The Extra

Forty-Two

NOW, WITH THE DOOR closed after him, pain and disappointment are all that remain. Noga hurriedly removes the old bathrobe and the nightgown and takes a long shower, then phones the assisted living facility with news of the fruit offering in honor of her mother’s return to Jerusalem.

“Fruit?”

“From Mount Canaan.”

“Who brought it, Pomerantz himself or one of the grandchildren?”

“Shaya, who refused to shake my hand.”

“Why should he shake your hand? He was in love with you, but marrying him was the furthest thing from your mind.”

“Still, I was insulted. We were good friends.”

“Only on the stairs, so why be insulted?”

“True, no point in being insulted by him, but I can be insulted by a mother who informs a stranger about a decision that her two children are eagerly awaiting.”

“Honestly, Noga, were you really awaiting my decision after you claimed that you know better than I do what goes on in my mind?”

“Nevertheless, there’s a family protocol that must be observed.”

“You’re right. But since I couldn’t surprise you by the decision, I decided at least to surprise you with the way I announced it.”

“And you succeeded. And Honi?”

“He’ll hear it from me this evening, nor will he be surprised. The assisted living was an experiment, the three of us committed ourselves to three months, and we stood honorably by our commitment.”

“Given no choice.”

“You should eat the fruit so it won’t spoil.”

“We already ate some.”

“You’ve started referring to yourself in Jerusalem by the royal ‘we’?”

“Not quite. Uriah actually showed up, and I served him some of your fruit.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Believe it.”

“And this time he appeared as himself?”

“As himself.”

“So this time, at least, he didn’t want to scare you.”

“Not even as a wounded man did he want to scare me. He wanted sympathy.”

“And as himself?”

“As himself, after all these years, he still mourns for the child we didn’t have.”

“But he has children of his own. I saw them, hugged them.”

“Still, he won’t give up on the child I didn’t give him.”

“And on you?”

“Not anymore. It’s the child, not me.”

“So listen to me, Noga. Listen to what a wise woman has to say to a beloved daughter, hear me out and don’t interrupt. Give him that child, give it to him, and that way something real from you will stay in this world, not just musical notes that vanish into thin air. Make an effort, then go back to your music. Give birth to a child, and I will help him raise it.”

“He doesn’t need help. He’ll take the child home and raise it with his children.”

“And his wife?”

“I know him. He’ll persuade her, or force her.”

“If so — I’m out of breath — listen to me, I’m begging you. Don’t dismiss this out of hand. It’s a wonderful idea, it’s profound, and at the last minute it also turns our failed experiment into a surprising victory. Stay a little longer in Jerusalem, until it happens, and instead of outrageous payments to an old folks’ home, we’ll survive handsomely together in Jerusalem, owing nothing to anyone. Now that you are used to Jerusalem, and not afraid like your brother of the neighborhood Orthodoxy, stay with me a while longer. And Honi and I will participate with love and devotion in this experiment, which this time will be yours. You won’t have to work, not even as an extra, and if in the meantime some harpist retires, or gets sick or dies, you could—”

“Enough, Ima, enough delusions.”

“Why delusions? Today, with Abba no longer alive, these aren’t delusions. I swear to you on his soul that he was the one to blame, only he. With some weird confidence he succeeded in scaring me, and I bet you too, that you were likely to die in childbirth. I bought into it, but now that he’s gone, we have, you and I, the freedom and the ability to understand the reality by ourselves. And I’m telling you, you’re forty-two years old, and this is the last moment.”

“The moment has passed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have nothing in me to give life to a child, even if I were to succumb to Uriah.”

“In what sense? In what sense? Noga, my darling, in what sense?”

“In the simplest sense. My period, Ima. My periods stopped.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why would I?”

“So I wouldn’t keep torturing myself with false hopes.”

“I’m telling you now so you won’t torture yourself with false hopes.”

“But I will torture myself, because I know that even when it seems like the end, it isn’t the end.”

“Tell that to my body, Ima, not to me.”

“Then the time has come for me to speak directly to your body without your interference.”

“That would be wise and helpful, because the body, and not just the soul, sometimes needs a mother’s words. But hurry, because the day after tomorrow I have an early flight out of here.”