All Backs Were Turned (13 page)

H
E WAS WALKING DOWN THE LONG HOSPITAL HALL WITH
the doctor, a young blond man with a heavily tanned face. It was six in the evening.

“Don't you have anything that makes a man full of pep after he has drunk too much and slept too little?” Dov asked.

“No,” the doctor said. “If I did, I'd take it myself. So, what happened last night?”

“I don't know,” Dov said. “We went to a bar—my friend, his girlfriend, and I. We had a few drinks and then she left, saying she was sleepy, and we stayed on and drank some more. Then my friend said to me: Let's leave the jeep here and walk home. If a cop stops us for drunk driving, we'll be in big trouble. So we walked home and went to bed. I fell asleep almost immediately and slept for about two hours when some men came to our house to tell me my brother had been beaten up by some fishermen and taken to the hospital. After that I slept maybe another three hours.”

“Do you know why they beat him up?”

“No, I don't,” Dov said. “Maybe he started the fight himself. There's been a lot of bad blood between them. Actually I had been thinking it wouldn't be too bad if one of them gave him a good licking; it might be a lesson to him.”

The doctor didn't say anything. Dov looked at him.

“Hey,” he said, stopping and taking the doctor by the arm. “It's nothing serious, is it?”

The doctor gently disengaged himself. “He's in here,” he said. “Be nice to him.”

“Is it serious?”

“Be nice to him,” the doctor said again. “And then come to see me.”

He gave him a gentle shove and Dov walked into the room. Little Dov had the room to himself; Dov approached his bed.

“Hi, Dov,” Little Dov said. “Why didn't Esther come with you?”

“I don't know.” Dov said. “Somebody from the hospital dropped in and asked the old man to visit you. But he wouldn't because today is Friday. So I came instead.”

“I don't feel well.”

“What's wrong with you?”

“I don't know. Ask one of those white coats. I got slugged a few times and I lost consciousness.”

“Was it those fishermen who fixed you like that? What made you pick a fight with them?”

“I didn't, Dov. I was walking along the beach, sometime around six, not even looking where I was going, when suddenly these three guys jumped me and started pummeling away. I began defending myself and threw a few good punches before one of them whacked me on the head from behind and I just folded up and went to sleep.”

“Why did they attack you?”

“I don't know,” Little Dov said. “I wish I did. I'll ask them myself as soon as I leave the hospital.”

“Do you want to know what they said at the police station?”

“Yeah. Shoot.”

“They said you ruined their boats,” Dov said. “Ruined the engines.”

“They're crazy. Why would I do anything like that?”

“Who else would? You and they are the only fishermen here. And you were squabbling constantly. Who else could have done it?”

“I don't know and I don't care,” Little Dov said. “I didn't do it. You know I wouldn't lie to you.”

“Were you on the beach last night?”

“I go to the beach every night,” Little Dov said. “With Esther, so that you can sleep. So that you can feel at home in my house.”

“Can you swear by the Ten Commandments that you didn't do it?”

“Cover my head with something and I will.”

“Okay, you don't have to. I believe you. Then who did it? And why?”

“I don't know,” Little Dov said. “And it's none of my business. I'm neither a snoop nor a cop. I'm a fisherman, because that's what I wanted to be and that's the trade I learned.”

“But you were on the beach at night, weren't you?”

“So what? Anybody can go to the beach at night. Haven't you ever gone to the beach at night?”

“No,” Dov said.

“Then you can start going now,” his brother said. “And I'll stay at home with my wife, in bed. She has counted all the stars in the sky by now, and the outdoors is beginning to bore her.”

“I wonder who could have done it,” Dov said.

“What do you care? Are you a cop? Let the fuzz work it out. What do you care?”

“You're acting like a child,” Dov said. “Things don't look good for you.”

“Esther is my witness.”

“I don't know if the court will accept her testimony. She's your wife.”

“Look,” Little Dov said, “this is beginning to bore me. Leave the guesswork to the cops and the courts. That's what they're there for. I know nothing. I don't follow anybody around. I don't go running to Israel to tell him I saw his girlfriend on the beach last night. It's none of my business.”

“Who was she with?” Dov asked. “Some guy?”

“No, she was alone. When I saw her, I pulled Esther deeper into the shadows. I had no desire to talk to her and didn't want her to bother us.”

“Are you sure it was her?”

“I'm bored with all this,” Little Dov said. “And I feel sleepy. I guess they must have given me something.”

“Okay. Do you want anything? Maybe something to read?”

“I want Esther to visit me,” Little Dov said. “You know, I'm all bandaged up.” He pulled back the blanket; his lower abdomen and his thighs were covered with bandages. “I feel dead down there,” he said. “As if I didn't have anything. I want to see her. I know that when I touch her my body will come alive.”

“All right,” Dov said.

“You know,” Little Dov said, turning his face to the wall, “I haven't had her for three days now. I don't know what's come over her.”

“Remember Esther is a woman. Maybe she has her period.”

“Esther is my wife,” Little Dov said. “Her period never stopped us before.”

“I'll tell her. And I'll tell her to bring you something to read.”

“I don't want anything to read. I want to touch her.” “Okay, I'll tell her you want her to visit you and you want to touch her.”

“And when I get back home, I'll say to her what one American soldier said to his wife when he came back from Korea. He took her to the window and said, See those trees over there? See how beautiful they are? See how beautiful the sky is? Well, have a good look, because the only thing you're going to see for the next two weeks is the ceiling. Good night, Dov.”

“Good night,” Dov said. “Sleep well.”

He went out and began to look for the doctor, and finally found him by the stairs, smoking a cigarette.

“Well? How is he?” the doctor said.

“That's what I expect you to tell me,” Dov said. “You're the doctor.”

“Dov, do you remember that the doctors declared you temporarily insane after you killed that man you found with your wife?”

“So even you know about it?”

“Dov,” the doctor said, “the fact that they declared you temporarily insane was the only reason you didn't go to jail. But that can happen only once. I'm telling you this as a doctor, not as a cop.”

“Why are you telling me this at all?” Dov asked. “I'm okay now. You should be worrying about my brother.”

“The reason I'm telling you is so you'll know that if you do anything rash, nobody can help you. Your brother will never be a man again, Dov.”

“I see,” Dov said softly. “That's why he feels dead down there.”

“We give him morphine, Dov,” the doctor said. “And we'll keep him on sedatives for the next few days. And then we'll have to discharge him. And only then will he find out the truth.”

“How did it happen?”

“One of those men was wearing spiked shoes,” the doctor said. “And when he started kicking your brother he did irreversible damage to the tissue.”

“You mean my brother will never—” Dov began, but he couldn't finish.

“Yes,” the doctor said. “Never again.”

“What about his wife?”

“After some time he'll stop caring.”

“After how long?”

“I don't know,” the doctor said. “Nobody knows.”

“And what if he never stops caring?” Dov asked. “What if he thinks about it constantly and suffers all the time? What then?”

“I don't know,” the doctor said again. “And neither do you. Nor does he. Only God knows, but nobody can make God tell him the answer. Can you?”

“No,” Dov said.

“I can't either. I did all I could so your brother wouldn't suffer. And I'll do all I can so that he'll find out the truth as late as possible. But that's all I can do. The rest is up to you. His family.”

“I'd like to go now.”

“You can go. Just remember what I told you. I told you that as a doctor, not a cop.”

“Then, as a doctor, tell me one more thing: what will happen to those men? What will happen to them for doing what they did?”

“They'll stand trial.”

“Charged with what?”

“Accidental mayhem.”

“And what sentences will they get?”

“I don't know. Maybe five years each. Maybe ten.”

“And then they'll come back to their women,” Dov said. “To their wives, their whores, and enjoy themselves with them, doing things he'll never be able to do again as long as he lives. Isn't that so?”

“I don't think anybody can make the charge of intentional mayhem stick,” the doctor said.

“If you were a real doctor,” Dov said, “you'd know there's only one thing you can do for my brother. If you were a real doctor who understands people, and not just a man in a white coat.”

“Shhh,” the doctor said. “This is a hospital. In each of these rooms there's some poor wretch who believes we can help him. Even if you don't.”

“Have they been arrested yet?”

“No,” the doctor said. “The police are waiting for my report, the medical evaluation of your brother's injuries.”

“When will you have it ready?”

“It's ready”

“Give it to me,” Dov said. “I'll take it to the police station.”

“You really will?”

“Yes,” Dov said. “That sexless thing lying in that room used to be my brother.”

“Maybe it's only now that he'll begin to be your brother,” the doctor said. “Now that he'll need your love, your help.”

“You said that,” Dov said.

H
E STOPPED OUTSIDE THE HOSPITAL, HOLDING THE
large, sealed envelope. It was already dark. Without looking behind him, he tore the envelope into pieces and threw it away. He checked his watch; it was eight. He drove slowly through town, gazing at the dark sky, the first stars over the bay, feeling the first breeze begin to blow. He stopped the jeep in front of his brother's house, but he didn't go in. For a while he stood there, breathing hard and looking at the lighted window.

“Esther!” he called quietly.

She came out a moment later.

“Esther,” he said, “bring me that picture of Dov that's hanging on the wall. And get me my leather wrist straps. You'll find them in my bag.”

“Why don't you come and get them yourself?”

“Bring me everything, Esther,” he said softly. “I'm tired. I never asked you for anything. But I'm asking you now.”

She came back a short while later; he held out his hands and she fastened the bands around his wrists.

“What do you want to do?” she asked.

“I have to go after a few fish for my brother's sake,” he said.

“And why do you need his picture?”

He took his brother's picture from her and looked at it for a moment. “You'll never be like this again,” he said, and smashed it against the wall.

“What happened to him?”

“Nothing, Esther. You'll find out. With time everybody will. Now come closer.”

When she did, he drew her against him and kissed her hard, making her part her lips, and felt her body cling to his, passing on its warmth—now that the day was over, had burned itself out in the sweltering heat. He felt her hands pulling his head closer and he pushed her gently away.

“I needed that,” he said. “He's my brother.”

“I don't care about him,” she said.

He moved back a step.

“You don't care about him?”

“No,” she said. “You can hit me if you want. He was right.”

“Who was?”

“Israel, your friend.”

“What are you talking about, Esther?”

“It wasn't that woman who was after you,” she said. “It was me. I wanted you! If anything's happened, it's my fault.”

“Do all you women have to be like this?” he asked. “Can't you even pretend to feel shame?”

“I speak only for myself,” she said. “But no, I can't pretend to feel shame. And I can't pretend to feel love. Ask your brother.”

“He loves you,” he said. “And he's waiting for you.”

“But I love you,” she said. “And I'm waiting for you.”

“Do you know, Esther, that I could have you now if I wanted? I really could?”

“You could have had me always,” she said. “You could have had me the day you came to this house.”

“I won't walk into this house again,” Dov said. “I won't enter it until I fix those men like they fixed my brother.”

“We don't have to go in,” Esther said. “You can have me anyplace, anytime.”

He gazed at her for a moment, then climbed into the jeep.

“Tell my father that he's old,” he said. “And God will take pity on him and take him away.”

“And who'll take pity on me?” Esther asked.

“Go in and wait,” he said.

“Now that you're wearing those wrist straps I've nothing to wait for,” Esther said.

She turned around and walked back into the house. He could still feel the warmth and smell of her body; driving down the dark side streets he thought of her firm young lips, and it was harder to bear than pain. He parked the jeep a hundred yards away from the garage and approached the low building on foot. He walked inside and looked at the man sitting in the grease pit and drinking beer. Then he looked at the man's shoes.

“Do you know what's happened?” he asked.

“Not everything's happened yet,” the man said.

“Where are the others?”

“They left.”

“They left or ran away?”

“They left,” the man said. “You can't run away. There's nowhere to run to. I spent five years in Auschwitz; I know. But they weren't there, so they might not know.”

“Why didn't you go with them?” Dov asked.

The man looked up at him. “I was waiting for you,” he said.

“And what would you do in my place?”

“Same thing as you're going to do, Dov.”

“Do you know he'll never be a man again?”

“I didn't want that,” the man said. “That's why I stayed. I've been waiting for you for hours.”

“Give me some beer,” Dov said. “I'm thirsty. Throw me your bottle.”

The man tossed him the bottle and Dov caught it. The beer was warm; he took a mouthful and gave the bottle back.

“Why didn't you leave with them?” he asked again.

He was already sitting in the GMC truck and driving slowly toward the man standing in the shallow pit; then he turned on the headlights, blinding him. The truck's front bumper touched the man's breast.

“If you live, we'll meet in jail,” Dov Ben Dov said. “We'll be doing time for the same thing. Accidental mayhem. And then we'll come back to our women.”

He closed his eyes, let in the clutch and with all his force stepped on the gas. For a moment he heard the screech of tires turning in place, and then—with his eyes still closed—he backed the truck out from over the pit, switched off the headlights, and drove out of the garage into the yard.

He walked back to the jeep and drove off fast without turning on the headlights. He parked close to the street on which his brother's house was, and, making his way through the back alley, reached the house where Ursula was staying. He peered inside through the window; she was sitting on the bed, exactly like two days ago, a book by her side. He gave the door a push and walked in.

“Are you waiting for me, too?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“It's strange how everybody seems to be waiting for me today,” he said. “Esther, Yehuda, and now you, Ursula. All my life nobody would wait for me, and now nobody wants to run away from me. Before, everybody used to run.” He held out his hand. “Come. Come with me.”

“Where do you want to take me?”

“I won't harm you,” he said. “I wouldn't ask you to leave this room if I wanted to hurt you. I want to talk to you, but the cops may be on my tail any moment. And they'll come here. My jeep's parked only a dozen yards away.” Once again he held out his hand. “Get up and come with me,” he said.

He went out and started walking toward the jeep; he knew—without turning his head—that she was following. She sat down next to him, and he began to drive along side streets and alleys, again with his lights off, heading for the desert.

“Things went wrong,” he said.

“What happened to your brother?” she asked.

“I no longer have a brother,” he said. “That thing in the hospital is not my brother. It's neither a man nor a woman.”

“Is he dead?”

“No,” he said. “He'll live. But he'll never be a man again.”

“Oh my God!” she said. “That can't be true.”

“It is,” he said softly. “And there is nothing you can do about it. You should've thought about that earlier. Before you put sand in the engines of their boats. But you couldn't foresee this, could you? You just wanted to get me involved in my brother's feud with the fishermen so I'd get sent off to jail. Then Israel would leave with you. Was that your plan?”

“Yes,” she said.

He stopped the car.

“I won't even have time to say good-bye to Israel,” he said. “Take this jeep, the two of you, and leave Eilat as quickly as you can. You should be in Tel Aviv by morning. Get on the first plane and leave this country.”

“And you, Dov?”

“I was born here,” he said. “My father's here. And so is that thing which used to be my brother.”

He climbed out of the jeep.

“Will you know how to find your way back?” he asked.

“I think so,” she said. She got out of the jeep, too, and stood next to him. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” he said. “Everything's done now.”

“Why did it all have to end like this?” she asked. “You never really liked him, you know. You probably didn't even realize that, did you? You just wanted to have him next to you like a mirror, to see yourself in his eyes. But maybe you weren't aware of it.”

“I see it all now,” he said. “But I can't change anything. Take the jeep and leave Eilat.”

“That's why he sent you over to me that night,” she said. “So that he could come to me the next night and prove to himself that there's something at which he is—if not better than you—then at least your equal.”

“Good-bye, Ursula,” he said. “The two of you don't have much time.”

“But I want you to understand,” she said. “I can't just leave after what happened to your brother.”

“No woman can leave after she's ruined everything,” he said.

“Don't you really understand anything at all?” she asked.

“You know how to talk beautifully,” he said. “Each of you, you goddamn whores, can talk better and faster than I can. I'm sure you'd love to be a man, wouldn't you?”

“Wouldn't you?” she asked.

He slapped her with all his strength; she fell backwards, hitting her head against the jeep's hood, and when she rose to her feet, he slapped her again; once again, she fell against the jeep, but this time her head struck the bumper and she didn't get up.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't want that. Get up.” When she didn't respond, he said again, “Get up. You don't have much time. You have to reach Tel Aviv by morning. That'll be best for everybody.”

But she didn't move. He leaned over her, turning her face to the sky, then switched on the headlights. Her eyes remained open and empty.