The Extra

Fifteen

THAT NIGHT SHE SLEEPS fitfully and migrates from bed to bed. In the morning she phones her mother at the retirement home, and is surprised to have awakened her.

“Yes, I get much more sleep here than I need at my age, and more than suits my personality. I was afraid that Tel Aviv would upset me, but instead I feel serene.”

“And the experiment?”

“The experiment keeps experimenting.”

“You think you can complete it, come back to Jerusalem and decide about the future from here?”

“No, Noga, we have no right to stop it. It’s not fair to Honi, who made such an effort, and certainly not fair to this facility, which gave me such a lovely room without requiring a commitment. No, we mustn’t stop in the middle.”

“But I know you, and you won’t stay there.”

“Don’t be so sure. We have another nine weeks, and despite the tiny distance between here and Jerusalem, by European standards anyway, I’m getting a new perspective on myself, because here I am free of old obligations and superfluous memories. Now I’m fully entitled to sleep deeply, so I’ll also have a chance, like Abba, of taking my leave from you without any long illness or cause for worry.”

“Not a chance.”

“Not a chance? You, with your cruel honesty, may be right, though I get the impression that my experiment is hard for you. You’re already bored in Jerusalem? But unlike Honi, you love the city and are tolerant of our pious neighbors. Honi also told me that you enjoy the little roles he finds for you — that they killed you at night on the beach and you enjoyed lying on the sand and looking at the stars, and that you condemned a young woman to death—”

“I didn’t condemn anyone, I just said she was guilty. That’s all.”

“And you enjoyed it?”

“A little. What can I do, Ima? I’m trying to pass the time until you decide where you want to stay for the rest of your life.”

“And I will decide. I’m not just dawdling, I’m weighing the pros and cons. And you, Noga, please don’t put pressure on me, don’t begrudge me the three months, and then you’ll be able to fly back to the bosom of your orchestra… What’s bothering you the most?”

“Those children.”

“Which children?”

“The little religious ones you made into television addicts.”

“But Honi said they returned the key I lent them.”

“I had to take it from them by force, but they had apparently made a copy, and they come in whenever they feel like it, and it’s annoying, even scary.”

“Scary? You’re exaggerating. These are little kids from huge families, and so they’re a little lonely and depressed, sometimes a little crazy. After all, they are Shaya’s kids, that handsome fellow you used to talk to on the stairway when you were young.”

“Only the older one. The other one, the little one, the strange one, is his cousin, some kind of tzaddik.”

“Tzaddik? How so?”

“Not important. But to change the lock would mean changing the whole front door, which is falling apart, and that should wait till you make up your mind.”

“Yes, you’re right, till I make up my mind.”

“But in the meantime let’s put in a bolt to lock the door from the inside. So I’ll at least know that I’m safe when I’m in the apartment.”

“Exactly. I’ll ask Honi to put in a bolt for you on the inside of the door.”

“You don’t need to drag Honi to Jerusalem for that. I’ll find someone in Jerusalem.”

“Yes, that’s possible. For example, Abadi, Abba’s friend. This man, so polite, he and his wife brought food every day to the shiva, and after you left, he was the man who put in the electric bed. He’ll install whatever bolts you need, not just willingly but with love.”

“The devil only knows why you gave those children permission to come in.”

“Right, Nogaleh.” Her mother sighs. “Exactly. Only the devil can explain why I did such a foolish thing, but where do I find such a clever devil?”