The Extra

Thirteen

A FEW NIGHTS LATER, on the ride back to Jerusalem after the jury shoot, with the actress’s red scarf still wrapped around her neck, Noga casually tells Elazar about the two boys.

“Even if you took away their key, don’t be so sure they won’t come back,” he says. “The little b-b-bastard probably made a copy, so don’t be surprised to find them again in front of your TV.”

“So what am I to do?”

“The n-n-next time, don’t kick them out and don’t argue. Act friendly, get in touch with me, and I’ll put on my old police uniform and make sure that the little tz-tzaddiks won’t b-b-bother you again, forever.”

“Forever?” She laughs. “I’m only staying in Israel for another couple of months.”

“So wh-what? You’re still entitled to p-p-peace and quiet.”

The stutter is annoying, but also charming in its way, with an element of surprise. Entire sentences flow smoothly, and just as she has forgotten that he stutters, an ordinary word or a modest preposition, which might carry some hidden implication, becomes a psychological impediment, and then, instead of simply repeating a word or syllable, he gets stuck on a certain sound and prolongs it. In the dark minibus making its way to Jerusalem, she senses his attempt to draw closer to her, not only because he likes her, but because she is free and unattached, without a husband and children, with no desire to have children, and also because her time in Israel is limited and there’s no risk of getting emotionally involved, which could hurt him or someone in his family.

And since he knows about future projects of the agency that hires the extras, he tries to win her over during the drive by urging her to take part in them as well.

“I don’t need that much money,” she says.

“It’s not just m-m-money,” he protests, “but to be a participant without any effort or ob-obligation in the stories of all kinds of characters, and perhaps also be engraved in the m-m-memory of the audience. Tonight, for example, you announced the verdict very well. When this movie is completed, if it ever is, there will doubtless be viewers who will remember how softly but c-c-confidently you pronounced gu-il-ty, as if you were not talking about the killer, but about y-y-yourself.”

The retired judge, sitting silently across the aisle, apparently dozing, turns his head. “Yes, madam, Elazar is right. These days a court is expected to announce a grim verdict in a personal tone of voice, even with mild hesitation. I am still used to declaring a verdict with dramatic force, which is why they passed me up.”

At the bus stop near the former Edison movie theater Noga and the judge get out, and Elazar suddenly decides to join them. “I’ll see you home so I know where to come q-q-quickly if you want to chase away the boys.” But Noga points to her building from afar, lest he attempt to escort her upstairs.