All Backs Were Turned Read online

  “It’s a hundred and forty degrees now,” Israel said. “Didn’t they tell you that at the tourist office?”

  “I’ll take the jeep,” a woman behind him suddenly said. He didn’t see her; he only heard her voice reaching him through walls of heat, and he thought with reluctance that he would have to turn around and face her.

  “Twenty pounds,” he said, without turning around.

  “I know,” she said. “I heard you say it three times. The first two times I didn’t say anything, but now I’m joining in. Like at an auction.”

  “What auction?” the old man screeched.

  Israel turned around. The woman was standing a few steps away, smoking a cigarette.

  “Oh, it’s you,” he said. “I saw you leave the plane. You want me to take you to a hotel?”

  She walked over and he helped her get into the jeep.

  “I heard one could rent a room privately,” she said. “That there are people here who take in lodgers. Would you know of anyone?”

  “I can find out,” he said. “Then what?”

  “I’d like to see all there’s to be seen in Eilat,” she said. “That’s why I came here. But I don’t have much time.”

  “How long do you plan to stay?”

  “Three days,” she said. “Then I have to go back.” She looked at the old couple walking slowly in the sun. “Can we give them a lift? That woman looks as if she’s going to drop any moment.”

  “My mother died in this country,” he said, throwing the car into gear. “It says on her tombstone: Here lies Sarah, Mordechai’s daughter, a God-fearing old woman who has gone the way of all flesh.” He turned to the woman. “It would be best for this old hag if she also died. Right here, in this country, which she probably detests. There’d be less sorrow in the world then.”

  “And what about me?” she asked.

  “Well, what about you?”

  “I’m over thirty,” she said. “Can I live a few more years?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “It depends on you.”

  “Well, can you find out?”

  “Sure,” he said. “I’ll tell you before you leave.”

  “You have three days to gather the information,” she said. “And now stop the jeep. I want you to give this old couple a lift. I’ll pay you for it.”

  He accelerated and drove past the old couple, covering them with sand. He continued to step on the gas until the arrow of the speedometer moved lazily from forty to fifty, and then he braked hard and jumped out of the jeep. They were midway between the airport and the main highway and nobody could see them. He circled the hood and stopped by the woman’s side.

  “Listen,” he said, “I won’t give that old hag a lift. Not even for forty pounds. That’s why I asked her for twenty pounds; I didn’t want her to ride in this jeep. Anybody else I would have charged ten. And that’s how much I’ll charge you for three hours.”

  “What have you got against her? She hasn’t done you any harm.”

  “She reminds me of someone I want to forget,” he said.

  “You should stop having affairs with girls well past their menopause. You’ll save yourself lots of trouble.”

  “She reminds me of my mother.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said and held out her hand, but he ignored it. He stood still and the red dust settled slowly over his sweaty face. After a while he took a moist cigarette out of his shirt pocket and lit it.

  “Can we drive on?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “First we’ll find that room for me, okay?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Everything is fine now.” He got back behind the wheel and started off. In the rear-view mirror he could see the old couple shuffling slowly along in the direction of the highway; he knew that she also was watching them in the mirror. But he didn’t stop; he drove on quickly, raising clouds of red dust that soon obscured the old couple, outlandish and out of place in their black clothes, so much in discord with the mountains, the white sun, and the tranquil bay. He reached the main highway and turned right toward the town. He spat out the cigarette butt and looked at his passenger. For a moment he gazed in silence at her slim, weary face.

  “I, too, will die here,” he said finally, lighting a new cigarette. “No doubt about it. It’s much too hot here for someone born in Europe. Just imagine, it’ll be like this, with no rain, for the next five months—” He glanced at her again. “I’ll stop by the place where I’m staying and ask about a room for you. They might know of something.”

  “Okay,” she said. “It doesn’t have to be anything special. Just a clean room for three days.”

  He stopped the jeep in front of Little Dov’s house and walked inside. Esther was asleep; Dov was sitting by the window reading a newspaper.

  “Hey, Dov,” Israel whispered. “Come out to the kitchen.”

  Dov left the room, closing the door behind him. “There’s this woman who’s looking for a place to stay,” Israel said. “Can you help? I’ve just picked her up at the airport. Maybe you know of someone who’d want to rent a room for three days?”

  “We can try the neighbors,” Dov said. “If she doesn’t expect us to pay her rent, that is. I hope you’ve made it clear that you won’t be driving her around Eilat just for the fun of it.”

  “I told her it’d be my pleasure to take her wherever she wants to go as long as she pays for it,” Israel said.

  They crossed the yard and knocked on the door of a house that looked exactly the same as Little Dov’s. A fat woman opened the door.

  “Do you want to rent a room?” Dov asked. “There’s a woman, a tourist, who’s looking for a room for three days.”

  “Three days? Is it worth it?” the fat woman asked.

  “I don’t know,” Israel said. “Say yes or no.”

  “My, my, aren’t we impatient? Is she alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “How much does she want to pay?”

  “Ten pounds a day,” Israel said. “That’s the going rate for rooms around here.”

  “She’ll bring in men,” the fat woman said grudgingly.

  “You haven’t even seen her, so how can you know?” Dov said. “And even if she does, what do you care? The important thing is she won’t bring in women. At least men don’t get pregnant. Well?”

  “Okay, but she has to pay me in advance,” the fat woman said.

  “I think she’ll agree to that,” Israel said. “I’ll go and ask her. And if she wants to see the room, I’ll bring her over.”

  “One moment,” the fat woman said, looking at them as if she suddenly woke up from a dream. “Who are you, the two of you?”

  “I’m Dov Ben Dov,” Dov said. “And this is my friend Israel. Satisfied?”

  “You’re Dov Ben Dov?” she asked. “I already know two men by that name.”

  “I’m the third one,” Dov said. “The worst one. The one you heard all the stories about. We’ll be back in a minute.”

  They went to the jeep.

  “This is my friend, Dov Ben Dov,” Israel said. “He helped me find you a room.”

  “Ben Dov,” the woman said. “In Hebrew this means the son of—I’ve forgotten. God, I knew that word, but now it’s slipped my mind.”

  “Bear, son of Bear,” Dov said. “A very nice name, considering that no one has ever seen a bear in this country.”

  “Yes,” she said, holding out her hand. “And my name is Ursula. People address each other by their first names here, no?”

  “It’s more convenient that way,” Dov said. “I know a guy who’s named Moses Treppengelander. And another one who’s named Samuel Paradiserweg. Who’d want to say all that?”

  “You were born here,” she said, fixing her eyes on him.

  “Yes, in Haifa,” he said. “How did you know I was born in Israel?”

  “I just knew it,” she said, staring at his heavy shoulders. “And you do look like a bear.”

  He took a step in her direction. His face remain
ed expressionless, only the spot where his eyebrows joined seemed to thicken suddenly.

  “Has anybody ever told you what you look like? What kind of woman?” he asked. Then he turned and walked away.

  “It’s best to leave him alone,” Israel said. “He can be very unpleasant.”

  “Did I offend him in some way?” she asked.

  “No,” Israel said. “Nobody needs to offend him. That’s the trouble. It’s enough that he imagines the whole world is trying to offend him. There are people like that, you know.” He took her suitcase from the back seat. “Let’s go and see that room. It’ll cost you half of what a hotel room would.”

  She didn’t move. She was still watching the door behind which Dov had disappeared.

  “That man has insulted me,” she said quietly. “Even though I did him no wrong. I’ve barely been in this town fifteen minutes.”

  “One often pays for the wrongs done by others,” Israel said. “Every Jew ought to know that. Hasn’t your mother ever told you that?”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not Jewish,” she said. “My husband was a Jew. That’s why I came here, to see the things he told me so much about. I didn’t come here to be insulted.”

  “Dov won’t change,” Israel said. “I can apologize for him if you want me to.”

  “My husband told me that when you welcome somebody in Hebrew, you say, Blessed be the one who cometh hither. Doesn’t anybody say these words anymore?”

  “Of course they do,” Israel said. “Plenty of people say them. And feel that way about strangers. Actually, I don’t know anybody who doesn’t. And of all the people I know, Dov is usually the one most likely to.”

  He moved off, carrying her suitcase; after a moment, Ursula got out of the jeep and followed. They crossed the yard and approached the fat woman’s house; the fat woman herself was still standing in the doorway.

  “Let’s see that room,” Israel said. He walked in, shouldering her aside.

  The room she showed them was bright and clean.

  “You won’t find a room like this for fifteen pounds anywhere else,” she said. “I’m renting it only because my husband—”

  “For fifteen pounds we don’t want it,” Israel said. “You settled for ten.”

  “Ten? I think you have trouble understanding Hebrew. How long have you been in this country?”

  “You said ten,” Israel said.

  “There must be some mistake. Ask your friend. If Dov Ben Dov says I settled for ten, I’ll agree. My loss. I don’t need to make a profit. Others die of hunger, so I can suffer a loss. It won’t kill me. But ask Dov Ben Dov. I want to hear it from his mouth.”

  “Dov has said too many things for which he later had to appear in court,” Israel said. “It’s best to leave him alone.”

  “You want to ruin me!”

  “No, I don’t,” Israel said, picking up the suitcase he had already placed on the bed. “We’ll find a different room.”

  “Did I say no?” the fat woman asked. “Did I say you can’t have it? Let it be my loss.” She turned to Ursula who was still standing in the door. “What is it, dear? You look depressed.”

  “No,” Ursula said, “I’m just tired. And hot.”

  “I’ll make you some coffee, dear,” the fat woman said. “Coffee is what keeps one alive here.”

  “Right,” Israel said. “Then it’s settled. Wash up and have some coffee. I’ll go home and drink something too. When you’re ready, just honk the horn. I’ll leave the keys in the jeep.”

  Back home, he took a bottle of beer out of the refrigerator in the kitchen and walked into the room. His hands trembled with anger as he poured the beer into a glass.

  “You have some strange ideas about making money, Dov,” he said. “Most people are really odd; they don’t like being insulted.”

  “Did he say something rude to her?” Esther asked; she was still rosy from sleep, like a child.

  “Not at all,” Israel said. “He only implied she looked like a whore. Apart from that, he was really charming. If she spoke Hebrew better, she’d have told him he was very sweet. The reason she didn’t is that her Hebrew isn’t too good.”

  “Dov was right,” Esther said.

  Israel turned to her. “Why was he right?” he asked. “Who gave him the right to insult somebody he’s never met before?”

  “I saw the way she was looking at him,” Esther said.

  “And how was that, if you don’t mind telling me?” Israel asked.

  “As if there was something about him she didn’t like,” Esther said.

  “Like what?”

  “His clothes,” Esther said.

  “Don’t try to defend me, Esther,” Dov said. “The best lawyers in this country tried, but in the end they always lost the case.”

  “You don’t need anybody to defend you,” Esther said. “And nobody could do it.”

  “Then what do I need, Esther?” Dov asked.

  “You need somebody who’d love you,” Esther said. “Though I doubt anyone would know how.”

  “This is the second time today you’re meddling in my affairs,” Dov said. “I haven’t asked for your opinion.”

  “That woman hasn’t asked for yours either,” Esther said. “She was just sitting in the jeep and looking at you. And I happened to be standing by the window and saw it all.”

  “Esther,” Dov said, “I have enough troubles as it is. Don’t add to them. Stand by the window, stand on your head, stand where you like, but leave me alone.”

  “Look, it wasn’t me that was looking at you.” She regarded him for a moment in a stony, unfriendly fashion. “And it wasn’t me that didn’t like your clothes,” she added, storming out of the kitchen.

  “There’s one thing she forgot to say,” Israel said.

  “What is that?”

  “That she could have moved away from the window. Or turned around and looked at something else. At this picture of your brother in uniform, for instance.” He stepped up to the wall and pointed at a picture of Little Dov that hung there in a coral frame. It had been taken when Little Dov was serving his time in the army; he was dressed in a paratrooper’s uniform. “She could have looked at this picture. But she didn’t.”

  “Are you implying something, Israel?” Dov asked. “Don’t forget she’s my brother’s wife.”

  Israel turned to Dov and looked at him in silence. He smiled, but his eyes remained hard.

  “I hope she is not forgetting that,” he said after a pause. He pointed again at the picture. “It must be a recent one. Esther and Dov met in the army, didn’t they?”

  “Listen, Israel,” Dov said. “Esther was born in this country like me and my brother. She has learned to speak her mind. Nobody should hold that against her.”

  “I understand,” Israel said. “What you’re saying is that you who were born here are different from the rest of us. Different meaning better.” He heard the blare of the jeep’s horn and placed the glass of beer he was holding on the kitchen table. “I have to go,” he said. “I’ll drive her around Eilat and then come back. And I’ll apologize to her for you.”

  “Don’t,” Dov said. “I didn’t mean to insult her. I have no idea how it happened.”

  “I will,” Israel said. “You know why? Because I’m afraid that you may suddenly decide to apologize to her in person. And that would be the worst thing that could happen, Dov. Because the worst thing is not that you offend people or get into fights; it’s that later you want to apologize to them. That’s when the real trouble starts. And that’s what I’m afraid of.”

  They heard the jeep’s horn again and Israel walked out. Dov got up, went to the window, and looked at Israel and Ursula. Then he turned around and looked at his brother’s picture and saw that it was somewhat askew. Israel must have shifted it a little, because the wall was slightly paler along one side of the frame. He stared for a moment at the picture, at his brother’s eyes, which watched him mirthlessly, at his blond hair sticking out fro
m under the paratrooper’s cap, then he stepped up to the wall and moved the frame into place.

  URSULA WAS ALREADY SITTING IN THE JEEP. SHE HAD put on a pair of somewhat dirty blue jeans. Israel smiled at her, then looked down at his own pants; they were exactly the same shade of blue and just as dirty.

  “Where shall we go first?”

  “I have no idea,” she said. “What’s worth seeing around here? You must know.”

  “Well, there’s my friend Dov,” Israel said. “But you already saw him. We could drive to the beach and rent a boat with a glass bottom through which you can watch fish and other stuff.”

  “And what else?”

  “The problem is, I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know Eilat. It’s only my second day here. And I already hate the place.”

  “You’re a strange guide,” she said. “I won’t be in the least surprised if you tell me next that you don’t have a driver’s license and this jeep doesn’t belong to you.”

  “Of course it doesn’t belong to me,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll ever be rich enough to drive a car of my own. But that doesn’t mean we can’t go sightseeing. I’m just as curious as you are about this goddamn town.”

  “Okay, let’s go to the beach,” she said, “and check out those boats with the glass bottoms. As long as I’m here I’d like to see something of Eilat. Though I must have begun touring the country from the wrong end.”

  “You’ve never been to Israel before?”

  “No,” she said. “I know only what my husband told me. Though he had never been here himself.”

  “He’s dead now?”

  “He died two years ago,” she said.

  Israel stopped the jeep and turned his face to her. Sweat was running down his brow and getting into his eyes; he wiped it off with his hand, but that didn’t seem to help much.

  “Listen,” he said, “you don’t have to pay me. Why don’t you see this town on your own? Half an hour would be enough. You really don’t have to pay me that ten pounds.” He paused. “I wouldn’t want you to think that someone was trying to swindle you. Here, in this country your husband told you so much about. It’s a country like any other. And the people here are no different from other people.” When she didn’t say anything, he asked, “You’re German, aren’t you?”