A Late Divorce by A. B. Yehoshua

the zeros I start the motor and depart from this vale of tears.
    Gaddi opens the door for me now I remember what I’ve forgotten it’s his present. The lights are all on in the house the baby’s in her high chair in the living room surrounded by toys facing the TV watching Begin on the Arabic news the dining table is full of dirty dishes scattered papers a tube of paint grandpa is sitting drinking coffee Gaddi runs to bring me a big picture Ya’el comes out of the kitchen in an apron.
    â€œWhat happened? We were so worried. I didn’t understand a thing. What hundred thousand pounds went down the drain?”
    â€œIt didn’t. It came back up again.”
    â€œDid you see my mother?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œDid something go wrong?”
    â€œNo. Everything’s fine.”
    I head for the bathroom with her on my heels and Gaddi on hers.
    â€œWe didn’t know when you’d come, so we ate without you.”
    â€œThat’s okay. I just hope you left something for me.”
    â€œOf course we did. Did something go wrong, Kedmi?”
    â€œIf you’d allow me to take a leak there might be some prospect of your serving me supper.”
    I shut the door in Gaddi’s face to keep him from gate-crashing with his picture. I pee I wash my hands and face at the sink I go around the house turning off unneeded lights finally I sit down at the table. Grandpa moves his chair closer to me his face pale and serious.
    â€œSo tell us ...”
    â€œIn a minute. Just let me first put something in my stomach to draw the blood down there so that it doesn’t explode in my brain. If Kedmi gets a stroke, the Kaminkas will pay dearly.”
    I settle into my chair take the check from my pocket place it on the table read it like the morning paper it’s certainly better news. He gets up stricken and walks about the room Ya’el sends Gaddi to the bathroom the baby quiets down so does Begin there’s just background music now. Ya’el looks pitifully gray and tired.
    â€œDidn’t you eat all day long? Your mother called a few times to say she was waiting for you for lunch. Where did you disappear to? Did something happen?...Why don’t you say something?...She was terribly worried.”
    â€œThen call her and tell her that I’m here with my mouth full of food. You can spare me the pleasure and her the worry ...”
    All at once he stops pacing the room and bursts out:
    â€œWhat happened? Did you see her?”
    â€œOf course I did. Could I have some more egg, please?”
    â€œHow is she?”
    â€œShe’s fine. She was watering the trees.”
    â€œBut what did she say? How did she receive you?”
    â€œVery hospitably. By the way, you have regards from the dog. He thanks you for the powder, Ya’el.”
    I take a last look at the check I fold it and replace it in my pocket. “Did she sign?”
    â€œAlmost. She wants to think about it some more.”
    â€œTo think?”
    â€œSuch things happen.”
    Why am I doing this to them? Is it just my lousy character?
    At last Ya’el exclaims almost in tears:
    â€œCan’t you talk like a human being? You insisted on going by yourself and now it’s like pulling teeth to get a word out of you.”
    â€œAll right, all right. I only wanted to eat in peace. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that you were so impatient.” (Kissinger presents his report to the Israeli government.) “I arrived there at three-thirty. I spoke with a young doctor whom I had to wake up. He said she was in good shape. A few of her friends in the hospital knew what I had come for too. I found her tanned and spry-looking, watering the trees. I don’t know if that’s some new sort of therapy but in any case it definitely works. There’s no comparing the way she is now with her condition several years ago. Do you remember that time I was with you,