Every House Needs a Balcony by Rina Frank Page B

on the French border, and from there they often skipped over to Andora to pick up some duty-free electrical goods, and sometimes went on to Paris to visit Luna’s brother and his delightful wife.
    On Yom Kippur, they went to synagogue. Because the man fasted, she did too, to keep him company; in the Diaspora it would not have been possible to feel the day of atonement without fasting, since on that day life goes as on any other day of the year, as if we don’t need to atone for our transgressions, and she loved him for it.
    In the synagogue she was introduced to the entire distinguished congregation, and they all took an interest in the new Israeli visitor. Suddenly she noticed a glamorous woman showing more interest in her than were the others. Paula whispered to her that she was the man’s former fiancée. She wanted to approach her and apologize for stealing his heart, but the woman turned her back as soon as she noticed her making a move toward her. And she thought to herself that in any case she would never have known to express her feelings in the sparse Spanish she had at her command. Moreover, she didn’t really regret having stolen his heart. She was overjoyed.
    But when the holy season was over and his sister returned to Israel and she didn’t hear him mentioning anything about sharing his future with her, and she had done her part by learning Spanish and was even able to understand some of the news on TV and at conversation at the family dinner table, she told him that she was returning to Israel to start anew job, since she had run out of money after a stay that had lasted three weeks. He told her that he would be in touch, as if to say, Give me a little more time before I propose marriage to you, if at all.
    She went back to Israel feeling a tad frustrated, and when her parents asked her, “Nu?” she showed them the pictures of her smiling all over Spain. They smiled and asked again, “Nu…,” and she showed them the new glasses he had bought her with the black frames and diamonds at the sides and all the European clothes that suited her so well. Her mother told her she had expected to see a diamond on her finger; she didn’t respond, but found a job right away with a well-known Haifa architect.

Recycled Clothes
    On Friday afternoon we get dressed in our best and climb all the stairs and slopes from our home up to the Upper Hadar neighborhood. My sister and I skip and jump in anticipation, with joy in our hearts and some anxiety—what clothes are we getting this time? Mom and Dad walk behind us with a heaviness typical of people who are no longer expecting anything.
    Mom had cousins, Sammy and Fima, who had two daughters. They were considered middle class and lived in the Hadar HaCarmel neighborhood. Not only were Sammy and Fima in permanent employment, Fima as a school nurse and Sammy as a senior supervisor with the Port Authority, they also had relatives in far-off America; and it’s a well-known fact that anyone who has relatives in America is one lucky person.
    Nothing was superior to that secret address in Americafrom which you receive parcels of clothes and tins of preserves so the children in Israel will have something to eat in times of austerity. After removing the choice articles for themselves, they allowed us to choose what we wanted. Apart from the food, which they kept for themselves, naturally.
    Fima checks Sefi’s and my ears, nails, and of course, hair in a scrupulous search for lice; not for nothing is she a school nurse. And after we are found to be squeaky clean by her standards, Fima brings out the latest shipment, newly arrived from America. We fall on the pile, and I quickly pull out a brown blouse that looks good quality and tell my sister that I touched it first. My sister retorts that she doesn’t want this particular blouse and pulls out the most beautiful blouse I have ever seen in my life. The blouse, which is made of a