“Hi,” he said. He didn’t sound very happy to hear from me.
“Hi, did you get it?”
“No. I don’t have anything for you. Dana, listen to me, I’m tel ing you this as a friend. You have to forget your husband. I know it’s hard, but you have to forget him.”
“What are you saying? Oh God, is he dead?”
“No, he’s not dead. I can’t tel you anything. I wish I could, but I can’t.”
“You don’t know, or you don’t want to tel me?”
He didn’t reply. He was an honest person, he found it hard to lie, and I could tel he was trying to decide what to say. But just the fact that he was hesitating was in itself an answer.
“So you know, you know where he is, but you don’t want to tel me, is that it?” My voice was trembling but I was trying to stay calm; I was afraid he’d hang up on me if I became hysterical. Besides, there were people on the beach and I didn’t want them listening in on my conversation.
“You have to forget him. That’s al I can say. You have to move on, find someone else.”
“Has he? Has he found someone else?”
“No, he’s alone. Please don’t ask any more questions, because that’s al I can say.”
“Why? Why can’t you tel me? Why?”
“I have to go now,” he said. “I’m very sorry. I wish I could help you, but I can’t.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s okay, thank you, you did your best. At least now I know that everyone’s lying to me. That’s something.”
“Wel , bye for now. Take care of yourself, Dana.” He hung up.
I had told Ra I would be at the demonstration in front of the Ministry of Defense, but I couldn’t move. I held the phone in my hand, stared at the waves, and tried to understand what had just happened. I couldn’t think straight: I was in some sort of trance. I shut my eyes and remembered a veiled and bangled bel y dancer I’d once seen at a party, long ago. The chiming gold bangles had hypnotized me, and Daniel had laughed as he cal ed my name to bring me back to the real world. I roused myself and phoned Rafi.
“It’s me, Dana,” I said.
“Dana who, please?” he teased.
“I’m on the beach.”
“What’s going on?”
“I found out something about Daniel.”
“Real y?”
“Real y?”
“I can’t tel you on the phone. Are you going to the demo?”
“I have to, I’m bringing the signs, remember? We can meet after.”
“No, okay, I’l come. I can’t just sit here staring at the sea. I’l be there soon.”
Usual y I enjoyed walking and it was only on rare occasions that I took the bus. The entire city had an unset led look to it, as if the smal angular apartment houses and the people walking puposeful y through the streets and the cages fil ed with empty plastic bot les for recycling were al aware that they were part of a theatrical production— though whether farce or Greek tragedy, nobody knew. This was a world that made no e ort to seduce you, for it was too caught up in its own satis ed, uncertain presence. I was particularly at ached to the lit le stores and kiosks that sold newspapers and snacks. They never changed, the kiosks and smal stores; the world advanced around them, but they adhered to their own time zone. It was hard to believe that these bot les of grapefruit juice and rows of salted bagels could keep these enterprises going, but so far they had. Lately, though, the kiosk operators and store owners had been looking very depressed, and I wondered whether they would final y cave in and vanish.
But now as I walked down the familiar streets, the city could have been invisible, I could have been sleepwalking through it.
The Ministry of Defense was inside a military complex surrounded by a tal wal and barbed wire. Demonstrations against the ministry were held on a smal raised lot facing the entrance to the complex. A few bored soldiers were stationed on the sidewalk in order to protect us from ru ans, though if a drive-by shooter decided to target us, there was nothing they’d be able to do. The odds were against a violent at ack, though. Most of the lunatics lived in the territories and they spent their energy tormenting Palestinians.
Ra was already at the lot, standing next to a stack of signs. Sixty or seventy protesters had come to demonstrate, and they were mil ing around in their usual bewildered way, holding signs that condemned the latest bombing at ack on a Palestinian town.
I climbed up to the lot and approached Ra . I noticed when I stood next to him that we were exactly the same height. He didn’t have his hat on, and he wasn’t wearing sunglasses.
“What did you find out?” he asked, as though we were in the middle of a conversation.
“I’m not sure. It’s very strange.”
“Do you want to go for supper after the demonstration? You can tel me about it then.”
“Yes.”
Down below, on the sidewalk, a few women dressed in black had wrapped their heads in ka yehs and were holding stones in their hands, to show solidarity with the Palestinians. Not everyone approved of the women and some demonstrators grumbled, but there wasn’t much they could do. One of the women had a can of
