Edeet Ravel - Look for Me

“It won’t mat er to him if he sees it doesn’t mat er to me.”

“Do you have any idea what his injury is like?”

“His face, his arms, part of his body.”

“Do you know what parts?”

“The thing you’re asking about, I don’t know. I tried to nd out, but you know how evasive doctors are. You know how they hate giving you a straight answer. So I don’t know.”

“If he can’t have sex, that might explain why he left.”

“There are lots of ways to have sex,” I said.

“Do you know what to expect? Have you seen people who’ve been burned?”

“Oh, who cares!”

“He’s lucky his vision wasn’t af ected.”

“Yes, he was wearing sunglasses, maybe that saved him. His burns weren’t that bad, in fact. Relatively speaking. That’s what they said at the hospital. They said he mostly had second-degree burns on his body. I think his uniform protected him a bit. The problem was how much of his body was burned, that was the real danger. He had third-degree burns only on his face and his hands. I feel so lucky that he’s alive.”

“I don’t real y understand why he left. It can’t be just because of his appearance. People adjust to that sort of thing.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t make any sense. And it’s not like Daniel, he’s not a shal ow or vain person. Maybe he wants to protect me, because he thinks it would bother me.”

“Dana, is it possible that it was just an excuse, that he wanted to leave anyhow?”

“No. We fought, of course. We fought about the mess, and about al sorts of other stupid things. But we got along. He loved me. He definitely loved me.”

“Was he sure you loved him?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

“I don’t know. Were you loyal to him?”

“Of course.”

“People get wounded and paralyzed, they go blind, they lose limbs, and they don’t vanish—on the contrary. They need their families and friends. And men don’t care that much about how they look, I mean they care, but it’s not al that important, unless they’re exceptional y vain.”

“You’re not the rst one who’s thought there was another reason. I think most people assume that he’s just eccentric, and that the reason he vanished has nothing to do with the accident. But he wasn’t eccentric.”

“Leaving you was a cruel thing to do. I’m sorry, I have to say that.”

“I don’t mind. I know it looks that way, but you’re wrong. He didn’t mean to hurt me. He doesn’t believe I love him, he thinks he did me a favor.”

“I don’t know how I’m holding back from touching your face, Dana.”

“You can touch my face.”

“Are you sure? You have to be sure. I’m not saying that to cover myself, or to put the responsibility on your shoulders. It’s my responsibility as much as yours. And I know that in a way no one can be sure about anything like this. I just don’t know if this is the right thing, and you have to help me.”

“I don’t know either. Not because of your family, but because I love Daniel.”

“I told you what I think. I think it’s possible to love more than one person. I know it’s possible.”

“No, he’d see it as a betrayal. I can’t have any secrets from him. But it’s already too late, I’ve already betrayed him by fal ing in love with you. It’s too late. I’ve hurt him.”

I reached out and touched his hair, ran my fingers through the soft carpet of tiny black curls. He shut his eyes.

“Let’s just hold each other,” he said.

I removed the dishes from the bed and stretched out next to him. He placed his left arm around my waist. “I think we’re exactly the same height,” I said.

“Tel me about yourself. Tel me about your family. I know your mother died in a car crash. What was she like?”

“Bossy, tough, warm, very a ectionate. Outspoken. She wasn’t afraid of anyone. And she liked deciding how things should be done. She was generous. She would do anything for anyone.”

“What did she do?”

“What did she do?”

“She was a pathologist.”

“And your father? What’s he like?”

“Quiet, principled, control ed. And smart. He sings in a choir, he used to be a chess champion, he’s interested in cryptography … He was disappointed that I didn’t finish high school. He thought I would go to university, get lots of degrees. What about you?”

“School, you mean? I fucked it up. I had a scholarship because of my high grades, I could have gone for free after I was discharged. But I was too messed up. And then it was too late.”

“Why too late?”

“It’s hard to go back to school if you wait too long.”

“What was it like, get ing drunk?”

“I don’t remember. It made me sick, most of the time. It’s very hazy now, that period … Tel me about the books you write.”

“Just junk romance. They’re al identical.”

“How did you get into it?”

“I found one of those books on the beach, some tourist must have left it there. And I took it home and read it and I thought, I can write that. So I wrote to the publisher, and they tried me out. Now they buy al my books. They’re ridiculous, the books, but no one cares, not the readers, not the publishers, and not me.”

“Can I see one?”

“I don’t have any, except on disk. I’ve never seen my novels in print, I asked them not to send me copies. I don’t own the copyright, I sel al the rights for a lump sum. I don’t even know what name they use.”

“Does it pay wel ?”

“Yes, that’s how I pay my mortgage and al my other expenses. I’ve even managed to put money away, so Daniel and I can take a trip when he comes back. A cruise, or a trip to Paris or Ireland. Wherever he wants to go. Just the two of us.”

“Read me something from one of them.”

I got up and turned on the computer, opened the most recent le, and read him a random passage. “From across the room Martha’s eyes pierced Angeline to the quick. Martha whispered to her sister, and they both marched out of the room, stil whispering. Angeline’s heart beat faster. What per dious machinations were they planning out there in the rose garden? Just then Pierre ran outside with a hurried gait. His footsteps clicked on the patio tiles and his velvet blue cloak blew in the wind.”

“Come back to bed.”

I returned to his arms.

“It’s sexy to hear you speak English. What are they planning, the sisters?”

“I can’t remember. I just make it up as I go along, and then I forget al about it. The plot doesn’t mat er, it doesn’t have to make much sense. The writing’s horrible too, but that’s because I don’t rewrite or edit. I used to, but then I realized it was a waste of time. No one cares if I say things like hurried gait or perfidious machinations.”

“Perfidious machinations—sounds like a car problem.”

“You have to use some hard words—it flat ers the reader. That’s one of the instructions we get.”

“Is Pierre the hero?”

“He’s the love interest. That’s what they’re cal ed.”

“Why is he wearing a cloak?”

“It’s a period novel. It takes place in the past. Horse carriages, cloaks, daggers, sweeping dresses.”

“Do you have to do research?”

“I had to learn the names of di erent types of swords and vehicles. Sometimes I watch movies for the visual details and I take notes. That’s about it.”

“What are the love scenes like?”

“It’s interesting. The writers get a list of words they should be using, and they’re not al owed to use any others. Wel , it’s changed over the years. We can use more words now, and we have to include more sex. We now have to have at least one actual intercourse scene, toward the end, on the night before the wedding. But we can only refer to thighs and breasts. We can’t say nipples. We can’t say between or spread or inside. It al has to be vague and implicit.”