Eshkol Nevo - World Cup Wishes

We didn’t give up. Why should we give up? We kept wandering from hotel to hotel, from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, hearing ‘no’ over and over again. Like mice in a maze that get slapped down time after time, at some point we even stopped trying to understand why we were failing. And we continued to go to meetings at Amichai’s place simply because we were afraid to leave him alone.

What’s he like? we asked Ya’ara tiredly before the last meeting.

Who?

The one we’re supposed to meet the day after tomorrow.

He’s … Ya’ara stammered, he’s … not easy. He hasn’t contributed a single cent to anyone for thirty years. Since his wife died last year, he’s been liquidating his businesses one by one. He only agreed to see you as a personal favour to my father. But Dad made it pretty clear that we shouldn’t count on him. That’s why I scheduled him last.

*

The day before the final presentation, Amichai called me. It’s Noam, he panted into the phone, I can’t find him. He didn’t come home from school … he told Nimrod he was staying in the library to do his homework, but the librarian says he wasn’t there at all.

Have you called the police?

They say not enough time has passed for them to start looking. But meanwhile … I have no idea where he is … and he’s only a kid … a little boy …

I’ll be there in five minutes, I said, alarmed. And called Ofir.

*

On the way to Amichai’s, I tried to think about where, where could a little boy be? When I was his age, I always wanted to run away from home. My mother had a miscarriage then, I think. To this day, I’m not sure. But for a few months, they talked to me about the new little sister I was going to have, who’d be ‘like a friend to me’ — and then, all of a sudden, my mother was taken to the hospital because of a ‘throat infection’, and when she came back, the little sister wasn’t mentioned any more.

My mother then became engrossed in arranging the collection of photos of the royal family she’d inherited from her mother and kept adding to it in Israel, with the help of subscriptions to magazines like Royal Romances or Monarchy at Work .

My father vanished into his proofs.

As for me, I was a child and didn’t understand anything. I just felt that there was no oxygen at home, especially when my parents were both there together. And that even Queen Elizabeth, whose picture hung on the living room wall, looked as if she wanted to step out of it and escape back to England.

I wanted to run away too. I even picked a place to run to: the playground on Einstein Street. And I made up an imaginary friend named Ofir (that was his name, as if I were prophesising) so I wouldn’t be all alone when I ran away. But at first, Ofir wouldn’t come with me, and by the time I persuaded him, the courage to pack a bag, go out of the front door and hide in the space under the roundabout as I’d planned had trickled away — so instead, I had my first asthma attack.

*

Is there a playground around here? I asked Amichai when I got there.

A playground? In the middle of Tel Aviv? There’s only one, on Carmiya Street, but that’s far from here. And Noam has never been there.

So let’s start searching the area near his school, I suggested.

I’ve already done that, Amichai said impatiently. His hands were shaking. His hair was in a panic.

Let’s do it again, I insisted. Now there are two of us. And Ofir will be here. It’s completely different when you search in a group.

During the long minute we waited for Ofir, Amichai laced his fingers on his stomach and fell into a tense silence. I remembered that one night, when Ilana was still alive, I babysat the twins and Noam woke up. I was sitting in the living room watching a replay of the league championship game when all of a sudden a little person in pyjamas was suddenly walking towards me in small steps. Hi, Noamon, why’d you wake up? There’s a lion in our room, Uncle Yuval, he said in a pretty calm voice. You dreamed there’s a lion in your room? I said, trying to dilute his fear. No, I didn’t dream it, he insisted, there really is a lion in our room. Come and see. OK, I said, and went into the children’s room. I took a quick glance inside, then turned and said, I think it’s already gone, the lion that was here. No, it’s not gone, Noam said, shaking his head. You just can’t see it because it’s black. Black? Yes, that’s the special camouflage colour it has so nobody can see it in the dark. Then maybe we’ll turn on the light and it’ll leave? I suggested. No, Noam said, scolding me. We can’t do that, Uncle Yuval. We’ll wake up Nimrod. Every little thing wakes him up. So what do you suggest we do? I asked, stroking his head. I have an idea! he said — with the same intonation his father had — maybe I can watch some football with you? No problem, I said, and made room for him on the sofa. He climbed up and sat down next to me, and after a few minutes of watching the game, his head dropped onto my right thigh, and a few minutes after that, I carried him back to his bed. How light he was in my arms, I remembered as Ofir got out of his car and walked worriedly towards us. How soft his pyjamas were.

*

An hour later, the university called. It seems that Noam took a bus to Ramat Aviv, got off at the right stop, passed the security check, went into the psychology building, walked up to the third floor and knocked on the door to what used to be Ilana’s office.

It seems that somehow he still harboured the suspicion that his mother was at work. That she just hadn’t come home from the office.

It seems that this is a common phenomenon. Think about how much we adults refuse to recognise death, explained the psychologist who put him back in our arms. It’s totally normal for each of the twins to react differently to loss, she said. Each one has probably developed his own way of coping as a reaction to the other’s.

She offered these analyses to me and Ofir. Amichai was too agitated to listen to her. He was hugging and stroking Noam as if checking to see that all his limbs were in place, and he kept repeating the same words over and over again.

My little boy. My little boy. My little boy.

On the way back to the city, Amichai asked me to drive. He sat in the back kissing Noam on the cheek and the forehead, on the cheek and the forehead, saying, you and your brother are all I have left, all I have left are you and your brother, we’re all that’s left.

*

I tried not to listen. The longer he kept talking, the less air I had in my lungs. And I thought, it’s a good thing this is a relatively short journey, otherwise I’d have an attack.

When we reached their place, he said he was sorry, but he didn’t think he’d come to the presentation tomorrow. It was too much for him.

Ofir said that if he didn’t come, there was no point in having the meeting. Even if you just sit there without saying a word, Ofir tried to convince him gently, it would be OK. And I added that tomorrow was that American’s last day in the country. And that if we cancelled the meeting, we’d blow our last chance to get funding.

I don’t know, Amichai said. I don’t know if I can.

But I insisted, amazed at myself for doing so — where does all that determination come from? Ofir I could understand. That NPO had come along just in time for him, a minute before his flat feet started bothering him there, in Michmoret. But me? Since when had I become emotionally involved in the project?

You remember what you asked us at the beginning, I heard myself say. That we shouldn’t let you give up?

Yes, Ofir joined in. This is not the time to retreat, Amichai. It goes against the flow.

THEY’RE STANDING ON either side of her, barely reaching her shoulders. She’s looking at the camera with that piercing stare of hers (the girl’s too smart, Maria once told us. If we don’t watch her, she’ll grow up to be bad), and they’re looking at her. Not exactly at her. It would be more accurate to say they were looking in her direction (and perhaps they were just giving each other sideways glances? Trying to see who was closer to her?).