The English Teacher by Yiftach Reicher Atir Page B

don’t know. I don’t know how they do this. How they can live the identity that we’ve designed for them, lead an apparently normal life, even fall in love with someone, and at the same time think about the job that has to be done, about the real reason they are there, about the dangers that surround them and what is forbidden and what is permitted. In the movies they go on dangerous missions, fall into the traps set by beautiful women, and come home crowned in glory. In books we readabout their spectacular adventures, and in the autobiographies that we allow them to publish, they write only what they want us to know. No one tells us what happens in hotel rooms and in the chambers of the heart in the days and nights that they spend there, and about the effects that remain when they return home after years of assuming that the world revolved around them.
    â€œThey don’t tell us what they really feel. From their point of view they are always on duty. This is what they were found suitable for, what they were trained for. Just as they know how to project their identity in the field, so they learn over time to show us only the angle that they choose. They believe we have their interests at heart, but they know very well what we want, and they try to deliver the goods.
    â€œAnd Rachel? She was openhearted, especially with me. She trusted me and she had a logical grasp of the world. She said that whenever she’s afraid to tell, or afraid she may be harmed by the things she’s going to say, she speaks out and copes with the consequences. ‘If I dare not expose my feelings, it means that I’m ashamed of them,’ she said. And there was something else. She shared things with me because I was no threat to her. Because she knew I was in love with her, because she didn’t love me. You don’t need to make an impression on people you don’t love.
    â€œWhen she came back from her first time out there, I was as pleased as she was that everything had gone smoothly and she was accepted for the job. After the fact I learned that she didn’t say anything then about the first night, and I didn’t ask, though I knew how hard it must have been. There were other things we had to go through together. It’s just as well she didn’t tell me straightaway about the knocking of the knees and standing at the peephole. I admit, I’d have thought she wasn’t ready and needed to go back into training.
    â€œAnd you know what? There’s no harm in fear. Fear sharpens thesenses; it makes you more careful and helps prevent foolish mistakes. The question isn’t the fear but the ability to control it and continue to function. Although it wraps around you and ties you to the ground, fear also nourishes strength. Just as pain after an injury forces you to pay attention to the wound and treat it, so fear makes you more alert to danger. Not being able to be afraid is a kind of mental illness, and we need people with healthy minds. Not disturbed, not suicidal. We’re looking for well-adjusted operatives who can feel the fear and know how to cope with it rationally.”
    In the neighboring house the lights had gone out hours ago. He looked at his watch and was astonished when he realized how long they had been sitting together, since he decided to tell all that he knew, all that was needed to bring her home. Joe got up and went to the bathroom. Ehud was left with his thoughts. What else is there to tell? What else is there to hide? Joe apparently isn’t going to make it to eighty, and I’m a widower retiree and my grandchildren are far away. Rachel was right. What have I to be afraid of? Shame is our enemy in this business. Pretending that everything is fine and that we’re working like a well-oiled machine is a perversion of reality. Hence the problems begin, the way is open to self-deception and the cracks that it brings with it.
    He saw Joe approaching. His body,