Chapter 24
The heavens cooperated with them, and the rains stopped for a couple of hours. Jonathan and Talia browsed in the huge appliance stores. Talia was too weary to haggle, both her body and soul were tired of hunting for the perfect appliance; she herself could do without one, but there was something amusing in watching Jonathan reveal a new aspect of his personality. He compared prices, checked different brands, and fought valiantly for a discount of ten English pounds, like any conscientious customer. In the late afternoon, with the proof of purchase in his pocket, they went to “Venice” to eat and were perfectly content.
The children were out with Jenny when they got back home, and they rushed upstairs to the bedroom. They hadn’t been this eager in a long time, yet they took their time. They undressed each other. When he turned on the bedside lamp to see her body, she was taken aback for a moment. Udi’s Caesarian section had left a scar on her belly that hadn’t completely healed, and when they made love, she turned shyly on her side, to hide the red mark.
He sensed her timidity. “What’s the matter, Talinka? What are you ashamed of? Why should you hide the Caesarian scar from me? You gave birth to our son, didn’t you? Honey, you are more beautiful than an empress to me, you’re everything to me. I find you sexier now than before. There isn’t a single part of your body I don’t love, every inch, every speck. You are, all of you, beautiful, and you’re mine!” He bent over her, caressing the skin that had formed around the scar with his tongue. “You’ll see, my kisses will heal you,” he promised her. When she was little, her father had kissed her scratches and scrapes to make them better.
Now she felt there was nothing she wanted to hide from him, all the barriers were tom down. He shifted her from side to side, slaking his thirst, and his eyes, his hands, his tongue explored every nook and cranny of her anatomy. “That’s it,” he declared, “I’ve kissed, caressed, licked and tasted everything. Is there any spot I haven’t reached? Let me know.” he murmured into her neck, moving down between her legs.
She swooned with pleasure, reveling in her release of fragrant juices. Bursting with anticipation, she could hardly restrain herself. When he finally entered her, she let out a thunderous groan, almost roaring. She soared with him to incredible heights. He kept on stroking and kissing her, penetrating her again and again. She panted and groaned, in voices she did not recognize. He was quiet, but his deep breaths testified to his ecstasy.
In her mind, he was like a camel returning from the desert with an insatiable thirst. How could she know that he was in fact preparing to set out for the desert, and was filling his reservoirs to capacity?
Pleasant, domestic noises drifted up from downstairs. Jenny was rattling pots and pans. She made porridge for Michali, an omelet for Udi. Na’ama came home from school and they chatted in sweet voices, the nanny speaking in soft, lilting tones. The rain resumed its constant tapping on the windows
Jonathan and Talia lay in bed, huddled together. Talia hugged Jonathan and pulled him closer. She breathed in his clean scent and stroked his hair. The innocent curl was ever in place on his forehead. She wished that hour of grace would stretch on forever.
His eyes were closed, his breath quiet and rhythmic. She knew he was awake.
“Hey, what’s this? I haven’t been here yet! I neglected this eyelash, this tiny, cute, little eyelash! His tongue caressed her eyelid, and the tender, feather-like touch aroused them both. Once more they set out riding each other, but at her own, internal pace, which he always located, never erring, never missing a beat, slowly, rapidly, gently, fiercely. It was a sensual voyage in which they moved between filling each other’s need and simultaneous, united pleasure.
They wanted to hold on a little longer to the fleeting moments, to drive away the shadows that threatened once more to engulf them. In the morning, Talia heard Jonathan talking with Nahum Rimmon about an argument the latter had had with the chairman of the board of directors at “Capital” magazine. Like a child needing his daddy’s help, Nahum asked Jonathan to come back right away to mediate between the warring factions. Jonathan was evasive. He tried to delay giving an answer until later that evening.
Jonathan rolled off the bed, started to dress and remained seated at the edge of the bed, turning his back to her. “You know what, Talia,” he said pensively, “I think I’ve reached my peak. I have everything: you—the woman I love, my children. Enough money for the good life. What else do I need?”
Talia felt a sharp pull at her heartstring. She had never heard him speak in this vein before. He sounded as if he were summing up his entire life, and she found it very alarming. She wanted to say something to him, but she didn’t dare.
He turned to face her. “I’m going, Talin.” He addressed her by the name he reserved for trying situations.
“Why do you have to go, Yoni?” She tried to dispel the gloomy atmosphere, using the nickname she had given him once, to be funny. He looked amused, in his blue Oxford socks, his long, pale legs sticking out of his white shorts.
He bent down and kissed her on the neck. “You’ve heard there’s trouble at the magazine. I can’t abandon Nahum and surrender the place he and I built. I must go to his rescue. He’s scared. They’re a bunch of vultures, hovering, ready to swoop down on their prey and devour it; they want to destroy him. First murder, then inherit. Uzzi, too, has problems with his chairman. I’ve got to get involved.
My kind-hearted Jonathan, she thought, he totally empathizes with his buddies, whom he carries on his back, like wounded in the battlefield. “But Jonathan,” she tried to dissuade him, “would Nahum have done the same for you? You’re here now. Let him manage by himself, like a big boy.”
“You know, Nahum is the only friend I have left.”
“And what about Uzzi? Haven’t you done enough for him? Without you, he wouldn’t have gotten...”
“Jonathan started to respond, but then the phone rang. “It’s for you,” he handed her the receiver. “I don’t know who it is. Maybe someone from your cinema course.”
“Hello, Mrs. Schwarz,” she did not recognize the voice. “This is Dr. Markovitch speaking.”
The physician. She wondered why he chose that hour to call.
“I’m sorry to call you at this hour, but this is important. I have your test results in front of me. Unfortunately, they don’t look so good. You have the beginning of cirrhosis of the liver. I’d like you to come to my clinic first thing in the morning. We have to discuss treatment and perhaps some further tests.”
“Thank you, doctor. I’ll come at the beginning of next week.”
“I’d rather you came tomorrow morning. I’ll wait for you in the clinic. Now, don’t be alarmed, Mrs. Schwarz. We diagnosed you just in time. Everything is under control.”
She hung up. Jonathan was not in the room, but a few minutes later he came back in, dressed up and freshly shaved.
“So, you’re really going?” her heart sank. Just now, when she needed him most—what with the doctor, the tests, the fatigue, the pains.
“Yes, darling, I must. But it’s only for the weekend. I’ll be back home on Monday.”
She was propped up on the pillows, still naked, the pale, silk sheet draped about her. Udi was crying in the nursery and Michali soon joined in. Jenny hushed them softly.
“I said goodbye to the kids,” Jonathan said, and then, remembering, he asked, “Who was that on the phone?”
“The doctor.”
“What did he say?” Jonathan tensed up at once.
“He said the tests were not so good,” she replied reluctantly.
“What do you mean not so good? Talinka, why didn’t you say something? I’m staying here.”
“No, Jonathan. It’s something to do with my liver, but it isn’t serious. If you have to go, go. I’m seeing the doctor tomorrow, and nothing can be done until next week, anyway.”
A small suitcase lay open by the closet, with several articles of clothing already inside: four pairs of socks, thre
e ties, four pairs of boxers, three shirts. When had he had time to pack? He walked to the suitcase and emptied it vigorously. “Talia, you don’t fool around with the liver. You’re more important than Nahum and the entire magazine. Now tell me frankly, do you want me to stay?”
She wanted him to stay, but words to the opposite effect came out of her mouth. “No, Jonathan, you go on your trip. I’ll manage, don’t worry...” Self-absorbed, he put the clothes back in the suitcase, then tied his shoelaces, fixed his tie, and glanced in the mirror. On top of the suitcase he put A.B. Yehoshua’s recent book, “Five Seasons.”
“Do you need anything? A cup of tea, maybe?” These are mere words, she thought, to cover the abyss of silence that lay between them. From the window, a car flicked its lights. Jonathan had not yet mastered the rules of the road in England, so he’d hired a chauffeur and a rented car. The chauffeur was now honking the horn impatiently.
“If you need me, just say the word and I’ll stay, Talin. Do you really not want me to stay?”
“No, Yoni, don’t be silly. Just go and come back quickly.”
“Then come, come, come, and give me another kiss.” Jonathan had kisses for every time and every situation. “A Thousand Kisses” was reserved for making love, their hours of delight, between midnight and two in the morning, when the light was dim, when he indulged in endless kisses that intoxicated her senses. Then there were the routine kissing rites of the morning, before leaving the house, and of the evening, when he returned home. And the kisses on the nape of her neck, when he wanted to surprise her. When they said goodbye, he would kiss her gently, lightly, so as not to put too great a weight on the distance and time that would separate them. Now he kissed her on the mouth, again and again, deep, insistent kisses, drinking thirstily, as if in the midst of the passionate love they’d just come from. He’d never done this when saying goodbye before.
He tore himself away from her, but then embraced her again. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”
“Enough, Jonathan. How many times can you ask? It’s only for five days!”
He pulled her outside, in front of the cast iron elevator. Like a couple in a movie, they stood in each other’s arms, by the iron grill of a little bridge overlooking the two stories of the house. He held her, peering into her eyes, and their look struck fear in her heart. “I love you so much, Talia darling, I need you so much, I rely on you. Without you, I’m not worth anything.” Slowly, he opened the elevator door and walked in. His movements expressed hesitation. Again, he regarded her disturbingly. He pulled the iron handle. “Watch the kids for me,” he said in a broken voice.
She wanted to follow him into the tiny compartment, but her feet were rooted, and no words would come from her.
The door closed behind him. “I’m going,” he said in that eerie voice.
The elevator shook and squeaked. Talia continued to stand motionless, looking to the empty space he left behind.