A Late Divorce by A. B. Yehoshua Page B

silently by my bed tall a handsome man a mane of graying hair bohemian-style on his neck. Fitted into his American suit his fingers stained with nicotine what does he want from me of course to ask about her but he’s afraid to talk.
    â€œYou’re going to Jerusalem tomorrow. To Asa’s.”
    He gives me a hard look deep in thought he wants to talk but something won’t let him he puffs greedily on his cigarette.
    Suddenly he sits down on the bed. Something draws him to me. The fact that I was with her but what more can I tell him. Silence I’m fading out I curl up in the blanket and close my eyes from time to time to see what effect it has. But he goes on sitting there smoking his head in his hand. He’s a worried man. He needs the divorce he has a woman waiting for him there and if I let my intuition run free I’d guess that he’s made a little uncle for Gaddi. It’s quiet except for the dishes my body’s turning to lead.
    â€œIf you don’t mind turning off the light, we could sit in the dark for the same price...” I smile weakly hoping it’s my last joke of the day.
    He draws back. “What?”
    He’s gotten the hint though he straightens up looking down on me from above he turns off the light and leaves the room I bury myself underneath the blanket.
    Once upon a time I used to feel desire at this hour but lately someone’s seen to it that I don’t. The baby’s begun to cry but I’m not getting up for her I’ve already put in a full day the title of my next best seller will be
How to Subtly Get Your Marriage Partner to Take Care of the Crying Baby.
I snuggle deeper into bed. They must be going over my agreement in the loony bin now assuming that the dog hasn’t eaten it why half asleep do I think of her again in the sharp light by the sea you’ve caught some of her madness Kedmi dear Kedmi poor Yisra’el Kedmi you aging hyperactive child who needs to sleep...

TUESDAY
Imagination protects sight
And taking art for act
Protects all life.
Wisdom’s pearls protect the tongue
A ring
The finger....
And so I think of wherewith to protect
Myself against the self’s own self-reversal.
Yona Vallach
    Â 
    Is this where he lives? On purpose in so drab a neighborhood or are such the meager rewards of a literary career? And does he really write his books facing that ugly peeling wall? He has three different mailboxes two broken and the third a giant new one its upraised slit hungry for mail. A man bounds quickly down the stairs he slows and stops in wonder pirouetting by the mailboxes fondling the air around me he steals a look at me and steps outside turning to look once more before he’s gone.
The pain of your beauty
wrote one of the boys in my high-school class who used to write to me and which of them didn’t try. Anonymous notes slipped into my schoolbag devious love poems intricately concocted from biblical verses and the sayings of our blessed rabbis with here and there a drop of plain hard filth when one of them beneath his knitted skullcap couldn’t stand it anymore. The Tartar cheeks the blue twinkle that smote their hearts. Because how could one not be in love with you tell me? I will tell you. You cannot be in love with me because you do not know the first thing about me but why shouldn’t you fall in love anyway and meanwhile can I look at your math homework I didn’t understand one single question.
    Five minutes to ten. Wait. It’s gauche to come early even coming on time is bad form he’ll think how important I must be to her if she’s timed it so exactly I’m sure I’m not the first or last to pester him like this he’s too big a man for a novice like me but Asi had to prove what wonderful contacts he has. Perhaps he can help you make some contacts. A code word. From contact to contact we’ll all stay in contact until we’re a contact ourselves. My (even if I am being