Only Yesterday (47 page)

At Sonya’s Place

1
I

When Isaac left Jerusalem, he didn’t know what he would say to Sonya. But he relied on himself to come up with something on the way. By the time he got to Motza, he had taken his mind off Sonya, and when he entered Jaffa and came to Sonya’s place, he was back where he was when he left Jerusalem, and didn’t know what he would say.

It was twilight. Sonya was sitting in an easy chair made of canvas, and under her head was a little pillow tied to the chair with loops. The two windows were open, and a sweet darkness from outside mated with that darkness in the room. And in the space of the room was a sweetness of dusk that’s special to Jaffa at sunset. The air in the room was still and Sonya’s whole being filled the room. It had been weeks and months since Sonya had left the kindergarten and tried other kinds of things, but nothing came of all the things she tried to do. So, she considered going to Paris. And she relied on Paris to find something for her to do there. And she had already pictured to herself all that was in store for her in the big city. Suddenly she heard that Yarkoni, whom she thought was in Paris, had returned to the Land of Israel, and she was waiting for him to come to her place. Now she heard the sound of his footsteps and his fingers tapping on her door, like a person who wants to surprise his comrade and comes with a whisper and doesn’t know that his comrade is waiting for him. God in Heaven, how blind are the eyes of fellows who think they are surprising a girl! But if Yarkoni wants to surprise me, I’ll pretend I don’t know he came back and that I’m surprised. And in a simple voice, Sonya called out, Come in.

384
I

Isaac Kumer came in and stood before Sonya. Ages ago they had stopped writing to one another and she hadn’t heard a thing about him. All of a sudden he comes in. Sonya got up and said hello. She lit the lamp and sat down again. She took out a comb and combed her hair and looked at Isaac as if he were a stranger. And in-deed, there was something strange about Isaac. When Isaac left Jaffa, he left without a trace of a beard and now he had a sort of beard, for ever since the anniversary of his mother’s death, he hadn’t passed a razor over his beard. His Jerusalem clothes added to his strangeness. And so, said Sonya, so you’re Isaac, and you come from Jerusalem. What’s new in the world?

Isaac dropped his eyes and gazed at the chair whose paint was peeling and repeated her words, What’s new? Said she, Shouldn’t the guest tell first? Said Isaac, What’s there to tell? You yourself wrote me, the old news became obsolete and no new news appeared. Sonya squinted her eyes and a whitish-yellowish light gleamed between her lashes. She shook her head and said, You’re festive, Isaac, your face is like the face of a bridegroom. Isaac’s face blushed and he thought to himself, Sonya knows every issue and everything. Said Sonya, Why are you standing? Take a chair and sit down. Isaac moved a chair and sat opposite her and said, Right away I’ll sit. Sonya smiled and said, You’re already sitting. Yes, yes, said Isaac, I’m already sitting. Said Sonya, So, Mr. Kumer, it seems you wish to say something. Said Isaac, In fact, I did want to tell you something, but I see there’s no need. Said Sonya, But what? Should we sit silently, Isaac? Silence is nice for romance. She squinted again, and once again a kind of yellowish-whitish light glowed from between her lashes. Isaac licked his lips and said, It wasn’t for romance that I came, but to speak clearly.

Sonya put out her fingertip and rubbed her lip and said, Clear speaking I want to hear. Clear speaking I want to hear. Even before he finished speaking, she put her hands on her knees and laughed. Said she, Oh dear,
kh’shtarb aveket fun lakhn
, I’ll die laughing. Finally she stopped laughing and said, A great thing you told me. And so, for the same price, I won’t refrain from telling you something too. I wrote you that a lot of men want to marry me, but I don’t remember writing you that, if I cast off the yoke of father and mother, I won’t put on the yoke of a husband. And I’ll also tell you, that as long as I’m young, I want to be free. But. . . And here she gazed at him. Isaac’s heart weakened. Sonya went on, But you know what came into my mind, let’s go and eat ice cream. She got out of her chair, wrapped herself in a light shawl, and turned down the wick of the lamp. She went out with Isaac.

2
I

The moon shone and illuminated the earth. No wind blew, but a warm fragrant damp emanated from the sea. Once again, Isaac hesitated in the sand of Jaffa, which got into his shoes and bothered him until they got to Neve Shalom, where the ground was hardened like solid earth, for it was constantly trampled by the feet of passersby.

The street is hustling and bustling. From the two hotels of Zussman and Levi Isaac to the Arab coffeehouse stretches a strip of human beings, and a smell of roasting and cooking and frying bubbles up. In the coffeehouse and on the square in front of it, where the coffeehouse owner stretched colorful sheets and hung colorful lanterns on them, sat Moslems, white-skinned ones and black-skinned ones, bearded ones and mustachioed ones, and eunuchs whose faces are wrinkled and hairless, and they ate a lot and drank a lot, for those were the days of the Fast of Ramadan and the Faithful tried to do at night what they were forbidden to do during the day. A gramophone stood and sang joyful songs. Opposite it an old parrot shrieked words from the Koran. Passersby stood and drank colorful sweet and sour cold water, while the coffeehouse owner walks around among them and sprinkles eau de cologne on them and smiles, and his two boys take the coins with their fingertips and toss them into the air and catch them in their mouth. Meanwhile, the Faithful ogle the daughters of Israel and are amazed that Allah granted His beauty to the daughters of Infidels. As Isaac and Sonya are strolling, Yarkoni came toward them. Good God Almighty, yesterday and today she had been waiting for him to come, and when she despaired of him he comes and doesn’t apologize to her or anything. But Yarkoni isn’t to be scolded. Yarkoni has something that silences all complaints about him. Sonya put Yarkoni on her right and put her hand on his shoulder until they came to Café Hermon. The café owner looked into Isaac’s childish eyes and wanted to say, I know you, and he looked at Yarkoni, whom he also knew, but whose name he had forgotten.

The garden of the café was full of men and women teachers, clerks and activists, and ordinary people who wanted to be teachers or writers or activists. Some of them were playing chess and some were playing with balls. Some said hello to Isaac and some said hello to Yarkoni. And some greeted Sonya who was lucky enough to have two guests at the same time. Sonya peered at all the seats until she found an empty one under a palm tree near the wall and ordered four portions of ice cream, so that if someone wants a second portion he won’t have to wait.

The café owner brought the ice cream and looked at Miss Zweiering’s two guests whom he knew, but couldn’t remember which one’s name he had forgotten. When Sonya ate her portion, she said, I see an extra portion here which you two are too lazy to eat. She thrust her spoon in and ate, and as she ate she said, If I had known there was no difference between this one and the one I ate, I wouldn’t have eaten it. Yarkoni, over there in France, did you eat bet-ter ice cream than this. Yarkoni shook his heavy pompadour and said, I don’t remember if I ate ice cream there. Said Sonya, Then what did you do there? Said Yarkoni, What did I do? I didn’t do anything. Said Sonya, Then what, they did to you? Said Yarkoni, They didn’t do to me. Said Sonya, They already came and told us your whole love af-fair with that little milliner. So, so, said Yarkoni dismissively and knocked the ice cream spoon on the little plate like a sad refrain.

Happy was that affair at the beginning and sad at the end, like most love affairs with their aftermaths. All he had left of that tale was regret and shame. Said Sonya, What are you humming to yourself? Better tell us about Paris. As he began telling, she raised herself and adjusted her dress like someone preparing for a journey. A mo-ment later, she sank back onto the chair and pondered to herself, And I’m buried here in the sands of Jaffa between the sea and the desert, and wherever you turn, it’s either camels and creatures or writers and

teachers. Yarkoni sat and told his story, and the more he told, the more he wanted to stop, and the more he wanted to stop, the more he went on telling. Sonya sat and listened with her eyes closed and her heart open. Suddenly she opened her eyes and saw Isaac. She tapped him on the shoulder and said, I would leave my paw in a black man’s maw if this guy heard any of that.

In truth, Isaac hadn’t heard anything, but he was thinking of his fi night in Petach Tikva, when Rabinovitch took him to Yarkoni’s room after Yarkoni had left the Land. Meanwhile, Rabinovitch left and Yarkoni came back, and here he is sitting between him and Sonya. Said Sonya, A man sits here and his head is somewhere else. Where are you looking, Isaac? Isaac looked at the chessplayers’ table. One was sitting with his back to the table and the other one was moving the pieces as he instructed. Isaac wasn’t an expert at chess, yet he watched to see who would win, the one who was playing normally or the one who was playing blindfold. Yarkoni stopped talking and said, There’s Mr. Makherovitch with Makheranski, and also, if I’m not mistaken, Makherson. No. . . Yes, yes, Makherson as he lives and breathes.

Mr. Makherovitch came in wiping the sweat off the back of his neck and looking at the people, like a speaker checking out his audience and replying to greetings on all sides. Isaac lifted his eyes and looked at him, as someone who enjoys the fruit of his own toil looks at a slacker, and bowed his head to him submissively and was angry at himself for doing that out of habit.

Mr. Makherovitch came and sat down. He put his hat in front of him and asked, Well, what are we drinking, hot or cold? Accustomed to public speaking, he spoke loudly and looked at his audience. Well, so what were we talking about the Eretz-Israel office. That is what I said, David Wolfson wouldn’t have installed that of-fice and wouldn’t have sent two Germans to us, except to prove that it’s impossible to do anything in the Land of Israel. Yarkoni, are you here? Welcome. Where were you, in Berlin? Said Yarkoni, No, in Paris. Said Makherovitch, Indeed, you were in Paris. And how is Miss Zweiering? Hello, Miss, fine, fine. No doubt a great livelihood is in store for the Land of Israel from the castor oil plants. What are you eating there, ice cream? How is it today? What did I want to say?

Makheranski and Makherson nodded in agreement. Mr. Makherovitch added, Well, in Eyn Ganim, things aren’t going right. Yes, yes, you can’t say the tea is hot, said Makheranski. Said Mr. Makherson, This is my cup, but whose lemon is this. Whose lemon? It is indeed mine, said Mr. Makherovitch. A fine story, a fine story, if Gilboa were here, he would write a whole novel about that. Mr. Makherovitch wasn’t fond of the writers because they turn a blind eye to the building of the Land and go on writing about the Shtetl and the Yeshiva and the study house, except for Gilboa, who only writes about the Land of Israel and its settlements.

The three activists were getting bored with themselves. Deep in his heart, each one of them still sought something to interest his comrades. By the time they mated one word with another, that de-sire ended and the face grew slack and a stupid sadness made their mouth droop, the sadness of people whose acts and words have neither root nor branch. Mr. Makherovitch tightened the kerchief on his neck and said, Tomorrow is a great day, tomorrow a ship comes from Odessa and it will surely bring letters from the Odessa Committee.

3
I

Sonya gestured to Isaac and said, You see that one, that’s Yael Hayyot. She’s clinging to Hemdat, but her eyes are on Shammai. Isaac loved Hemdat as the young men of Israel love their poets. When he heard he was here, he longed to see him. Said Sonya, Let’s go to Hemdat’s place. Said Yarkoni, And what will Yael say? Said Sonya, In the meantime, Yael will court you.

Hemdat rejoiced to see Yarkoni and was cordial to Isaac, as he was with everyone, for Hemdat said, If a person drops in on me it surely has to be, for if not, would Divine Providence have taken the trouble to bring us to the same place? And since I encountered him, I have to be nice to him. And so, Hemdat was cordial to Yarkoni and rejoiced to see Isaac. Two guests at the same time, one from Europe and one from Jerusalem. And since the whole world is secondary to Jerusalem, let us ask first what’s new in Jerusalem? Said Sonya, You don’t see? Jerusalem makes a beard grow. Hemdat looked at Isaac

pleasantly and said, Whenever I shave my beard, my hands tremble as if I were wounding the image of God. Said Sonya, Then why don’t you grow a beard? Said Hemdat, Why? So I won’t be innocent in my own eyes and I won’t be arrogant and too proud. Said Sonya, And what’s the real reason? Said Hemdat, The real reason is what is already written in the book of the first Adam, that Hemdat shall not grow a beard.

At that moment, Hemdat was in a good mood. That, said Hemdat, was only because Mr. Kumer brought the Jerusalem air with him. Said Sonya, Well, since you’re so fond of Jerusalem, why don’t you live there? Said Hemdat, A great question you asked, Miss Zweiering, but I shall tell you, A certain Hasid wanted to ascend to the Land of Israel. He went to the Rizhin Rebbe. The Rizhin Rebbe told him, Do not ascend. When the Rizhin Rebbe saw that he was amazed, he said to him, It is said the eyes of the Lord Your God are in the Land of Israel, so why do you want to get under the wheel of the eyes of the Holy-One-Blessed-Be-He, the Almighty. And what is true for the Land of Israel, is especially so for Jerusalem. Who is this coming? Dr. Schimmelmann in person.

4
I

Doctor Schimmelmann nodded here and there and inquired about the health of all those sitting there. Ah, Miss Zweiering, said Schimmelmann, you’re here, fine, fine. A new face I see here, a new immi-grant. Said Yarkoni, I see that Doctor Schimmelmann doesn’t recognize me. Ah, ah, ah, said Schimmelmann, Mr. Mittelman? Oh, no, I was mistaken, when did you return, Mr. Rabinovitch? Said Yarkoni, You were mistaken, Doctor. I’m not Rabinovitch. Said Schimmelmann, I thought you were Rabinovitch. Said Hemdat, What’s the wonder that Doctor Schimmelmann doesn’t recognize you. Every son of Israel is one letter of the Torah, and since Doctor Schimmelmann is used to confusing the Torah anyway, he confuses the people, too. Said Schimmelmann, The gentleman doesn’t like Scriptural criticism? If so, what do you do with the contradictions in the Scriptures? Said Hemdat, A person has enough Scriptures that do fit. Said Schimmelmann, If so, I shall show you some Scriptures that appear to be