Edeet Ravel - Look for Me

“I’m not real y sick, I’m just anxious. My husband’s been missing for eleven years and yesterday I met someone who said he can get me his address. I have to cal at six. I’m just nervous, that’s al .”

“Real y! After eleven years, no wonder you’re excited. But if he ran away, he may not want to be found.”

“He didn’t real y run away.”

“That’s what we al tel ourselves. Men are men, though. They run away al the time.”

“He was burned in a fire. He thought I wouldn’t love him anymore.”

“Oh! Jeez, men are dumb. They think we’re like them. They care about looks, so they think we do. They care about women going gray, so they get al upset when they go gray. As if something like that mat ered to us! Stil , I can understand you. I’d wait too, for a man I loved. In fact, I’m stil waiting, in a way. Not real y, but in a way.”

“Someone who left you?”

“Not exactly. Just someone I met when I was fourteen. We only spent one afternoon together. I’l tel you the truth, but please don’t judge me.”

“I won’t.”

“I won’t.”

“Yes, I can tel you’re not the type to judge. The truth is, I was doing a bit of prostitution. I had no choice, believe me. Anyhow, I only did it very part-time. We were real y poor, and I just couldn’t bear not having money for anything. So I met this guy. When I think about it now, he was just a kid, not even in the army yet. But I stil think of him as a lot older than me. I can’t think of him as young, you know what I mean?”

“Yes, it’s the same when I think about my kindergarten teacher. She was only twenty, but she’l always seem old to me.”

“Wel , he was so nice. He bought me ice cream, and I fel in love with him, because he was so incredibly nice and also very good-looking.

He refused to sleep with me, he made up an excuse and I pretended to believe him. At rst I thought he was turned o by me but then I saw that it wasn’t that at al . I just wasn’t special enough for him. He wanted someone who was special, even if he was paying for it. He told me I had a lot of talent as an actress, he said he could tel , because he was in acting himself, and he had a good sense for who was talented. I said to myself, One day I’l be a famous star, and I’l invite him to my opening show, and maybe then he’l like me. I also wanted to pay him back. He gave me a loan, and he said I could pay him back when I became a star. For years I kept hoping I’d run into him, and I stil keep hoping. In ’67 and ’73 and ’82 I checked every single casualty, I looked at the names and I checked al the photos, so I know he didn’t fal .

Two of my brothers fel , and my favorite cousin, but he made it. Anyhow, it was ages ago, but I’m pret y sure I’d recognize him. He’s probably married and has kids, but I’d stil like to meet him, just to tel him that I had a few parts, here and there. I was Honey in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? When I said ‘Violence! Violence!’ everyone had hysterics. I was almost the star of that show. We were just an amateur group, but we got a review and they said I was a natural. Too bad I married the guy who played George. The director had this idea that George and I should be Sephardi and Martha and Nick would be Ashkenazi. Anyhow, me and George, I mean Victor, we started going out during rehearsals, and by the time the show was over, we were engaged. But al Victor wanted me to do was have kids, one after another. I don’t mind, I love kids. Stil , I wish I could meet that guy, and tel him about Honey. He’s the one who gave me the courage to audition. I was in love with him for years, and I stil am, a bit.”

“What about your husband? Did he go on acting?”

She laughed. “No, unless you cal having a airs and then lying about it a form of acting. No, he’s had al sorts of jobs, but acting isn’t one of them. He’s al right. Considering what’s out there, he’s okay. Wel , back to work. I’m almost nished. I’l just x the bedroom. What do you think so far?”

“It’s great, Mercedes. I real y appreciate it. I have to go check on my neighbor, and then I might take a lit le walk. You can let yourself out, you don’t have to lock the door. What do I owe you?”

“Rafi already paid me. I’m here instead of at his place. I don’t think his wife likes me very much. I hope I can come here again.”

I went to check on Volvo, even though it was the last thing I felt like doing. I knocked on his door softly. Luckily, he wasn’t answering, and I didn’t persist. Possibly he was out: Tuesday was his day alone, without volunteers, and he often went for long strol s down the most crowded streets of the city, hoping to upset as many people as he could, and perhaps also secretly hoping to be hit by a car as he wheeled himself carelessly into heavy traf ic. On the other hand, maybe he was secretly hoping to find love. It was hard to tel with Volvo.

I stil had an hour until six. I walked along the shore, my phone tucked in my front pocket. At a quarter to six I sat down on the sand, pul ed out the phone, and dialed Aaron’s number. I couldn’t wait any longer.

“Hi,” he said. He didn’t sound very happy to hear from me.

“Hi, did you get it?”

“No. I don’t have anything for you. Dana, listen to me, I’m tel ing you this as a friend. You have to forget your husband. I know it’s hard, but you have to forget him.”

“What are you saying? Oh God, is he dead?”

“No, he’s not dead. I can’t tel you anything. I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“You don’t know, or you don’t want to tel me?”

He didn’t reply. He was an honest person, he found it hard to lie, and I could tel he was trying to decide what to say. But just the fact that he was hesitating was in itself an answer.

“So you know, you know where he is, but you don’t want to tel me, is that it?” My voice was trembling but I was trying to stay calm; I was afraid he’d hang up on me if I became hysterical. Besides, there were people on the beach and I didn’t want them listening in on my conversation.

“You have to forget him. That’s al I can say. You have to move on, find someone else.”

“Has he? Has he found someone else?”

“No, he’s alone. Please don’t ask any more questions, because that’s al I can say.”

“Why? Why can’t you tel me? Why?”

“I have to go now,” he said. “I’m very sorry. I wish I could help you, but I can’t.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s okay, thank you, you did your best. At least now I know that everyone’s lying to me. That’s something.”

“Wel , bye for now. Take care of yourself, Dana.” He hung up.

I had told Ra I would be at the demonstration in front of the Ministry of Defense, but I couldn’t move. I held the phone in my hand, stared at the waves, and tried to understand what had just happened. I couldn’t think straight: I was in some sort of trance. I shut my eyes and remembered a veiled and bangled bel y dancer I’d once seen at a party, long ago. The chiming gold bangles had hypnotized me, and Daniel had laughed as he cal ed my name to bring me back to the real world. I roused myself and phoned Rafi.

“It’s me, Dana,” I said.

“Dana who, please?” he teased.

“I’m on the beach.”

“What’s going on?”

“I found out something about Daniel.”

“Real y?”

“Real y?”

“I can’t tel you on the phone. Are you going to the demo?”

“I have to, I’m bringing the signs, remember? We can meet after.”

“No, okay, I’l come. I can’t just sit here staring at the sea. I’l be there soon.”

Usual y I enjoyed walking and it was only on rare occasions that I took the bus. The entire city had an unset led look to it, as if the smal angular apartment houses and the people walking puposeful y through the streets and the cages fil ed with empty plastic bot les for recycling were al aware that they were part of a theatrical production—though whether farce or Greek tragedy, nobody knew. This was a world that made no e ort to seduce you, for it was too caught up in its own satis ed, uncertain presence. I was particularly at ached to the lit le stores and kiosks that sold newspapers and snacks. They never changed, the kiosks and smal stores; the world advanced around them, but they adhered to their own time zone. It was hard to believe that these bot les of grapefruit juice and rows of salted bagels could keep these enterprises going, but so far they had. Lately, though, the kiosk operators and store owners had been looking very depressed, and I wondered whether they would final y cave in and vanish.