Shira (44 page)

After they left the sick young woman, Shira asked Herbst, “How do you know Anita?” Herbst looked blank and asked, “Who is Anita?” She said, “Anita Brik.” Herbst said, “It’s strange, but I didn’t know her name was Anita Brik. I’ve seen her twice and talked to her, but it never occurred to me that her name was Anita Brik. Nor did it occur to me to ask her name.”

Shira laughed heartily and said, “Didn’t you tell Anita that you had read her poems? If you didn’t know her name, how did you know those were her poems?” Herbst laughed and said, “You’ve stumped me, Shira. I’m sorry not to have a proper answer. From now on, Shira, from now on I’ll be more careful and precise. I won’t cause problems. Are you pleased with me, Shira? Are you pleased with my promise?”

Herbst suddenly stopped, took out a handkerchief, wiped his brow, and said, “You put a bug up my nose.” Shira said, “You must have gotten it out by now.” Herbst said, “I got it out, and it came back.” Shira stared at him and said gently, “What’s the matter, what’s the matter?” Herbst put the handkerchief back in his pocket and said, “I ask myself, Why is she so hostile?” Shira said, “Even if I were seventy-seven times smarter, I wouldn’t know who ‘she’ is or what sort of hostility you have in mind.” Herbst lowered his voice and said, “I ask myself how you got to be so consumed with hostility toward the Hasidim.” Shira said, “Hostility? What does it have to do with hostility?” Herbst said, “Then is it love that flows from your tongue?” Shira said, “In any case, in all of Jerusalem there is no one who would say that Shira the nurse neglects any of her patients and denies them the attention they need or that she favors some patients at the expense of others.” Herbst said, “You generalize about their behavior; you are thoroughly contemptuous and disdainful. Have you never heard about their good deeds? I assume that even you know the story about the righteous man who used to get out of bed on cold winter nights, dress up like a farmer, and carry bundles of wood to the homes of needy women who were in labor.” Shira said, “So he was doing social work.” Herbst said, “But, Shira, in his time there were no social-work agencies.” Shira said, “In any case, I don’t understand why that
rebbe
had to dress up as a farmer, and so on. Couldn’t he find someone who would deliver the wood to those poor women? It would make whoever he hired to deliver the wood a little bit richer, and he could add some radish, onion, and garlic to his own meal and that of his family.” Herbst said, “Are you joking, Shira?” Shira said, “I’m not joking, but the fact is, I’m not impressed with good works that depend on tricks. I’m not especially fond of good works and commandments anyway, certainly not the ones the Orthodox live by. The way they see it, everything is a mitzvah. Fill your belly with meat, fish, bread – it’s a mitzvah. Eat greasy kugel, preceded and followed by wine – it’s a mitzvah. Slither into your wife – yet another mitzvah. So much for them and their mitzvahs, which don’t interest me.”

With a wave of her hand, Shira dismissed the subject. She had already replaced her disdainful expression with the relaxed look of a hard-working woman who has cast off workaday burdens for a while and is enjoying a leisurely stroll, relishing each step and every sight. Herbst trailed along beside her, deep in thought, reexamining ideas he had always accepted without question. Shira, who had brought this on, was also subjected to his scrutiny. Those who know their friends well and are attuned to their thinking are fortunate; their conversation is always pleasant and reassuring. But friends who suddenly express opinions we never expected to hear from them are bewildering to us as well as to themselves, as if they have been transformed, reborn in a new guise. I already mentioned that, in those dark days when Herbst stayed away from Shira, when he was in such an agitated state, he used to think uncharacteristic thoughts – thoughts to which he was unaccustomed – including thoughts about the women with whom he had studied at various universities. I mentioned that some of them had become prominent and that he was alarmed when he ran into them at scholarly meetings, talked to them again, and realized they were different from him, that they were actually female. He was upset by their existence and by the fact that they had reverted to their essential nature. The opposite was true of Shira. Shira, who had always been woman to him and nothing more, had all of a sudden assumed a spiritual aspect; she possessed thoughts and opinions. What sort of opinions? Opinions that were totally new to him. But he was uneasy, not because they were expressed in vulgar terms, not because, as I observed, those who know their friends well and are attuned to their thinking are fortunate, et cetera, but because he was in public with a strange woman and anyone who saw them together would think the worst. In any case, it was good that Tamara was traveling in Greece. If she were here, he might run into her when he was with Shira. As he walked on, pondering, he turned to Shira and said, “I have something to tell you, Shira.” Shira said, “Only one thing?” Herbst said, “For the moment, only one thing.” “And later?” Herbst suddenly had a change of heart and, feeling some sort of pang, answered, “It depends on you and your affection.” Shira said, “What is it that my lord requests?” Herbst said, “Remember the café that belonged to that fellow who sent his waitress a wedding cake? Let’s stop in and refresh ourselves with some coffee.” Shira said, “You’re such an optimist. In Jerusalem, if a man does something well, he will certainly not survive. That café is no longer his. It has changed hands several times. After losing everything, he asked his relatives in America for a certificate, which they sent. He left, and, for all we know, he is doing there what he didn’t succeed in doing here. Also, it’s Shabbat, and all the cafés are closed.” Herbst said, “What now?” Shira said, “So what now? What should we do? You’ll go to your house, and I’ll go to mine.” Seeing the gloom on Herbst’s face, Shira shifted her tone and said, “Believe me, Manfred, I would invite you to my room, but I’m tired. I was up all night, and, when I got home in the afternoon and flopped on my bed, someone rang my bell and woke me up, and after that you came. Besides, I’m not well. I’m not sick, but I’m not well either. Please don’t ask questions.” Herbst said, “Then do we have to part?” Shira said, “If you insist, I could walk with you for a while.” Herbst said, “If you’re not feeling well, how can you walk?” Shira said, “Leave that to me.” Herbst said, “I see that I’m irritating you.” Shira said, “Perhaps.” Herbst asked, “To such an extent?” Shira said, “If you really want to know, think about your words before you say them.” Herbst lowered his head and was silent.

Shira noticed and said, “I don’t mean to upset you, but you twist things just to irritate me and force me to defend myself.” Herbst said, “From here on, whenever I want to say something, I’ll ask permission first.” Shira laughed and said, “It’s not necessary to go that far.” Herbst asked sadly, “Then what do I have to do to please you?” Shira said, “What do you have to do? Don’t do anything. We’ve been walking so long that Shabbat is just about over. Unless you’ve changed your mind, let’s stop for coffee.” Herbst said, “I was hoping to take you to that café I mentioned.” Shira said, “We could go to that café.” Herbst said, “What’s the point of a café that’s been abandoned by its owner?” Shira said, “Then we’ll sit there without any point.” Herbst looked at his watch and said, “It looks to me as if we’ll have to wait God knows how long before they open the cafés. Won’t your legs begin to hurt?” Shira said, “If my legs hurt, I’ll rest later.” Herbst said, “You’re right, Shira. You’re right. But it would be good to sit somewhere in the meanwhile. Aren’t we close to your place? Wouldn’t it be a good idea to wait there?” Shira said, “That’s possible. If that’s what you would like to do, here’s the key. You can wait there.” “And you?” “Me? I’ll wait for you here or in front of the café.” Herbst said, “What will you do if I spend the night there, if I stay until tomorrow?” Shira said, “If that’s what you want, you can do just that. I doubt that you’ll be bored. There are plenty of books, not to mention that magazine. You know the one, Manfred?” Herbst said, “Look, the sun is setting. Let’s see which café opens first.” Shira said, “Whoever wants to be first will discover that half a dozen others are already open. Who are those two young people waving at you?” Herbst looked around and said, “I didn’t see anyone waving. In any case, if there was any waving, it wasn’t directed at me.” Shira said, “If you didn’t see it, how can you say it wasn’t directed at you? I suppose we could head for that café now. By the time we get there, it will be open.” As she spoke, she stopped walking. Herbst noticed and asked, “Did you want to tell me something?” Shira didn’t answer but stood watching the sun set. After a while she said, “When I see the sun setting, I’m afraid I might never see it again. Not that I’m afraid I’ll be dead tomorrow, but I’m frightened by the ugly houses being built, shutting out the view. I don’t know whose fault it is – whether it’s the architects whose sensibilities are bizarre or their clients who want ugly houses.” A little later, she added, “Manfred, you were the one who said that every person here defaces the view. I would like to add that the houses are like the people, and all the houses built in recent years are a blight. Not only are they a blight, but they conceal God’s works.” Herbst said, “Bravo, Shira. Bravo. Finally, you believe in God.” Shira said, “Can I invent a special language for myself? I was using the accepted terms.” Herbst said, “No need to apologize. On the contrary, your slip of the tongue is evidence that the devil in you is not so formidable.” Shira said, “Good, good. Now let me look.”

The sun was still setting, and it looked as if this might go on forever. Even before the eye had a chance to take in the scene, as it was now, it altered totally, and once again it seemed as if it always had been and always would be as it was now. A minute later, it altered again and became rounded, like a magic ball colored by the artist in various hues of gold, untouched by any hand, rolling and tossing itself and altering everything wherever it landed. Not only was the sky altered, but the hilltops between earth and sky – even the earth itself – took on a new look. The hilltops and the earth; each did its best. After a while, the sun made a golden puddle, into which it was then tossed. It continued to glitter, to cast its red and yellow glow through the film of sky that covered it. A little later, it disappeared, leaving no trace. The hilltops and the earth responded similarly. If not for the light of stores, theaters, and cafés, which were now open, they would have been unable to make out the earth under their feet.

Chapter fourteen

H
erbst was back in the café he had been in with Shira the night Sarah was born. The original owner had given up the café, and it had passed through many hands before being taken over by the present owner, who felt he had been cheated and was looking for a buyer to whom to sell the place, with all its equipment. Since he intended to get rid of it, he made no effort to improve it, and it was like every other café in Jerusalem. It was poorly ventilated; the chairs were uncomfortable; in some spots the light was inadequate, in others it was blinding; the waiter was never there when he was needed, and when he did appear his mind was elsewhere. With the exception of two people who were setting up a chessboard, an English soldier huddled in a corner with a Jewish girl, and a customer who was banging on the table and shouting “Waiter, waiter,” the café seemed empty. When curfews became frequent in Jerusalem, people began to hesitate to go out at night, since they couldn’t count on getting home: a curfew could suddenly be announced, and, before you could get home, the police would appear and take you to jail. As he entered the café, Herbst was reminded of his daughter. If Tamara were in Jerusalem, she might be in this café, and she would see her father with another woman. Luckily, Tamara was far away, and there wasn’t anyone in sight who knew him. After Shira chose a table, Herbst asked what she would like him to order for her. They suddenly discovered that, in addition to the people they had noticed on the way in, there were two others.

Shira whispered to Herbst, “There they are.” “What do you mean?” She whispered to him, “There are those two young men, the ones I saw waving to you.” Herbst shifted his gaze and said to Shira, “They’re my students. The short one with the dark shock of hair is sharp, like a hot pepper. It’s too bad he has to waste so much time earning money. His friend, the tall, skinny one with small, inquisitive eyes, he’s also – “ Shira interrupted, “Why not go over and say hello to them?” Herbst said, “What will you do meanwhile?” Shira said, “You won’t stay forever. I may even try to sit here and manage without you for a while.” Herbst said, “That’s right, I won’t stay with them forever, certainly not when I could be sitting with you. Still, how can I leave you alone?” Shira said, “Don’t worry about me. I promise that I’ll try to make good use of the time.” Herbst got up and went to join his students. Shira went wherever she went.

Herbst addressed them in his version of student talk: “What sort of discourse are you guys engaged in?” The small, dark-haired one said, “What are we engaged in? A thousand things, and nothing at all.” Herbst laughed and said, “I’m terrific at nothing at all; when it comes to a thousand things, I’m not so terrific. We could turn it around and say, ‘A thousand things, maybe yes; nothing at all – that’s impossible.’“ The young man continued, “We were discussing poetry and literature.” Herbst said, “You call such lofty subjects nothing at all? I don’t dare to think about them.” The tall, thin student responded, “Those are weighty subjects, but what we say about them is not very worthwhile. The words roll off our tongues in set speeches requiring very little thought, though someone like me makes the mistake of thinking everything he says originated in his own mind.” Herbst said, “Unless you think my ears are flawed, would you be willing to repeat some of your latest insights? I have often thought that, of all the secrets in the world, the most mysterious ones are the secret of language and the secret of poetry. You are probably familiar with what philosophers have said about the origins of language and the craft of poetry. I myself have done some reading in these areas. But when I disregard what I have read and respond with my heart to the marvels of language – to that which enables people to understand each other and allows philosophers to communicate their wisdom – I am awed and astounded to a degree that nothing else in the world can match. The longer I observe language, the more I regard it as the foremost gift granted to man since he appeared on the face of the earth. It gives him the power to express whatever his heart desires. However, if you end up in a place where your language is unknown and the local tongue is foreign to you, what use is speech after all? As you see, my ideas are neither profound nor novel, but my capacity for wonder is constantly renewed. Beyond language and the barriers of language lies poetry. There are so many words, an infinite number of them, that we don’t ever use. The person we call a poet appears, combines a series of words, and, instantly, each word becomes a joy and a blessing. But I came to hear new ideas, and, in the end, here I am, mouthing ancient, outdated truisms.”