Mitla Pass - Leon Uris [147]
Shlomo fished through his pack and came up with a half bottle of brandy. Gideon took a swig, coughed, and grimaced.
“This stuff is weed killer, buzzards’ puke.”
“You have to understand the subtlety of Israeli brandy.”
“Val used it as nail-polish remover.”
“Speaking of Val, are you going to join her in Rome?”
“Honest to God, I don’t know, Shlomo. I’ll face up to that one if we get out of this mess. Maybe I’ll just disappear and turn up someday in a Tibetan monastery.”
“Tell the truth. You love Natasha?”
“I’ve tried to walk away from her a half-dozen times. I can’t.”
“But do you love her?”
“Every time we make love, we go out to another part of the universe. It happens every time. It has to be some kind of love, or lunacy, I guess. I know there are things I love about Val.”
“You’re greedy, that’s your problem,” Shlomo said, taking a long drink and banging the cork back on the bottle.
“Let me ask you something, Shlomo. Your wife ever cheat on you?”
“Naomi? That’s a fair question. I don’t know the answer and I don’t plan to find out. We started as kids together in the Palmach. When we were in training or forced marches, we slept together in the fields. Americans have a crazy thing about all women must be pure. It’s not the way life works. I’ve been on diplomatic missions to Burma, to Uganda, to America. Two, three months without her. She’d stay at the kibbutz with two kids. We are people, just people. We’re not saints. If Naomi has needed a man, she’s been extremely careful. I come home, I don’t ask her, she doesn’t ask me. I cannot get more love from anyone than I have from her. Americans are always worried about it. Why should it be bothering you in the middle of the Sinai?”
“I’m up to my eyeballs in guilt.”
“Natasha?”
“Natasha and others before her.”
“You should be guilty. You’ve been a real shmuck.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Gideon said. “Suppose you found out by accident that Naomi had been screwing around. What would you do?”
“You know how it goes. When you’re young and sitting around the campfire and life is just beginning and this question comes up, everyone says they would kill, they would break bones, they would walk away. Today? If she still loved me, I’d probably forgive her. It would kill her inside if I didn’t forgive her. You don’t kill the woman you love because she makes a normal, human mistake. Hell, anybody can get hot pants. The trouble with you Americans is you’re always playing Jesus, Joseph, and Mary.”
“I didn’t forgive Val,” Gideon said, as though he were speaking to himself, “and it’s bugging the hell out of me. I wish I could shout out to her so she’d hear me in Rome ... Val, I forgive you.”
“What’s with Val? She worships you. She does not love anybody else. I don’t believe it.”
“It happened a long time ago, years ago.”
“Then forget it. She’ll be waiting for you at the Leonardo da Vinci Airport and she’ll kiss your feet with love.”
“I can’t forget it. Maybe I’ll never forget it.”
“Then stick it away in a little closet in your head and close the door and lock it and throw away the key. Every day people have to make the decision to live with infidelity.”
“Maybe it would be dead and buried if I hadn’t run into Natasha.” And then Gideon’s voice quivered. “I need it as an excuse for what I’ve been doing. I started up with the women as soon as I became a published author. Up till now, I blamed Val for holding me back as a writer ... the old lady doesn’t understand me at home, sweetheart, so let’s you and me get it on for the weekend. It was my justification for a lot of crap I pulled. All Val’s fault. I didn’t realize it then, but I was giving away pieces of my soul.”
“Hey, don’t talk about it. Jumping from airplanes, morphine, the desert. Everything makes you crazy out here.”
“I never talked to anyone about it, because I was Mr. Macho Man. I wouldn’t admit my wife could or would do that to the great Gideon Zadok.”
“You know, we may be dead tomorrow at this time. What do you need to punish yourself for?”