A Possibility of Violence (9 page)

When he asked if she had bought a plane ticket yet Marianka said no. She was still looking for cheap tickets.

According to their plan, the next day was supposed to be the start of her last week at work.

He spoke about the preparations for her arrival, but Marianka said that she needed to get off, and he didn't ask her why. Before she hung up he nevertheless said to her, “Marianka, I feel like I'm not reaching you,” and she said, “It's always hard for us to talk on the phone, no?”

“Maybe. Are you hiding something from me?”

She didn't answer his question, just said, “Avi, I really have to get off, okay? I promise to call you tomorrow.”

6

WHEN HE LEFT THE POLICE STATION,
Chaim already had a plan, although its contours were blurry and would only become clear to him in the hours and days to follow.

For a moment he couldn't remember where he had parked the car.

His body was weak from the effort of concealing his thoughts, and his hands were sweating. He felt unstable as he drove and couldn't decide which way to go. It was two o'clock, and the children needed to be picked up in about an hour. He stopped in the parking lot of the mall next to the station, in the shade. Ate an entire sandwich, and then another. Didn't turn off the engine. Listened to the radio.

Could he discern the faults in his plan? It wasn't the product of orderly thinking, with an eye toward foreseeable dangers and ways of dealing with them, but rather was a confused outburst born of anxiety, of impulses, some of which he understood and others he didn't, but now, because of what happened, he simply couldn't wait.

The police inspector suspected him—of that he had no doubt. Nor did he have any doubt that Chava Cohen had testified against him. And to this was added the nighttime conversation with Ezer and the vague things that the boy said he saw. Suddenly they were watching him everywhere. A guard in a security uniform and a baseball cap wandered out among the parked cars, looked at him through the glass, knocked on the window, and asked, “You waiting for someone, Grandpa?”

The first step in the plan was to return home immediately and call his mother.

He remained in the parking lot a few minutes more, so as not to attract attention.

 

HIS MOTHER WAS RESTING IN BED,
next to the telephone, and answered immediately. When she heard his voice she asked, “Is everything okay?” and Chaim said, “Can I bring the children to you?”

He knew that his question would alarm her, but he intended to tell her everything in any case.

“To sleep here?” she asked, and he said, “Yes. For a night or two.”

“What happened?”

“Not over the phone. I'll tell you when I come.”

She said, “I'll get up and make them something to eat.”

The tiny shirts and underwear that hung on the line had dried and he folded them and placed them in the same carryall that they took to her house for the holiday. Ezer was surprised when he came to pick him up in the car, but until they got to Shalom's daycare they drove in almost complete silence. Chaim asked him, “How was school?” and Ezer said, “Good.” This was after gym class, and he wore an undershirt and shorts and his skin was moist with sweat and warm. Chaim asked, “Did you learn anything interesting?” Ezer said, “No,” and he let it go.

He assumed he'd be unable to avoid running into Chava Cohen and for a moment thought of asking Ezer to go inside, instead of him, and get Shalom. She was sitting in the yard when he entered, handing out apple slices to the remaining children. And even though she saw him she ignored him, like always. One of the next stages of the plan was to speak with her, but this wasn't the time. He was sure that he'd been called in for questioning because of her testimony. She apparently testified that he placed the suitcase, and because of her he was interrogated by the police. He passed by her without saying a word, looked elsewhere. Inside the daycare the young Russian assistant was changing a diaper, and to Chaim it seemed that he had acted wisely when he informed her that in the coming days Shalom would not be in daycare because they were going on vacation. When he buckled Shalom into the car seat in the back, Ezer asked, “Where are we going?” and he said, “To Grandma's. You'll sleep there, and tomorrow you won't go to school. You'll have a good time with Grandma.”

Ezer looked at him in amazement, and Shalom asked, “And what if Mom will come home?”

He didn't answer.

Afterward Shalom asked, “You're not sleeping with us at Grandma's?” And Chaim said, “I'm going back home because I have to work. And also wait for Mom in case she comes back.”

 

AT HIS MOTHER'S HOUSE THE CHILDREN
made a beeline for the living room and plopped down on the carpet, opposite the television, because it was already on, loudly, with an animated movie. She closed the kitchen door behind them and asked him, in their language, “What happened?” and Chaim said, “We're going away.” In the white nightshirt she napped in, which exposed her thin arms, spotted with bruises, and wearing gray socks, she looked older than she had during the holiday. The long days with the children exhausted her. The tea she prepared him was very sweet, as always, sweetened with three packs of Sweet'N Low. She waited for him to continue. He didn't tell anyone the entire truth, only parts of it, and to everyone a different part—to the children, to the police inspector, and even to her he told only a part, even though he had no one else close. He would need her for another two or three days, no more. He said to her, “Someone put a suitcase with a bomb in it next to Shalom's daycare and the police suspect me. I was there today for questioning,” and she stared at him in disbelief.

“Why you?”

“Because of what happened with the teacher. She gave them my name. Apparently she thinks it's me. I can't imagine what she told them exactly.”

“When did they put it there?”

“A week ago.”

“And now they've called you in?”

Only she understood how cruel this was, and asked the unnecessary question because she had nothing else to say. There was a closeness between them that was unusual between a parent and a grown child, perhaps because he'd married at an advanced age and for many years she had been his sole confidante. She knew him better than anyone else. His misfortunes. The doors that always slammed in his face. “When good luck sees us, it continues on to some other place,” she used to say to him when he was still a boy. He didn't answer her question.

She said, “You were there today? This morning? Why didn't you call to tell me?” and he said, “I didn't have time.”

The police inspector had called him a little before noon, when he was about to finish his rounds at the Ministry of the Interior and the Tax Authority. In the days since, he thought about the possibility that they'd call him in, even though he didn't know for certain if an investigation was being conducted. A few sandwiches remained, and he planned on going to garages and workshops in the area, but he told the detective that he would come to his office immediately. Should he have tried to postpone the meeting? At that moment he'd thought that putting it off would raise suspicion and that immediate compliance was best.

The detective said to him on the phone that he would like to gather evidence in connection to the bomb that was placed next to the daycare.

All that he had to do was tell the truth.

On the way to the station he again told himself that he had nothing to fear. It was just a bit of bad luck. He thought that if he were able to imagine that the interrogation was a conversation of sorts with a radio host, he would be able to answer calmly and sound relaxed.

The police detective was kind, but a few minutes after the start of the interrogation Chaim understood that he suspected him of placing the suitcase. At first, perhaps in order to confuse him, the detective asked him general questions about Shalom's daycare—if there were any unusual events at the daycare, if Chaim noticed a suspicious man in the area—but then he changed direction and asked for his opinion of the teacher and if he was aware of any disputes between her and one of the parents. Chaim said no. Something in the way the detective asked the question implied that he had been updated on the details of the incident with the teacher, and the detective's next question confirmed this.

His mother asked, “And what did you say?” and he answered, “I told him what happened. He obviously knew.”

After the interrogation it seemed to him that he'd acted wisely when he didn't deny things and tried only to minimize their importance. He told the detective that there was an argument with the teacher and that he made a mistake when he threatened her. The detective tried to put words in his mouth, asked if he thought the teacher abused the children, perhaps abused Shalom, and he denied it.

“So there's a chance they'll lay off you now, no?”

“He asked me afterward about what I did on the day when they placed the suitcase. And he asked questions about Jenny.”

His mother got up and opened the refrigerator.

That was the moment in the interrogation when Chaim understood that it was no longer possible to simply wait.

His mother arranged four plates on the table and set a pot on the stove and he said that he wasn't staying to eat.

“And what did you say about her?” she asked, and he said, “That she was traveling.”

“Wouldn't it be better if you told them how she died already? Perhaps they'll understand.”

Chaim brought his fist down on the empty plate in front of him and his mother was alarmed.

 

ON THE WAY BACK TO HOLON
he again felt a weakness in his arms, and understood that this was because of his mother. The palms of his hands hung limp on the steering wheel and the road disappeared from before his eyes at times. She said little after he told her that the detective had asked about Jenny and after he blew up at her. The few questions that she asked escaped from her mouth with an undertone of despair. He needed strength from her, but she no longer had strength to give. She was afraid almost like him, perhaps more. Instead of advising him, she asked, “So what will you do?” and he answered, “I'll go away for a few days. Until they find who placed the suitcase.”

“That's a good idea. And what about the children?”

“They'll travel with me. I just need this evening and tomorrow to get organized.”

Afterward he told her that he planned to call the teacher and apologize—maybe that would help and she'd get the police to lay off him—and his mother nodded. “Talk nice to her. Maybe you should sit down with her.”

“I thought of doing it over the telephone. But if she wants to meet, I'll go.”

Before he left, she went into her bedroom and removed the brown envelope from the underwear drawer. She asked how much he needed, and for the first time in a while he didn't refuse. He just said, “As much as you can spare.” At home he tucked the money into a leather briefcase he hid in the dresser, behind the towels. Now he had six thousand dollars and more than twenty thousand shekels.

The next stages in the plan were packing and searching.

He went up to the storage space and found the old suitcase behind the fan. Wiped the dust off it, inside and out, and arranged three pairs of pants, three button-down shirts, three pairs of underwear, two undershirts, and a sweater inside it. At this point he still didn't know where they would go. Afterward he brought clothing from the children's room, for Ezer mainly short-sleeved shirts because he didn't like wearing long ones, and for Shalom some warm shirts as well. And without yet knowing why, he added to the suitcase some of Jenny's clothes that had remained in the closet.

Stickers from a previous trip were turning yellow on the suitcase, and when he removed them he saw that they were from the flight for the wedding.

He hadn't flown since, and that was only the third time he had ever flown in his life. Afterward Jenny flew to the Philippines one other time, when they threatened her with separation.

She was much more used to traveling than he, and in the giant airport she acted quite at home. The security guard asked them in English what the purpose of their journey was and she simply said, “To get married.”
*
After passport inspection, she ran toward the conveyor belt in order to have time to shop at the duty-free. She bought two vials of perfume and a belt for herself, perfume for his mother, and a camera for the two of them, a wedding gift, so he would be able to take pictures of her in Cyprus. Now he opened her drawer in the closet and found the envelope with the pictures. He still hadn't come across the beaded necklace anywhere that Ezer said he saw. He didn't understand why it was important to him to find it. After their conversation the night before, he went back and looked for the necklace in the bathroom, in the cupboard, under the bed. Jenny's passport was no longer in the drawer, neither was her temporary identification card. That was the place where she kept the pills, before he discovered them. There was also the copy of the New Testament that she hid and the clear bag with the letters that her sister sent to her from Berlin along with two old photos of her father and mother and a shabby crucifix, braided from a bamboo stem. The wedding pictures were all that he found in the envelope, and he looked at them now, maybe for the first time.

A picture from the airport, a moment before the flight: he's sitting in a chair in the waiting area near their gate, with their bags gathered around him.

The flight was very short and from the beginning he felt nauseated. He told her it was good that they didn't fly to the Philippines to get married, as she wanted at first.

Outside the small airport in Larnaca, where he felt more comfortable for some reason, stood the minibus, and to his disappointment it became clear to Chaim that it wasn't waiting just for them. The driver was named Agapitos, and he was young and skinny and very energetic. In one of the pictures he's hugging Jenny and another woman from the group. Agapitos was a motormouth and talked mainly with the women. His shirt was open and his chest was tanned and smooth, and Chaim thought he was a homosexual but was embarrassed to ask Jenny if she thought so as well. Agapitos patiently explained to them that they were waiting for five couples from Israel. While driving he briefed the passengers: they would be brought straight to the city hall in Larnaca, and that was where their ceremonies would be held, one after the other, in the mayor's office. The order of the marriages was set in advance by the company that organized the marriage deals and it would not be possible to change it. A Russian woman who sat behind them asked her future husband to see if she wouldn't have an opportunity to shower and change clothes, and Agapitos said, “Clothes, yes; shower, no,” but apart from this it seemed to Chaim that no one spoke during the short trip from the airport to the city center other than Jenny and a much younger Filipino woman who sat in front of them.