Scenes From Village Life - Amos Oz [44]
Jasmine and asparagus fern grew in some gardens, whereas in others there was nothing but weeds, and tall pine trees whispering in the wind. Bent forward in his usual way, Benny Avni went along Founders Street and Tribes of Israel Street, passed the Memorial Garden and paused for a moment by the bench where, according to Adel, Nava had been sitting when she had asked him to take the note saying Don't worry about me to Benny in his temporary office.
The dog, too, paused, some thirty feet away from him. It was not growling or baring its teeth now, but staring at Benny Avni with an intelligent, inquisitive air. Nava and he had both been single and studying in Tel Aviv when she became pregnant. She was training to be a teacher, and he was doing business studies. They had agreed at once that the unwanted pregnancy must be terminated, but two hours before the time of her appointment at a private clinic in Reines Street, Nava had changed her mind. Laying her head on his chest, she had begun to cry.
He had refused to give in, though. He had pleaded with her to be reasonable; there was no alternative, and after all, the whole thing was no worse than having a wisdom tooth removed.
He had waited for her in a café across the road from the clinic. He had read two newspapers, had even read the sports supplement. Nava had emerged after two hours, looking pale, and they had taken a taxi back to their room in a student residence. Six or seven noisy students were there waiting for Benny Avni. They had come for some meeting that had been arranged long before. Nava got into the bed in the corner of the room and pulled the bedclothes over her head, but the arguments, the shouting, the jokes and the cigarette smoke permeated through to her nonetheless. She felt weak and nauseated. She groped her way through the assembled company, leaning on the wall for support, until she reached the toilet. Her head was going round and the pain was coming back as the effects of the anesthetic wore off. In the toilet she found that someone had been sick all over the floor and the seat. Unable to stop herself, she threw up too. She stood there for a long time, crying, with her hands on the wall and her head on her hands, until the noisy visitors had left and Benny found her, shivering. He put his arm around her shoulders and gently led her back to bed. They were married two years later, but Nava had trouble conceiving. Various doctors helped her with all sorts of treatments. It was another five years before the twin girls, Yuval and Inbal, were born. Nava and Benny never spoke about that afternoon in the student room in Tel Aviv. It was as if they had agreed that there was no need to talk about it. Nava taught at the school, and in her spare time she modeled clay figures of monsters and broken-nosed boxers that she fired in a kiln in the storage shed. Benny Avni was elected mayor, and most of the villagers liked him because he was unassuming and a good listener, but he also had the knack of getting others to do what he wanted, without their noticing.
4
ON THE CORNER of Synagogue Street he stopped for a moment and turned to see if the dog was still following him. It was standing by a gate, with its tail between its legs and its mouth open, watching Benny with patient curiosity. Benny called to it softly and the dog pricked up its ears and let its pink tongue loll out. It seemed to be interested in Benny, but preferred to keep its distance. There was not another living soul around, not even a cat or a bird, just Benny and the mongrel, and the clouds that had come down so low they almost touched the tops of the cypresses.
The water tower stood on three concrete legs, and next to it was an air-raid shelter. Benny Avni tried the metal door and, discovering that it was not locked,