Amos Oz - A Perfect Peace

"If I may express an opinion," said Srulik, "I don't think the boy has left the country. I can't prove it, but something tells me he's alive and well and wandering about right here in Israel with no clear destination in mind. Which of us has never secretly thought of dropping everything and taking off just as he did?"

" Mazel tov! " snorted Yolek, his face the very mirror of disgust. "A new psychologist is born. Before you know it, he'll be defending the latest Tatar fashion of doing your own thing too." For some reason or other, he'd chosen to pronounce the word "psycho lo gist."

"Comrade Eshkol," said Hava. "Why do you think he took a gun with him?"

The Prime Minister let out a sigh. His eyes closed behind their thick lenses, as if Hava's question were the final straw. Ponderous, much too big for his chair, dominating the room without a word or even a gesture, his shirt hanging out over his carelessly buckled belt, his shoes spattered with mud, his face like a knotty whorl in the bark of a hoary olive tree, the weary old sea-turtle finally managed to reply, almost in a whisper, "That's a hard one, Hava. And not only that. Everything seems hard nowadays. Not that I'm drawing analogies, but everybody seems to want to teach for a gun. Something's gone wrong somewhere. Maybe our whole way of thinking had a fatal flaw hidden in it right from the start. But you mustn't think I came here to burden you with my own problems. On the contrary, I wanted to cheer you up. And now, without meaning to, I've just rubbed salt in your wounds. All any of us can do these days, I guess, is to grit our teeth and plug away and keep on hoping. No, thank you, young beauty, no more tea for me. I can't drink another drop, even though that first cup was heavenly. On the contrary, I have to be off at once. Actually, I was just passing by here on my way to the Upper Galilee. Tonight I'm sleeping in Tiberias, and tomorrow I'm supposed to have a look at the Syrian border and hear what all my clever generals have to say about the situation. And also listen to some of our good people who live up there and, so help me, do what I can to encourage them. The Devil alone knows with what. The truth is, I don't know whom to believe any more and whom to trust. Everyone talks like a prophet and acts like a comedian. I'm not kidding when I say it's just one big comedy wherever I go. Yolek, you joker, stop looking at me like that. The big genius. His own skin he saves and leaves me holding the bag. The Devil only knows what they're cooking up for us in those palaces in Damascus, much less how we can keep from eating crow. My handsome generals have a unanimous one-word answer, and they serenade me with it all day long: Bang! And to tell the truth, when all the pros and cons are toted up, I tend to agree that it's time we let them have it in the teeth even if Ben-Gurion — and perhaps you too behind my back — keeps telling everyone I'm a senile old man. Ah well! Thanks for the tea, Hava. God bless you all. And let's hope we'll be hearing good news soon. How old did you say the boy was?"

"Twenty-seven. This is his wife, Rimona. And the young man next to her is a friend. Our younger son is serving in the paratroops. It was good of you to trouble yourself to come."

"I'll have him sent home right away. Your younger son, I mean, of course. If you'll just jot down his name and unit on a piece of paper for me you'll have him back before the night is out. I'm sorry, but those shmendriks in the car outside are sure to be swearing at me for being, as they say, behind schedule. You needn't envy me, Yolek. You're welcome to both the honor and the power. I'm worse off than a slave, and little children do lead me. If I'm in their good graces tomorrow afternoon on my way back from the Galilee, perhaps they'll allow me to stop by here again. Maybe it will all have ended happily by then, and we can hug the lost lamb and think aloud together how we can set things right. Be well!"

He rose heavily from his chair, stretched himself to his full height and bulk, groaned, and reached out with an ugly hand to pat Yolek on the shoulder and Hava on the cheek. Putting an arm around Rimona, he added, as if for her ear alone, "My heart goes out to you, my friends. At most, I can have only the tiniest inkling of what you must be going through. In any case, you have my solemn word we'll do all that is humanly possible to get the boy back to you. And now tell me, krasavitsa, were you really and truly afraid that Yolek and I were about to slug it out? Na, let me give the bandit a good hug so you can see for yourself how we feel. And goodbye to you too, young man. Don't get up, for heaven's sake! Yolek, be strong. And you too, Hava. And cheer up, my dear young woman. You'll have your true love back in your arms soon enough. Goodbye to you all."

"Your Excellency," burst out Azariah, making a sudden dash for the doorway to block the guest's path with his own skinny frame. Like a raw recruit coming to attention, he drew himself up stiffly with his hands at his sides. His voice, tinged with both arrogance and despair, quivered with his challenge. "Mr. Prime Minister, sir, if you'll permit me just two minutes of your time, I have an observation to make. I know that it says in the Bible that the poor man's wisdom is despised, but I'm sure Your Excellency must also remember the verse just before that one. All I'm asking for is two minutes."

"Speak now or forever hold thy peace," said Eshkol, coming to a halt. He smiled and his entire expression underwent a change. It was that of a warmhearted, good-natured, venerable Russian peasant stretching out a gnarled hand to stroke the mane of a frightened colt. "Ask for half of my kingdom, young man, and it shall be yours."

"Mr. Prime Minister. You'll have to excuse me, but I want you to know that you haven't heard the whole truth."

"I haven't?" replied Eshkol patiently, leaning slightly toward the trembling young man.

"No, Mr. Prime Minister, sir. You've been misled. Perhaps not deliberately, perhaps only out of respect for your station, but misled all the same. A minute ago you said, sir, that you didn't understand how it was possible for her to be left alone. I'm referring to Rimona."

"Well?"

"That isn't true, sir. It's just a front. Everything you've heard here is a front. As you yourself said, sir, you've been watching a comedy. The truth is that Rimona has not been left alone. Not for a single minute. As usual, Mr. Prime Minister, you've been lied to."

"Azariah!" snapped Yolek Lifshitz, crackling with anger. "That will be enough out of you!"

"I'm afraid," said Srulik gingerly, "Comrade Eshkol is in a hurry. We have no right to detain him."

"Your Honor," insisted Azariah, leaning forward as if he were about to throw himself off a cliff. "I promise not to detain you, sir, for any more than exactly forty seconds. Haste, as they say, killed the bear. And it's your right to be in possession of all the relevant information so that you can consider the matter rationally and come to your own conclusions. Yonatan Lifshitz, sir, was the only friend I ever had. He was a big brother to me. In Russian you say, A friend in need is a friend indeed.' Maybe, sir, you've forgotten what it means to be someone's blood brother. Through hell and high water. Till death do us part. Never mind who I am. Let's even say I'm a fink. Or a clown. That's all strictly beside the point, so to speak. Perhaps I'm just a poor slob. But that's what people call you too, sir. Behind your back, of course. What you have to know, Mr. Prime Minister, is that Yonatan set out to look for the meaning of his life. Not the meaning. The purpose. He did so because every last one of us is born free. Nobody is public property. Or the property of his parents, or of his wife, or of his kibbutz, or even — please excuse me, Your Excellency, if I'm being presumptuous — the property of the state of Israel. Truth before manners. The fact is that an individual belongs only to himself, if even that. That's what Jewish ethics have to say about the matter, and we Jews, sir, have made that principle into a universal rule. You surely don't need to be reminded of our prophets and all that. So what's wrong with his having decided to go off somewhere? Is that a crime? And if he preferred not to leave a forwarding address, what law did he break? I can't believe, sir, that all of life is like being in the army. He just wanted to go away. It's as simple as that. So why don't you call off your dogs? This isn't a matter for state jurisdiction. Your Honor, too — I heard this from Yolek himself — ran away from home to come to Israel. I'm sorry if 'ran away' sounds invidious. I'll take it back if you'd like. But nothing else. And in one of your debates with Mr. Ben-Gurion, sir, you said in so many words that a man's personal decisions must be honored. That was concerning one's relationship to the party, I'm sure you remember it, sir. Yonatan went where he did of his own free will, knowing exactly what he was doing, and before he left, he entrusted to me — or rather, I should say, he gave me — his wife. So that now she's mine. I admit that, morally speaking, Hava and Yolek are my parents, and that Srulik is also like a father to me too, but the truth comes first. They have no right to hound Yoni and no right to demand of me that I give up my woman. There's a limit to making concessions. A red line, so to speak. I'm quoting what you, Mr. Prime Minister, said the day before yesterday in the Knesset, and you were one-hundred-percent right. As you generally are, sir, because it's not you, but Mr. Ben-Gurion, who is the enemy of freedom. We don't live in a jungle. We live in a Jewish state. You should be consistent, Your Excellency. Meaning that you should back me up on this. Because she's mine. De facto, of course, not de jure. This isn't a matter for the police, or for the law, or even, with all due respect, sir, for the Prime Minister and Minister of Defense. No one can try to take her from me. Please explain that to them, Mr. Prime Minister, before you leave. Tell them the facts. And since you're on your way to the Syrian border, where you'll be fed all kinds of lies, or at most a lot of half-truths, let me suggest to you—"