Scenes From Village Life - Amos Oz [5]
Arieh Zelnik suddenly recalled his daughter Hilla's advice to give up her mother, not to strive to bring her back to him, and to try to start a new life. And surely the truth was that he had not fought very hard to bring Na'ama back: when she had gone off after a furious quarrel to visit her best friend Thelma Grant, Arieh Zelnik had packed up all her clothes and belongings and sent them off to Thelma's address in San Diego. When his son Eldad severed all ties with him, he had packed up Eldad's books and even his childhood toys and sent them to him. He had cleared out every reminder of him, as one clears out an enemy position when the fighting is over. After a few more months, he had packed up his own belongings, given up the flat in Haifa, and moved in with his mother here in Tel Ilan. More than anything, he desired total peace and quiet: a succession of identical days and nothing but free time.
Sometimes he went for long walks around the village and beyond, among the hills that surrounded the little valley, through the fruit orchards and dusky pine woods. And sometimes he wandered for half an hour among the remains of his father's long-abandoned farm. There were still a few dilapidated buildings, chicken coops, corrugated-iron huts, a barn, the deserted shed where they had once fattened calves. The stables had become a storeroom for the furniture from his old flat on Mount Carmel, in Haifa. Here in the former stables, the armchairs, sofa, rugs, sideboard and table gathered dust, all bound together with cobwebs. Even the old double bed he had shared with Na'ama was standing there on its side in a corner. And the mattress was buried under piles of dusty quilts.
Arieh Zelnik said: "Excuse me. I'm busy."
Wolff Maftsir said:
"Of course. I'm sorry. I won't disturb you, my dear fellow. On the contrary. From now on I won't make a sound."
He stood up and followed his host inside the house, which was dark and cool and smelled faintly of sweat and old age.
Arieh Zelnik said firmly:
"Please wait for me outside."
Although what he had meant to say, and with a degree of rudeness, was that the visit was now over and that the stranger should get going.
5
BUT IT NEVER occurred to the visitor to leave. He floated indoors on Arieh Zelnik's heels, and on the way, along the passageway, he opened each door in turn and calmly inspected the kitchen, the library and the workroom where Arieh Zelnik pursued his hobby and where model aircraft made of balsa wood hung from the ceiling, stirring slightly with each draft as though preparing for some ruthless aerial combat. He reminded Arieh Zelnik of the habit he himself had had, since childhood, of opening every closed door to see what lurked behind it.
When they reached the end of the passage, Arieh Zelnik stood and blocked the entrance to his bedroom, which had once been his father's. But Wolff Maftsir had no intention of invading his host's bedroom; instead he tapped gently on the deaf old lady's door, and as there was no reply, he laid his hand caressingly on the handle and, opening the door gently, saw Rosalia lying on the big double bed, covered up to her chin with a blanket, her hair in a hairnet, eyes closed, and her angular, toothless jaw moving as if she were chewing.
"Just like in our dream." Wolff Maftsir chuckled. "Greetings, dear lady. We missed you so much and we were so longing to come to you, you must be very pleased to see us?"
So saying, he bent over and kissed her twice, a long kiss on either cheek, and then kissed her again on the forehead. The old lady opened her cloudy eyes, drew a skeletal hand out from under the blanket and stroked Wolff Maftsir's head, murmuring something or other and pulling his head toward her with both hands. In response, he bent closer, took off his shoes, kissed her toothless mouth and lay down at her side, pulling at the blanket to cover them both.
"There," he said. "Hello, my very dear lady."