A Late Divorce (31 page)

—I feel that I'm going to cry ... I beg your pardon, Mr. Kaminka ... it keeps happening ... perhaps I'm disturbing you...

—I thank you.

—I thank you kindly. Take tonight. I've never had such awful insomnia before. You'll understand me if I tell you that when Tsvi told me about you I said to him, I'm just like your father, only worse. We're a generation that caught fire late ... maybe the emotions that we feel are a substitute for something else ... maybe they're in place of some more basic crisis of values. Because we've been a conformist generation. Very conformist, haven't we? Eh?

—In the sense that we never allowed ourselves any crises the way young people, or even older ones, allow themselves today. And we had no generation before us to hand us our crises ready-made the way they're handed nowadays to twenty- and thirty- and forty-year-olds, who are so spoiled that they expect to get a new crisis every week. We're not like that, are we?

—There was no one to do it for us. The old folks kept us on a tight leash.

—Do you mean that seriously? You really find it interesting? It makes me so happy that you understand. I'm not an educated man. Not at all. But I can't help thinking a bit now and then.

—No. They're just little thoughts. Just beginnings. What I must try to understand, though, is why all this has flared up so powerfully, so destructively. All the pain that we're spreading around us ... when I think what will happen when my two girls find out...

—But they're still only twenty-two. What's twenty-two? My father, rest his soul, still whipped me at that age...

—I swear, he sometimes did. But it's not just the girls. I'm talking about the whole family. About the old folks too, because we still have them. Yours, you understand, were all killed or left behind in Europe. They don't keep bugging you. You've made your peace with them. You were stronger than they were anyway, and you did what you wanted. Now you have your nostalgic memories, but that's just for the record ... on Saturday nights you dress up like them on TV in black caftans and beards, and it isn't a bad feeling ... but if you were suddenly to find them in your living room along with that whole ghetto of theirs, you'd be in a state of shock. Well, with us they're in the house all the time...

—A few of them have died, but only recently. Until my father passed away last year I used to go see him practically every day after work. And my wife's mother still lives with my wife's brother in Jerusalem ... not to mention various aunts here and there who know everything and are told everything and spend the whole day on the telephone, now that they've learned to use it, calling up the whole country. I have one aunt whose monthly phone bill is twenty thousand pounds. That's the equivalent of a small bank branch's...

—If you're the type who can travel. But I'm not. Where should I go? Three years ago we went to Europe for a month, and by the end of it I was dying to get back here. Maybe this summer I'll try Egypt for two weeks. We only eat kosher food, and that makes it difficult too...

—Yes. I understand you. I certainly do. But where to? In Europe we feel like strangers, even though I speak French. But the air there, that grayness all the time ... who knows, maybe one day soon the Middle East will open up to us and we'll be able to vacation among the Arabs...

—Begging your pardon?

—Yes. When the Messiah comes ha ha. But one mustn't lose faith ... if only they were a little more civilized. I can't tell you how sympatico you are, Mr. Kaminka. I knew I'd like you. We've been excited since the moment we heard you were coming. It was I who brought Tsvi to the airport Saturday night, but I didn't stay, because I didn't want to intrude. Even tonight I had qualms about dropping in. Your family story attracts me greatly ... yesterday when Tsvi took me up there to see your wife ... I was very moved ... there I was, after feeling that my own family was too much for me, suddenly ready to take on another...

—Who?

—What's his name?

—Zhid? A Jew?

—Ah, Gide. A Frenchman.

—A homosexual? I've never heard of him. Was he an important author?

—I've never heard of him.

—Really, he said that? That's very extreme.

—Well, that's not for me. I'm a family man ... and because of Tsvi ... because I've gotten so attached to him ... because I love him ... and now you too...

—What can I do?

—I'm sure he has a future. But he needs looking after. He worries me too. Sometimes I wonder whether he's really suited to the market.

—Yes. He keeps flitting from one thing to another. It is a bit childish ... but he's still young...

—Still...

—Still. I would have thought it more advisable for him to take a steady job in the bank. There's a great future in banking. I could have placed him well and seen to his being promoted ... discreetly, from high up ... don't underestimate me, I'm a power in the bank ... my word carries great weight there. I could have taken care of him ... like a father ... like his own daddy ... because after all, you're so far away ... at the moment, I mean...

—Begging your pardon? Come again?

—Yes. I've lent him some money now and then ... helped him with some difficult transactions...

—Yes. It worries me too.

—I don't believe that. No. Don't tell me that, Mr. Kaminka. I have complete confidence in him. Don't tell me ... and I have his IOUs ... he'll always be liable ... no, don't tell me ... you frighten me...

—What makes you say that?

—Yes. I agree. But I can't turn him down. You have to understand, that's my only happiness these days...

—I don't want to hear about it. I'll keep a closer eye on him. I'll be more careful. But don't you see, I love him ... no ... don't tell me...

—You're so sure of yourself. So forthright. It takes a daring man to pick up and leave his family like you did. You must have a great deal of courage ... although sometimes I ask myself...

—I mean ... I can't help wondering ... well, never mind...

—I mean ... I beg your pardon ... I know it's none of my business, but I can't help wondering if it's really necessary for you to get divorced ... even though ... that is, I've been thinking of another possibility ... but of course it's none of my business...

—Begging your pardon?

—I don't understand.

—Would you say that again?

—I beg your pardon?

—Are you serious?

—But how? You must mean figuratively ... in a manner of speaking...

—What? I don't understand ... I beg your pardon ... one minute ..

—Here? Where?

—In this kitchen?

—I beg your pardon?

—No. I didn't know about it. Or maybe just a little bit ... I mean, I no longer know what I really know about you and what I would like to know. Tsvi talks too much, and of course I listen to him ... it's none of my business, but I do. That's his style, to say whatever is on his mind. It's all so free with you people ... you have the confidence, the uninhibitedness ... or maybe it's the innocence ... you can afford it. Perhaps it's because you stopped believing in God so long ago that there's not a drop of Him left in you. We simply hide things. We're always trying to hide them. The fact is that I did know something about it, but I thought she had merely threatened you, the way people sometimes do ... that she went crazy for a moment, the way we all can when we're under mental stress. I'm sure she didn't mean it. I saw her, such a refined woman ... I beg your pardon for intruding, but I'm sure she didn't mean it...

—With a knife? No, don't tell me...

—I don't believe it. Do you really mean it? I suppose she just waved it about...

—Where? Yes, I see a line. But are you sure it's from that?

—I understand. I beg your pardon.

—I understand.

—She must have been under great stress. But what did the rabbis say? Blame not the man who sins in his grief...

—Yes.

—It was really right here? And Tsvi witnessed it? It must have been excruciating for him.

—I'm listening.

—Me?

—What would I have done? What can I tell you? In the end I'd have forgiven her. In the end I know I would have. One has to forgive, Mr. Kaminka. One has to think in terms of forgiveness. We're Jews. And there are so few of us that we can't afford not to. If only for the children's sake...

—I meant your children.

—It's none of my business, absolutely none of my business, but since you ask ... and I've become so attached to you...

—Yes. I know that there's going to be a baby there. You can see that Tsvi tells me everything. But what can you do? I understand your problem, but there's no point in insisting if she refuses. That's my advice ... financially you only stand to lose that way. She still has her possessions here ... I saw her dresses in the closet. It's always difficult to make a clean break ... and sometimes it's better not to ... Oops, there it goes again! Just a minute, don't move ha ha ha, it's come out. It must be somewhere over there...

—Behind you. It was peeking out at us as though it were listening.

—It must have gone back beneath the burners. They should be taken apart and fumigated inside. If you ask the city to do it, they'll only do the outside. They'll scatter a little poison and that's all.

—There's no need to. I'll take care of it myself.

—No. Not of killing him. That revolts me too. Just of catching him.

—A trap is the best way. Meanwhile try to keep all the food covered. Don't leave anything out. You don't want to eat from his mouth.

—All right. I'll be on my way. Will you still be here tomorrow?

—Yes. I meant today.

—It's already past three. How quiet the city is now. Suddenly I can feel all my tiredness. I'm sorry to have been such a nuisance...

—I know. There's a breeze coming up. When do you expect the ceremony to be?

—The di...

—Yes.

—Will there be time for it on the day of the seder? The rabbis agreed to it then? Tsvi said you spoke to them this morning.

—Yesterday morning, I beg your pardon. I'm totally disoriented ... What's that, the telephone?

—It must be my wife. I'm sure of it. Let me have it for a second.

—Yes. She knows the number here. She found it out ... just a second...

—Hello?

—She hung up.

—No. I'm absolutely sure it was her.

—I hope to God that I'm wrong. But I know it was her. She woke up and saw I wasn't there. I'm sure of it...

—Let me have it ... just a second ... Hello? Hello?...She hung up again.

—No. I'm sure of it. It's her. I'm going. If it rings again, don't answer. Say I wasn't here. There it is again ... I'll take it ... if it's for you, I'll let you have it...

—Hello? Hello?

—Just a minute ... oh my God...

—Have you gone out of your mind? What happened?

—Nothing. I was just passing by.

—Please.

—I beg of you.

—All right.

—All right.

—Fine.

—Whatever you say.

—I'm already on my way home. I couldn't fall asleep.

—What makes you say that?

—No. I'm with his father.

—You'd be surprised.

—I swear.

—As I hope to die.

—No. As I hope to die. By my own dead father.

—It's not what you think.

—That's enough. I beg of you.

—We can be heard.

—Yes. Just a minute...

—All right. I'm already half out the door.

—You don't understand.

—You don't even begin to understand.

—All right.

—All right.

—Stop. That's enough.

—I know I'm to blame.

—Only me. I told you.

—All right.

—Later.

—All right. Later.

—How can you say that?

—What an idea!

—You're out of your mind.

—So do I.

—How can you say that?

—I'm listening.

—Not. It's not that.

—I beg you. We can be heard.

—I'll be a sick man from this. I beg you.

—How can you ... that's insane...

—Cut off your breasts...?!

—Whatever you say...

—I promise.

—It's too strong for me but I'll get over it .. I'm in love ... Give me time...

—You can take who...?

—That's fine with me.

—Whatever you say.

—All right.

—Not now.

—Not now.

—So do I.

—Never. Don't you dare.

—All right. Later.

—Then I'll never come home again.

—No. Right away. In ten minutes. I had one foot out the door when you called.

—Don't call again. Promise me.

—I'm hanging up.

—I'm hanging up.

—I'm hanging up.

—I'm hanging up.

—No. He's asleep. There's only his father.

—I swear by the girls.

—You'll pay for this.

—Enough. I've hung up...

 

—It was for me, Tsvi.

—Yes. It was her. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have stayed so long. But everything will be all right. If she calls again, tell her that I'm gone. Don't talk to her. Goodbye, Mr. Kaminka. I don't know if we'll meet again.

—Yes. Perhaps at the airport. You're flying back Monday night?

—Perhaps. That's a good idea. For sure.

—I'll wait for you there at five.

—I'll live. I'll wait for you at five. Don't worry about me. And in the meantime, good luck. Enough, I'd better get going. I'm so sorry. I didn't even mean to drop in. I just happened to pass by, I knocked like a bird, and you went and heard me...