The Book of Intimate Grammar (38 page)
Read The Book of Intimate Grammar Online
Authors: David Grossman
“Yes.
Just one.
I want to pull it out.
Now.
My father told me how.”
Just one.
I want to pull it out.
Now.
My father told me how.”
“Why now?”
“Well, because.
Because it’s really wiggling.”
Because you waited for me.
Because you and I know how to be friends.
Because we’ll never be like our parents.
“You take a string and tie it to the tooth, and then you tie the other end of the string to a door and you slam it shut.”
Because it’s really wiggling.”
Because you waited for me.
Because you and I know how to be friends.
Because we’ll never be like our parents.
“You take a string and tie it to the tooth, and then you tie the other end of the string to a door and you slam it shut.”
“That’s what your father told you?”
“Yes, that’s what they used to do when he was a little boy in Poland.
You have the nerve to do it?”
You have the nerve to do it?”
“I … Well, yes.
But what if … it might hurt.”
But what if … it might hurt.”
“It’s about to fall out anyway.”
They ran together, side by side, silent, serious, all the way to the shopping center, to Zadok’s hardware store, where they bought three meters of nylon string.
“We can’t do it at my house,” said Gideon hastily.
“Or at my house either.
How about the shelter?”
How about the shelter?”
“What if somebody walks in?”
Help.
Don’t let it stop.
Where were his ideas when he needed them.
Oh, come, oh, come, ideas.
“Y’alla.”
“Where are you off to?”
“Let’s go.”
Don’t let it stop.
Where were his ideas when he needed them.
Oh, come, oh, come, ideas.
“Y’alla.”
“Where are you off to?”
“Let’s go.”
They arrived panting at the junkyard in the valley.
Aron had been pressing his tongue against the tooth all the way there.
To loosen it.
To pry out at least a millimeter of the root.
But small and white, it was fixed immutably.
The surrounding teeth were big, healthy meat teeth, only it was a runt.
Gideon wouldn’t look at him.
He was restless.
Three times already he’d asked if Aron was sure it wasn’t dangerous.
Aron tingled with excitement.
Please don’t let him chicken out now.
I’ll make him such a covenant, oh God, oh God.
But when he tied the string to the handle of the Tupolino, it crumbled into a rusty powder in his hand.
So did the other handle.
Gideon was peering anxiously in the direction of the building.
He’d already blurted out that Yaeli was probably waiting for them.
Aron looked around in desperation.
Wait a minute.
What a couple of jerks we are.
If you want my advice, said Gideon hesitantly, just leave it alone.
But Aron forced the door of the old refrigerator open, and recoiled at the stench that came out of it.
The stench of death.
For years it must have been closed like that.
He peeked inside: it was a little thing, a puppy of a refrigerator.
You don’t see dinky ones like that around anymore.
He tied the end of the string to the heavy steel handle.
Just imagine, he giggled to Gideon, doing the Houdini in an old refrigerator like this.
Don’t you dare, said Gideon, eyeing him strangely.
Just kidding, said Aron.
He finished tying the string and backed off a few steps.
He felt too shy to ask Gideon to tie his tooth.
He tied it himself.
He pulled it tighter at the base and already tasted a drop of blood.
This would really hurt.
In one split second it would pull out the tooth.
Everything inside him would be shaken up.
But this was the perfect time.
And the perfect friend.
Cautiously he backed off a few more steps.
The string was taut against his lower lip.
Now quickly, slam the door, he cried through stretched lips.
Are you sure it’s okay?
Yes, yes, go on, let’s get it over with.
Are you positive it’s loose enough?
Yes, positive, don’t chicken out now.
Gideon ran a careful finger over the string.
He studied the knot around the handle.
Suddenly he turned serious, protective, but not like a friend: more like a grownup watching over a child.
Who cares.
Don’t let in a single negative thought.
You have to want this with all your heart.
You have to believe, you have to surrender.
There will be one instant of terrible pain, the way there is when they brand a new calf joining the herd.
“Get ready,” said Gideon, extending his arm in front of the open refrigerator door.
“On your mark, set—” Gideon closed his eyes.
So did Aron, chin out.
Gideon’s
chin was pressed to his chest.
There was a loud bang.
A white blade slit Aron’s lip.
His jaw cracked.
Blood ran.
Maybe that was good.
He foundered, stunned, crouching over till he was lying prone, numb, but soon there would be pain, where was it, where did it come from, oh, let it come already; and for one endless moment Aron hovered, slowly igniting, spreading, vanishing, hanging by a thread, draining inward, backward, soon to be no more, without any strength left to save himself, to fight it, giving in to it with a flutter of wonder; it came on slowly, like a dream, and he divined it there, a kind of tangled web, a fine, strong mesh at the base of him, revealing and concealing itself under the turbid waves, something made out of
her
; in fact, out of Mama, that never showed in her face or voice but was her nonetheless, and when he fell he was swathed in it, enveloped in a swoon, a magic cloak that melted into his skin, merged into an already familiar and not displeasing whisper:
Death is right,
and all the rest is error; never revel in what you find, it isn’t yours, just put it in your pocket and keep your mouth shut.
And when the pain throbbed suddenly he was almost relieved.
He was still alive.
Aron had been pressing his tongue against the tooth all the way there.
To loosen it.
To pry out at least a millimeter of the root.
But small and white, it was fixed immutably.
The surrounding teeth were big, healthy meat teeth, only it was a runt.
Gideon wouldn’t look at him.
He was restless.
Three times already he’d asked if Aron was sure it wasn’t dangerous.
Aron tingled with excitement.
Please don’t let him chicken out now.
I’ll make him such a covenant, oh God, oh God.
But when he tied the string to the handle of the Tupolino, it crumbled into a rusty powder in his hand.
So did the other handle.
Gideon was peering anxiously in the direction of the building.
He’d already blurted out that Yaeli was probably waiting for them.
Aron looked around in desperation.
Wait a minute.
What a couple of jerks we are.
If you want my advice, said Gideon hesitantly, just leave it alone.
But Aron forced the door of the old refrigerator open, and recoiled at the stench that came out of it.
The stench of death.
For years it must have been closed like that.
He peeked inside: it was a little thing, a puppy of a refrigerator.
You don’t see dinky ones like that around anymore.
He tied the end of the string to the heavy steel handle.
Just imagine, he giggled to Gideon, doing the Houdini in an old refrigerator like this.
Don’t you dare, said Gideon, eyeing him strangely.
Just kidding, said Aron.
He finished tying the string and backed off a few steps.
He felt too shy to ask Gideon to tie his tooth.
He tied it himself.
He pulled it tighter at the base and already tasted a drop of blood.
This would really hurt.
In one split second it would pull out the tooth.
Everything inside him would be shaken up.
But this was the perfect time.
And the perfect friend.
Cautiously he backed off a few more steps.
The string was taut against his lower lip.
Now quickly, slam the door, he cried through stretched lips.
Are you sure it’s okay?
Yes, yes, go on, let’s get it over with.
Are you positive it’s loose enough?
Yes, positive, don’t chicken out now.
Gideon ran a careful finger over the string.
He studied the knot around the handle.
Suddenly he turned serious, protective, but not like a friend: more like a grownup watching over a child.
Who cares.
Don’t let in a single negative thought.
You have to want this with all your heart.
You have to believe, you have to surrender.
There will be one instant of terrible pain, the way there is when they brand a new calf joining the herd.
“Get ready,” said Gideon, extending his arm in front of the open refrigerator door.
“On your mark, set—” Gideon closed his eyes.
So did Aron, chin out.
Gideon’s
chin was pressed to his chest.
There was a loud bang.
A white blade slit Aron’s lip.
His jaw cracked.
Blood ran.
Maybe that was good.
He foundered, stunned, crouching over till he was lying prone, numb, but soon there would be pain, where was it, where did it come from, oh, let it come already; and for one endless moment Aron hovered, slowly igniting, spreading, vanishing, hanging by a thread, draining inward, backward, soon to be no more, without any strength left to save himself, to fight it, giving in to it with a flutter of wonder; it came on slowly, like a dream, and he divined it there, a kind of tangled web, a fine, strong mesh at the base of him, revealing and concealing itself under the turbid waves, something made out of
her
; in fact, out of Mama, that never showed in her face or voice but was her nonetheless, and when he fell he was swathed in it, enveloped in a swoon, a magic cloak that melted into his skin, merged into an already familiar and not displeasing whisper:
Death is right,
and all the rest is error; never revel in what you find, it isn’t yours, just put it in your pocket and keep your mouth shut.
And when the pain throbbed suddenly he was almost relieved.
He was still alive.
Gideon ran around him in a panic, shouting his name, scampering off, returning, approaching cautiously, sobbing: “You tricked me!
You tricked me!
It wasn’t loose!”
And Aron, with a mouthful of blood, with a broken heart, his faculties waning, shook his head.
It didn’t hurt at all, and it was loose too.
He was suddenly alarmed to be lying flat on the ground like this with Gideon standing over him.
Exhaustedly he pulled himself together and sat up.
His jaw felt heavy and huge, and something was stubbornly piercing his temple and his ear.
Gideon kneeled beside him, remorseful, angry, saying over and over that he was sorry.
Aron wiped his mouth with his hand.
There was blood everywhere.
He touched his wound with the tip of his tongue.
But no new tooth was growing in its place.
Empty.
An empty space.
And there before him, hanging from the string tied to the refrigerator door, was his tiny milk tooth.
Nothing earthshaking.
Just a tooth.
For fourteen and a half years it had been inside his mouth, and now it was hanging from a string.
You tricked me!
It wasn’t loose!”
And Aron, with a mouthful of blood, with a broken heart, his faculties waning, shook his head.
It didn’t hurt at all, and it was loose too.
He was suddenly alarmed to be lying flat on the ground like this with Gideon standing over him.
Exhaustedly he pulled himself together and sat up.
His jaw felt heavy and huge, and something was stubbornly piercing his temple and his ear.
Gideon kneeled beside him, remorseful, angry, saying over and over that he was sorry.
Aron wiped his mouth with his hand.
There was blood everywhere.
He touched his wound with the tip of his tongue.
But no new tooth was growing in its place.
Empty.
An empty space.
And there before him, hanging from the string tied to the refrigerator door, was his tiny milk tooth.
Nothing earthshaking.
Just a tooth.
For fourteen and a half years it had been inside his mouth, and now it was hanging from a string.
“You be the man.You lead!”
So his mother commanded him, taking his reluctant hands and putting them firmly around her middle.
“Go on, lead!”
She smiled at him.
He could feel her breath on his face and his body stiffened.
“Try to relax!
Loosen up!”
She panted, maneuvering them both around the floor to the record of
Swan Lake
, which Yochi had once used for her ballet exercises.
“You’re not leading!
One two three!
You’re letting me lead!”
Yochi was sitting on the Bordeaux sofa with her arms crossed.
She watched them blankly and made Aron feel uneasy, as though she could see the present in the past and could therefore be detached, turn renegade.
“Nu, try again,” sighed Mama, wiping her brow.
“You have to show her, two three, that you know how to behave, two three, with girls, two three, otherwise that friend of yours is going to snatch her from under your nose, two three, you mark my words!”
“Go on, lead!”
She smiled at him.
He could feel her breath on his face and his body stiffened.
“Try to relax!
Loosen up!”
She panted, maneuvering them both around the floor to the record of
Swan Lake
, which Yochi had once used for her ballet exercises.
“You’re not leading!
One two three!
You’re letting me lead!”
Yochi was sitting on the Bordeaux sofa with her arms crossed.
She watched them blankly and made Aron feel uneasy, as though she could see the present in the past and could therefore be detached, turn renegade.
“Nu, try again,” sighed Mama, wiping her brow.
“You have to show her, two three, that you know how to behave, two three, with girls, two three, otherwise that friend of yours is going to snatch her from under your nose, two three, you mark my words!”
He tightened his arm muscles and tried not to notice the beads of perspiration glistening wantonly over her lip.
Once, he loved the smell of her breath, like a whiff of a secret, subliminal self.
“And quit jerking your head around like a water sprinkler.”
From deep inside her it came out, how dare she blow air at him from in there.
“I’ll bet he knows how to dance, doesn’t he?”
“He” being what she called Gideon now that she knew he and Aron were sharing Yaeli.
Aron said Gideon didn’t know how to dance yet either.
Not social dancing anyway.
“We’re not quite up to social dancing.”
Mama laughed over his shoulder to Yochi.
“This is just a waltz.
We’ll get to social dancing soon enough!”
Yochi crossed her legs and scrutinized them with that neutral expression she’d adopted lately; there were only a few months left before she went into the army, and she could hardly wait; this she told Aron in deepest secrecy; oh, to be surrounded by strangers, people who wouldn’t know how to interpret her every fart and sigh and silence and use them against her in devious ways.
“But what do you mean, the army,” Aron gasped, “you asked for a deferral, didn’t you?”
“I don’t want a deferral, she can shove it, she can forget about me going to the university.”
“But you asked for a deferral, you asked for it!”
Aron hopped up and down, confused about why he was so offended.
“I did, but a little birdie told me I didn’t do so well on the essay part of the matriculation exam,” she informed him dispassionately.
“What?
You failed the essay question?”
“Hmm, I guess I must have had an off day in essay writing.”
She smiled at him coolly, and he envisioned her staring dully at the face of the examination monitor.
“Come on, don’t fret about it, li’l brother.”
She tapped him between his disconcerted eyes.
“I can easily fix it after the army, but not a word, you hear?”
Once, he loved the smell of her breath, like a whiff of a secret, subliminal self.
“And quit jerking your head around like a water sprinkler.”
From deep inside her it came out, how dare she blow air at him from in there.
“I’ll bet he knows how to dance, doesn’t he?”
“He” being what she called Gideon now that she knew he and Aron were sharing Yaeli.
Aron said Gideon didn’t know how to dance yet either.
Not social dancing anyway.
“We’re not quite up to social dancing.”
Mama laughed over his shoulder to Yochi.
“This is just a waltz.
We’ll get to social dancing soon enough!”
Yochi crossed her legs and scrutinized them with that neutral expression she’d adopted lately; there were only a few months left before she went into the army, and she could hardly wait; this she told Aron in deepest secrecy; oh, to be surrounded by strangers, people who wouldn’t know how to interpret her every fart and sigh and silence and use them against her in devious ways.
“But what do you mean, the army,” Aron gasped, “you asked for a deferral, didn’t you?”
“I don’t want a deferral, she can shove it, she can forget about me going to the university.”
“But you asked for a deferral, you asked for it!”
Aron hopped up and down, confused about why he was so offended.
“I did, but a little birdie told me I didn’t do so well on the essay part of the matriculation exam,” she informed him dispassionately.
“What?
You failed the essay question?”
“Hmm, I guess I must have had an off day in essay writing.”
She smiled at him coolly, and he envisioned her staring dully at the face of the examination monitor.
“Come on, don’t fret about it, li’l brother.”
She tapped him between his disconcerted eyes.
“I can easily fix it after the army, but not a word, you hear?”
Whenever she spoke that way he was alarmed at the amount of hatred in her, and now, seeing the look on his face, she added, as if to hurt him even more, that her only worry was losing control and exploding at Mama before her call-up date.
And then all the filth would burst out of her and smear all over the floor and the walls and the furniture.
“I’m holding it in with all my might,” she said.
“That’s my biggest test now, not to give her the satisfaction of a knock-down fight, oh no no no …” She stretched her short neck out in a crude gesture of contempt.
“That she will never get from me.”
She squeezed out a laugh, surprising him with the bright blue flame in her eyes.
“I … don’t …” he stammered, “I don’t think you have a right to be so angry with her.”
She sneered in reply, and for a moment he saw her double chin swelling out like a bladder of resentment.
“You defend her, you Goody Two-shoes, after all she’s done to you, you still defend her?”
“She hasn’t done anything to me,” he mumbled.
“She only wants what’s best, and every family has its problems.”
“Listen to me, li’l brother,” she said, coming closer.
“Hear the word of the prophetess Yocheved: A day will come when you will hate your mother, you will hate her with an intense black hatred and do anything you can to get out of her clutches; to the ends of the earth you will flee, you will live in the Sahara Desert just
to get away from her.”
She paused a moment, her face in a weft of wonder, of prayer, looking through him as though she saw him from afar, and then she giggled.
“And the worst part is, in the end I’ll be all she has left.”
“No!”
exclaimed Aron in a strained, stubborn voice.
“I won’t hate Mama.
She’s my mother.
No matter what she does, I’ll never hate her.”
“Watch out,” said Yochi, her voice cool and calm.
“Beware the day when it’s a matter of honor not to hate her.”
And then all the filth would burst out of her and smear all over the floor and the walls and the furniture.
“I’m holding it in with all my might,” she said.
“That’s my biggest test now, not to give her the satisfaction of a knock-down fight, oh no no no …” She stretched her short neck out in a crude gesture of contempt.
“That she will never get from me.”
She squeezed out a laugh, surprising him with the bright blue flame in her eyes.
“I … don’t …” he stammered, “I don’t think you have a right to be so angry with her.”
She sneered in reply, and for a moment he saw her double chin swelling out like a bladder of resentment.
“You defend her, you Goody Two-shoes, after all she’s done to you, you still defend her?”
“She hasn’t done anything to me,” he mumbled.
“She only wants what’s best, and every family has its problems.”
“Listen to me, li’l brother,” she said, coming closer.
“Hear the word of the prophetess Yocheved: A day will come when you will hate your mother, you will hate her with an intense black hatred and do anything you can to get out of her clutches; to the ends of the earth you will flee, you will live in the Sahara Desert just
to get away from her.”
She paused a moment, her face in a weft of wonder, of prayer, looking through him as though she saw him from afar, and then she giggled.
“And the worst part is, in the end I’ll be all she has left.”
“No!”
exclaimed Aron in a strained, stubborn voice.
“I won’t hate Mama.
She’s my mother.
No matter what she does, I’ll never hate her.”
“Watch out,” said Yochi, her voice cool and calm.
“Beware the day when it’s a matter of honor not to hate her.”
Mama pulled away from Aron’s arms.
“You’re letting me lead again!
Stop dreaming!
How do you expect to be a man?”
Again they tried.
He laid a tentative sweaty hand on her shoulder, and she grasped it, pressing it masterfully around her fleshy waist.
“This is how you lead!
With your hand!
This is how you let your girlfriend know a man is holding her!
Otherwise,
psssss
, she’ll run away from you!”
And she hiccupped a little giggle, a slimy giggle out of her depths, and her breath blew in his face from that place inside her, as Aron turned away, tightened his grip, and led her three steps left, two steps right.
“Not like a golem, one two three.”
She heaved.
“Put some feeling into it, some style, move me around like butter.
Turn it up a little, Yochi, will you?”
“You’re letting me lead again!
Stop dreaming!
How do you expect to be a man?”
Again they tried.
He laid a tentative sweaty hand on her shoulder, and she grasped it, pressing it masterfully around her fleshy waist.
“This is how you lead!
With your hand!
This is how you let your girlfriend know a man is holding her!
Otherwise,
psssss
, she’ll run away from you!”
And she hiccupped a little giggle, a slimy giggle out of her depths, and her breath blew in his face from that place inside her, as Aron turned away, tightened his grip, and led her three steps left, two steps right.
“Not like a golem, one two three.”
She heaved.
“Put some feeling into it, some style, move me around like butter.
Turn it up a little, Yochi, will you?”
Oh no, just what we need, thought Yochi, leaning over the record player and watching out of the corner of her eye as Grandma Lilly hobbled into the salon, groping half-blindly for the source of the music that woke her up.
In deep amazement Grandma surveyed the scene, then turned around, trailing the hem of her oversize bathrobe across the floor.
Yochi hurried to her and grasped her arm.
She seemed about to take her to her alcove, but on second thought drew her gently, indifferently over to the Pouritz, where she sat her down, smoothed her bathrobe and her wispy gray hair, which was starting to grow out now; it was a long time since Yochi let Mama cut Grandma’s hair, maybe she would even grow a braid.
Do sit down, Grannykins, she whispered in her heart to muffle the Mama inside her.
Come watch with me.
In deep amazement Grandma surveyed the scene, then turned around, trailing the hem of her oversize bathrobe across the floor.
Yochi hurried to her and grasped her arm.
She seemed about to take her to her alcove, but on second thought drew her gently, indifferently over to the Pouritz, where she sat her down, smoothed her bathrobe and her wispy gray hair, which was starting to grow out now; it was a long time since Yochi let Mama cut Grandma’s hair, maybe she would even grow a braid.
Do sit down, Grannykins, she whispered in her heart to muffle the Mama inside her.
Come watch with me.
Mama caught on right away.
“Hold me tighter!”
she blared at Aron, who was inattentive for a moment.
“Not like a nebbich!”
“Hold me tighter!”
she blared at Aron, who was inattentive for a moment.
“Not like a nebbich!”
Her shouting startled him out of a dream.
Obediently he led her around the room, trying his best to please her, but something inside would not be appeased, it protested.
Stop thinking, he told himself, forget everything, surrender, be reckless, and his limbs relaxed, his shoulders and arms and the painful, petrified muscles of his legs.
You see you can do it; if you want to, you can do it.
And he let his eyelids
droop, loosened the grip of his fingers, now it’s final; a timorous leap went through him from head to toe, something melted and began to flow.
I’m really dancing, and with a quiver of amazement and delight he felt his mother washed out of his arms and carried by the dance like a fish by water, and she fluttered her eyelashes and threw her head back as though a masterful fist had grabbed her by the hair, and then her hands groped their way up his arms till they were firmly gripping his shoulders, and she gave a little laugh as if in her sleep and lifted his hand and twirled around under it, her dress belling out, showing her thighs and the hem of her slip, and her armpits unlocked and blinked their curly lashes at him, and he gazed at her in helpless revulsion, at her lips splitting further and further apart, and he grabbed her hand, pulled it too hard, lost the beat, stumbled into her … Slowly, sadly, she regained her senses, and the old expression reappeared in her eyes.
Wearily she shook her head at him.
“You simply won’t let yourself go,” she whispered, prolonging their ungainly dance, and he couldn’t understand why she was whispering.
“That’s the problem with you, you cramp yourself, you freeze up, no girl’s going to look at you twice if you stay the way you are.”
Versed as he was in her intricate patterns of voice and expression, he looked over his shoulder, and when he saw Grandma Lilly there, watching them, he tripped over Mama’s feet and disgraced himself.
Grandma sat up in the
fauteuil
and followed their progress as though straining to hear them better.
It’s lucky for Mama, thought Yochi, that Grandma can’t open her mouth.
“Dance!
Move your feet!
Klutz!”
rasped Mama, holding on tightly and dragging him around, and he suddenly remembered the spit on the lips of that man in the picture watching Lilly dance, and again he lost the beat and was no longer dancing: he was capering in jerky confusion, and Mama twirled him around and around to keep out of Grandma’s sight, but though she tried to maneuver away from them, her eyes kept encountering Grandma’s and Yochi’s, like swords clashing in midair, and sparks flew out of Grandma’s seeing eye, the sparks of double derision: at Aron for being such a clumsy oaf and at Hinda for wasting her future on such a son.
“Now listen to me, Aron,” Mama blared again, he always cringed when she started off like that.
“A wallflower at fifteen stays a wallflower for life.
Oh yes!”
Yochi bit her cheeks: Mama grabbed his hand and held it out in front of her face, which suddenly tightened: she was unbearably herself again, emanating a shrewdness of appraisal
which made whatever her gaze happened to rest on seem cheap, shoddy.
“Because at your age, Aron, parties are IT!”
she said, puffing at him in her dickering way till he felt as though he were standing naked on an auction block.
“When you dance and neck and lollygag!
You’ll see!”
Oh, if only she could help him cross this river with her wisdom and experience, if only she could help him to be himself for the duration of these “critical” years.
“And believe me, when it comes to that, you’re either in or you’re out!
And when I say out, I mean out!”
Obediently he led her around the room, trying his best to please her, but something inside would not be appeased, it protested.
Stop thinking, he told himself, forget everything, surrender, be reckless, and his limbs relaxed, his shoulders and arms and the painful, petrified muscles of his legs.
You see you can do it; if you want to, you can do it.
And he let his eyelids
droop, loosened the grip of his fingers, now it’s final; a timorous leap went through him from head to toe, something melted and began to flow.
I’m really dancing, and with a quiver of amazement and delight he felt his mother washed out of his arms and carried by the dance like a fish by water, and she fluttered her eyelashes and threw her head back as though a masterful fist had grabbed her by the hair, and then her hands groped their way up his arms till they were firmly gripping his shoulders, and she gave a little laugh as if in her sleep and lifted his hand and twirled around under it, her dress belling out, showing her thighs and the hem of her slip, and her armpits unlocked and blinked their curly lashes at him, and he gazed at her in helpless revulsion, at her lips splitting further and further apart, and he grabbed her hand, pulled it too hard, lost the beat, stumbled into her … Slowly, sadly, she regained her senses, and the old expression reappeared in her eyes.
Wearily she shook her head at him.
“You simply won’t let yourself go,” she whispered, prolonging their ungainly dance, and he couldn’t understand why she was whispering.
“That’s the problem with you, you cramp yourself, you freeze up, no girl’s going to look at you twice if you stay the way you are.”
Versed as he was in her intricate patterns of voice and expression, he looked over his shoulder, and when he saw Grandma Lilly there, watching them, he tripped over Mama’s feet and disgraced himself.
Grandma sat up in the
fauteuil
and followed their progress as though straining to hear them better.
It’s lucky for Mama, thought Yochi, that Grandma can’t open her mouth.
“Dance!
Move your feet!
Klutz!”
rasped Mama, holding on tightly and dragging him around, and he suddenly remembered the spit on the lips of that man in the picture watching Lilly dance, and again he lost the beat and was no longer dancing: he was capering in jerky confusion, and Mama twirled him around and around to keep out of Grandma’s sight, but though she tried to maneuver away from them, her eyes kept encountering Grandma’s and Yochi’s, like swords clashing in midair, and sparks flew out of Grandma’s seeing eye, the sparks of double derision: at Aron for being such a clumsy oaf and at Hinda for wasting her future on such a son.
“Now listen to me, Aron,” Mama blared again, he always cringed when she started off like that.
“A wallflower at fifteen stays a wallflower for life.
Oh yes!”
Yochi bit her cheeks: Mama grabbed his hand and held it out in front of her face, which suddenly tightened: she was unbearably herself again, emanating a shrewdness of appraisal
which made whatever her gaze happened to rest on seem cheap, shoddy.
“Because at your age, Aron, parties are IT!”
she said, puffing at him in her dickering way till he felt as though he were standing naked on an auction block.
“When you dance and neck and lollygag!
You’ll see!”
Oh, if only she could help him cross this river with her wisdom and experience, if only she could help him to be himself for the duration of these “critical” years.
“And believe me, when it comes to that, you’re either in or you’re out!
And when I say out, I mean out!”
What did she want from him.
How far would she hound him.
He traipsed home with Gideon and Yaeli.
Today it was Gideon’s turn to carry Yaeli’s school bag.
Lucky thing too, because she had a geography lesson and the atlas weighed a ton.
They walked in silence at his side, and Aron told them that he’d decided to learn Esperanto when he grew up and help spread it all over the world, so that everyone would speak one language and understand each other and there would be no more secrets in society.
They listened and nodded, and Aron grew elated and told them his other plan, to write a letter to the Secretary-General of the United Nations, requesting that Esperanto be written in Braille instead of regular letters so that people everywhere would read it exactly the same, and there would be no discrimination against those who couldn’t read regular writing.
Yaeli said it sounded like a good idea.
A dynamite idea, really.
Gideon said yes, Ari comes up with some brilliant ideas.
Aron blushed as he walked between them, inflated with pride, lapping up their praises.
Walking with them now he knew how absurd what Mama said about Yaeli was.
She and Gideon didn’t argue anymore.
They seemed calmer now.
Maybe even a little more open to Aron, overflowing with goodwill, smiling at him, putting him in the center.
Pensively they strolled beside him, looking off in opposite directions, stroking the bark on the trees.
And if they continued, thought Aron, very soon he would be able to unravel the knot inside him, to pull out one end of the string and tell them everything, so they’d understand the hell he’d been living through.
Till recently.
It was scary to think how recently, how short a time separated him from those terrible days.
Soon.
At the next cypress tree.
At the car after that.
Later.
How far would she hound him.
He traipsed home with Gideon and Yaeli.
Today it was Gideon’s turn to carry Yaeli’s school bag.
Lucky thing too, because she had a geography lesson and the atlas weighed a ton.
They walked in silence at his side, and Aron told them that he’d decided to learn Esperanto when he grew up and help spread it all over the world, so that everyone would speak one language and understand each other and there would be no more secrets in society.
They listened and nodded, and Aron grew elated and told them his other plan, to write a letter to the Secretary-General of the United Nations, requesting that Esperanto be written in Braille instead of regular letters so that people everywhere would read it exactly the same, and there would be no discrimination against those who couldn’t read regular writing.
Yaeli said it sounded like a good idea.
A dynamite idea, really.
Gideon said yes, Ari comes up with some brilliant ideas.
Aron blushed as he walked between them, inflated with pride, lapping up their praises.
Walking with them now he knew how absurd what Mama said about Yaeli was.
She and Gideon didn’t argue anymore.
They seemed calmer now.
Maybe even a little more open to Aron, overflowing with goodwill, smiling at him, putting him in the center.
Pensively they strolled beside him, looking off in opposite directions, stroking the bark on the trees.
And if they continued, thought Aron, very soon he would be able to unravel the knot inside him, to pull out one end of the string and tell them everything, so they’d understand the hell he’d been living through.
Till recently.
It was scary to think how recently, how short a time separated him from those terrible days.
Soon.
At the next cypress tree.
At the car after that.
Later.
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