He’ll sit down and write a table of the signs.
In one column will be good signs like: Today Dad made Mom laugh.
After dinner, on the way to the sink, he put a hand on her shoulder. And she didn’t push it away.
They didn’t argue until after we went to sleep.
Next Saturday, they’re taking us on a hike in the woods. I heard Mom talking to her friend about it. That means that they’ll be together at least until Saturday.
And he’d write the bad signs in another column:
Dad slept in the studio he used to have. Instead of at home.
They don’t sit on the balcony to talk anymore after they think we’ve fallen asleep.
Mom goes to the movies with her friend Gaia, instead of with Dad.
When I used to climb into their bed on Saturday morning, there was always a small space I had to squeeze into, and lately, the space between them is so large that I can almost spread my arms to the side when I’m between them.
On the way back from the hike in the woods, their song was on the radio. It starts with the word “sometimes,” and the singer has a funny name: Johnny Shuali. I know that song because whenever it’s on the radio, Dad makes it louder, Here’s Mom’s and my favorite song, but this time, Dad didn’t make it louder and he didn’t say that.
—
As the story progresses, there will be more bad things. And fewer good ones.
But what will really make my heart ache when I read it (he’ll let me read it a week before the book is published, and he’ll warn me not to look for myself in it: You know what that’s like, Dad, he’ll tell me, it’s never one-to-one), what will really pain me is that the boy in the story believes he’s responsible for the crisis between his parents. And he’ll start to behave like a perfect little boy. He’ll do his homework on the same day he receives it. And he’ll make an effort to do better in English, even though it’s difficult for him. Because he knows how important it is to his mother. And he’ll give his father a big hug when he goes off to school in the morning so he’ll remember the hug and won’t feel like leaving. And one weekend, when his sister Noam is on a trip with the scouts, he’ll tell his parents that he can stay home alone, without a babysitter, so they can go out, maybe to a movie? And he’ll restrain himself from making a scene when they say he still isn’t old enough, because he knows that his scenes always drive a wedge between Mom, who says that the first thing to do is to put him in his place when he behaves like that, and Dad, who says that first, they have to understand where it’s coming from. He’ll secretly read the Internet sites written by authorities on relationships, and realize that the most important thing is to keep the channels of communication between the couple open, and it all begins and ends with trust. On Friday, after their family dinner, he’ll suggest a game of falling: every player in turn closes his eyes and falls back into the arms of the person standing behind him. He’ll insist that not only the kids fall back into their parents’ arms, or into each other’s arms, but that Mom will fall into Dad’s arms, and he’ll ask her to try again, and again, after the first few times, when her foot pushes out in distrust. He’ll applaud when Mom finally succeeds, and even lingers in Dad’s arms for a second longer than necessary, as if she’s resting for a moment from the effort of being angry at him—
But the bad signs will grow worse. And one night, when his dad is at work and his mom is sure he’s sleeping, he’ll hear her say to her friend Gaia, “I’m waiting until after Noam’s bat mitzvah. I don’t want to break the kids’ hearts,” and the next day, he’ll get his hands on the phone number of the hall where the bat mitzvah is supposed to take place and ask to speak with Coral, who is organizing it. He’ll explain the situation to her, all the signs and implications, and beg her to postpone the event, only for a few weeks, and maybe by then, Mom and Dad will make up, they always make up in the end. He won’t accept Coral’s explanation that the hall is very much in demand and dates are scheduled six months in advance, and they can’t just shift an event at the last minute because, even with the best of intentions, it would be a violation of their contract—
A few hours before the bat mitzvah, he’ll stop being a perfect little boy and eat twenty apricots, one after the other, and drink half a bottle of vinegar, and vomit it all up on the kitchen floor. He’ll be disappointed to see that his parents don’t cancel the party, don’t even consider canceling it, but just call their neighbor’s son, Ariel the babysitter, to sit beside his bed.
—
This is how the story will end: Later on in life, I learn that parting is a force of nature. Like falling. But that autumn, I believed with all my heart that I could stop it.
The name of the story will be: “The Perfect Little Boy.” How do you combine family life and writing?
I wrote my first book when I was brokenhearted after a breakup. And single.
I thought: When I have love, I won’t be able to write.
I wrote my second book when Dikla was pregnant.
I thought: When I have kids, I won’t be able to write.
I wrote my third book when Dikla was pregnant again.
I thought: One daughter is okay, with two daughters, there’s no chance I’ll be able
