A. Yehoshua - The Liberated Bride

Rivlin sought to reassure her. “Don’t worry. No man is ever at his wit’s end in the city he grew up in.”

She took a last, deep drag of smoke and ground out her cigarette with the heel of a flimsy shoe. Her earrings tinkled as she stepped toward him, her glance challenging.

“Just tell me one more thing before I go, Professor. But honestly. Do you agree with Professor Tedeschi and his wife that my husband was a genius? Was his death really anyone’s loss but mine?”

The shadow of a distant cloud, floating eastward toward the desert, darkened the Orientalist’s face as he explained that although his own field was Near Eastern history rather than literature or philology, he thought Suissa had been a serious and original scholar.

“Maybe too original for his own good,” she remarked bitterly, surprising Rivlin with the insight.

He put a hand on her shoulder. “But why ask me? Trust Hannah Tedeschi. She’s a very well-read and critical person. It’s hard to get her to say a good word about anyone. If she calls your husband a genius, believe her.”

Despairingly, without removing his hand from her shoulder, she opened the top button of her dress. Above the ivory crevice of her breasts was the tattoo of a face, no larger than a large coin.

She followed his glance, her mouth childishly open in a half-contrite, half-provocative smile.

“I’m confused by everything I hear about him. I’m so upset that I wasn’t nicer to him that I took a picture of him and had it tattooed over my heart. You’d think his parents would have been happy that I wanted to remember him on my own body. But no, they hit the ceiling. And my little boy is mad at me, too.”

The Orientalist bent to examine the tattoo, which touched the swelling outline of a hidden breast. It was strange and frightening. When he was done, Mrs. Suissa calmly rebuttoned her dress and restated her original appeal:

“That’s why I’m asking you and others to think of me. Use your influence. Because even if you didn’t know him, you’re benefiting from his material. Please, get me out of this goddamned city. If you’re afraid that I’ll be a nuisance in Haifa, find work for me at some college up north. I don’t care if it’s in the boondocks. First I’ll go by myself. Then I’ll bring the kids. Don’t worry about it. I’ll never find a man with those hedgehogs hanging around.”

Was this, Rivlin wondered, the place he had wanted to abscond to? The ugly backyard of an author for whom the world’s beauty existed only in language and human relationships? Confident that he was old and reputable enough to behave like his old mentor, who had embraced with the naturalness of a father this confused woman blown out of orbit by the bomb that killed her husband, he felt her slender body relax as he promised to do his best. Even had she meant to invite him to a different adventure, she kept within bounds and did nothing more to tempt him.

20.

ALTHOUGH YOU WILL never surrender your love, this is not the time to surrender to it. You know how hurtful your absconding is and how much resentment is building up against you. But if that’s what is needed to free the stubborn heart that is chained to the place you are in now, you’re prepared to add still more to the injury.

The daylight slowly abandons the desert, casting copper sparkles on its way to the Dead Sea. You stroll through the hilly neighborhood, in no particular hurry, even though the hotel summons you with its unanswered questions. You bide your time and wait for the twilight to turn to darkness. Only then will you make your third visit, which must remain forever sealed in your heart.

Is there any reason to hope that the truth that has eluded you in daylight will reveal itself by night? Is the old promise of a room still good even though the promiser is gone?

You approach in a roundabout way from the rear and enter the big garden, in which, you are surprised to see, there’s no one. You pass by the tables scattered around the gazebo in the yellow light of the glittering pool, your heart twinging with the memory of a wedding held in vain. It’s not just the garden that is empty. The hotel, too, is dark and deserted.

But at least, you think, grandly handing the clerk at the reception desk your ID, there will be a room. At first you don’t understand why he smiles without looking at it. Then he explains that, even if no guests are in evidence at this early hour of the evening, the entire staff — clerks, waiters, cooks, and chambermaids — is on standby for a full house. The name of each guest is on a place card on a table in the dining room, next to the key to his room.

21.

“AH, PROFESSOR!” The maître d’ hurried over. “This time you’re out of luck. The heart that brought you back to see Galya did not know that she and her mother have gone abroad on vacation.”

Rivlin shook the sturdy Arab’s hand. Although he had been looking forward to another tête-à-tête with his ex-daughter-in-law, he was nevertheless not put out by the news. “ Ma’alesh, ” *he said. “This time I didn’t come just for her. I’m stuck tonight in Jerusalem. Fi odeh r’hiseh minshani? ” †

“ Odeh? Il-leileh? Hon? ‡Oh, my!” exclaimed the gray-haired Fu’ad, who was resplendent in a black suit and bow tie. “You’ve forgotten it’s high season. As honored as we would be to have you, you’d have to be a Christian, an American, and a member of an organized group to stand a chance of finding a room here in midsummer.”

“ Odeh janbi, zghiri, behimmish. ” §

“There’s nothing, Professor. I swear to God. Everything is filled up. You could be the size of a mouse and I still couldn’t find a spare hole for you. Imagine, bas ma tihkish la’hadda , *we’re even putting up guests in Mrs. Hendel’s apartment. And Tehila, though she isn’t feeling well, will have to give up a room, too. You’ll see the stampede begin in a few minutes. Ten busloads are on their way from the airport.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“It’s called success. There’s nothing I can do about it. We’re very successful, Professor. Success will kill us all in the end. As good at the pilgrim trade as the late Mr. Hendel was, Tehila has doubled our occupancy in a few months. And she hasn’t even made any big changes. It’s all in the details. For example, there’s now free seafood at the buffet, and we pick up the tab for the cable car at Masada. We have two new Christian channels on cable TV, too. The Christians are crazy about this place. And we’ve done it without increasing the staff. Tehila gave everyone a raise, and u’sirna abidha . †What more can I tell you? She has her father’s talent and brains without his heart.”

“Where’s her brother?”

“Tehila has — what’s the expression? — kicked him upstairs. She sent him and his family to America to be agents for the hotel. It isn’t nice to say, but it was her way of getting rid of him. That’s life. She and her father, may he rest in peace, were thick as thieves. She never left his side. Irfet kul ishi, ‡she stuck her nose everywhere. That’s why, when he died, she grabbed the reins right away, u’udrub, hiyeh sarat al fars. § §Who can stand up to her? Her poor mother, you may remember, was always a weak, spoiled woman who kept to herself and was treated like a princess by her husband. Now that he’s gone, she only wants to collapse, even though I do my best to keep her going. And Galya — I don’t have to tell you about Galya. Who doesn’t love Galya? Mara n’zifeh u’mumtazeh. ∥God be praised, she’s pregnant now.”

“She is?” He gave a start. “In what month?”

“What month?” The maître d’ smiled and spread his arms. “You’ll have to ask her on your next condolence call. Or else figure it out yourself, because she’s due in the middle of January, if I’m not mistaken. She must have got pregnant in the spring, right after her father died. It’s eerie. If I believed in reincarnation, I’d say it was Mr. Hendel’s spirit coming back. But you, Professor — you’ll say that’s all a lot of nonsense.”