The Remains of Love (50 page)

Has this happened to you too? Nitzan whimpers, and her first impulse is to invent for her some truly horrific desertion stories to serve as consolation. Not really, she admits, but it didn’t happen to me only because I was so afraid of rejection I preferred to stay by myself, can you imagine it, I had my first boyfriend at twenty-four, and even him I was with mainly because he wanted me, and Nitzan sighs, maybe it’s healthier that way, at least nobody hurt you, but Dina interrupts her, what’s healthy about it? I hurt myself, nobody can hurt us more than we hurt ourselves.

So were you with Dad only because he wanted you? she asks, and Dina says, no, with your father it was different, the love I felt for him was stronger than the fear, apparently, but believe me I’ve been through all kinds of desertions, Nitzi, anyone who hasn’t been deserted has never been connected, and if you’re not connected you’re not really alive, no challenges, no growth, I’m sorry, my darling, this is the price of living, of daring, just don’t give up, as you once said to me yourself, don’t give up on what’s important to you, and Nitzan interrupts her, that’s enough Mum, all this pathos! and for the first time a smile appears on her puffy face, and Dina is embarrassed, I really believe in what I’m saying, and Nitzan says, of course, but why does it sound as if you’re moving away from me?

Returning to her car after the lecture she soon finds herself on the road leading to her house, and it comes as no surprise to her, her hands and her feet guiding her this way; after all this is what coming home is like, like the leaving of it, almost casual, without proclamations and promises, and so when the three them sit down together round the table for the first time in weeks, and eat supper, this too will be low-key, and perhaps when the invitation comes to meet the child, it will be the same: here is the little boy, do you want to be his mother? Here comes the moment of truth, can you stand up to it? I know you, he said, you’ll get cold feet, you’ll run away, and what if he’s right, because this evening for example when she sits between the two of them she feels she’s lacking nothing; Nitzan is tucking with great gusto into the fried eggs that Gideon served up, dipping fresh bread in the yolk, and apparently feeling much better, and Dina marvels at the way the consoling power of motherhood is gradually returning to her. It never occurred to her that her mother could help her in a time of adversity, on the contrary, all she could expect was the admonitory finger wagging at her, I told you, I warned you, and only now, when she can hardly speak and there’s no knowing if she understands, it seems to her she’s supporting her, and even this is a straw she’s prepared to clutch at, the straw of an embrace from those desiccated arms, and who knows, maybe this is the reason Nitzan is stronger than me, she reflects, if I were in her shoes I’d be weeping bitterly day after day, not stuffing myself with fresh bread and fried eggs but throwing up my stomach contents, scraping the skin that he touched, I’d be inconsolable, inconsolable, while she’s already taking her seat on the sofa in front of the TV. Mummydaddy, she calls them with a sweet smile as she used to when she was little, come on, let’s watch a movie together! It’s been ages since we’ve done that. And they too smile at her in the old style, how endearing she can be, little rabbit, cute and lively squirrel. How they used to enjoy those mock-arguments, which does she resemble more, squirrel or rabbit, and what do we give her to eat, carrot or nuts, and now she’s been dumped, but her fingers are already on the remote, flicking through the options, and she’s calling out the titles of the films. We’ll find something we’ll all enjoy, she announces, with such strange exuberance that Dina begins to suspect, and even to hope with all her heart, maybe the whole of this crisis was staged for her benefit, a ploy to bring her home, and she turns to Gideon with a question in her eyes. Leave it, he grimaces, you’ll never find a film we all like. How taciturn he is this evening, digesting her presence in silence, keeping his distance, where was he last Sabbath? Who was he with?

Give over, Dad, you’re always spoiling things, Nitzan complains. Look, this is a movie my friends recommended, come on, let’s roll it, and Dina is already sitting beside her on the sofa, what difference does it make which film they see, just to be together, the three of them like this, in the forgotten intimacy of a domestic evening, but Gideon is grousing as always, what’s this about? You know I hate melodramas, let’s watch a documentary, and Nitzan reproaches him, oh, what a misery-guts you are, this is a really cool movie about a teacher having an affair with his pupil and she has a baby and gives it up for adoption, and then it all gets complicated.

You can bet it gets complicated, Gideon mutters, turning to Dina with an icy glance and she avoids his eyes and knits her fingers together hard, and Nitzan asks, what’s going on? Is it because of the adoption? Woops, how sensitive everyone is here, come on, get over it, you’re grown-ups aren’t you, and already she’s turning off the light and sitting with legs folded, laying her head on Dina’s shoulder, and she for her part is stunned by the rapid and inexplicable turn of events, in the course of this day and also on the screen before her, where the child is given up for adoption by his biological father, who doesn’t know anything about it until his pupil comes back into his life, and then a loud snort is heard from Gideon’s armchair, and Dina wipes away the tears that have flowed unchecked this past hour, what a nightmare, Nitzi, what a terrifying film, and Nitzan whimpers in her arms, you’re right, I don’t know why my friends raved about it so much.

We’re surrounded by enigmas, Dina sighs, large and small, her temples pounding and her head aching, what’s her daughter trying to tell her, what’s this evening trying to tell her, how confusing the signs are, and when Gideon emits another snort Nitzan bursts into laughter, and at once her voice breaks, oh, Mummy, I love him so much, I can’t believe it’s over, all my life I’ve never loved anyone like that, and Dina presses her to her heart, time will soften it, my darling, every day will be a little easier, and there will be many more loves, I promise you, and she caresses her body slowly, the new-old love that the girl is lavishing on her suddenly, the memory of their close contact, memory of her childhood, this exists, it’s yours, perhaps this is what you’ll understand at the moment of truth, this was and therefore it exists, even if it never returns but only flickers from time to time in what remains of your life, this isn’t the sun but memory of the sun, distant rays of warmth, most people are satisfied with this, what about you?

I want to sleep, Nitzan wails, I want to sleep and not wake up, how can he stop loving me? And Dina escorts her to her bed and spreads the blanket over her, the heating’s already been turned off and cold spreads through the house. The love that you’ve experienced won’t be taken from you, Nitzan, it’s yours, both the love with which you’ve loved and the love with which you’ve been loved, it’s stored up inside you, we’re like cyclamens, like all plants with bulbs and tubers, we have mechanisms for storage and renewal, do you hear?

Yes, Mummy, the girl mumbles agreement with eyes closed and turns on her side, and Dina leans over her and kisses her forehead again and again until her breathing steadies and she falls asleep. No reason to worry, she’s sleeping, she’s eating, she’ll recover. I wish I could take the pain from her but she’ll get through it, she has strengths, and she gets up and goes cautiously into the master bedroom like a trespasser, checking out the double bed which is arranged in meticulous order, for some reason it seems no one has slept in it for a long time, I’m returning to my house, to my daughter, so why does it seem to me this is a separation?

One week later precisely the phone will ring after midnight, while outside the rain is teeming, with thunder and lightning, and she responds in panic, sure this must be her brother calling to report her mother’s death. Mum, Mum, her heart pounds as she fumbles for the phone in the dark, but an animated voice with a heavy Russian accent is calling her name, Dina? This is Tanya from the institute, I told you there are pleasant surprises too, and here it is, we’ve been offered a little boy, you can come and see him. I’ll send a picture and details via email and you can give me your answer tomorrow.

Really? How is this is happening so quickly? she mumbles, stunned, and Tanya hesitates, I’ll tell you the truth, we offered him to a different family some way ahead of you in the queue, and they made the journey but didn’t bond with him and they turned him down, once there’s been a refusal it’s harder to find someone who’s willing, so I thought of you, with you the time factor is critical because of your husband’s age.

What does that mean, they didn’t bond with him? she asks, thoroughly alarmed, and Tanya says, I don’t know exactly, the chemistry wasn’t there, if you ask me they’re making a mistake, but perhaps their mistake is to your advantage, so let me know tomorrow, goodnight, and Dina’s close to hyperventilating, wait a moment, Tanya, tell me about the boy, how old is he, what’s his name, what’s known about his background?

He’s two years old, Tanya replies impatiently, I’m sending you via email all the details known to us, a medical file and a picture. Don’t be too scared by the medical file, they sometimes insert bogus illnesses because it’s illegal to take a healthy child out of there, and Dina asks, so how do we know his real state of health? and Tanya says, I’ll explain to you tomorrow, we know these codes, I promise you the boy is all right, more or less, so don’t miss this chance, if you refuse it will take a long time and in the meantime the law may change to your disadvantage, and Dina stands up from the bed in a whirl, her heart pounding ferociously, sending shock-waves around it, all of her body is a giant heart, and the whole building is swaying and tossing in time to its pulsations. This is the moment of truth, this is the beginning, it’s starting now, at midnight, as the heavens crack open above her head and she goes out on to her translucent balcony, the cold is intense but she doesn’t turn on the heater. To shiver in the cold is what she wants, to hear her teeth chattering, she wants to watch as the fields of the sky are blasted by electricity, she wants electricity to strike her too, she’s pleading for a sign, for a signal, since this is a great moment and she’s staggering under its weight, it’s come too early, before her preparations are completed, more frightening than she expected, since this is what encounter with destiny looks like, although the truth is such encounters take place every moment of a human life, and here we’re speaking of a frontal encounter, of known intensity. Is this the possibility of choice, is it the lack of support, the magnitude of the responsibility, the magnitude of the gamble, the magnitude of the distance, to travel to Siberia this week, in the middle of December, to meet a little boy of two years old, can you be his mother, and she turns on the computer, make it so I know, she mumbles, so I’ll see the picture and know this is my child, so I’ll look into his eyes and know this is my beloved son in whom I am well pleased. Her hands tremble over the keys and she stares at the letters, as a ferocious light floods the balcony, followed immediately by the roll of thunder and to her dismay the computer screen goes blank before her eyes, the light of the street-lamp is extinguished too, it seems the last lightning bolt knocked out all the circuits. Most residents of the street are unperturbed, fast asleep in their warm beds, while for her this is unbearable, she’s waiting for the child, she believes when she sees the picture she’ll know, she’s expecting a dissolution of doubts but this is slow in coming, and perhaps this is the way it’s meant to be, saying yes without knowing anything, without seeing anything.

The street-lamp comes back on and with it the computer, my boy my boy my boy, she mumbles, what a long journey you’ve had to make to reach my mail-box, here it comes, arriving at last, just open the file and you’ll meet him, and here he is, filling the screen is a little boy standing with a book in his hands, his hair blond and sparse, his face long, eyes dull and set close together, looking at her without smiling, his forehead high and his lips tightly closed, he’s serious and gloomy, he’s a stranger. He’s not like Nitzan, as she hoped he would be, and he doesn’t look like the lost twin who lives in her imagination, not like her or Gideon. He isn’t sweet, isn’t captivating, he isn’t trying to please, he’s not asking to be taken, it seems he’s resigned to the betrayals he’s suffered, apparently he’s saying, even without you I can sort out my life, he isn’t making it easier for her, not giving her a sign.

Again she’ll study him from head to toe, he’s wearing red girly sandals and white socks, light coloured trousers, almost tailored, like those of a miniature man, and on his chest is a striped shirt with short sleeves, too big for him, in drab green and white. A bitter smile stretches her lips when she remembers her brother’s shirt, is this the sign she has been waiting for? Here he is, her handsome brother in the striped shirt, running into their mother’s arms on the lawn and his laughter rolling, while she stands to the side, observing their love with hard eyes, how frozen is his stare, did she stare like that at her mother and her brother? Does he know how to smile, has he ever smiled?

She never saw a child like this, he isn’t a child at all, he’s a miniature man, a homunculus, sceptical and severe. He’s the one studying her, he’s looking for a sign and she squirms under his scrutiny, since that’s what a moment of truth is like, only when you stand up to it will you understand what a mistake you’re making, what challenges await you. Only then will you understand the distance between reality and your dream of warm and tender co-existence, I know you, you don’t have the strength for this, and she detaches herself from the picture and opens the second file, the documents laden with expressions most of which she doesn’t understand, a meticulous record of countless tests and diagnoses, immunisations and hospital treatments, and when she tries to interpret these through internet searches the results are even more frightening and she returns at once to the picture, which after the brief separation already looks familiar to her. Who are you, young man? All these details say nothing at all about you, on such and such a date you were immunised and on such and such a date you were examined, but who are you? And my fate is in your hands as much as your fate is in mine, and she looks at the book he’s holding in his little hands, on the cover is an illustration of a majestic white cat, one forepaw black and the other brown, exactly like their cat, how could she have failed to notice this before? Is this a sign? Is it possible to be satisfied with such little signs when the task is so huge?