Don't Ask Me If I Love (20 page)

“So long.”

“Yes, take care.”

She hung up.

Forget it, I thought, going downstairs. The guy wants to have a heart attack, let him. Easy come, easy go.

I had my breakfast of orange juice and three aspirins, and then I went out to look at the car. It had a small bump in the front, and had lost some paint, but that was all.

Around noon, the mailman brought me a letter from the connection officer of my reserve unit. It was an order to report to camp in a week's time for a maximum of three days, for parachuting practice. It was the first time I had heard from the army since my discharge.

God wishes to punish you, my boy, by preventing your parachute from opening. You'll make a deep hole in the ground.

The idea appealed to me. Yes, I thought, if God exists and he is angry, he can punish me now. This is his big chance.

Throughout the week I spent a great deal of time reading detective stories. I did a little bit of studying. I didn't write, and I didn't see Joy.

When the parachuting day finally came, I found that I was nervous. I sat in the Nord with thirty other civilians in uniform, and wanted it to be over with. Most of the men were older than I and married with children and permanent jobs. There were a few familiar faces. When the bell rang, we stood up and folded our seats back, then we checked the parachutes. I glanced at the open door in front of me and grimaced disapprovingly. It seemed like a long way down.

“I don't think your parachute is right,” I said acidly to the man in front of me. “The strings seem loose.”

“You can make those stupid jokes,” he said angrily. “You have no kids.”

“O.K. Don't say I didn't tell you.”

Where did you get that hilarious sense of humor, Assaf, I thought. You should be in show business.

The green light came on and we started moving toward the door. I dove out improperly with my head forward and my arms spread wide. The earth came rapidly toward me in wild circles, and then the harness pulled hard on my ribs and I stopped in midair. I gave God a wink and went slowly toward the ground. Landing, I rolled very correctly on my side and got up to my feet, shaking the sand from my face. I folded the parachute and thrust it into the bag, and started walking toward the gathering place. After a few yards, I bumped into a man lying behind a bush holding his foot and cursing violently. I went closer and took a better look. I recognized the guy who had stood in front of me in the plane.

“What's the idea?” I asked him.

“I broke my goddam ankle,” he said, staring at me with impotent fury.

“I'll get the medic,” I said.

I turned away, remembering his kids. I could sense his mean look following me as I retreated slowly. I guessed he probably thought it was my fault.

I came home late that afternoon, took a hot shower, had a hot meal, and went to bed. My mother woke me about an hour later, with a loud knock on the door.

I peeked at the clock. It was a few minutes after seven.

“I'm sleeping,” I yelled back. “I'm sleeping, O.K.?”

She opened the door.

“You have a visitor.”

“Tell him or her or it to come some other time,” I said venomously. “I've been up since five this morning. I'm tired.”

“It's Udi,” she said.

I went into the bathroom and shoved my face under a stream of cold water. I wiped it fiercely with a towel.

“O.K.,” I said, stepping back into the room. “O.K., send him in, and please”—I patted her cheek—”be an angel and send us up two cups of tea, sweetheart.”

“All right,” she said, smiling against her will, “but you behave.”

“Sure. Thanks, Mom.”

I put on a shirt and ran a brush through my hair. It was quite long already. I had not had it cut since the army. I'll have to cut it myself, I thought. It is getting too long.

Udi knocked on the half-open door.

“Yeah.”

He came in. I had not seen him for over three months and his likeness to his brother shocked me. He was as tall as I and strong and slim. He is probably another one of those guys, I thought, who'll be an officer in the paratroopers and get to be a dead hero.

“Hi,” he said, a bit timidly. “Am I interrupting you?”

“No,” I said, buttoning my shirt. “Take a seat and make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.”

He sat down on my chair and looked at me awkwardly.

“You invited me once, remember? So I came. I wasn't sure if you meant it, though.”

“Sure,” I said. “I said I could beat you in chess. Would you like to play chess?”

“I don't know,” he smiled. “No, I think not.”

“We'll be getting tea and biscuits in a minute. Guests don't get chocolate here. I use it all up myself.”

“I read your short story. I think it's great.”

I studied his face. He looked as though he meant it.

“I'm glad then.”

“Are you writing anything else?”

I moved uncomfortably on the floor.

“I am trying a novel,” I said, “but it will take time.”

The maid knocked on the door and came in with a tray. She put it on the table and left.

“Help yourself.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking a biscuit. “What is it about?”

I gestured meaninglessly with my hand.

“I don't know exactly. A ‘fictional autobiography' you might call it.”

“Yes, that's what I thought.”

I got up and helped myself to a cup of tea. I put in two spoonfuls of sugar and sat down again.

“I would like to read it. It will be interesting.”

I gazed at him above the cup.

“You seem to think I'm going to be some big author, some day,” I said.

“You'll do all right.”

“How do you know?”

“I'm sure. Also, Ram used to say that.”

“O.K. Well, in that case.”

I emptied my cup briskly and put it on the floor.

“You just watch me and see what a smashing career I'm going to have.”

“Yes, I will,” he said quietly, and drank from his cup.

“I don't understand. What is it to you?”

“I would like to do the same thing myself, one day,” he said.

I sat down again, wearily.

“How's your mother?”

“Like always. Ram was her favorite.”

“He was one hell of a guy.”

“I know.”

I drew a circle with my toe on the floor.

“He was one person who shouldn't have died. Want more tea?”

“No thanks. I guess I'll be going.”

He got up. “I'll be seeing you,” he said.

“Yeah.”

He went out, leaving me with a peculiar feeling. I walked to my desk and sat down. I took out all the pages of the book I had typed and leafed through them briefly. It seemed like an anti-everything book: lots of words
against
. I didn't want to write a protest work, rebellion for rebellion's sake. I wanted it to have some beauty. There has to be beauty in things; that's what makes them worth while.

Two female hands suddenly cupped themselves tightly over my eyes. I smelled the light perfume and recognized her, and it was a surprise. But I thought, O.K., if she wants to play, let's play.

“Oh, Mother,” I said, “what's come over you?”

Her hot lips pressed on mine and shut my mouth, and as she was leaning over me, I caught her by her wrists and turned her around and pushed her down. I pinned her arms to the sides of her body, and then sat comfortably on her stomach.

“Let me go!” Joy said, breathing hard.

“Like hell.”

“That's no way to treat guests.”

She made a sudden effort to wriggle herself free, but I was not that weak.

“The guests were asking for it.”

“I'll hit you,” she threatened.

“With what?”

She made a face.

“What are you going to do? Sit on me for hours like that?”

“No. I'll rape you. What did you think I was going to do?”

“I'll get angry.”

“All right.”

“Let me go,” she gasped, “or I'll yell for your goddam mother.”

“O.K.,” I said, “if you really don't want me.”

I got off her, and stood up. She rose slowly to her feet, fixing her clothes and catching her breath. She was wearing blue jeans and a yellow blouse that matched her hair. Her face was flushed.

I went to the other side of the room and sat on my bed.

“Well,” I said, “if you didn't come here to seduce me, what did you come for?”

“I moved.”

“What?”

“I moved to another flat,” she said, pacing around looking the room over, “partly because of you, in fact. Your being so worried about my living among the enemy. Anyway, I moved.”

“Where the hell to?”

“Meah Shearim,” she said airily. “You know.”

I thought of the fanatically religious people and their women with shaved heads, and I didn't even laugh.

“Oh my God.”

“Well, aren't you happy?” she asked anxiously.

“I guess if you survive that, you'll survive anything; but will you survive it?”

“Don't be stupid,” she brushed me off carelessly, finally landing on my bed. “They are cute, with those long beards and black hats. I like them, even if they pretend not to like women.”

“Ahha.”

“It's a nice room you've got. Untidy, but nice.”

I coughed dryly.

“Well,” she said impatiently, “don't you want to come and see my new palace?”

“Sure. Why not?”

I went over to my desk and collected the pile of papers.

“Listen,” I said, “will you do me a favor?”

“Anything for you.”

“Read these in your spare time and give me a nice, objective opinion. There are only a hundred of them.”

She took the sheets and glanced at the top one.

“Be glad to, but I am not so sure about my objectivity.”

I opened the door for her and we went out.

“Your mother looked me over quite thoroughly,” she told me when we were in the car, “as though I was one of the first young girls she has seen in ages.”

“I do not have many female guests.”

“Why not?”

“Lucky in cards, unlucky in love.”

We got to a section where the streets were almost too narrow for the car to pass. Joy pointed out a small yard.

“Park here. “We'll only have to walk a little bit.”

We got out of the car and started climbing a line of narrow steps leading to a cluster of old, yellow houses. The place was crowded with people, especially young children with long side curls and small caps.

No wonder anti-semitism exists, I thought, looking at them in dismay.

The area was dirty and had a bad smell. On some of the walls there were posters and proclamations against the state and the government, warning the people not to conform to its corrupted rules.

We passed through a bunch of young men coming out of a synagogue. They stood in the middle of the stairway, staring at us with open mouths. I pushed two of them to the side to make way for us to pass. They cursed, but backed away.

“You've got yourself one hell of a neighborhood,” I said acidly. “Would have been better off stuck with the Arabs.”

“Why are you so much against religious people?” she asked. “They live according to their faith and beliefs. I think that's wonderful, especially nowadays, when nobody believes in anything any more.”

“They make me feel inferior for being Jewish.”

“Then you're an idiot.”

“Maybe.”

We climbed the rest of the way in silence.

“There it is,” she said, pointing to one of the old buildings.

It had a big yard where chickens were running around. A woman in a long dress and a turban-like scarf was chasing them, cursing under her breath.

Someone tapped me lightly on the shoulder, and I turned around. It was a small, ancient man with a long white beard and thick glasses. He had a Bible under his arm.

“Please,” he said.

“What?”

“Please,” he repeated again meekly, “tell the young lady not to walk in this neighborhood wearing pants. It's against our tradition.”

I shook my head in wonder.

“You want her to walk around without pants?” I exclaimed. “Man, you're way ahead of me.”

He stared at me with a shocked expression, and then murmured a prayer and hurried out of sight.

“You shouldn't have said that,” Joy said irritably. “I understood.”

“Oh, screw him if he can't take a joke.”

The apartment itself was not as bad as I had expected. It had two small rooms plus a kitchen and a bath, and it was very clean inside.

We had coffee and talked for a while. She told me she was having trouble getting a work permit, since she had tourist status and was non-Jewish. I told her the Ministry of Interior was in the hands of the religious party, because that's how democracy works in Israel. Only the religious have their way.

“If you really want to hang around here,” I told her, “you might as well convert.”

“There's no need to exaggerate,” Joy said, “it will probably work out in the end.”

I laughed.

“I would hate to see you convert.”

“I'll let you know in time, then.”

“If you really have trouble, let me know. I can probably have something done about it.”

Joy shook her head.

“No,” she said. “I'll have to do it on my own, or not at all.”

THE following morning was one of the rare occasions I went to the university for a lecture. Or rather, it wasn't for the lecture I went. I was hoping to see Ruthi.

I stepped into the hall a few minutes after the bell rang. I closed the doors behind me and looked around. I saw her almost at once. She was sitting on one of the back benches, smartly dressed and well made-up. Her hair was done in an elegant style. She was diligently writing in her notebook.