The Beauty Queen of Jerusalem (39 page)

“And what doesn't bore you? Going to visit my sister and brother-in-law bores you, going dancing at Café Europa bores you, having coffee at Atara bores you. Ever since we got married, nothing interests you.”

“What's happening in this country interests me, unlike you, whose only concern is the clothes at Zacks & Son and magazines with all their Hollywood nonsense. You should be grateful I let you go on working.”

“Well, thank you, really. If I wasn't working, how would we have any money?”

“How would we have any money? I walk my feet to the bone every day looking for work. I take whatever I can get, whether it's in construction or with my brother the butcher. I come home stinking. It takes hours of scrubbing to get rid of the smell. And all that so we'll have money. The money you earn goes to your perfume and your coffee at Atara and the idiotic magazines you read. So it would be best for you just to shut your mouth!”

Luna was dumbstruck. David had never insulted her before, never spoken coarsely to her. His behavior had changed since the wedding, but until now he had never spoken to her like that. Tears welled in her eyes. Was this the knight she had been waiting for all her life? Was this the man of her dreams whom she'd married? God, what had become of her? She, who all the boys in the city had fought over for just one glance from her, Luna the loveliest of all the girls, humiliated like this by her own man.

She turned her back to him and started getting ready for bed. He went out onto the balcony and lit a cigarette. Since their wedding they'd lived in a small studio apartment in Mekor Baruch with an enclosed balcony that also housed the kitchen and toilet, which they'd shared with their neighbors. There wasn't a shower, so they bathed using a tin bath and a pail in the kitchen. She'd boil water in the kettle and then fill the pail, but by the time it was full, the water would already be lukewarm. She liked bathing in lukewarm water, but David would get angry each time, as if it were her fault that they lived in an apartment without a shower, as if it were her fault they didn't have a bath with taps for hot and cold water and a wood-fired boiler like the one in the big apartment on King George Street. She hadn't imagined things would be this way. She'd been sure she'd marry a man who'd give her a good life, not one who'd get angry with her every time the water she heated wasn't hot enough for him.

Their relationship began cooling as early as their honeymoon, which they spent at the Savoy Hotel on the Tel Aviv seafront. After taking their baggage to their room, Luna had gone out onto the balcony and inhaled the sea air. The sea was as smooth as marble, and the sun emerged from the clouds and caressed her face. It was exactly how she'd envisioned her honeymoon, far from Jerusalem, far from Ohel Moshe and its houses crowded together, far from her family. At long last she was alone with the love of her life, with no need to report on where she was going and what time she'd be back, without seeing her mother's scowling face.

On the beach below the hotel were deck chairs, and reclining on them were Tel Avivans who were undeterred by the relatively cool weather. She was amazed each time anew on discovering how different Jerusalem was from Tel Aviv. The two cities were like two different worlds.

“David,” she called to him, “let's go down to the promenade.” But he'd already taken off his shoes and was lying on the bed immersed in a newspaper.

“David.” She joined him on the bed, wheedling, planting tiny kisses on his cheeks, his head, his nose, his lips. He pushed her away and said, “Not now, Luna, I'm reading.”

“David, we're on our honeymoon. Let's do something together. You'll have lots of time to read the paper.”

“Just a minute. Let me finish this page.”

Luna went back out onto the balcony. How she wanted to go down to the street in the hat she'd bought specially for her honeymoon, the black dress with the white belt that highlighted her waist, the patent leather high-heeled shoes. To put on lipstick, roll a curl on her finger, and pin it to her head. To glance in the mirror and know that she was the loveliest of all, and then go out and enjoy the looks of passersby. And maybe David too would see how beautiful she was and be jealous because of the other men's stares.

David was still deep in his paper, and she began to lose patience. “
Nu
, David, when are we going down? We're on our honeymoon! Let's go for a walk.”

“All right, nudnik,” he said reluctantly. He got up, put on his shoes and jacket, and only then looked at her. She was breathtaking. There was no doubt at all that his wife was the most beautiful of women, so why was it that from the moment she'd accepted his proposal of marriage, his heart had closed to her? Why wasn't he mesmerized by her like he had been at the beginning? Had he ever been attracted to her? Or had he simply convinced himself that he was in order to fulfill the promise he'd made the moment the ship departed Mestre Port: to find a woman and set up a Jewish home in the Land of Israel.

“What?” she said, expecting a compliment as he continued staring at her.

“Won't you be cold without a coat?” He opened the door to leave.

“How do I look?” she asked.

“You look lovely,” he said languidly.

“In that case I won't be cold,” she said and handed him a white angora fur cardigan to drape over her shoulders.

They went out, and though she wrapped an arm around his waist, he didn't put his arm around her shoulders. Never mind, they didn't have to walk with their arms around each other like they had before they were married, she consoled herself as she linked her arm with his instead.

As she'd expected, the passersby couldn't take their eyes off the striking couple. They went into a café and ordered milk shakes. At Café Atara they made milkshakes the way she liked, with mountains of whipped cream on top. In Tel Aviv the ice cream melted too quickly and the cream turned into water, but this didn't tarnish her enjoyment. The blue sea, the pleasant sun, the people strolling by or sitting on the café's terrace, the euphoric atmosphere—she was so happy. Even the English policemen at a table near theirs didn't spoil her good mood. When David said, “What, doesn't anybody work in Tel Aviv?” she laughed and laid a white-gloved hand on his arm.

“Are you happy?” she asked him. “Are you as happy as I am?”

“I'm happy,” he replied, but his tone was unconvincing.

She decided to ignore it. She wasn't going to let anything ruin her honeymoon, not even her husband.

“Your lady is very pretty,” the waiter said to David.

“Thank you,” Luna quickly responded in David's place. “We're on our honeymoon.”

“Mazal tov,” the waiter said, and when he returned to their table he brought them a Savarina with a colorful umbrella on top. “This is to celebrate your honeymoon,” he smiled. “Compliments of the house.”

Poor Luna, she's so happy, David thought to himself. She has no idea how much I want this honeymoon that's barely begun to end. He didn't know how he'd get through the next seven days. He was supposed to be happy, to hug and kiss her, take her to cafés, for walks on the beach, the cinema, restaurants, and at night he was supposed to make love to her. How could he survive the first night when his heart and body still belonged to another woman? The woman he'd left behind in faraway Italy, the woman from whom he was now separated forever. No, he wouldn't let the memories from Venice ruin the honeymoon in Tel Aviv. He wouldn't let Isabella come between him and Luna. He'd forget her. He'd force himself to forget her. He loved Luna, and he'd continue to love her as if Isabella didn't exist. He'd give her a dream of a wedding night. He'd do everything in his power to make this radiant woman happy.

That night, true to his promise, he was gentle with her, very gentle. She loved kissing him, running her fingers through his tousled hair, stroking his back. At first she felt she was melting in his arms, but then each time he'd try to touch her body, she'd recoil. He'd reach for her breasts and she'd move away. He'd try to stroke her belly, but her body would go rigid.

“Is everything all right, my love?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she replied shyly.

“So why are you running away from me?”

“I'm not running away.”

“Come closer, I won't bite.”

She took a deep breath and moved closer. She could go on kissing him for hours, but when he tried touching her in her most intimate places, she felt herself freezing up.

“Luna, I won't hurt you. I promise.”

She kept silent and bit her lip. He moved closer to her again and slowly took off her nightgown. He tried to look at her body, her small, firm breasts, her flat belly, but she lay curled up like a fetus, trying to cover herself with her hands.

“Luna, let me see how beautiful you are.”

David was very experienced. The thousand women he'd had in Italy and the one Isabella had made him a skilled lover. He liked sex, and once he'd discovered it he'd found it hard to abstain, but he hadn't been with another woman since he'd met Isabella. He knew he had to have intercourse with Luna because that's what you did on your wedding night, and even if he didn't enjoy it as he had with Isabella, it would happen all in good time.

“My lovely,” he said with a gentleness that surprised even him, “my beloved, help me. Open your legs.” But she was incapable of separating them. “Lunika, we won't be able to do it if you don't help me,” he went on with infinite tenderness even though he felt he'd lose patience any minute.

She didn't say a word. Tears oozed from her eyes. This wasn't how she'd imagined her wedding night. She was sure that they'd kiss and suddenly it would happen, suddenly he'd be inside her. She hadn't anticipated that her body would resist so strongly and that she'd be so terrified.

He slid his hands under her body and undid her bra, and she shut her eyes. Even though it was dark he could see her blushing like a tomato. He caressed her small breasts. God, the thought flashed through his mind, where are Isabella's breasts, big and heavy and mature? My dear wife has two like a girl's.

Luna continued to be uncooperative. Her body was stiff, and she was shy and scared. Gabriel decided he'd had enough, rolled away, and turned his back to her.

Luna was horrified. God almighty, what have I done now? Was this what her honeymoon was supposed to be like? Her husband tries to make love to her and she is like a block of ice, so he turns over and goes to sleep? She burst into tears and whimpered like a wounded cat.

Her sobbing tore at his heart. What a son of a bitch he was! What was he doing to his beautiful wife? How the hell had he dared to harden his heart to her? How had he given up on her so quickly? David took Luna in his arms, rocking her back and forth, kissing her, trying to soothe her. He felt her slowly relaxing, and this time when he tried to penetrate her, she didn't resist. She groaned in pain, but he was good to her, speaking words of love. And with each word her body melted even more until he was inside her and streams of blood dripped down her thighs. He got up, fetched a towel from the bathroom, and gently dabbed away the blood.

“What will we tell the reception clerk?” she whispered giddily. “How embarrassing.”

The feeling of embarrassment was almost as strong as the sense of relief she felt now that they'd finally done it. She'd lost her virginity on her wedding night just like any normal bride, and now she could start living.

*   *   *

The week-long honeymoon came to an end, and they returned to Jerusalem. They hadn't made love much during the week. They kissed, hugged, walked along the promenade, shopped on Allenby Street, sat in cafés, and ate in restaurants. They even went to the cinema and saw
Casablanca
with Ingrid Bergman and Humphrey Bogart. When they'd get back to their room, they'd lay side by side on the bed, he reading a newspaper and she
Cinema World
. Then they'd change into pajamas, embrace, and go to sleep. She was surprised that he didn't want to make love every night, but she was also relieved.

After their honeymoon their life entered the routine of a married couple. She continued at Zacks & Son, and he found work at a carpentry shop near the Rex Cinema at the end of Princess Mary Street. After work he'd sometimes go and see a cowboy film at the Rex. The theater's audience was a mixture of Jews and Arabs, and Luna didn't like it there, so whenever he went to the Rex she'd go to her parents' house and visit her sisters, and afterward David would escort her back to their studio in Mekor Baruch. Some evenings they went to the cinema with Rachelika and Moise, and then they'd go out to a café. On Fridays after Shabbat dinner with Luna's parents they'd meet David's friends from the Jewish Brigade and their wives, and with the big group of Luna's friends and cousins, they'd all get together at a different apartment and spend the night talking about the situation and cracking sunflower seeds. They'd spend Saturdays with the family, and after the Shabbat hamin at lunchtime, the men would go to a soccer match, and Luna, Rachelika, and Becky would stay and chat in their parents' house.

Every now and then David would remember that he had to observe the “be fruitful and multiply” precept, and he'd come to her. She'd lie on the bed in silence and wait for him to finish what he was doing, and then she'd flutter her lips over his cheeks, run her hand once or twice over his back, and wait for him to fall asleep. After, she'd get up, go into the kitchen, and wash her body with soap and water, scrubbing her skin hard. She couldn't stand the stickiness on her thighs. It roused a feeling of dirtiness and disgust in her that she couldn't ignore.

In Jerusalem, where women got pregnant right after their wedding night, the fact that Luna and David had been married for a few months and she wasn't yet carrying a child was cause for concern.