Tzili: The Story of a Life

8

SPRING CAME and Katerina felt better. Tzili made up a bed for her outside the door. Now too she kept up a constant stream of abuse, but to Tzili she spoke mildly: “Why don’t you go and wash yourself? There’s a mirror in the house. Go and comb your hair.” And once she even offered her one of her scented creams. “A girl of your age should perfume her neck.”

Tzili worked without a break from morning to night. She ate whatever she could lay her hands on: bread, milk, and vegetables from the garden. Her day was full to overflowing. And at night she fell onto her bed like a sack.

No one came to ask for Katerina’s favors any more and her money ran out. Even the male nurse, who pulled out two of her teeth, failed to collect his due. Katerina would stand slumped in the doorway.

One evening she asked Tzili: “Have you ever been to bed with a man?”

“No.” Tzili shuddered.

“And don’t you feel the need? At your age,” said Katerina, with almost maternal tenderness, “I had already known many men. I was even married.”

“Did you have any children?” asked Tzili.

“I did, but I gave them away when they were babies.”

Tzili asked no more. Katerina’s face was angry and bitter. She realized that she shouldn’t have asked.

Summer came and there was no end to Katerina’s complaints. She would speak of her youth, of her lovers, of the city and of money. Now she hardened her heart toward her Jewish lovers too and abused them roundly. The accusations poured out of her in a vindictive stream, scrambled up with fantasies and wishes. Every now and then she would get up and hurl a plate across the room, and the walls would shake with the clatter and the curses. Tzili’s movements grew more and more confined, and the old fear came back to her.

From time to time Katerina would berate her: “At your age I was already keeping my father, and you …”

“What do you want me to do, mother?”

“Do you have to ask? I didn’t have to ask my father. I went to the city and sent him money every month. A daughter has to look after her parents. I let those guzzlers devour my body.”

Tzili’s heart was full of foreboding. She guessed that something bad was going to happen, but she didn’t know what. Her happiest hours were the ones she spent in the meadows grazing the cow. The air and light kneaded her limbs with a firm and gentle touch. From time to time she would take off her clothes and bathe in the river.

Katerina watched her with an eagle eye: “Your health is improving every day and I’m being eaten up with illness.” Her back was very bent, and without her front teeth her face had a ghoulish, nightmare look.

One evening an old client of Katerina’s came to call, a burly middle-aged peasant. Katerina was lying in bed.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked in surprise.

“I’m resting. Can’t a woman rest?”

“I just wanted to say hello,” he said, retreating to the door.

“Why not stay a while and have a drink?”

“I’ve already had more than enough.”

“Just one little drink.”

“Thanks. I just dropped in to say hello.”

Suddenly she raised herself on her elbows, smiled and said: “Why don’t you take the little lass to bed? You won’t be sorry.”

The peasant turned his head with a dull, slow movement, like an animal, and an embarrassed smile appeared on his lips.

“She may be small but she’s got plenty of flesh on her bones.” Katerina coaxed him. “You can take my word for it.”

Tzili was standing in the scullery. The words were quite clear. They sent a shiver down her spine.

“Come here,” commanded Katerina. “Show him your thighs.”

Tzili stood still.

“Pick up your dress,” commanded Katerina.

Tzili picked up her dress.

“You see, I wasn’t lying to you.”

The peasant dropped his eyes. He examined Tzili’s legs. “She’s too young,” he said.

“Don’t be a fool.”

Tzili stood holding her dress fearfully in her hands.

“I’ll come on Sunday,” said the peasant.

“She’s got breasts already, can’t you see?”

“I’ll come on Sunday,” repeated the peasant.

“Go then. You’re a fool. Any other man would jump at the chance.”

“I don’t feel like it today. I’ll come on Sunday.”

But he lingered in the doorway, measuring the little girl with his eyes, and for a moment he seemed about to drag her into the scullery. In the end he recovered himself and repeated: “I’ll come on Sunday.”

“You fool,” said Katerina with an offended air, as if she had offered him a tasty dish and he had refused to eat it. And to Tzili she said: “Don’t stand there like a lump of wood.”

Tzili dropped her dress.

For a moment longer Katerina surveyed the peasant with her bloodshot eyes. Then she picked up a wooden plate and threw it. The plate hit Tzili and she screamed. “What are you screaming about? At your age I was already keeping my father.”

The peasant hesitated no longer. He picked up his heels and ran.

Now Katerina gave her tongue free rein, abusing and cursing everyone, especially Maria. Tzili’s fears were concentrated on the sharp knife lying next to the bed. The knife sailed through the air and hit the door. Tzili fled.