Read The Book of Intimate Grammar Online
Authors: David Grossman
The Book of Intimate Grammar (47 page)
And what’s that stink coming out of you?
said Mama in a new voice, loud and impervious, when she came to wake him the following morning, and rudely, gruffly, raised the blinds before turning back to him for a better look.
You’ve had it for a couple of days already.
Notice that she’s looking straight at you, she isn’t afraid of you anymore.
And he curled up and hid his face in the pillow; what’s changed her, why is she acting strange?
She leaned over him and began to sniff suspiciously, from his feet up to his head, the way she used to sniff Grandma from behind, and suddenly she squinted.
Aron to Aron, run for your life, danger, danger, over; he’d seen that look in her eyes before, the flash of horror that time in the kitchen after the thorough cleaning when the shit came out.
Roughly she turned him over on his back, pushed away the hands he held up to guard his face, sniffed hard, then zeroed in on his nose.
You’re insane, what have you done to your nose, meshuggeneh; it was bad enough without adding this chendelach to your list; in case the blind can’t see what you are, at least they’ll be able to
smell you?
And the doctor at the first-aid station said there was no need to worry, that’s the smell you give off when something gets caught in your nasal cavities.
Did he by any chance remember accidentally sticking something small up there?
Aron only shook his head.
Aron to Aron, get out, get out, run for your life, over.
All around the station there was tumult.
They were getting the stretchers ready, packing bandages, taking an inventory of medicines.
From the corner of his eye Aron saw two seventh-graders he knew strutting around in white coats.
Everyone looked busy, as though they were hurrying to an important meeting, even the children wore that expression on their faces.
It’s a matter of a day or two before the thing starts, breathed the doctor, sticking a fine pair of tweezers into Aron’s nose and poking around.
Aha, got it, ho there, that’s in pretty deep, here it comes, we’ll force it out of you, don’t move, it might hurt for just a second, and slowly and carefully he removed the vile-smelling glob and waved it in the air, but his smile of triumph quickly vanished as he peered more closely at the glob, smudged with letters.
A boy your age, putting something up your nose, shame on you.
The doctor was aghast, tilting his head at Aron,
tsss tsss tsss,
that’s something you’d expect from a three-year-old, not a grown-up ten-year-old.
Silence.
Mama froze.
Now let her tell him, let her tell the doctor everything and the doctor will tell us what has to be done.
This was the last chance.
And maybe there was a perfectly simple solution.
An electric shock or something.
A moment of pain and it’ll be over.
Now, please, before the war starts, because afterward who’ll care?
He’s twelve, mumbled Mama, shamefaced.
Aron stared at her.
She didn’t set him straight.
And before his eyes, caught in the tweezers, waved the letter that would never arrive at its destination.
Aron to Aron, what now, over.
He winced at himself.
He had no right to complain about her.
Wasn’t he too standing here not daring to open his mouth, any more than he had when she bought him elevator shoes for his bar mitzvah.
He had said nothing to her then, and hated himself for it, for having betrayed himself.
Twelve and a half, she mumbled lamely, tucking her head between her shoulders, dark with disgrace.
said Mama in a new voice, loud and impervious, when she came to wake him the following morning, and rudely, gruffly, raised the blinds before turning back to him for a better look.
You’ve had it for a couple of days already.
Notice that she’s looking straight at you, she isn’t afraid of you anymore.
And he curled up and hid his face in the pillow; what’s changed her, why is she acting strange?
She leaned over him and began to sniff suspiciously, from his feet up to his head, the way she used to sniff Grandma from behind, and suddenly she squinted.
Aron to Aron, run for your life, danger, danger, over; he’d seen that look in her eyes before, the flash of horror that time in the kitchen after the thorough cleaning when the shit came out.
Roughly she turned him over on his back, pushed away the hands he held up to guard his face, sniffed hard, then zeroed in on his nose.
You’re insane, what have you done to your nose, meshuggeneh; it was bad enough without adding this chendelach to your list; in case the blind can’t see what you are, at least they’ll be able to
smell you?
And the doctor at the first-aid station said there was no need to worry, that’s the smell you give off when something gets caught in your nasal cavities.
Did he by any chance remember accidentally sticking something small up there?
Aron only shook his head.
Aron to Aron, get out, get out, run for your life, over.
All around the station there was tumult.
They were getting the stretchers ready, packing bandages, taking an inventory of medicines.
From the corner of his eye Aron saw two seventh-graders he knew strutting around in white coats.
Everyone looked busy, as though they were hurrying to an important meeting, even the children wore that expression on their faces.
It’s a matter of a day or two before the thing starts, breathed the doctor, sticking a fine pair of tweezers into Aron’s nose and poking around.
Aha, got it, ho there, that’s in pretty deep, here it comes, we’ll force it out of you, don’t move, it might hurt for just a second, and slowly and carefully he removed the vile-smelling glob and waved it in the air, but his smile of triumph quickly vanished as he peered more closely at the glob, smudged with letters.
A boy your age, putting something up your nose, shame on you.
The doctor was aghast, tilting his head at Aron,
tsss tsss tsss,
that’s something you’d expect from a three-year-old, not a grown-up ten-year-old.
Silence.
Mama froze.
Now let her tell him, let her tell the doctor everything and the doctor will tell us what has to be done.
This was the last chance.
And maybe there was a perfectly simple solution.
An electric shock or something.
A moment of pain and it’ll be over.
Now, please, before the war starts, because afterward who’ll care?
He’s twelve, mumbled Mama, shamefaced.
Aron stared at her.
She didn’t set him straight.
And before his eyes, caught in the tweezers, waved the letter that would never arrive at its destination.
Aron to Aron, what now, over.
He winced at himself.
He had no right to complain about her.
Wasn’t he too standing here not daring to open his mouth, any more than he had when she bought him elevator shoes for his bar mitzvah.
He had said nothing to her then, and hated himself for it, for having betrayed himself.
Twelve and a half, she mumbled lamely, tucking her head between her shoulders, dark with disgrace.
And the next day was the last day.
At four o‘clock Aron went down to the valley wearing a clean pair of pants and a crisply ironed shirt, his hair slicked down with water.
He left the house without a goodbye, for fear that the sight of them would hold him back or set something off inside.
He had all his equipment with him.
He even remembered the
big can opener, which he hid in his pants.
He arrived at the rock and climbed up it, and at the highest point, with the help of his little red mirror, he flashed the reflected sun at Gideon’s open window; three short flashes, then three long ones, and three short ones again.
Three times over he did it, his hands trembling slightly but scrupulous with the rhythm, and then he sat down on the rock again, feeling weak, curling up on Gideon’s part of the rock shelf, trying to stop what he was feeling, the draining out, and he must have fallen asleep then, wishing someone would touch him on the shoulder and say, You rang?
But at exactly five o’clock he awoke all alone, and stood up languidly and flashed the mirror again three times, aiming at the ceiling in Gideon’s room, because maybe the first time Gideon was sleeping and didn’t see, and right away his knees buckled and he slipped off the rock and lay beside it; he’d had this stunned and hollow feeling, right here, the time he broke his arm; he had been crazy with despair then, much more than now, now was nothing in comparison, now was almost over.
Back then he had jumped up and down for over half an hour.
Maybe an hour.
Waiting for just the right moment when his ofzeluchi brain would stray.
When it would neglect to order his arm to bend in time.
Back then he’d gone over all his troubles: Giora trying to drown him to save himself, Giora’s hand-me-downs, the looks people gave him everywhere he went, the insults, sly or obvious; and nothing helped, until he imagined round little Uncle Loniu standing before him at the bar mitzvah, repeating “Body-building, body-building,” and suddenly it happened, he heard a crack, and felt the pain, the worst he’d ever experienced, shooting through him as he realized he’d done it, he’d actually done a thing like that, and now they would never send him to Tel Aviv, and that’s when he started to get scared.
At four o‘clock Aron went down to the valley wearing a clean pair of pants and a crisply ironed shirt, his hair slicked down with water.
He left the house without a goodbye, for fear that the sight of them would hold him back or set something off inside.
He had all his equipment with him.
He even remembered the
big can opener, which he hid in his pants.
He arrived at the rock and climbed up it, and at the highest point, with the help of his little red mirror, he flashed the reflected sun at Gideon’s open window; three short flashes, then three long ones, and three short ones again.
Three times over he did it, his hands trembling slightly but scrupulous with the rhythm, and then he sat down on the rock again, feeling weak, curling up on Gideon’s part of the rock shelf, trying to stop what he was feeling, the draining out, and he must have fallen asleep then, wishing someone would touch him on the shoulder and say, You rang?
But at exactly five o’clock he awoke all alone, and stood up languidly and flashed the mirror again three times, aiming at the ceiling in Gideon’s room, because maybe the first time Gideon was sleeping and didn’t see, and right away his knees buckled and he slipped off the rock and lay beside it; he’d had this stunned and hollow feeling, right here, the time he broke his arm; he had been crazy with despair then, much more than now, now was nothing in comparison, now was almost over.
Back then he had jumped up and down for over half an hour.
Maybe an hour.
Waiting for just the right moment when his ofzeluchi brain would stray.
When it would neglect to order his arm to bend in time.
Back then he’d gone over all his troubles: Giora trying to drown him to save himself, Giora’s hand-me-downs, the looks people gave him everywhere he went, the insults, sly or obvious; and nothing helped, until he imagined round little Uncle Loniu standing before him at the bar mitzvah, repeating “Body-building, body-building,” and suddenly it happened, he heard a crack, and felt the pain, the worst he’d ever experienced, shooting through him as he realized he’d done it, he’d actually done a thing like that, and now they would never send him to Tel Aviv, and that’s when he started to get scared.
Again he looked at his watch and saw that almost an hour had gone by.
Strange how fast time was flying, and now to signal for the third time.
With what remained of his strength he climbed to the top of the rock and tried to stand up straight—his legs were trembling—to flash a final SOS; maybe last time Gideon was lying on his stomach and didn’t see the moving light-script overhead, because surely if he had seen it he would be here by now, it was an unignorable call for help, even if it came in the middle of a feud.
Even when they were both grown up, living apart in foreign lands, lying in bed in their new homes, or palaces even, if they suddenly saw a light flash on the ceiling, three
dots, three dashes, three dots, they would leap up and pack their bags and, without so much as a goodbye to anyone, hop on the first plane and get there just in time to rescue each other.
They had sworn it.
Strange how fast time was flying, and now to signal for the third time.
With what remained of his strength he climbed to the top of the rock and tried to stand up straight—his legs were trembling—to flash a final SOS; maybe last time Gideon was lying on his stomach and didn’t see the moving light-script overhead, because surely if he had seen it he would be here by now, it was an unignorable call for help, even if it came in the middle of a feud.
Even when they were both grown up, living apart in foreign lands, lying in bed in their new homes, or palaces even, if they suddenly saw a light flash on the ceiling, three
dots, three dashes, three dots, they would leap up and pack their bags and, without so much as a goodbye to anyone, hop on the first plane and get there just in time to rescue each other.
They had sworn it.
He leaned against the rock, trying to steady himself, to put on a happy face.
Why appear weak and repulsive?
Trying to fill up with life from the rays of the setting sun.
Let’s say he was in Komi, up to his knees in the ice, longing for this moment by the rock, but he didn’t have the strength to imagine Komi, Komi and the taiga were fading, shrinking.
Aron to Aron, I’ve found something else, over; Aron to Aron, I almost forgot you were there, over; I hardly am anymore, I’m hardly there, it’s the end of the road, isn’t it, over; Aron to Aron, what did you find, over; I found, I found, deep down, under the dust, under the ground, another thing maybe you’d like to take with you, a gift, maybe it will help you, maybe it will last like the oil that burned for eight days; she used to buy a carp for the Sabbath, but it was a special carp.
You’re the one who made it special, before you came along it was an ordinary carp swimming around in the bathtub, opening and closing its mouth, all fat and shiny, and you sat on the edge of the bathtub and watched it; it looked kind of silly, with its tough little body, opening and closing its mouth like a toy, swimming laps up and down the tub, and suddenly you stood up, yes, now I remember, you ran to her closet, climbed on a chair, and opened her jewelry box with the necklaces and bracelets and rings and pins, till you found what you were looking for, the shiny red bead that had dropped off, a shiny red bead, you were sure it was a ruby, and you ran to the bathtub with it, carrying it high in the air like a torch, your shiny red ruby, and then you caught the carp; it tried to wiggle out of your hands but you held it as tight as you could, though it floundered and flapped its tail and fought you, and you pushed the ruby into its mouth and down its throat with your finger, and it looked at you in furious amazement, but the ruby was in its stomach by then, and all day long you strutted around feeling proud of your secret: I have a fish with a ruby inside, and you waited for Mama to cut the carp open on Friday and find it there and make a wish, and whatever she asked would be granted instantly, so okay, it didn’t turn out the way you planned, things never do, especially not when you’re a child; it’s better not to believe in magic, so you don’t get disappointed, but now, nevertheless, on the path to the valley from the building project, here comes Gideon, just in time, at the very last
minute, walking his walk, his bowlegged walk, maybe I’m dreaming.
Aron to Aron, maybe I’m dreaming, yes, maybe I am.
Why appear weak and repulsive?
Trying to fill up with life from the rays of the setting sun.
Let’s say he was in Komi, up to his knees in the ice, longing for this moment by the rock, but he didn’t have the strength to imagine Komi, Komi and the taiga were fading, shrinking.
Aron to Aron, I’ve found something else, over; Aron to Aron, I almost forgot you were there, over; I hardly am anymore, I’m hardly there, it’s the end of the road, isn’t it, over; Aron to Aron, what did you find, over; I found, I found, deep down, under the dust, under the ground, another thing maybe you’d like to take with you, a gift, maybe it will help you, maybe it will last like the oil that burned for eight days; she used to buy a carp for the Sabbath, but it was a special carp.
You’re the one who made it special, before you came along it was an ordinary carp swimming around in the bathtub, opening and closing its mouth, all fat and shiny, and you sat on the edge of the bathtub and watched it; it looked kind of silly, with its tough little body, opening and closing its mouth like a toy, swimming laps up and down the tub, and suddenly you stood up, yes, now I remember, you ran to her closet, climbed on a chair, and opened her jewelry box with the necklaces and bracelets and rings and pins, till you found what you were looking for, the shiny red bead that had dropped off, a shiny red bead, you were sure it was a ruby, and you ran to the bathtub with it, carrying it high in the air like a torch, your shiny red ruby, and then you caught the carp; it tried to wiggle out of your hands but you held it as tight as you could, though it floundered and flapped its tail and fought you, and you pushed the ruby into its mouth and down its throat with your finger, and it looked at you in furious amazement, but the ruby was in its stomach by then, and all day long you strutted around feeling proud of your secret: I have a fish with a ruby inside, and you waited for Mama to cut the carp open on Friday and find it there and make a wish, and whatever she asked would be granted instantly, so okay, it didn’t turn out the way you planned, things never do, especially not when you’re a child; it’s better not to believe in magic, so you don’t get disappointed, but now, nevertheless, on the path to the valley from the building project, here comes Gideon, just in time, at the very last
minute, walking his walk, his bowlegged walk, maybe I’m dreaming.
Aron to Aron, maybe I’m dreaming, yes, maybe I am.
Hi, Kleinfeld, what’s up?
Hello, Gideon.
What are you doing here, all hunched over?
What, you saw my sign?
No.
Move over.
Let me sit on my side.
Move over.
Let me sit on my side.
… And it will be a story about an ordinary boy, like us, a boy our age, see, I’ve been planning it for a long time, I jot my ideas down in a special notebook I bought, uh-huh, seventy pages, I’m always writing, it’s full of ideas, anyway, there’s a good chance it’ll be made into a movie, no really, about a kid like us, approximately our age; I can’t tell you everything yet, it’s still secret, but I will tell you one thing, there’ll definitely be spy stuff in it, and maybe something about a circus or Houdini, for entertainment; it isn’t finished yet, it takes a while to plan, but the truth is—the lies burst out on his tongue like flaming pimples—the boy’s name happens to be Gideon, and the plot involves airplanes, he’s really keen on airplanes, this Gideon kid, maybe he wants to be a fighter pilot; I haven’t written all of this down yet, or figured out how a kid can be a pilot, because, I mean, what if they do make it into a movie, don’t laugh, the kid will have to fly a real plane.No way, forget it, I’m not using doubles in my movie, this isn’t one of your James Bond deals; in my movie, everything is real and authentic from beginning to end, when the plane crashes and the kid is wounded in the leg, the leg, the leg.
Aron licked his lips and peeked again at Gideon’s bare leg bouncing on the rock, he’d run out of words.
He gasped for breath, how did he get himself mixed up in such a lie when all he wanted was to ask Gideon a simple question, the question, without mentioning any names, because it wasn’t her so much as whether Gideon was still loyal, only that would save him, but now he’d botched it, though later
when Gideon offered a loyal helpful hand up, Aron thought, Yes, I’m sure he waited for me, and almost melted with joy and relief when he clapped him on the shoulder warmly, and Aron asked with a choked voice, So what’s new, how’s it going?
remembering too late to pull his puny shoulders back, and Gideon said, Hey, it could start any minute now, today or tomorrow, and Aron asked, What could?
and Gideon ignored the question and solemnly whispered that his brother Manny had told him in strictest confidence what the secret call-up code for our defense force would be, and he glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping.
If you swear you’ll keep as silent as a grave, I’ll tell you too.
Aron groaned inwardly, the basalt stone, there was a time when Gideon wouldn’t have had to ask him to swear it, and why was he going on about the secret code, what did that have to do with anything now, why was he offering trivial bribes, why didn’t he just say it: Was he or wasn’t he?
and Gideon looked serious and said, Red sheet.
Red sheet what?
asked Aron faintly, sinking, lost.
So the answer was no.
He wasn’t, red sheet, that was no.
And Gideon laughed.
The secret code, dum-dum, what’d you think I meant, and if you ask me, it’s dynamite, red sheet, like waving a red sheet in front of a bull, get it, those Arabs are going to end up like a lot of dead bulls.
Aron shook his head no, he didn’t understand, what was Gideon talking about?
What did all his words amount to: are you or aren’t you?
And Gideon said, What are we standing here for?
and raised himself up on the rock, trying vainly to cross his long legs in the niche, till he finally gave up, dangled them over the ledge, and lay on his back, and Aron heaved a sigh of relief, Gideon was talking of nothing but the war.
But just when Aron thought he still had a chance, he noticed a dark shadow, new and kinky, where Gideon’s thigh met his groin.
There, see, over the leg.
Why are you so jumpy, I just wanted to show you where the wound is.
Who’s touching you.
I mean, see, it’s a serious wound, shrapnel from antiaircraft, and for half the movie his leg will be bandaged, maybe even in a cast, though come to think of it, where would he get a cast in the desert?
God, I’m dumb, see, I’ll change it immediately, and he took a pen out of his shirt pocket, tremblingly, with an earnest expression, and scribbled something on the palm of his hand.
Gideon watched him blankly.
You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
Maybe he remembered that once, long ago, Aron used to have these crazy dreams that all came true.
But you had to believe in them.
No: not in them, in
Aron.
In his enthusiasm.
But Gideon said nothing, revealed nothing.
He had truly matured in that respect, and Aron didn’t know how to read his expressions anymore; there was only one hope, it didn’t even have to be an answer in words, it would be enough if Gideon would let him see clearly and definitively yes or no, that’s all he wanted: for Gideon to be a real friend, a friend through and through.
And you know, just now as we were sitting here I had this dynamite idea, maybe you’ll be the star of the movie, yes you, why not, sure, a real movie, but for that we’ll have to put a bandage on your leg or a plaster cast all the way up to there.
Hey, where are you going, stay, wait a minute, man.
“Man”—I’m talking like them now, talking like them and lying like them.
Give me a second to explain, where were we?
Oh yes, it’s like this, the kid flies south on a rescue mission and suddenly the Egyptians fire their antiaircraft guns at him, or better yet—Listen to this, his closest friend, no, his brother, he’s a pilot too, see, and when his brother is shot down over Egypt, the younger brother, this Gideon, decides to rescue him, because no other pilot is willing to risk his life.
So what do you think?
Breathlessly he studied Gideon’s inscrutable face, alarmed that Gideon had allowed him to become so completely embroiled in his own lies, but he went on delving for new words to offer him, not that words were so important; only Gideon was sitting there, pursing his lips and waiting to see what would happen next.
Why wasn’t he talking or lecturing anymore?
Why this utter silence?
Okay then, he would be silent too, silent like a man.
And then, see, this Gideon kid, he’s a born flier, always building model planes, a member of the air force youth battalion, so when the squad commander asks for a volunteer to fly behind enemy lines and rescue the pilot who was shot down—and at this point Gideon might have hinted, indicated by a mere gesture that he was fed up with this pathetic, transparent lie, and Aron would have quit then and there, he would have laughed loudly and told him he was only joshing, goofing around to relieve the tension of the military alert; he had kept the option open the whole time, over the years he had learned pretty well how to maintain his dignity, how to hide the erosion inside, but Gideon didn’t speak, didn’t try to make it any easier for him, he forced him to take it further and further, to the point where it would be almost impossible to retreat with a laugh and a joke, so he sat there with his legs pressed together, watching him with cold, scientific
eyes.
And then there’s this scene in the movie when Gideon finds his brother in an oasis, and they both swim naked, sure, naked, how else are they supposed to swim?
With their clothes on?
God, you’re a baby.
But you only see them from the back.
Right.
So what are you saying, the cameraman should close his eyes?
Are you embarrassed to take your pants down for half a minute?
The kids in our class?
What about them?
Look out, he thought, Gideon’s bluffing, pretending to be interested, but he isn’t.
He’s a stranger already.
He’s one of them.
And Aron tried to appear calm and innocent, and not to twitch, though he knew he was falling deeper and deeper into Gideon’s trap, but what choice did he have, it was life or death like never before, and just in case, in case there was a minute particle of the real Gideon somewhere, willing to share this moment with him, he said, Who cares about the kids in our class, imagine how jealous of you they’ll be for starring in a movie.
Gideon pretended to listen.
You could see he was planning to tell everyone that Aron had lost his mind, as if a thing like that could happen in our family.
All right, if you insist, we’ll restrict the movie to sixteen and over, but for your information, they won’t let us see the movie then either, or maybe they will, if we promise to close our eyes when that scene comes on, at the grand premiere with the Prime Minister and the President and the air force commander.
What are you laughing at, why are you laughing like that?
Of course they’ll be there.
Now Gideon was laughing to tears.
Wiping his eyes, groaning, slapping his thigh.
Here was his chance to retreat.
To say he was only goofing around.
Putting him on.
What a gas.
But he didn’t have the strength to talk that way.
He didn’t have the strength to retreat.
He had to see it one more time, in broad daylight with his own eyes.
To see what had happened to this body he knew almost as well as his own.
And how could he have been fool enough to think Gideon was waiting for him all these years, that he was a friend through and through.
What remained of Gideon in the boy here who moved and walked and talked as if he wasn’t afraid of anything; if they dropped him down in the middle of China he would know instinctively how to behave; he bowed his head: it was true.
What was left of his Gideon?
Even the loyal old Gideon inside him was almost gone by now.
A whole bar of chocolate he had to devour, twenty-four squares of friendship-sugar a day to preserve the memory.
And from close up it was obvious that Gideon had stopped
taking the pills: you could see he had made incredible progress: those muscles in his arms, the big strong veins sticking out on his hands, and his voice, it was so deep, and his Adam’s apple bulged, as though the five milligrams of Valium twice a week really had been holding him back all this time.
And here you are, making such a big fuss about showing your tuchis on the screen when I’m talking about a grand premiere and Academy Awards and your picture all over the papers; you make me laugh, Gideon, you actually believe I’d pick an actor without making sure he’s right for the part?
Suddenly Gideon’s ears pricked up.
Not a good sign.
Gideon’s sincere, responsible family ears.
Sure I’ve seen you, why are you laughing, but that was ages ago, go on, laugh!
What are you laughing at?
I’m not speaking as a friend now.
Forget we’re friends: I’m speaking as a professional.
You know what?
Don’t show me, okay?
Don’t do me any favors.
Skip it.
Let’s go home.
Actually, you go on by yourself.
I want to stay here awhile longer.
To plan the filming.
Who cares about your tuchis.
Why wasn’t he talking or lecturing anymore?
Why this utter silence?
Okay then, he would be silent too, silent like a man.
And then, see, this Gideon kid, he’s a born flier, always building model planes, a member of the air force youth battalion, so when the squad commander asks for a volunteer to fly behind enemy lines and rescue the pilot who was shot down—and at this point Gideon might have hinted, indicated by a mere gesture that he was fed up with this pathetic, transparent lie, and Aron would have quit then and there, he would have laughed loudly and told him he was only joshing, goofing around to relieve the tension of the military alert; he had kept the option open the whole time, over the years he had learned pretty well how to maintain his dignity, how to hide the erosion inside, but Gideon didn’t speak, didn’t try to make it any easier for him, he forced him to take it further and further, to the point where it would be almost impossible to retreat with a laugh and a joke, so he sat there with his legs pressed together, watching him with cold, scientific
eyes.
And then there’s this scene in the movie when Gideon finds his brother in an oasis, and they both swim naked, sure, naked, how else are they supposed to swim?
With their clothes on?
God, you’re a baby.
But you only see them from the back.
Right.
So what are you saying, the cameraman should close his eyes?
Are you embarrassed to take your pants down for half a minute?
The kids in our class?
What about them?
Look out, he thought, Gideon’s bluffing, pretending to be interested, but he isn’t.
He’s a stranger already.
He’s one of them.
And Aron tried to appear calm and innocent, and not to twitch, though he knew he was falling deeper and deeper into Gideon’s trap, but what choice did he have, it was life or death like never before, and just in case, in case there was a minute particle of the real Gideon somewhere, willing to share this moment with him, he said, Who cares about the kids in our class, imagine how jealous of you they’ll be for starring in a movie.
Gideon pretended to listen.
You could see he was planning to tell everyone that Aron had lost his mind, as if a thing like that could happen in our family.
All right, if you insist, we’ll restrict the movie to sixteen and over, but for your information, they won’t let us see the movie then either, or maybe they will, if we promise to close our eyes when that scene comes on, at the grand premiere with the Prime Minister and the President and the air force commander.
What are you laughing at, why are you laughing like that?
Of course they’ll be there.
Now Gideon was laughing to tears.
Wiping his eyes, groaning, slapping his thigh.
Here was his chance to retreat.
To say he was only goofing around.
Putting him on.
What a gas.
But he didn’t have the strength to talk that way.
He didn’t have the strength to retreat.
He had to see it one more time, in broad daylight with his own eyes.
To see what had happened to this body he knew almost as well as his own.
And how could he have been fool enough to think Gideon was waiting for him all these years, that he was a friend through and through.
What remained of Gideon in the boy here who moved and walked and talked as if he wasn’t afraid of anything; if they dropped him down in the middle of China he would know instinctively how to behave; he bowed his head: it was true.
What was left of his Gideon?
Even the loyal old Gideon inside him was almost gone by now.
A whole bar of chocolate he had to devour, twenty-four squares of friendship-sugar a day to preserve the memory.
And from close up it was obvious that Gideon had stopped
taking the pills: you could see he had made incredible progress: those muscles in his arms, the big strong veins sticking out on his hands, and his voice, it was so deep, and his Adam’s apple bulged, as though the five milligrams of Valium twice a week really had been holding him back all this time.
And here you are, making such a big fuss about showing your tuchis on the screen when I’m talking about a grand premiere and Academy Awards and your picture all over the papers; you make me laugh, Gideon, you actually believe I’d pick an actor without making sure he’s right for the part?
Suddenly Gideon’s ears pricked up.
Not a good sign.
Gideon’s sincere, responsible family ears.
Sure I’ve seen you, why are you laughing, but that was ages ago, go on, laugh!
What are you laughing at?
I’m not speaking as a friend now.
Forget we’re friends: I’m speaking as a professional.
You know what?
Don’t show me, okay?
Don’t do me any favors.
Skip it.
Let’s go home.
Actually, you go on by yourself.
I want to stay here awhile longer.
To plan the filming.
Who cares about your tuchis.
But Gideon didn’t budge.
He sat on the rock watching Aron with heightened curiosity, like someone waiting for the next performance to begin, though he looked a little surprised, a little cruel too.
Aron was appalled to recognize the malice of Gideon’s father’s face in his expression: Gideon was using everything he had.
He was unbelievably cool.
He was mature.
Aron gave up in silence.
From the street above they heard a raucous horn.
The Lambretta was coming.
Zacky Smitanka, thought Aron resentfully, Zacky Smitanka.
Once we were friends.
Whole chunks of my life have turned white with mildew.
So what were you saying?
Didn’t you just say something?
So will you or won’t you?
So are you or aren’t you?
Yes or no?
Just let me have a quick look, to see if you’re right for the part.
Sure I’m serious.
Do I look like I’m joking, or what?
He sat on the rock watching Aron with heightened curiosity, like someone waiting for the next performance to begin, though he looked a little surprised, a little cruel too.
Aron was appalled to recognize the malice of Gideon’s father’s face in his expression: Gideon was using everything he had.
He was unbelievably cool.
He was mature.
Aron gave up in silence.
From the street above they heard a raucous horn.
The Lambretta was coming.
Zacky Smitanka, thought Aron resentfully, Zacky Smitanka.
Once we were friends.
Whole chunks of my life have turned white with mildew.
So what were you saying?
Didn’t you just say something?
So will you or won’t you?
So are you or aren’t you?
Yes or no?
Just let me have a quick look, to see if you’re right for the part.
Sure I’m serious.
Do I look like I’m joking, or what?
And just then Gideon came round.
Or pretended to.
Who could tell.
Nobody thought, nobody planned it that way.
It just sort of happened.
Thank God, said Aron, it’s about time.
Get behind the rock and strip, and I’ll only peek for a second.
As if anyone ever walks down this way.
It’s almost dark.
For pity’s sake, Gideon, you’re such a baby.
Or pretended to.
Who could tell.
Nobody thought, nobody planned it that way.
It just sort of happened.
Thank God, said Aron, it’s about time.
Get behind the rock and strip, and I’ll only peek for a second.
As if anyone ever walks down this way.
It’s almost dark.
For pity’s sake, Gideon, you’re such a baby.
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