Grossman David - Her Body Knows

But what did "lose" mean? And how could he lose his life like this to a complete stranger? If indeed he is a complete stranger to Elisheva too, and this Shaul still cannot determine. But let's assume he really does lose, and that after the brief confrontation which will shortly occur-but how? Will they throw punches? Use knives? Like two deer locking antlers? — Shaul may have to leave this house. What would become of everything then? What would become of the house? And Elisheva? And the seven years of mortgage they still owe? And the large salad bowl and the silly apron Shaul is still wearing around his waist? Action must be taken now, immediately, and he surreptitiously grasps the edge of the table and clears his throat to restore his power of speech, and demands that the man explain what he is doing here. He already knows that this is a mistake, because he should have just gotten up and grabbed him by the shirt collar and thrown him down the stairs (although there were only two in that house), but instead, by the mere fact of his prolonged silence, it was as if he had already entered into negotiations over something, and had seemingly granted him what little legitimacy he needed as a stranger from the outside.

The man has still not moved. He sinks his head between his shoulders, and his entire posture is that of an overgrown foster child who has tired of being shifted around and uprooted and has come and planted himself down somewhere, with some family, wordlessly proclaiming that this is his final station, that he will not budge from here. Listen, he whispers to Elisheva without looking up, listen, I'm really sorry, but it's just no longer bearable. He falls silent and bows his head, and his lower jaw drops.

Slowly, almost stealthily, Shaul removes his apron. He regrets that he is not wearing shoes or something more solid than the brown plaid slippers. They were a gift from his parents for some anniversary, two matching pairs, his and hers, which his dad had gotten hold of in one of the barter transactions he advocated as a way of resisting income tax. But at least the slippers represent a silent, forceful declaration that they belong to each other, Elisheva and he, that they are far more like each other than Elisheva could ever be like a man with a heavy jaw and dark baggy eyes and a doglike and bitter look in his eyes, a man who makes a surprise infiltration into someone else's kitchen and demands Elisheva for himself. Shaul already realizes that he's not such a big hero, that he seems to have already used up most of his reserves of courage with his melodramatic bursting into the kitchen, and now he is trembling no less than Shaul, because most likely he has never been in such a situation either.

Out of embarrassment or weakness, the man leans against the fridge, but it seems to Shaul as if he has already taken this stance before, with this same fridge, as if he's used to standing there like that, among all the notes and the phone numbers and the pizza magnets. Shaul is amazed to think of how many times he himself has touched that same fridge without suspecting that perhaps an hour or two earlier, in his absence, another man had touched it for a minute. At once his mind becomes crowded with treacherous furniture, tables, bureaus, and couches that conspire against him, not to mention the double bed and even the air in the house-who knows how many times this man has touched them all and then left and closed the door behind him softly, without leaving any footprints? Elisheva herself walks in this space and breathes it inside her, and Shaul suddenly understands the significance of her soft touch, the way she always caresses everything she touches, any item or furnishing, even mugs and teaspoons that she holds with softly drawn fingers and a slight linger, which until now has always secretly delighted him. The man, with a mouth that looks torn from being stretched, says he doesn't have the strength to wait any longer, that he's losing his mind.

And Elisheva? What is she going through? Shaul doesn't look at her. Strange how he can't bring himself to turn his head to her, and the man can't either, so neither of them knows what she is showing them; they are both temporarily equal to each other in their inability to turn their heads and look at her. Shaul resents the unfounded comparison with a stranger, with someone who is an immigrant in every sense of the word, and he tosses a sighed question into the air: Does Elisheva even know him? The stranger, for the first time since coming in, manages to turn his head with great effort, beating Shaul to it, and looks straight at her. This causes Shaul to look too, and he sees with surprise how from the weary Elisheva of 8 p.m., another woman suddenly shines out from beneath her married skin. This is a woman Shaul does not know. She is transparent and light, and her thin silhouette twitches inside his Elisheva like a dragonfly caught in a paper lantern, and all at once he is filled with an unknown strength and is willing to fight for her and be killed and even kill. But then he thinks perhaps this internal revelation of hers is not intended for him but for the strange man, who is practically subdued by the image of the illuminated dragonfly, his slightly crude face turning soft and weak, the face of a man looking at a particularly beloved scene. Shaul has no doubt of this, and Elisheva smiles softly and says yes, she knows him.

You know him? Shaul lets out a deep groan. How? Where from? For he, in his innocence, in his boundless stupidity, imagined at the time that he knew every person in her life, and as far as he knew, she had never mentioned this stranger, who looked as if he was about to collapse on the floor, but for now was leaning over their dinner table on both hands and looking at Elisheva with a huge face and weighted, sagging cheeks. He is a sad-looking man, with silver stubble from a particularly sloppy shave, a pack of cigarettes crushed in his shirt pocket, dressed simply and almost neglectfully, like a Russian teacher from a lost generation, carrying a shopping bag from the neighborhood grocery. Shaul now thinks he looks like a work-weary family man, or perhaps a forlorn bachelor who lives a meticulous life, a kind of devoted workhorse who was suddenly stung by a wasp of madness and tore himself away from the furrow and started running amok, until he arrived here to tell Shaul's wife in a choked voice and for the third time, Elisheva, I can't go on like this anymore.

The fact that he knows her name. And the way he says it. Shaul's knees give in and he sits down, and the man stands, and the two of them breathe heavily, without looking at each other. The man's breath is heavy and wheezy and his face turns red. Elisheva whispers from her place by the sink, But you have to be patient, I keep telling you. In the end we'll find you a good place. Now go home, Paul. Come to the office tomorrow and we'll talk.

Shaul lowers his head and stares at the table. He slowly freezes and tightens on the chair. His feet barely reach the floor. His feet are swinging in the air. The man turns to him and says he is sorry. Shaul barely comprehends. The man's Hebrew is new but surprisingly fluent, and he explains to Shaul that it's already been a year and a half and they still haven't found a job for him. That he's not willing to make compromise- Is that how you say it? He turns to Elisheva questioningly, and she proudly confirms with a warm smile, Yes- with his art.

He's a cartoonist, Shaul explained to Esti with a Russian accent, mimicking Paul's speech with surprising mischief: "And I to know that Mrs. Elisheva making very much for that me have job, but year and a half I am inemployed, not employed, because is principle for me to work only art, only art!" Esti looked and saw his face change, become heavier and more daring. "And government here give to me-or office job, or guard job, or driving job! So what? Like that, no job, no art, and also no life!"