All Backs Were Turned (5 page)

“He's such a contrary bastard he even says his prayers at night and not in the morning,” Dov said. “He does everything he can to make people hate him. And he quarrels with everybody, even God.” He pounded the wall with his fist. “Let us sleep! Maybe you don't need your rest, but others do!”

They heard the old man's steps coming down the hall. Dov jumped up, picked up a chair from the floor, and lifted it over his head. Israel threw himself against him. The old man entered the room and pointed at Dov with his hand entwined up to the shoulder with a leather strap from his phylacteries.

“I would listen to you, son,” he said in his shrill, old man's voice, “if you were a man. But you're not. I don't know what it is you lack, but you must be lacking something if your wife has left you. If you want something from me or your brother while you're in this house, ask. Never tell us what to do.”

He left, closing the door softly.

L
ITTLE
D
OV DROVE SLOWLY; IT WAS DARK NOW ALTHOUGH
the moon was still out, suspended over the mountain range—the desert lay shrouded in darkness and quiet, without light, without sound, and yet they could still smell it, smell the invisible waves of heat it sent out tirelessly. He drove toward the beach, swerving to the right a little awkwardly and too sharply whenever a car came from the opposite direction.

“Do you want to swim, Dov?” Esther asked.

He turned to her; it seemed to him that he could see her profile in the dark—the high forehead, the short, straight nose, the strong neck. “No, I don't,” he said. “I didn't say anything about swimming.”

“Dov,” she said, “we did it twice already today. Please, Dov, no more.”

The right-hand wheels rasped against the sand as he pulled her to him. “Did we really? I have a bad memory, Esther. Like all men who work too hard.”

“Please, I just can't,” she said.

“You won't know that for sure until you try.”

Near the airport he turned left off the highway. They began bouncing up and down as the jeep made its way over the rough terrain. Esther caught his arm.

“No, Esther,” he said. “Put your hands around my neck and hug me.”

“Yes,” she said. She did what he asked, but even in the darkness she felt embarrassed.

Little Dov stopped being aware of the smell of the sea: he inhaled only the smell of her skin, gentle and strong like the scent of fresh bread. He felt her breath on his neck, hot and clean like a child's. Unable to go on driving, he stopped the jeep, jumped out, and held out his hand to her. “Come.”

“There are people here, Dov.”

“Don't be ashamed, Esther. You're pretty and clean, and you smell like fresh bread.”

He knelt on the sand and so did she, then he lay down next to her and started peeling off her dress and her swimsuit.

“You're like an animal, Dov,” she said. “It's really a miracle that you can speak and read. And that you have a kind heart. Yes, you're an animal.”

“And you're my wife, Esther, and I love you,” he said. “Do you think many men love their wives? Think about it, Esther.”

He could feel her hands pushing his belly away; weak, hot hands that couldn't put up much resistance.

“Dov,” she said. “Dov, I hurt all over inside. If you really love me—”

“Don't worry. When you get hot and moist, it won't hurt.”

“But I'll scream, Dov. You know I always scream. I can't control myself.”

He got up, unsteady on his legs, and went to the jeep. He pulled the starter and the engine roared into life.

“Now you can scream all you want, Esther. All you want.”

He felt her hands tighten on his back, and then a great joy began to mount in him, he was getting closer and closer to something he could never reach and where he could never stay, and then his head was empty of all thought and he heard the sound of his own teeth grinding sand. He lay exhausted, feeling her hands on his face, brushing it clean.

“Esther,” he said after a while, looking at her face, now pale and tired. “You know how to make me happy. And you always will.”

Suddenly he heard footsteps. He got up and lit a cigarette, feeling the weight and awkwardness of his own hand.

“Dov?” someone said in the dark. “Anything wrong? You need help?”

“No, I don't need help, damn you.”

“Then why is your engine running?”

“That's what it's for. I didn't invent it. Now leave me alone, okay?”

The man went away. Little Dov sat down next to Esther; she gazed up at him and watched his crooked mouth inhale the smoke.

“Why is your mouth always crooked, Dov?”

“When I was a kid, I fell and busted my septum. A surgeon could have fixed it, but my father wouldn't hear of it. I had to twist my mouth to breathe normally. My nose healed with time, but this leer remained.” He tossed the cigarette butt away and lay down beside her; the sand was as hot as during the day. He started to move his hands over her body and again felt his jaws begin to clench.

“No, darling,” she said. “I can't. I'm hurting all over inside.”

“Esther,” he said quietly, “go into the sea and swim around a bit. And then come back to me. I can't throw my brother out. And I don't want to make love to you with him there.” He reached for her swimsuit and helped her put it on. “Now go for a swim.”

“Dov,” Esther said.

“Yes, baby?”

“I don't know if I should tell you this, but I'm afraid.”

“Of what, Esther?”

“Your brother.”

“Don't be afraid of him,” he said. “He's not a bad man. He's unhappy, that's all.”

“People have been saying so many bad things about him.”

“That's not his fault. People often can't tell the difference between badness and misfortune. Though I don't blame them for it.”

He turned off the jeep's engine and they started walking toward the sea, passing through hard, invisible walls of heat the day had left behind. Then Little Dov sat down in his boat, which he always beached in this spot, and watched Esther swim quickly out of sight; she was a good, fast swimmer—young, long-armed, and long-legged.

“Enjoying yourself with the little woman, Dov?” suddenly somebody asked.

Little Dov turned around; there was a man in the motorboat beached alongside his boat and propped on two stays; the man was hammering something.

“Are you trying to insult me?” Little Dov asked.

“God forbid!” the man said. “It's enough that you feel insulted just because we fish in the same bay.”

“You don't know how to fish,” Little Dov said. “You try, but what of it? If you didn't have a motorboat, you'd never catch anything.”

“You too will have a motorboat one day,” the other said soothingly. “Come here and have a drink with me.”

“Okay,” Little Dov said. He jumped out of his boat and went over. Accepting the bottle and the mug the man handed to him, he poured himself a drink, tossed it down, then placed the bottle on the boat's wooden rail. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I couldn't sleep in the house,” the man said. “I don't have air-conditioning yet and it's suffocating inside. So I thought to myself, why not take a blanket and try sleeping in the boat? But I get bored when there's nothing to do, so I started spiking these shoes.” He heaved into sight the one he was holding—a heavy army shoe with spikes in it. “This boat rocks terribly, Dov, whenever I take it away from shore. Maybe if I drive spikes into the soles I can stand better on my feet.”

“If you had a normal boat, it wouldn't rock so hard,” Little Dov said, pouring himself another drink.

“You're right. But then I wouldn't be making as much as I do. Look at these shoes; nobody gave them to me. I had to earn the money and then go and buy them. And I had to pay twelve pounds for them here in Eilat, even though in Jerusalem or Haifa the same kind of shoes cost only seven or eight. I didn't come to Eilat because I wanted to, Dov.”

“Lemme see the shoe,” Little Dov said.

He took the shoe and weighed it in his hands for a few seconds before giving it back. “It looks like a shark's mouth,” he said. “The problem is that none of you guys came here of your own free will. The police sent you here, and I know why. Everyone knows why. You, Yehuda, were caught stealing. Your friend Moses was banished for smuggling and for killing two Arabs on a street in Jerusalem five years ago. Supposedly in self-defense. As for that bastard who's your third partner, God only knows what he did, but he sure deserved a cooler place than Eilat.”

“God's not the only one who knows,” Yehuda said. “He himself also knows why he got sent here; he butchered a certain bloke who got in the way of his business. He's very strong, Dov. Problem is, he doesn't know his own strength. I worry about him sometimes.”

Little Dov saw Esther come out of the water and start walking slowly in their direction across the stretch of white sand.

“I'll be off now,” he said to the man. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Hey, Dov!” Yehuda said. “One more thing. Don't play too much bouncy-bouncy with the little woman. Conserve your energy; you'll need it tomorrow for rowing your boat.”

“Don't worry about me,” Little Dov said. “I've got energy to spare!” Suddenly he spun around, grabbed the man by the neck, and dragged him out of the boat. He hit him twice in the face with his fist, and when the man fell to the ground, he kicked him in the head. “This has nothing to do with your fishing here or your motorboats,” he said. “You insulted my wife.”

Yehuda rose slowly to his feet. He touched his head with his hands and then looked at them: they were wet with blood. “Dov Ben Dov,” he said under his breath, “you don't even know, boy, how much I pity you.”

“Your shoe,” Little Dov said, kicking with fury the shoe lying in the sand. “So you can stand on your feet, you fucking thief! Come, Esther!”

They got into the jeep and drove back to the dark highway leading to the airport.

“Just like your brother,” Esther said. “He can't control himself either.” She moved closer to him. “I don't want to lose you, Dov. Promise me you won't fight with any of those men again.”

He didn't answer her; he drove in silence, his hands clenched on the steering wheel, and it was then that she first noticed how strongly he and his brother resembled each other in everything they did; the way they talked, the way they moved u2026 But she was too tired to think it through; she fell asleep with her head on his shoulder and didn't wake up even when he gathered her in his arms and carried her inside. After placing her on the bed, he turned around and gazed at his brother and Israel sleeping in one corner; he listened for a while to their heavy, tired breathing, then he undressed Esther and covered her with a sheet. But the hot body lying alongside his own prevented him from falling asleep; after three wakeful hours, when the night was nearing its close, he covered Esther's mouth with his hand and took her quickly and in silence. Afterward he drew the sheet, wet and heavy with his sweat, over his own body.

“Esther, don't be angry at me for doing it in his presence,” he said to her just before dozing off. “He's my brother and I love him the same as you.”

L
ITTLE
D
OV WOKE AT SIX IN THE MORNING; HE GOT
up quietly, without waking Esther, covered her with the sheet, and, shoes in hand, tiptoed to the front door to pick up the bottle of milk and bring it to the kitchen. He put the water on to boil for coffee and hunched over the stove, his shoes in one hand, the morning paper in the other, waiting for the kettle to start rumbling. The water was beginning to boil when his brother appeared.

“Sleep well?” Little Dov asked him.

“I took some sleeping pills I found,” Dov said. “For a man who rarely sleeps I slept like a log. Only my head is still woozy from the pills.”

“That'll pass when you have some coffee,” Little Dov said. “Did you see a doctor?”

“What for? Is a doctor gonna slip into my bed at night and play with me, so I'll fall asleep more easily?” He poured himself a cup of coffee and carried it over to the kitchen table. He looked out the window at the red, dusty earth and the bay reflecting the sun; its glare was so bright his eyes began to hurt. “Aren't you late today?” he said. “What about all those stories you hear about fishermen getting up before dawn?”

“I overslept,” Little Dov said. “I didn't set the alarm clock so it wouldn't wake you.”

“It's not the alarm clock but my jeep that's to blame,” Dov said. “I won't let you borrow it again. You need your rest. I know you, sweetie. You don't like to waste the night on sleep.”

“I love her,” his brother said. “That's why I married her.”

“Good,” Dov said. “I'll drive you to your boat. Then I'll go to the airport. What time does the first plane land?”

“Seven sharp. But there won't be any tourists on it. They catch later planes. Or they take the bus from Be'er Sheva.”

“Doesn't matter,” Dov said. “I'll talk to this guy who's supposed to help me.”

“Can we leave right now, Dov?”

“Yes. Let me just find my sunglasses.”

He got up and went to their room. Israel was still sleeping; he stepped over him, picked up the canvas bag, set it on the table, and began to go through it. Finally, he found a pair of cheap sunglasses and placed them on his forehead. He walked over to the bed and shook Esther gently awake. She opened her eyes and covered herself with the sheet.

“Esther,” he said softly, “tell Israel I'll be back around ten. Tell him I've gone to the airport to talk to that guy who's supposed to help us.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “But why don't you wake him up and tell him yourself?”

He moved his mouth closer to her ear. “I want him to sleep as long as he can. You fall asleep more easily than we do. You have a cleaner conscience.”

The two brothers left the house and climbed into the jeep. They drove fast along the empty highway. When they were about to turn left toward the beach, they saw an army truck coming at them from the direction of the airport; Dov braked with his foot, but the jeep didn't slow down; he had to use the hand brake to stop the car.

“What's wrong, Dov?”

“Brakes,” Dov said. “I had some problems with them yesterday, soon after Be'er Sheva. I guess there's air in them. The guy who loaned the jeep to me should've warned me.”

“Is it something serious?”

“No. I'll drop you off, and then go to the garage. It should take no more than an hour to fix them.”

“If this jeep was yours, there'd be no such surprises,” Little Dov said.

“Sure. Any fool can drive his own car.”

They were now going along the wet white sand close to the water's edge; the sea was peaceful and still, but so bright Dov's eyes began to hurt again from the glare, and he had to put his sunglasses on. When he felt his brother touch his arm, he turned his head.

“Look,” Little Dov said.

Dov stopped the jeep. Two motorboats were moving quickly away from the shore; they watched the two even white stripes of foamy water which the boats left in their wake.

“I'd kill those guys if I knew how,” Little Dov said. “And then I'd go to those whores, their mothers, and tell them their sons are dead.”

Dov caught him by the shoulders and pulled him close.

“Let them be,” he said. “Nothing should happen to them as long as I'm in Eilat. Because if something does, the police will come and get me, not you. Swear that you won't do anything.”

His brother didn't answer.

“Swear that you won't do anything,” Dov said again. “Or I'll leave this goddamn town today.”

“Okay, I swear,” Little Dov said, breaking free and getting out of the car. “What do you want me to swear by? By our Pop, that crazy old fool? Or by your wife that you still love even though she's big with another man's bastard?”

Dov regarded him in silence. There was a grimace on his face, and he was breathing hard through his open mouth.

“Don't do anything while I'm here,” he said quietly. “And remember that every man's wife can be turned into a whore. Sometimes it doesn't take much urging. She'll do it herself when things between her and her husband really start falling apart.”

“I'm sorry, Dov,” his brother said. “You should've hit me.”

“Come back safely.”

He made a U-turn; the wheels got stuck in the sand, so he reversed gears to free them, spraying sand all over Little Dov, who stood rooted with his head bowed, like a child expecting to be hit. Dov saw his brother's blond head in the rearview mirror until he reached the highway. He drove to the airport and left the jeep in the parking lot on the other side of the runway from the barracks. He crossed the runway, feeling sweat gather on his back and soak his shirt through. The man he wanted to see was sitting at a desk, breathing heavily; his face was contorted as if he were dying, even though three electric fans stood in front of him, filling the room with their soft, gentle hum.

“Good day,” Dov said. He picked up one of the fans and directed the stream of cool air at his face.

“It's only your second day in Eilat; soon you'll learn that days are never good around here,” the man said.

“Do you have the passenger list?” Dov asked.

“The plane will land at ten-twenty. They told me over the phone there should be some passengers on board.” Suddenly he jumped up from his chair, jerked the fan out of Dov's hand, and aimed it at his own sweaty face. “I hope they'll like it here. I hope they'll like it here more than I do.”

“I'd like to post some notices,” Dov said. “You know: jeep and driver for hire, something like that. Maybe it'll catch somebody's eye.”

“You believe that?”

“No,” Dov said. “But I'd like to do it nonetheless. Two or three notices, if the authorities won't have any objections.”

“I'm sure they'll have plenty of objections,” the man said. “Lucky for you, no authorities know exactly where this airport is. All the equipment we have is one windsock and one fire extinguisher. Too bad no plane has ever gone up in flames here yet; if one did, things would improve quickly.”

“Okay then, I'll be here at ten. Me or my partner.”

“Oh, so you have a partner in this wonderful business? Now all you need is a secretary who speaks six languages.”

“Just find me some tourists,” Dov said. “Somebody must come here for pleasure, for god's sake! You'll get your share. Now I have to go and get my brakes fixed.” He turned around.

“Hey, Dov,” the man suddenly called out after him.

“Yeah?”

“You can put up all the notices you want, but if anybody from management asks, I'll say I knew nothing, understand?”

“Sure,” Dov said. “I understand. You came here from Europe leaving behind a herring stall or some equally important business. And now you blame Moses for not consulting you as to where to go. Thing is he was ashamed to enter any city leading a rabble of men like you. That's why he went out into the desert.”

“You're a Sabra, aren't you?” the man asked.

“That's right,” Dov said. “A Sabra.”

He bought two cans of corned beef in a store opposite the airport barracks and drove off to the garage. The owner of the garage was standing in the shade, drinking a bottle of beer.

“My brakes don't work,” Dov told him. “What should I do?”

“Sell that jeep for scrap metal and ride around in a taxi.”

“Listen, wise guy, I'm not feeling well. My head hurts and my eyes are jumping out of their sockets from the glare. So I'll ask you again: what should I do?”

“Write to Elizabeth Taylor,” the owner said. “I hear she's endowed a theater in Tel Aviv. Maybe she'll want to help you too. She might even adopt you.”

Dov grabbed the bottle the man was holding, tore it out of his grasp and splashed beer in his face; the man jumped back into the shade.

“A little work will do you good and your wife will love you all the more for it,” Dov said. “I need that car in two hours. And I want those brakes fixed so good they'll last me until winter.”

“I can't use the pit now,” the owner of the garage said. “Some men are in it. Go talk to them. They should be finishing soon.”

Dov tossed the beer bottle back to him; the man caught it deftly. Dov walked into the garage. When his eyes adapted to the dark, he saw three men and an army GMC truck parked over the pit. The left back wheel was off; one of the men was placing a new bearing in the exposed axle, using a piece of pipe and a wooden hammer.

“Will you be finishing soon?” Dov asked.

The kneeling man turned his face up to him; there were bandages on it, and one of his eyes was swollen. “Yes,” he said. “If only this goddamn pit wasn't so shallow! I would have finished long ago if there was a proper car hoist here.”

“Is there any other garage in town?” Dov asked.

“No. Be grateful for this dump. At least you can grease the chassis once in a while. My problem is I can't fit my body into a pit this small.” There was a proud note in his voice. “I'm too fat and too tall.”

“Maybe you're not too tall,” Dov said. “Maybe you're a short chap, only your legs are long.”

The man looked at him again. “Yeah, maybe you're right,” he said. “You're Dov Ben Dov, aren't you?”

Dov opened one of the cans of corned beef and began eating its contents with his knife. “That could be me,” he said, pausing between bites. “Though you might have in mind my brother or my eighty-year-old father.”

“No, I mean you. I met your brother yesterday evening at the beach.”

“It must have been night.”

“What does it matter? The important thing is that we met.”

“Maybe you interrupted something he was doing?” Dov asked, and the man lifted his hand to his blackened eye. “Something he enjoys doing very much? You don't know my brother. I do. And let me tell you something: his prick is his Achilles heel.”

“It's you I wanted to speak to, not your brother.”

“What about?”

“I wanted to ask you to tell your brother that hitting people is not nice.”

“He knows that,” Dov said. He speared another piece of corned beef with his knife and shoved it into his mouth. “I've been telling him that all his life.”

“Then you agree, Dov?”

“Agree with what, old bean?”

“That it's not nice to hit people.”

“Yes,” Dov said. “Absolutely. God, this corned beef tastes awful.”

“So you've changed, Dov,” the other said. “Even though it's not easy to change when a man's turning forty.” He tossed his pipe and mallet to the ground, wiped his hands on a rag, and got to his feet. “Or maybe you haven't? Maybe you say that just because you're on parole and you don't want to get into any trouble?”

“You have a head on your shoulders, so figure it out for yourself. Thinking is difficult at first, but once you get into the habit it can be real fun.”

“I guess you haven't changed at all, Dov Ben Dov,” the man said. “That corned beef must be salty, no? You can have some of my beer.”

Dov took the offered bottle, raised it to his lips, and took a long swig. “Have you ever met me before?” he asked.

“No, but I know guys who did. In Haifa, Tel Aviv, Jerusalem.” He paused. “And even in Akko.”

“In Akko?” Dov asked.

“Yes,” the other man said. “In Akko.”

“Well, well. And what did you think of that jail?”

“I thought it was a very fine jail. Not that I'm in any hurry to get back to it; I didn't find it that special. I came to Eilat straight from there, Dov. I'm not a tourist. If I could choose a different place, I would.”

“How long do you have to stay here?”

“Five years. Five long years. Some guys start losing their hair and teeth after two years here, Dov. I'm not a young man anymore. It's hard for me to live under police supervision. We have to live peacefully, whether we like it or not. It's easy to make trouble for guys like you and me. Anybody can do it. Anybody who wants to. Any silly little thing is enough. And then the judge says: The conditional release hasn't worked so it must be revoked. That's what I'm afraid of. Many guys here in Eilat are.”

“You need to tell me this?”

“I wish your brother was like you. But he's young and hot-blooded. His young body has quickly adjusted itself to the local conditions. Five years from now he'll still have his own hair and teeth. And he doesn't even have to take any salt pills. Want some more beer, Dov?”

“Yes,” Dov said. He reached for the bottle the man held out to him, but instead of taking it, he raised his hand and touched the man's face. “What did you do? Get drunk and start counting stairs with your face?” he asked, and only then took the bottle.

“No,” the man said. “Though I wish that were true. I wish I could say that. I can't. It was your brother; he slugged me a couple of times yesterday. And I couldn't hit him back, just like you couldn't have if somebody had slugged you, right, Dov?” Big and fat, he walked up to Dov, moving with an effort, and stopped half a yard away from him, his hand raised in the air. “Right, Dov?”