Authors: David Grossman
Be My Knife (51 page)
It is the baby in me who is keeping me from sleep (no, it is the woman in me).
Strange how this spiritual mess translates into my body language.
But
you don’t deserve to hear about my body.
I don’t think anyone has ever insulted it in this way, and I just can’t understand how it is that when I felt more womanly than I ever had in my life, you didn’t respond.
But
you don’t deserve to hear about my body.
I don’t think anyone has ever insulted it in this way, and I just can’t understand how it is that when I felt more womanly than I ever had in my life, you didn’t respond.
Did you hear it, Yair?
Just now on the five o’clock news—they just announced that it will start raining tomorrow morning!
Just now on the five o’clock news—they just announced that it will start raining tomorrow morning!
“We finally have good news,” said the newscaster, and my heart started beating insanely fast inside me.
Instead of taking a pill, I quickly dialed your Rukhama (we’ve already become a little friendly, you see), and I asked her to send me someone, urgently, it’s an emergency.
Instead of taking a pill, I quickly dialed your Rukhama (we’ve already become a little friendly, you see), and I asked her to send me someone, urgently, it’s an emergency.
So this is it, isn’t it?
Our last chance.
The last words.
The end of the story you began writing for us eight and something months ago.
We didn’t even have a full pregnancy.
Our last chance.
The last words.
The end of the story you began writing for us eight and something months ago.
We didn’t even have a full pregnancy.
My hands have started to shake; how many minutes do I have left?
Ten?
Nine?
Is anyone manning the guillotine—has the blade fallen yet?
Ten?
Nine?
Is anyone manning the guillotine—has the blade fallen yet?
I didn’t even get a book ready.
If only I could meet your eyes now, so I could see inside you and then tell you what I see.
If only I could meet your eyes now, so I could see inside you and then tell you what I see.
I see a man who is not a man.
A boy who is not a boy.
I see a man whose maturity and masculinity are only a scab that has hardened, sealing over a boy’s wound.
A boy who is not a boy.
I see a man whose maturity and masculinity are only a scab that has hardened, sealing over a boy’s wound.
You yourself once wrote it on an envelope: “Scabbing wind.”
(You were still Wind then.) I remember thinking that the scab had hardened directly over the point that connects man and boy in you, a place that is not alive, and at the same time not dead.
(You were still Wind then.) I remember thinking that the scab had hardened directly over the point that connects man and boy in you, a place that is not alive, and at the same time not dead.
(He has yet to reach the curve into the forest, your biker.
He’s a little slower than usual, I think.
Perhaps he’s a new one.
Very well.
Let him drive slowly, slowly, delayed along the way … A large, heavy cloud is hanging above the forest.)
He’s a little slower than usual, I think.
Perhaps he’s a new one.
Very well.
Let him drive slowly, slowly, delayed along the way … A large, heavy cloud is hanging above the forest.)
From letter to letter I felt something growing in me, something within my strength to do, and it is inextricably connected to you.
It wasn’t a coincidence that I was the woman you addressed, because with your sharp intuition, you grasped that I could melt this scab away, until the child, your enlightened twin, could be exposed.
From there, perhaps you would be able to go back to being the man you are, the one you were meant to be.
Who is this man?
You will probably never allow me to discover him.
I can only imagine him as everything together, man and boy, man and woman, alive and dead; a lot of things and people at the same time, without the violent, artificial separation you create in yourself.
It wasn’t a coincidence that I was the woman you addressed, because with your sharp intuition, you grasped that I could melt this scab away, until the child, your enlightened twin, could be exposed.
From there, perhaps you would be able to go back to being the man you are, the one you were meant to be.
Who is this man?
You will probably never allow me to discover him.
I can only imagine him as everything together, man and boy, man and woman, alive and dead; a lot of things and people at the same time, without the violent, artificial separation you create in yourself.
To me, you are the most yourself in that place where all your souls touch one another, mix and mingle, with no separation.
When I met you there, I was instantly filled with you, my body and my soul spoke directly to you, above your words, which I didn’t always like; because it was there that you truly excited me, filled me with delight, hurt me and pitied me.
When you allowed me, for those brief moments, to be there with you, I became aroused in a way I never had been by a man, yes, by a
gever
.
gever
.
Did you feel it?
It’s happening.
I suddenly got hot and cold at the same time, and can, in all my cells, truly feel you standing in front of me, so close, as if you were on the other side of my door.
It’s happening.
I suddenly got hot and cold at the same time, and can, in all my cells, truly feel you standing in front of me, so close, as if you were on the other side of my door.
No, I will not delude myself.
But it has been completely quiet outside for a few minutes now.
Not a leaf moving.
I am terrified to lift the pen off the page, I can feel your eyes hanging on my lips.
What do you want me to say?
What can I say that I haven’t said already?
What is there left to say in words?
Not a leaf moving.
I am terrified to lift the pen off the page, I can feel your eyes hanging on my lips.
What do you want me to say?
What can I say that I haven’t said already?
What is there left to say in words?
There are steps outside, coming up the stairs to the balcony.
Yair, if I have one wish left, I wish, I pray, I beg for all these thousands of words to now turn into a body.
Yair, if I have one wish left, I wish, I pray, I beg for all these thousands of words to now turn into a body.
With love,
Miriam
Miriam
And on Thursday morning, when the clouds sank into the valley of Beit Zayit and practically sat down on the house, and the rain didn’t come, and didn’t come—on that morning, at exactly half past nine, he called
I asked if it was she, if this was Miriam
And I knew it was him, before he even opened his mouth.
I heard him breathing heavily and almost couldn’t breathe myself
I heard him breathing heavily and almost couldn’t breathe myself
Miriam, is it you?
Yes, yes, it’s me, yes … and there was a very long silence, and our quick breaths, and I thought he could hear my heart beating
Just a minute, what did I want to tell you
And everything that was, and was not, between us.
All these wild months started melting in my chest
All these wild months started melting in my chest
Listen, it’s not at all what you think
I’m not thinking about anything.
Who could think?
His voice was thick.
He sounded as if he had just emerged from the forest
Who could think?
His voice was thick.
He sounded as if he had just emerged from the forest
I just have to ask you something, something small
And was wounded by the battle he had with himself before calling
Are you home alone?
Yes, I’m alone
Look, this has nothing to do with—with that, with us, is that clear?
What, with what remaining strength I had, I asked him, What are you telling me?
It’s about Ido, about him, not us, not you and me, I mean, and I started to tell her what had happened that morning
But wait, speak more slowly, please
We’ve been having some problems with him lately
Slow down, I can’t understand you when you talk like this, explain it to me again, what happened to Ido?
The name of his child on my tongue
The name of his child on my tongue
He is outside
What do you mean?
Outside where?
Outside where?
His voice lowered until he was almost growling.
I could make out only fragments of what he was saying: earlier that morning, he and his wife had some kind of fight with the child
I could make out only fragments of what he was saying: earlier that morning, he and his wife had some kind of fight with the child
He isn’t even five and a half, and stubborn as a mule
I wonder who he got it from, I thought
No, no, no!
He is far more stubborn than I am, and certainly more so than my wife.
He is stubborn in a way that is from another planet.
She has a nice voice, not at all as I had imagined, it’s very young.
And Maya—that’s my wife, Maya
He is far more stubborn than I am, and certainly more so than my wife.
He is stubborn in a way that is from another planet.
She has a nice voice, not at all as I had imagined, it’s very young.
And Maya—that’s my wife, Maya
Yes, I know.
His wife and his son and him
His wife and his son and him
Say, are you too busy, do you mind hearing this—
Mind—a mind was something I did not have at that moment
I mean, do you have the patience—
Tell me everything
You don’t need everything, the details aren’t important
There he goes, blowing hot and cold in the same familiar way, it’s in his voice as well
She pounces on every word of mine, there was still some breathing space in between the letters, and now she practically exhales on my every inhale
It was silent between us for a moment, as if we were both completely exhausted by our short conversation
Listen.
I’ll keep things short.
This morning he got dressed slowly again, just to drive us crazy, and Maya said she wouldn’t wait for him today, she has been late to work all week because of him
I’ll keep things short.
This morning he got dressed slowly again, just to drive us crazy, and Maya said she wouldn’t wait for him today, she has been late to work all week because of him
He stuttered, breathing hard, and shot out a round of words that sounded completely irrelevant to me
And we had decided earlier that if he would not get dressed on time this morning, she should simply go and leave him behind, and that way we could give him a little scare, a good dose of his own medicine
My soul quickly expanded and went out to him, for the way in which he set himself up for defeat
because I could be late to work today, Thursdays are the days for our weekly meetings
At work?
At the bookshop, the Book Bunk?
At the bookshop, the Book Bunk?
Yes, yes, with books, I was annoyed to hear my name for my business from her mouth.
Her familiarity with my life irritated the hell out of me, how she clearly enjoyed showing off, oh, she knows all the dirt on me, it was so female and flustered, where was the nobility I had associated with her, why did I call her anyway
Her familiarity with my life irritated the hell out of me, how she clearly enjoyed showing off, oh, she knows all the dirt on me, it was so female and flustered, where was the nobility I had associated with her, why did I call her anyway
I pictured him at his office for a moment, between the thousands of books, surrounded by people coming to search for a book there; he is running around, quick, spreading out his enthusiasm, filling every pocket of air in the room
At least once a day one person rises from the stacks of books and comes over to me; you should see the smile on his face when he shows me the book he has been searching for, for years; it’s almost always something he read as a child—I think it’s the only thing that can bring that kind of light into someone’s eyes.
My private name for it is “Miriam’s Light,” that’s what I call it, tell her, no
My private name for it is “Miriam’s Light,” that’s what I call it, tell her, no
We were silent together
Having several conversations with her at once, I wonder whether the phone company will charge for all of them
We breathed together
To make things short, do you hear me
An unknown noise, it was the whispering sound of the cigarette he held in his mouth, he sucked on it, and it, as if it had a life of its own, kept breathing out a bit after he did
We concluded that after he gives in, apologizes, and gets dressed, I will drive him to kindergarten; today we decided to really teach him a lesson
His voice evened out for a moment, and immediately took distance from me; some noise interfered with the connection, perhaps it was because of the heavy clouds
We have some interference on the connection because I’m walking around the house with the cordless, I have to watch him—can you even hear me
I’m not sure
I’ll try to talk from the kitchen
Their kitchen
What did you say?
I didn’t say anything
How is it now?
It’s good now, where are you?
Where are you?
I’m home …
She truly does have a surprising voice, very young, fresh and quick, not at all what I imagined, she skips over syllables
I found myself smiling, that story of his didn’t sound so terribly serious, it was even a little weak as far as excuses go
So this is it, the situation: Maya left and he ran out after her, half naked, his coat open, because he suddenly realized that today we were serious about it
From the first moment of our conversation, he sounded as if he had no clue what the next sentence to come out of his mouth would be, and I used my gravest voice and asked him what the problem was now
Don’t you understand?
He has to learn that you can’t be smart with us and he has to say he’s sorry
He has to learn that you can’t be smart with us and he has to say he’s sorry
His voice contracted again, the living contact with his excitement aroused me even more, and I knew he was able to excite himself so that he would believe any story he invented, and I almost yelled at him, Come, come, enough with your stories and your excuses
I shut the door in his face, can you understand me; that has never happened to us, and he was quite amazed by it, a bit shocked, I think
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