Eshkol Nevo - Homesick

Pieces of white cloth with political slogans on them hung from a few balconies. All of them for the same candidate. Amazing, I thought. If you walk around Tel Aviv, you’re sure that the Labour Party will win with a twenty-vote margin, and if you walk around Jerusalem, you think the Labour Party won’t even get the minimum they need to be a real party. It’s funny, I thought as I walked. Funny that there are elections now. Only six months ago, Rabin was still Prime Minister. Six months? That means that we moved to the Castel seven months ago. Seven months ago, we looked for an apartment and stumbled into the shivah for Yotam’s brother by accident. It’s incredible how many things were crammed into that short period of time. As if it were a story, not reality. The work I handed in, my tutors’ put-downs, Yotam. Sima. Moshe. And Amir and me, getting so involved with each other without realising it, so involved that now it’s so hard to be apart. Like conjoined twins who share a nerve, and if you separate them surgically, neither one will survive.

That’s it, I thought, and looked up.

A group of people was gathering at the end of the block next to the nut and candy stand. They’re probably watching a football match, I thought. But when I came closer, I saw a totally different kind of tension on their faces. What happened? I asked, and a man with a red peaked cap shushed me and pointed to the TV hanging from the ceiling of the store. In the middle of the screen was a map of central Jerusalem, and a yellow star shone at the junction of Jaffa and King George Streets.

Oh no.

I started running through the streets looking for a payphone. I have to know, I have to know that he’s OK. I ran around trees, between couples. I skipped over holes, crossed a red light, fell down, got up, asked, ran in a different direction. There was no phone there. I choked, suffocated, ran past another group of people, another nut and candy stand. A hound of Baskerville barked, scaring me very badly, but I had no choice, I kept running. Please don’t let anything happen to him now, please, please, not now. Finally I spotted a payphone on the corner of Carlebach and Hashmonaim Streets. I slowed down to a fast walk, got some air back into myself, took my phone card out of my bag and stuck it in the slot. Suddenly, because of all the pressure, I couldn’t remember our number. I pictured the payphone at work, my fingers dialling the apartment. Six three nine five nine five. The call was disconnected. Idiot. You have to dial zero-two before the number. I dialled the whole number, saying to myself: I’ll just hear his voice, just hear that nothing happened to him, and hang up.

*

I wanted to say thank you, Yotam’s mother said and remained standing in the doorway.

Please come in, I said. She came in and stood in the middle of the living room. Are you in a hurry to go somewhere? I asked.

No, she apologised and sat down. It’s just that there are so many things to take care of before we go.

It was all pretty sudden, wasn’t it? I asked, lowering the volume of the CD player. Elvis Costello was probably not her cup of tea.

Yes, she said with a sigh. I don’t know if we’re doing the right thing. Maybe we’ll feel worse there. But we can’t stay here any more.

I understand.

Sometimes you make a change just to make a change, don’t you?

Yes, I agreed, thinking about Noa in Tel Aviv, making a change. Tell me, I said, barely dragging myself away from my thoughts about Noa, have you found a school for Yotam yet?

No, she said. That’s why we’re leaving a week early. The school year starts in June. Because everything’s upside down there, all the seasons. Yotam and I are leaving at the beginning of next week and Reuven will stay here another week or two to close his business and empty the house.

You mean you have buyers already?

Yes, a young couple with two children. Very nice people. He’s an engineer and she’s a teacher. I think you’ll both get along with them very well.

I thought: who’s ‘both?’ Do you see any ‘both’ here? And I said: so how’s Yotam taking the whole thing?

He runs hot and cold. Sometimes he gets up in the morning and says he’s not going with us and he doesn’t care what happens. And sometimes, he asks me little questions, things he’s curious about. As if we’re just taking a trip. This whole year, he’s been wanting to go on a trip.

Yes, I said, thinking that she still doesn’t know I didn’t open the door that Saturday.

And, she went on, he told me that he talked to you and you told him that Australia was a fun place.

Yes.

So that’s why I came. To say thank you.

You’re welcome, I said, moving uncomfortably on the sofa. Maybe some day I’ll have the courage to stand with my chest exposed and let the compliments in. Meanwhile, I have a tendency to evade them, the way cowboys in films dodge bullets.

Really, Amir, thank you for everything, Yotam’s mother said. You have no idea how important you were to him. He didn’t stop talking about you all year. Amir this, Amir that. And last week, he had the idea that you’d come with us to Australia.

Yes, I heard about that idea, I said, smiling.

He loves you very much, you know.

I love him too, I said. And stopped for a second to celebrate that word, which is not spoken every day. He’s a wonderful boy, I said. Sensitive. Full of ideas and imagination.

Yes, he is, his mother’s nods said.

Besides, I said, trying out different words in my mouth before I found the least hurtful phrasing, I understand what it’s like to be at home and feel alone.

You know, Yotam’s mother said, ignoring my last remark, I think you’ll be a really good psychologist.

Maybe, I said, again evading the compliment shot at me, but there’s a good chance I won’t be a psychologist at all.

Why not?

Oh, don’t worry, it’s complicated.

She didn’t say anything and looked at the wall. Her eyes travelled around for a few seconds, then stuck on Noa’s photographs from the East.

And what about … your girlfriend? she asked and immediately blushed. It’s all right if I ask, isn’t it?

Yes, I said. Of course it’s all right. But I don’t really have an answer. I hope she’ll come back. I think she has to come back. But I’m not at all sure if and when it’ll happen.

Tell me, Yotam’s mother said, averting her eyes, did the girls I sent come here?

What girls?

With the food.

Aha, I said and laughed. Now the mystery is solved. You sent them.

Yes, she said, looking at me again. I thought you’d probably be hungry. I would have cooked for you myself, but I only started cooking again this week. I didn’t have the strength before, you know.

Of course.

Was the food good?

Very good. I’m already addicted to kubeh .

And how were the girls?

The girls? I flashed up in my mind the parade of girls who’d been in the apartment during the last month. The girls were lovely. But you know, I’m still waiting for Noa.

Of course, yes, Yotam’s mother said and smiled — unbelievably — a mischievous smile. It’s amazing how a smile changes a person’s face. A different woman suddenly showed through.

OK, she said, looking at her watch. I have to go back to packing.

I walked her to the door and before she left, we hugged. On both cheeks! she scolded me after I’d made do with only one kiss. Yotam will probably come to say goodbye himself, she said. I asked him to come with me, but he said he wanted to come alone.

He’s right, I said, and she nodded and turned to go. I watched her until she disappeared past Moshe and Sima’s house, and then I went back inside.

I paced around the house for a while, hands behind my back, like a professor who’s finding it hard to solve a mathematical mystery. In a few more days, Yotam and his mother will leave, I thought. And Sima has been avoiding me ever since that almost-kiss of ours. The delicate threads that bound me to this neighbourhood are coming undone one by one. And I’m left unravelled. If Noa were here — I turned and started walking in the opposite direction — it wouldn’t bother me. If Noa were with me, I’d even be ready to live in a neighbourhood of meditators. But the way it is now, I feel like the new kid in class.