Fima - Amos Oz [127]
Later, Fima lingered outside a tiny shoeshop which was also a cobbler's, to inhale the smell of caoutchouc, the intoxicating cobbler's glue. And meanwhile he caught a snatch of conversation between a middle-aged religious man, who looked like the bursar of a charitable foundation or a minor synagogue functionary, and an overweight, shabby, unshaven reservist in ill-fitting fatigues.
The soldier said:
"The thing with them is, the boy always looks after the granny. He doesn't budge from her side all day long. Every thirty seconds he checks to make sure she hasn't walked off again, Heaven forbid! Her head's gone to pieces, but she's still got the use of her legs, and take it from me, she's as quick as a cat on them."
The older man, the bursar, remarked sadly:
"The mind inside the head looks like a piece of cheese. Sort of yellowy-white, with wrinkles. They showed it on the TV. And when your memory goes, the scientists have discovered that it's because of the dirt. It's little worms that get inside and nibble at the cheese. Till it's all rotten. You can even get a whiff of it sometimes."
The soldier corrected him knowledgeably:
"It's not worms, its bactaria. The size of a grain of sand. You can hardly see them even with a magnifying glass, and there are hundreds of them born every hour."
Fima went on his way, thinking over what he had heard. For a moment his nostrils could almost catch the smell of rotting cheese. Then he lingered in the doorway of a greengrocer's. Crates of aubergines, onions, lettuces, tangerines, and oranges were laid out on the pavement. Around them hovered flies and one or two wasps. It would be good to go for a walk down these lanes with Dimi someday. He could feel the warmth of the boy's fingers in his empty hand. And he tried to imagine what sort of intelligent remarks he would hear from the pensive Challenger when they strolled here together, in what new light he would be made to see all these sights. Dimi would certainly notice aspects that were hidden from him, because he lacked the boy's powers of observation. Who did Dimi get them from? Teddy and Yael were always concentrating on the tasks in front of them, whereas Baruch was absorbed in his anecdotes and morals. Maybe the best plan of action would be to move in with them. He could begin, for instance, with a temporary invasion, a bridgehead, using the painters as an excuse, assuring the family at first that it was only for a day or two, a week at the most, he wouldn't be a nuisance, he'd gladly sleep on a mattress in the utility room off the kitchen balcony. As soon as he arrived, he'd start cooking for them, washing up, ironing, looking after Dimi while they were out, helping him with his homework, washing Yael's underwear, cleaning Teddy's pipe for him; alter all, they were out of the house a good deal, whereas he was a man of leisure. After a few days they'd get used to the arrangement. They would appreciate its advantages. They would come to be dependent on Fima's domestic services. They wouldn't be able to manage without him. It might well be Ted, a broad-minded, unprejudiced individual, a clear-thinking scientist, who would see the all-around benefits. Dimi would no longer be left to roam alone outside all day, relying on the kindness of the neighbors, at the mercy of their bullying children, or condemned to solitary confinement in front of the computer screen. Ted himself would be relieved of the burden of living constantly tête-à-tête with Yael, and so he also would be liberated a bit. As for Yael, it was hard to predict: She might accept the new arrangement with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders, she might just give one of her occasional silent laughs, or she might walk out and go back to Pasadena, leaving Dimi to Ted and me. This last possibility bathed Fima's mind in a supernal glow of light. It seemed really exciting: a