Eshkol Nevo - Homesick

Avram, listen to me for a second, I say, trying a more direct approach, he’s not Nissan, he works for Madmoni, you know Madmoni, your neighbour, the one who’s adding on to his house now? This is his worker, and his name’s not Nissan, it’s Saddiq. Who’s she? Avram points at me with a surprised look, then asks Nissan-Saddiq, who’s this woman who talks so much? Do you know her, ya ibni ? Did you ever see her before? The worker looks at me, embarrassed. Avram, that’s Sima, Moshe’s wife, Gina says trying to remind him, and she points at our wedding picture hanging on the wall. Avram stares at the picture. Little Moshiko? He has a wife already? How could that be? You know about this, Nissan? Avram asks the worker.

Halas , I tell them. With all due respect, like they say, enough is enough. I’m calling the police now. Let them come and take you out of here, Mr Saddiq. How can they take me out of here when it’s my house? Saddiq asks quietly and waves his certificate in the air again. I ignore him and go to the phone. Avram rushes over — just a few minutes ago he was lying on the sofa and couldn’t move a finger — and steps between me and the phone. You’re not calling anyone, he yells, no one is going to take my Nissan away from me, do you understand? No one! If you call now, I’ll grab a knife from the kitchen and cut you and myself, do you understand? I stand still and look at Gina. She signals me with her eyes to let it go. OK, I say to Avram, OK, you don’t need a knife, no one’s going to take Nissan away from you. Avram doesn’t calm down. He stands between me and the phone for a while to show that he doesn’t trust strangers. I don’t move. Gina doesn’t do anything either. Slowly, his eyes stop darting back and forth and he goes back to fussing around the worker. You want something to drink? Maybe black coffee? How many sugars do you take in your coffee? And Saddiq answers: no sugar, I like my coffee bitter. Avram gives him a big ear-to-ear grin and says, just like your father. The worker nods and says Aiwah , and starts walking around the house. He knows that we can’t do anything to him now, so he allows himself to touch the stones, to go in and out of the rooms, to open and close the windows. He touches the wall that separates the bedroom from the living room and says to Gina, this wall didn’t used to be here, right? Gina says yes, we built it twenty years ago, and he nods without enthusiasm and says, I knew it. Look, I’m starting to remember, there, where the television is, that’s where my mother’s cooking stove was, that’s where she cooked so the smoke would go out. Where you cook is no good, madam, the smoke stays inside. Gina doesn’t answer him, no one answer him, we all look at him, hypnotised, starting to understand that maybe he isn’t lying, maybe he really did live in this house once. He goes into the bedroom and the three of us follow him. He points: look, this is where my mattress was, and that’s where my big brother’s mattress was, and my little brother’s next to it. We slept very close to each other because it was cold at night, not like now with the heating you have. We only had a little coal heater, and sometimes the coal would get used up and we had to rub each other’s back and hands to get warm. My mother would go to the neighbours to get more blankets, but the door to the house wasn’t where it is now. It was on the other side, behind your sofa. It’s still there, an iron door, you know that, don’t you? Of course we do, Avram answered quickly in a voice full of pride, you remember everything, ya ibni , you remember, and you, Avram said, turning to me, you lunatic, aren’t you ashamed to say that to Nissan? Look at how well he knows the house! Only a child knows his house like that, isn’t that true, ibni ? Yes, abui , the worker answers him, playing the game and calling him father, knowing that as long as he’s Avram’s son, no one can touch him. He takes a few sips of the black coffee Gina gives him with hands that shake from old age and says, thank you very much, really, thank you, and then he puts his bag down on the floor and pulls out a toolbox. He takes a hammer and a chisel out of it and explains to us while he works. Fifty years go, my mother left something in there, above the picture where you put that hamsa , so if you don’t mind, I’m going to take it out now.

Before we can answer him, Avram says, of course, ya ibni Nissan, what’s mine is yours, take what you need, do you want me to bring you a ladder? Gina and I look at each other. The chisel is about to gouge the wall, but we’re both afraid to open our mouths because if we do, Avram will cut himself, and meanwhile, he goes to get Saddiq a ladder and comes back and they both open it in front of the wall and start taking down the hamsa , and Gina comes closer to me and whispers, Sima, ileh amokh , don’t you have to get back so the babysitter can go? I jump at the chance while the two men are busy and won’t notice, and I tiptoe to the door, put my hand on the knob and press it quietly to open it, then I close it behind me without shutting it all the way, and run down the steps to our house without looking back. I go inside panting and say to Noa: call the police.

*

I touch the stones, stroke them like you stroke a woman you love, but I don’t feel anything in my heart. I tell the Jews, there was a wall here, this is where my mother used to cook, that’s where the mattresses were and the heater next to them. I just say it, without feeling, like I’m telling Rami the contractor about how we’re doing on the frame. How long I’ve waited for this day, this moment, how much I’ve dreamed about touching these walls, walking on this floor, and now I don’t feel a thing. Here’s the old door. Here’s the window I used to look out of to see Wasim waiting for me, whistling. Everything’s here, even the old fig tree. But the smell, the house is full of their smell. The smell of that old man who thinks he’s my father, and of that woman with the wrinkles around her eyes. Their smell is in the walls and the floor and the sofa and the door and in the air and everywhere, even in the coffee. So why did I come here? My mother was right not to let us go to the old house when everyone else went, in ’67. What for? It’s better to dream. To sing songs. It’s better not to smell this smell. Not to see that they’ve taken down the pink curtains my mother made and put up new blue curtains, that they’ve built a new wall in the middle of my parents’ bedroom, that all our things have disappeared, the small rug from Damascus, the lamp from Hebron, the one I almost broke once, everything’s gone. The crazy old man says that only his son who grew up in this house could know everything so well. Right? he asks me, right, my Nissan? Of course it is, I tell him and ask him to bring me a ladder. Aiwah . Of course, he says. At least I can do this. At least I can bring my mother what she asked for. This, I won’t give up. It’s a matter of honour. I don’t care what that young one with the tiger eyes says. I don’t care if she goes to call the police now. They’re like putty in my hands, all of them. I’m Nissan, the crazy man’s son. And no one can touch me. I’ll set up the ladder in front of the old door, the door that doesn’t lead anywhere now, take the hamsa off the wall, take the chisel out of my toolbox and start banging.

*

In the end, the policemen came, three of them, and their chief, who was even shorter than me, almost a midget, asked immediately: where’s the intruder, miss? I pointed upstairs and said, you hear that banging? That’s him, there, taking apart the whole house. Armed? the midget asked. No, he doesn’t have a weapon, I said, and I don’t think he wants to hurt anyone, even though he has a chisel in his hand. O-o-kay, he said, and turned to the others, who drew their guns: no shooting without a direct order from me. Is that clear? Shooting?!! I said, scared, what do you mean, shooting? You don’t have to shoot anyone, officer, they are three old people in the house. With all due respect, miss, let me decide whether they’re dangerous or not, the midget said and signalled his men to follow him. I asked Noa to stay a tiny bit longer with Lilach and went out straight after them.