Edeet Ravel - Look for Me

I was stil writing when Ra knocked on the door. I didn’t hear him at rst, or rather, I didn’t think the sound I’d heard was a knock.

“Were you asleep?” he asked, when I opened the door.

“No, I was at the computer. I’m ready, we just have to get Volvo. He’s in the flat next door.” I was very nervous.

“Relax, Dana,” he said. “There isn’t even going to be tear gas.”

We knocked on Volvo’s door but he didn’t answer. “I know you’re in there, Volvo. We’re ready, Rafi’s here. I’m coming in.”

I opened the door. Volvo was sit ing in his chair reading the newspaper. I could tel he’d been waiting impatiently, but he tried to look bored.

“Volvo, this is Rafi.”

“Hi,” Rafi said.

“Do you know that when you lose your legs people assume you’re also retarded?” Volvo asked, embarking on one of his favorite subjects.

“Yes,” Ra said. “I’ve seen it many times. They speak to you as if you’re deaf, and they use simple words as if your brain’s been damaged as wel . People are idiots.”

Volvo was delighted. “Absolutely true,” he said. We wheeled Volvo to the van and Ra lifted him onto the front seat. I folded the wheelchair and climbed in back with it. “You can’t imagine what fun it is to be carried like a sack of potatoes,” Volvo said. He held on to the door for balance and buckled himself in.

“You can’t imagine what my back is going to feel like tomorrow morning,” Ra said. “Why don’t you get yourself some prosthetic legs, for goodness’ sake?”

“Ha! Ha ha ha. Very good, very good. A true understanding of anatomy. I see a Nobel Prize in your future, young man.”

Ra looked embarrassed. “You’re right, I hadn’t real y thought it out …I guess it wouldn’t work … Unless you combined legs with crutches maybe?”

“So you can feel bet er when you see me? So you won’t have to feel so bad? For your sake?” he said, embarking on his second favorite subject.

subject.

“Wel , why shouldn’t I want to feel less bad?” Ra said defensively. “What’s good about feeling bad? And if there’s nothing good about it, why endorse it?”

Volvo ignored this question. Instead he said, “Nice van. You’re obviously filthy rich.”

“My wife’s rich,” Rafi said.

“Yeah, what is she, a drug pusher?”

“She’s a pianist, Volvo, and I resent that comment. And if you want to come to my house I’d like an apology.”

Volvo grunted. “Very touchy.”

“I don’t like racist stereotyping.”

“I don’t even know your wife!”

“You assume she’s Sephardi like me.”

“You’re total y paranoid,” Volvo said. “I have no idea what your background is and I couldn’t care less.”

“Good,” Rafi said. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“So, how did she get rich?”

“Her parents are rich. They own a bathing suit company, they export to Europe and the States.”

“Obviously they’re not Sephardi,” he said wickedly. “Just kidding!”

Rafi decided not to respond.

“I used to like to swim,” Volvo said glumly. “Wel , those days are gone.”

“I forgot to ask the two of you if there’s any food you don’t eat or don’t like.”

“I eat everything except shrimp, brain, tongue, bel y but on,” I said. “Or liver. I don’t want to recognize anything I’m eating, that’s the general rule.”

“I’m a strict vegetarian,” Volvo said. “I don’t eat vegetables.” He began to laugh in his crazy, hysterical way.

“I did make a lot of vegetable dishes,” Rafi said in a worried voice.

“He’s just joking,” I said.

“I am present,” Volvo said imperiously.

“Yes, how could we possibly forget?” Rafi smiled.

It didn’t take us long to reach Ra ’s building. He pul ed the van in front of a luxury apartment building and helped Volvo into his chair. I wheeled Volvo into the lobby and we waited while Ra parked the van. I felt sorry for the lobby. The building was striving to look like one of the newer ve-star hotels along the beach and there was something rather desperate about the lit le water fountain with its blue and green lights, and the black leather sofas set careful y around it. Daniel used to say I was the only person in the world who felt sorry for places.

In the elevator Rafi pressed the but on to the penthouse floor.

“Penthouse!” Volvo said. “How pretentious can you get?”

“Those are the largest flats,” Rafi said. “My wife needs room for her piano.”

Ra ’s wife met us at the door. Her name was Graciela. She had fair skin, a high forehead, and long black hair braided in back. She was tal er than Rafi and she was untouchable.

Graciela’s shiny piano took up half the living room. The at was beautiful: thick beige carpets, a panoramic view of the sea, simple Danish furniture, framed paintings and prints on the wal s. An inviting place, elegant and sophisticated and at the same time bohemian. It matched Graciela’s out t: a top made of dark crimson velvet and lace, with owers in relief on the dark velvet, and a matching skirt. The velvet changed color with every movement or change of light, like the sea.

“Hel o, Dana,” she said. “I’m glad you could come. Our daughter just fel asleep, too bad you missed her. She doesn’t usual y go to bed so early, but she had a birthday party in the afternoon and she was tired.”

I couldn’t answer. “Excuse me, I don’t feel wel ,” I said, and escaped to the bathroom. There I sat on the edge of the bath and tried to find a way to resurface. I wanted everything Graciela had, except maybe for the at, because I loved our place, and when we moved it would be into a house Daniel designed. It would be as elegant, as sophisticated, as this apartment. But the rest hurt me. Once, a long time ago, I too wore beautiful clothes. And their daughter, their daughter! I was thirty-seven.

Rafi knocked on the door. “Dana? Everything okay?”

“Yes.”

He’d lied to me. He said he would protect me and he did the opposite. He flaunted it al .

“Can I come in?”

“If you want.”

Rafi came into the washroom, leaned against the sink.

“It’s not what you think,” he said.

“I don’t think anything.”

Graciela joined him in the washroom. She was holding an open box of chocolates. She ignored Ra and sat down next to me, o ered me a chocolate. “These are very special,” she said. “Handmade, from France. My parents bring me a box every time they go to Europe. I’m sure you’l like them. What’s your favorite flavor? Do you like coconut?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“We mix up al our courses here. Chocolates first, then dessert, then the main course …”

I couldn’t tel whether she was joking because her voice was so control ed and careful. Her movements were control ed too. She was as unhappy as I was.

The meal was in fact a lit le chaotic—not because the courses were served in reverse order, but because Ra and Graciela were both so The meal was in fact a lit le chaotic—not because the courses were served in reverse order, but because Ra and Graciela were both so frantical y solicitous toward me. They fussed and fret ed as though I were an honored but fragile guest. Volvo was stunned into silence for the rst time since I had known him; he was wondering whether he’d missed something, because wasn’t he the one without legs, wasn’t he the one who deserved at ention and pity and love? And so he sat there quietly, puzzling it out. And he ate voraciously. He loved food.

They were both solicitous, but each one separately, as though they were not connected in any way and had not been introduced. They never spoke to one another, only to me. There was a routine: Graciela in charge of serving, Ra in charge of salad and washing up; they didn’t negotiate anything.