Scenes From Village Life - Amos Oz [47]
On the back of one of the chairs Benny Avni noticed a checked scarf that looked familiar. But it was too dark for him to be sure if it was one of Nava's. Still, he picked it up, wiped the blood off his hand, folded it and put it in the pocket of his suede coat. Then he left the common room and limped along one corridor with several doors opening off it, and then along another. On his way he peered into each classroom, tried the door of the nurse's room, which was locked, glanced into the janitor's room and finally left the building through a different door from the one he had entered by. He limped across the playground, climbed the railing and pushed the barbed wire aside again, then jumped down into the street, this time ripping the sleeve of his coat.
He stood waiting, not knowing what he was waiting for, until he caught sight of the dog, sitting on the opposite pavement, staring at him earnestly from a distance of some thirty feet. It occurred to him to try to get closer and stroke the dog, but it stood up, stretched and walked slowly ahead, maintaining the established distance.
6
FOR A QUARTER of an hour or so he limped after the dog through the empty streets, his bleeding hand wrapped in the scarf he had taken from the common room, the checked scarf that might have been Nava's or might simply have looked like one of hers. The low gray sky was tangled in the tops of the trees, and banks of mist lay along the gardens. He thought he felt fine drops of rain on his face, but he was not sure and he didn't care. He glanced at a low wall where he thought he saw a bird, but it turned out to be nothing more than an empty tin can.
He went down a narrow lane bordered with high bougainvillea hedges. He had recently approved the repaving of this lane and had even come along one morning to inspect the work. From the lane they turned into Synagogue Street again, the dog leading the way, and this time the light was grayer still. He wondered if he should go straight home. She might have returned by now; she might be lying down, wondering where he had gone, and perhaps, who knew, worrying about him. But thinking about the empty house alarmed him and he continued to limp after the dog, which walked ahead of him without looking back, its muzzle held low as if sniffing the way. Soon, maybe before nightfall, heavy rain would fall, washing the dusty trees and all the roofs and pavements. He thought about what might have been and would now never come to pass, but his thoughts wandered. Nava used to like to sit with the two girls on the back veranda, which overlooked the lemon trees, chatting softly to them. What they talked about he had never known and had never taken the trouble to find out. Now he wondered, but had no clue. He had the feeling that he must make a decision, and though he was used to making many decisions every day, this time he was beset with uncertainty; in fact he had no idea what was being asked of him. Meanwhile, the dog had stopped and sat down on the pavement thirty feet away from him, so he too stopped, in front of the Memorial Garden, and sat down on the bench where apparently his wife had been sitting two or three hours earlier, when she asked Adel to look into his temporary office and give him her note. So he settled in the middle of the bench, his bleeding hand wrapped in the scarf, buttoned up his coat because of the light rain that had started to fall, and sat waiting for his wife.
Strangers
1
IT WAS EVENING. A bird called twice. What it meant there was no way of telling. A breeze stirred and stopped. Old folks brought chairs out and sat in their doorways watching the passersby. From time to time a car went past and disappeared around the bend in the road. A woman walked by slowly, carrying a shopping basket, on her way home from the grocer's. A crowd of children filled the street with noise, which died down as they moved away. Behind the hill a dog barked, and another dog answered. The sky was turning gray, and the glow of sunset could only be seen to the west, through the shadowy cypresses.