Eshkol Nevo - Homesick

That’s not exactly what psychologists do, Nava said, and the muscle in her cheek trembled slightly, a sign that she wanted to say even harsher things. But let’s leave that for a minute. There’s something else I don’t understand: why is it so important to you to come back to the club if you don’t plan to stay in the field anyway?

Why? I said, feeling my anger spray her with the most naked words I had inside me. Why?! Because for once in my life, I want to say goodbye the right way. You don’t know me. I’m one of those people you’re about to end a phone conversation with and before you can say bye, they’ve already hung up. Enough. I want to stop being like that. I have unfinished business here and I want to finish it slowly, gently.

OK, I have to think about it, Nava said, stealing a quick glance at the pile of papers on her desk. A very crooked paper clip sat on top of the pile.

Will you let me know? I asked, clutching the edges of the chair.

Yes, she said, writing something on a piece of coloured notepaper, probably my name. Then, just when I expected her to look pointedly at her watch or shift restlessly in her chair, she leaned back and spread her arms to the sides as if she had all the time in the world, as if now conditions were ripe for a simple conversation between two ordinary people who didn’t have the threat of a reference hanging between them, a conversation on a subject not related to the club or to psychology, let’s say a conversation about the mating habits of tigers, or the kind of music she likes. I almost asked her, but in the end I didn’t say anything and let the waves of loneliness she was suddenly emitting break on my skin, and her eyes roam the wall behind me. I have to tell Noa about this moment, I thought, I have to describe every little detail of it to her. Including the colour of the ponytail band, because Noa was the only person who’d been with me through all my previous Nava moments and she was the only one in the world who could understand what’s so weird here, so absurd.

A few days later, Nava called and told me that it was frowned upon, but OK, if it was so important to me, and I went down the stairs to the shelter with a new rolled-up crossword puzzle under my arm. My heart was pounding and I kept rubbing my cheeks to make sure I’d shaved. For the last few days, I’d envisioned the scene dozens of times, with a new scenario each time. But the only thing that never appeared in any of them was the possibility that no one would pay attention to me when I came in.

The draughts players kept looking at their boards. Mordechai kept showing his football album to some woman I didn’t know. Ronen and Chanit were sitting very close together, as if they were about to kiss. And Shmuel, my Shmuel, was staring at the wall.

I went over to the coffee corner and made myself some tea. It was too hot for tea, but I wanted to look busy. When I finished stirring the sugar, someone tapped me on the back. I turned around. Amatzia the vacillator was standing in front of me. He wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come out. I waited. Tell me, he finally said, scratching his chin, aren’t you the student with the crossword puzzles? Of course not, he answered himself before I could say anything, you can’t be. That one was … But maybe you are. That one looked pretty much like you, but a little taller. No, he was actually the same height. Almost.

That’s enough, Amatzia, don’t make him crazy, Joe said, coming up to us and extending his hand to me. How are you, Amir? You disappeared on us. We were starting to get worried that the Security Services had kidnapped you. No, don’t be silly, I said, shaking hands with him and Malka and Mordechai and Haim and Ronen and Chanit. Suddenly the whole club was gathered around me, as if they’d been waiting for Amatzia to take the first step. Malka asked, where have you been for so long? I was ill, I said, and Joe said, it’s too bad you didn’t consult us. We’re experts when it comes to medicines, and everyone laughed, including Nava, who was standing off to the side observing. Then Amatzia said, so did you bring us a new puzzle? quickly adding, we’re tired of puzzles. Actually, we did miss them a little, but what’s the point, what good does it do us to solve crossword puzzles? Even though it’s fun, it’s really fun, even though it’s a bit stupid. I said, yes, Amatzia, I brought a whole new puzzle and we’ll start working on it together in a few minutes. Everyone’s invited, even the ones who weren’t part of the crossword puzzle group before, I said loudly, looking over at Shmuel in the hope that he’d get the hint. But all he did was take off his glasses and start cleaning them.

After the puzzle was solved and all the members of the group applauded and made me promise not to be ill again, because they’re crazy about crossword puzzles, I took it off the wall, put a rubber band around it and stood it on its side. Then, empty-handed, I went over to Shmuel.

Hello, I said, sitting down next to him.

He didn’t answer.

Shmuel, I said, trying again. It’s me, Amir. Don’t you remember me?

He didn’t answer.

Shmuel, come on, I said, sounding as if I were pleading, don’t you remember that we used to talk? You told me about your theories. About how the world is divided into three colours …

Red, white and transparent, Shmuel continued my sentence and I breathed a sigh of relief without breathing. The red, he said, always wants to go to the extremes, to eat a red apple from the tree of knowledge or a white apple from the tree of life. And God won’t allow that. God is transparent. God is the middle road.

He kept talking, telling me about the three junctions of pain at which God revealed himself to him, and I nodded attentively, even though I’d already heard it all, in exactly the same words. A sweet sense of submission seeped into me with every word he spoke. He didn’t remember that he’d already told me. He probably didn’t even remember who I was. What’s the point of talking to him if he doesn’t remember anything afterwards? What’s the point of this whole club if it doesn’t improve the members’ conditions by a single millimetre?

Shmuel had reached the second junction, at which God had appeared to him as a dog, and I leaned back in my chair and looked around at what was going on in the room. Joe was playing draughts with Malka. And winning, as usual. His eyes darted in all directions, as usual, to make sure no one had come to kidnap him. Amatzia started to climb the steps to go outside, then stopped and came back down. And went up again. And came down. Mordechai was showing his football album to Nava, who had undoubtedly seen it a thousand times, but still she smiled, occasionally pointing to a picture and asking about it. And he answered. His voice mingled with hers, and with Shmuel’s, and they mingled with the cigarette smoke and the steam coming from the kettle, with the drawings that dripped from the walls, and very slowly I began to feel how the line that separated me from them and had disappeared so that I’d thought it didn’t exist, took shape inside me again. It was long and thick, and the fear that had seized me the last time I was here, the fear that I’d go back to the bad, shaky times of basic training, slowly faded and almost vanished.

Shmuel went on to the third junction and started telling me how he’d stood in front of the picture of the girl in that museum in Herzliya and felt God appear before him from a spot in the middle of her forehead. Feeling a pleasant tiredness spread through my body, I closed my eyes and thought: there’s something about all this that makes a person feel sane.

And then I thought: where is Noa now? And what will I do with all these thoughts I’m so used to sharing with her?