The Remains of Love (28 page)

I? She’s baffled, what have I done to you? And when Nitzan doesn’t reply and only juts out her chin defiantly, she puts out a hand to pull the remote from her fingers but the girl isn’t letting go, and it seems this grappling is the closest contact she’s had with her daughter for a long time, as the air leaving her lungs, warm and fragrant, is drawn into her nostrils, and the long honey-coloured hair tickles her face when she leans towards her, give me the remote, Nitzan, turn off the television and tell me what the problem is; she finally succeeds in detaching her daughter’s fingers from the remote, and in the silence that reigns in the void of the house all that is heard is the wail emerging from Nitzan’s throat, when she blurts out in an aggressive tone, Dad told me you want to swap me for another child.

Gideon, what a traitor you are, she clenches her lips, all methods are kosher when it comes to wrecking my plans, even exploiting your daughter! Usually he behaves with restraint until he feels threatened, and then he’s capable of acting without any thought or consideration, blind to the damage he causes. I didn’t know you hadn’t told her, he will pretend innocence when she confronts him, of course you should have shared it with her and I had the right to speak out, and again the torch is lit in her chest cavity and its flame is rising to her throat, and she tries to put aside for the moment her anger at Gideon and concentrate on her daughter, but to her surprise she realises she’s angry with her too, for siding with her father in such unequivocal fashion, and she wipes her face with the edge of her blouse, what are you talking about, Nitzan? Are you out of your mind? she says bluntly, what’s this about swapping you? What utter nonsense!

You see me growing up and you want to trade me in, the girl insists, and not even for a kid who’s really my brother but someone from another country who has no connection with our family anyway! And Dina is surprised by the clumsy way she’s expressing herself, not like her normally fluent daughter, and she wonders which of the words belong to her and which have been planted in her by her father. Take it easy, Nitzi, she tries to summon up all her resources and convert them into reasoned argument, it’s just a thought that occurred to me recently, and I mentioned it to your Dad. Nothing’s happened yet and of course your opinion is important to me, and I was going to consult you about it. But Nitzan doesn’t respond to this conciliatory speech and interrupts her with a howl, I’m not talking about things that have happened or not happened yet, it’s the fact you’re even capable of having such a thought! If you don’t want me I’m out of here, I’ll go and stay with one of my mates, you won’t need to chuck me out that way!

I really don’t understand you, Dina says, alarmed by the extremes of her daughter’s vocabulary, since when did a new child in a family mean someone being thrown out? When Tamara’s brother was born, did her mother want to get rid of her? When Naomi was giving birth to a new baby every two years, did she want to dispose of the rest?

But you want to adopt, and that’s something completely different! the girl protests, and Dina says, why is it so different, really? It may be less natural but on the other hand it’s more humane, at the end of the day a child is a child, but her daughter cuts her off, it’s completely different, not a real sibling!

But you never wanted a real sibling, she reminds her with an incontrovertible argument, when I still could have given birth, you weren’t keen on the idea, and Nitzan replies drily, why did you ask me anyway? Since when have kids been consulted about things like this? You shouldn’t have asked and you certainly shouldn’t have taken my opinion into account, you screwed up, she adds coldly, but you don’t put one mistake right by making another.

So perhaps this time too I shouldn’t be taking your opinion into account, Dina says, an unfamiliar hatred swelling in her, directed at her daughter, it’s easy for you to talk, you’re young and for you everything is open, the gates of the body and the gates of the mind, the gates of the future, and what do I have, what’s left for me but to see you moving away, and Nitzan says, maybe that’s the truth, you might just as well take no notice of my opinion, because you’re not going to hear it, I won’t be here, and Dina snorts, oh yes, and where are you going to be?

That’s none of your business, she hisses, if you’re prepared to destroy our family and bring into this house some fucked-up kid who isn’t going to feel like one of us, and where are you planning to put this kid anyway? We don’t have a spare room. You see, you’re counting on using my room, aren’t you, and Dina says, stop talking nonsense, your room is yours, stop inventing imaginary threats, since when have you needed proof of my love? You’ve had so much from me and I still have a lot to give you, more than you want to accept.

That’s exactly the point, she yells, this is what makes the whole thing so twisted, it’s because of me, because I’m growing up and this is tough for you, and Dina is quick to deny this, what a strange thing to say, I’m glad you’re growing up and it isn’t tough for me at all, I just feel I have a lot more to give to a child, so why not? and Nitzan is yelling again, her face reddening, because it’s a fact that before I grew up it didn’t suit you, and now because of me you’re acting out of desperation, don’t you see that?

Who’s talking about desperation? Dina protests, it’s an optimistic project, it’s about belief in life, belief in myself, willingness to give, what’s desperate about it? But this lame argument doesn’t even convince her, let alone her daughter, curled up in a corner of the sofa, taking off her glasses and blowing her nose again and again, I’m not living here any more, she repeats, you bring in another kid and I’m out of here, and Dina shakes her head back and forth, how can you be so negative after all you’ve had from me? How can you not see my needs, the hopes invested in this child? I really don’t know you, I thought someone who has had so much would be capable of giving something back.

I’ll give to whoever I please! her daughter yells at her from the end of the sofa, my friends get a lot from me, believe me they’re not complaining, and Dina stands up quickly and goes to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water with a shaking hand, an iceberg of cynical sobriety confronts her, immovable, it was all in vain, all those years, all that love, the absolute commitment. Chance remarks ring in her ears, overheard in hairdressing salons, bus stations, cafés: children are so ungrateful these days, you can’t expect anything from them, just disappointment, and the older they get the worse it is, but she had always felt protected, she never imagined that Nitzan would round on her like this, hurling such vicious words at her. Everything was in vain, not only her relationship with the girl, if there was any chance of this surviving under all the pressure, but the person she brought up, turning out to be selfish and pitiless, how did this happen, and at once the accusing finger shifts in Gideon’s direction, well, what did you expect, you weren’t bringing her up single-handed, this is what he’s like, this is from him, and at the same time she’s struggling to believe her daughter’s words; is this the girl who strokes and feeds any stray kitten in the street? Is this the girl who gives generously to every beggar, who can be moved to tears by any story of suffering or injustice? She doesn’t really mean it, she’s just testing me.

Only a few months back she told her about a crazy woman she saw in the street, running to and fro and cursing; I didn’t pity her, she said with dignity, because pity means superiority, I identified with her, and Dina listened, deeply moved and grateful, and now she glances at her with a cautious eye from the kitchen, curled up silently in the corner of the sofa wearing an ultra-short denim skirt and a white T-shirt, her hair covering her face; what’s hiding behind this crude reaction, which isn’t typical of her? She must try talking to her rather than shouting at her, and she fills a kettle with water. Are you hungry, Nitzi? she asks in a businesslike voice, to show that even if harsh words have been exchanged, simple routine still goes on, mother and daughter, coffee and lunch, but the girl responds with a shake of the head and she rummages in the almost empty fridge, she has no energy for cooking and she takes out the dish with the remains of the yoghurt soup from yesterday, and although the memory of the whitish glob floating in the toilet bowl brings her a fresh twinge of nausea she cuts off the end of a dry loaf and dips it in the dish and raises it to her mouth and chews it, all this while standing before the open door of the fridge and composing a shopping-list. So many things are running short, she’ll go to the shop this afternoon, the fridge will be filled, Gideon will come back, she’ll cook pasta with a cream sauce and mushrooms, and the three of them will eat together on the balcony, perhaps she’ll even find time to bake a cake, a cold cheesecake of the kind Nitzan loves, appropriate for the sweltering evening that lies ahead.

Would you like cheesecake, Nitzi? she asks, but no reply is heard and she closes the fridge door with a slam, why is she bothering anyway? Let it stay empty, who cares if there’s no food, no home, no family, years have gone down into oblivion, weeks and months, and all for what: to keep Nitzan happy with cake and keep Gideon happy with wine, to make sure nothing’s running out, to lay a cloth on the table on the balcony, to cover up and embellish, exercise restraint and absorb, why should she care about them if they don’t care about her, let them eat on their feet in front of the fridge just like her, and while she’s angrily chewing the bread she sees her daughter’s eyes watching her through the locks of her hair, and for the first time since she was born she’s taken over by such a deep sense of alienation from her, she’s embarrassed to be seen eating in front of her, embarrassed to swallow, what an absurd spectacle, a woman of a certain age chewing anxiously while the wrinkles dance around her lips, a woman on the cusp of decay swallowing hurriedly and the muscles of her neck protruding, and it seems to her suddenly her daughter is recoiling from her, from her body, from her mannerisms, and absolute loneliness hits her so hard she throws the rest of the bread in the bin and escapes to the bedroom, leaving the strange creature in the corner of the sofa, a creature with glossy fur covering its hands and feet and no face, and perhaps, judging from her experience, no heart either.

Nothing has changed in the bedroom since yesterday, the made-up bed, the empty cup, and especially the closed shutter, which shows that Gideon didn’t sleep here last night, as the moment he opens his eyes he rolls up the shutter with a flourish. What did he say to her back then, I’m addicted to the light, how can we live together, and she replied lightly, then we won’t be living together. Did he sleep in his darkroom, did he sleep in the house at all, did he notice her absence, and when did he get the chance to see Nitzan and tell her the worrying news. It’s possible to try and investigate all these things, and it’s equally possible not to bother, and really it’s all the same, and when she strips off her sweaty clothes she remembers how her daughter didn’t even take the trouble to comment on this, just as she wouldn’t tell a woman sitting next to her on the bus, a stranger, that she needed an urgent wash and a change of clothes, that’s how far apart we are, and she goes to bed in bra and panties, under an empty quilt cover.

This is surely how that woman felt, the one who killed herself, she hears herself thinking, suddenly she stopped caring, suddenly she was no longer busy catering for the needs of her family, otherwise she couldn’t have left them like that, left them guilty and damaged. How much power is latent in the absence of feeling, in the absence of that compulsion that drove her from place to place, all the time from them and to them, her two loved ones, to remind them they have a house, they have a family, she and she alone is the house, she is the family, the one who listens and reassures, who clothes and launders, puts to bed and wakes up, serves as chauffeur, all of this for the sake of being confronted by a heinous insult the moment that, for the first time, you’re interested in doing something exclusively for yourself.

At one time she used to be in touch immediately after the end of the lecture to remind him to cut the crusts off the girl’s bread, ask which picture the editor had chosen, but now she’s walking in other worlds, these trite details that swamped her love for them don’t interest her any more, she’s letting go and releasing herself, as that woman did, her own age approximately, maybe a little older. What else did he say about her, did he explain why she did it? But that she definitely understands, understands so perfectly it seems she knows her well, as she knew only one other woman in the world, her best friend Orly, and all at once, with a swift movement of certainty like a shutter opening to the light of midday, it becomes clear to her that she is the one, she has to be Orly, as who else besides her would be capable of misleading her closest relatives year after year, devoting herself to them and then betraying them in one moment, and suddenly it’s also clear to her how it happened: she didn’t hang herself, she jumped into a cloud, clutching its branches.

She remembers how the two of them stood one winter evening on the roof of one of the university buildings, leaning on the rail side by side, and the wind whipped up their hair and lashed them together, and Orly fingered the matted knot and said, if I jump now I’ll take you with me, and Dina chuckled in surprise, she loved her so much in these moments, even this was a pleasant prospect: the viscous air would rock their bodies in a giant cradle and they would sink gradually, hair entwined, and when the pain came they wouldn’t feel it since at that precise moment their souls would be parted from their bodies, but not from each other, like their hair – interwoven for ever, with nothing to distress them any more, and that is why she chuckled in the face of it without fear, the wind pricking her exposed teeth. How successful she was in finding a delusional refuge among the most desperate and how painful was the break; in one night Orly went out of Dina’s life for ever, leaving in the open void anger and blame, grief and destruction, and were it not for Nitzan, who had just been born, she might never have recovered, and here she is, coming back to her finally the moment Nitzan has released her grip, and she’s tempting and menacing, I’ll take you with me, and Dina wipes the sweat from her brow with the edge of the quilt cover, take me with you; suddenly she remembers how Nitzan loved being put into this cover as if it were a sack, in the garden at the foot of their building, and she would pull her around the lawn, as the girl’s laughter came spiralling up from the depths. Red light! she announced, and then she had to stop, green light, left, right, guiding her with cries of delight, and Dina would fill her lungs with green air, and it seemed to her she had never been happier than in these moments, when she ploughed the lawn back and forth like a mule seeing only what was ahead of her, and even when her fingers froze from the grip and her back ached she didn’t stop, so the girl’s laughter wouldn’t stop, and now the quilt cover shrouds her sterile body. In the warp and weft of the compressed cotton, are they still woven there, those moments of simple pleasure, are the sounds of triumph and joy still hidden there? We need so little, she remembers thinking then with pride, but even this little was short-lived, a festival that passed, and she rises from her bed, putting the cover over her shoulders like a cloak, and goes out to the enclosed balcony.