Amos Oz - Fima

Wahrhaftig, like a man catching sight of a fire and hurrying over to throw the contents of the nearest bucket on it without stopping to check whether the bucket contains water or gasoline, intervened at this point:

"Festivals — that reminds me of a well-known story about Begin and Yasser Arafat."

And he embarked for the nth time on the story of how Begin's shrewdness once got the better of Arafat's villainy.

Eitan replied:

"I'd hang the pair of them."

"Gad's had a hard day," said Tamar.

And Fima added his own contribution:

"These are hard times everywhere. We spend all our time trying to repress what we're doing in the Territories, and the consequence is that the air's full of anger and aggression, and everybody's at everybody else's throat."

At this point Wahrhaftig asked what the difference was between Ramallah and Monte Carlo, and then launched into another anecdote. He started laughing heartily halfway between Monte Carlo and Ramallah. Then, remembering his position, he suddenly puffed himself up, flushed deep red with the network of veins throbbing in his cheeks, and thundered carefully:

"Please! The break is finished. Sorry. Fima! Tamar! Please close this beer garden right away! This whole country of ours is more Asian than Asia! Not even Asia! Africa! But at least in my clinic we are still working as in a civilized country." A superfluous exhortation, since by then Eitan had shrunk back to his room, Tamar had gone to wash her face, and Fima had not left his desk.

At half past five a tall, golden-haired woman in a beautiful black dress came out. She stopped at Firm's desk and asked, almost in a whisper, whether it showed. Whether she looked a fright. Fima, who had not heard the question, replied mistakenly to another one:

"Naturally, Mrs. Tadmor. Of course nobody will find out. You can rest assured. We are totally discreet here." Although he tactfully refrained from looking at her, he sensed her tears and added:

"There are some tissues in the box."

"Are you a doctor too?"

"No, ma'am. I'm only the receptionist."

"Have you been here long?"

"Right from the start. Ever since the clinic opened."

"You must have witnessed all sorts of scenes."

"We do have our awkward moments."

"And you're not a doctor?"

"No, ma'am."

"How many abortions do you do a day?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer that question."

"I'm sorry for asking. Life has suddenly dealt me a cruel blow."

"I understand. I'm sorry."

"No, you don't understand. I didn't have ail abortion. Just a little treatment. But it was humiliating."

"I'm very sorry. Let's hope you'll feel better now."

"You've probably got it on record, exactly what they did to me."

"I never look into the medical notes, if that's what you mean."

"You're lucky you weren't born a woman. You can't even begin to guess what you were spared."

"I'm sorry. Can I get you some coffee, or tea?"

"You're always sorry. Why are you so sorry? You haven't even looked at me. You keep looking away."

"Sorry. I didn't notice. Instant or Turkish?"

"Strange, isn't it? I could have sworn you were a doctor too. It's not the white coat. Are you a student? Doing your practical stint?"

"No, ma'am. I'm just a clerk. Would you rather have a glass of water? There's some mineral water in the fridge."

"What's it like, working in a place like this for such a long time? What sort of a job is it for a man? Don't you develop an aversion to women? A physical aversion even?"

"I don't think so. Anyway, I can only speak for myself."

"So what about you? You don't have an aversion to women?"

"No, Mrs. Tadmor. If anything, the opposite."

"Oh! What's the opposite of an aversion?"

"Sympathy, perhaps? Curiosity? It's hard to explain."

"Why aren't you looking at me?"

"I don't like to cause embarrassment. There, the water's boiling. What's it to be, then? Coffee?"

"Embarrassment to yourself or to me?"

"Hard to say exactly. Maybe both. I'm not sure."

"Do you happen to have a name?"

"My name is Fima. Efraim."

"I'm Annette. Are you married?"

"I have been married, ma'am. Twice. Nearly three times."

"And I'm just getting divorced. To be more accurate, I am being divorced. Are you too shy to look at me? Afraid of being disappointed? Or maybe you just want to make sure you never have to hesitate whether to say hello to me if we meet in the street?"

"Sugar and milk, Mrs. Tadmor? Annette?"

"It would actually suit you, to be a gynecologist. Better than it suits that ridiculous old man who can't stick a rubber-gloved finger into me without trying to distract my attention with some joke about the Emperor Franz Joseph's deciding to punish God. May I use the phone?"

"Of course. I'll be back there, in the records room. When you've finished, just call me so we can make you another appointment. Do you need one?"

"Fima Efraim. Please. Look at me. Don't be afraid. I'm not going to cast a spell on you. Once, when I was beautiful, men used to fall for me like flies; now, even the assistant in the clinic won't look at me."

Fima looked up. And at once recoiled, because the combination of anguish and sarcasm he saw on her face made him throb with desire. He lowered his eyes to his papers and said carefully:

"But you are still a very beautiful woman. At least, to me you are. You don't want to make a phone call?"

"Not anymore. I changed my mind. I'm changing my mind about lots of things at the moment. So I'm not ugly?"

"On the contrary."

"You're not too good-looking yourself. Pity you've made the coffee. I didn't ask for anything. Never mind. You can drink it. And thank you."

She stopped at the door and added:

"You have my phone number. It's in your files."

Fima pondered this. The words "a new chapter" seemed rather cheap, yet he knew that in other times he might well have fallen for this Annette. But why only in other times? Finally, in Yael's old words, he said to himself, Your problem, pal.

And, after filing the papers away, he locked the records room and washed the cups, ready to close up.

AFTER LOCKING UP THE CLINIC, HE TOOK A BUS INTO THE CENTER of town and found a cheap eating place in a side street not far from Zion Square, where he had a mushroom pizza washed down with Coca-Cola and chewed a heartburn tablet. Because he did not have enough cash with him, he asked if he could pay by check, but was told he could not. He offered to leave his identity card and come back the next morning to pay. However, he could not find the document in question in any of his pockets: he had bought a new electric kettle on Sunday, or before the weekend, to replace the one he had burned out, and, not having enough cash, had left his identity card in the shop as security. Or was it at Steimatsk/s Bookshop? Finally, when he was beyond hope, a crumpled fifty-shekel note dropped out of his back pocket: his father must have put it there a couple of weeks ago.

During this search a telephone token came to light in one of his pockets, and Fima located a public call box outside the Sansur Building in Zion Square and phoned Nina Gefen; he vaguely remembered that her husband, Uri, was leaving or had already left for Rome. Maybe he could inveigle her into going to the Orion with him to see the French comedy with Jean Gabin that Tamar had told him about during the coffee break. He couldn't remember the name of the film.

But the voice that came on the line was the wooden voice of Ted Tobias, who asked dryly, with a heavy American accent, "What's up this time, Fima?" Fima mumbled, "Nothing. It's the rain," because he couldn't make out what Ted was doing at Nina Gefen's. Then he realized he had absent-mindedly dialed Yael's number instead of Nina's. Why had he lied and said it was raining? It hadn't rained a drop since the afternoon. Eventually he recovered his presence of mind and asked Ted how Dimi was and how they were getting on with enclosing their balcony. Ted reminded him that they had finished that job by the beginning of the winter. Yacl had taken Dimi to a children's play and wouldn't be back much before ten. Did he want to leave a message? Fima peered at his watch, guessed that it was not yet eight, and suddenly, without meaning to, asked Ted if he could invade him, in quotation marks, of course; there was something he wanted to discuss with him. He hurriedly said that he had already eaten, and that whatever happened he wouldn't stay more than half an hour.