything he had. He’d fight to the death. Not even the outward Gideon would ever be able to take her away. The girl inside danced the cat step for him. He smiled as she did. He couldn’t speak of her yet. For thathe would need words of greater purity. With his eyes he asked her for something: she turned around and, concentrating sweetly, raised a rosy blush over her throat.

“What Gideon means is that all of us in the various youth movements are going away for a week. Sort of. That’s all. We just wanted you to hear it from us.”

We wanted. His gaze lingered on her, weakening steadily. She shook herself from his eyes with a twinge of annoyance. “I told Gideon we ought to talk to you and get it over with.”

“Oh?” He still hadn’t fully understood. “When?”

Yaeli looked at him. “When what?”

“When did you tell Gideon?”