Don't Ask Me If I Love (35 page)

“I see.” He scratched his cheek and leaned forward to pick out a cigar for himself. “Just take it easy. It is a tricky business, films are full of disappointments.”

“Sure,” I said lightly, “but I can try. I'll have one myself,” I added, taking a thick Havana, “if you don't mind. I'm beginning to feel like a businessman myself.”

“Not a politician?”

“No.”

“A good cigar never hurt anyone,” my father said.

“So what happens next?” Joy asked me, half an hour later.

“He'll call sometime tomorrow.”

“Think the book will do?”

“Do you?”

“I don't know. I like it. I think it might come pretty close to what he wants.”

“In that case,” I said, taking off my shoes, “perhaps you will play the part of the beautiful girl, after all.”

“I don't know. I have no experience. There are hundreds of actresses who could play that role.”

“I doubt that Bennett likes me,” I said, “but I am sure he likes you. I think he would like you to be in the movie. Anyway, if anything came of all this talk, I would insist on it.”

“Would you?” Joy said.

WHEN the phone woke me at nine-twenty the following morning, Joy had already left the flat.

“I like it,” Bennett said shortly. “If you can come and see me this evening we can talk the whole business over.”

“What time?”

“Say eight-thirty?”

“I'll meet you at the bar.”

“That would be fine. So long.”

“I learned a lot of new Hebrew words today,” Joy announced happily as she came in, around two that afternoon.

“Bennett said he likes it.”

“I am really making progress. I can feel myself understanding people when they talk. It's great. I can say quite complicated sentences like …”

“Bennett called this morning,” I repeaed. “He likes it.”

“That's great,” she said calmly, “but don't you want to hear a few samples of my Hebrew?”

I stood up and looked at her.

“Do you realize what this means?”

“Of course, darling,” she said lightly. “He might make a deal with you.”

“You're not excited?”

“Of course, I am. But that's not the only thing I'm living for. I'm so glad that I'm actually beginning to understand the language. That is very important to me, too.”

“Yes, of course,” I said.

“Assaf?”

“What?”

“You haven't talked about anything in the last two weeks except our careers and now, this movie.” She looked at me. “Don't let it become too important. There are other things in life.”

“An opportunity like this doesn't come along every day,” I said. “We could wait for years before we get another one.”

“You have written the book.”

“I know, but that's still not enough.”

“What do you really want?”

“I want to make it big.”

She shook her head slowly.

“Why? Do you think that is the most important thing in life?”

“No,” I said, “not at all. But I want it. That's what makes it important. You've got to have what you want, otherwise why want it?”

“Yes. That's in your book.”

“Please don't look so sad,” I said, planting a kiss on her ear, “I'm not so terrible. Tell me what you learned in Hebrew and afterward I'll tell you about Bennett, but only if you want to hear.”

“I am a girl,” Joy said slowly, in Hebrew. “Every day I go to school to study my new language. It is summer now and the sum is shining and everyone is happy.”

“Great,” I said, “I don't know what to say; it's absolutely great.”

“You're kidding.”

“No, truly I'm not. I think you speak beautifully.”

“I can write it too,” she said proudly.

“You are going to be the most beautiful Hebrew-speaking girl in the country.”

“Thank you kindly,” she said and got up to her feet, “Right now I am the hungriest girl in this country.”

“There are two steaks in the freezer.”

“Come to the kitchen and tell me all about our producer while I cook a terrific meal.”

I didn't study at all that afternoon. We passed the time making plans. I told Joy that after my exams we might go to the States and see the big studios in Hollywood. We could also visit her parents in New York and see the plays on Broadway. We could travel from the east to the west coast. It would be fun. Maybe she could take a quick course in acting while we were there, if such a thing existed. I thought Bennett could help us to find one.

At eight-thirty I left Joy and went to the bar of the King David. Bennett was already there, sitting at the same table as the previous night.

“Good evening,” he said, “sit down. Gin, isn't it?”

“Yes, please.”

I took the chair opposite him while he ordered.

“All right, then. Now we can talk.”

“As I told you,” he said, taking the galleys from the seat next to him, “I like it. That is, I like the style, and the spirit in which it's written. The end is no good for my purposes,” he said. “He shouldn't die in the Six Day War, etc. and there has to be more about the girl. That is very important. She should have a bigger role, almost equal to his. The part about religion is good. It can be left as is.”

He waited politely for me to comment, and when I didn't he continued.

“There is not much that needs changing, except what I have just mentioned. There should be a scene showing the night life in Tel Aviv, how the youth and soldiers spend their free evenings, and so on. Do you know what I mean?”

“I think so.”

“Have you seen
Easy Rider
or
Midnight Cowboy?”

“Yes, I have seen both.”

“What did you think of them?”

“Good movies,” I said.

“Yes, well those are the films that go now. You should have them in mind when you write. It will help you.”

I nodded.

“The irreverence in your style is good, keep it.”

I nodded again.

“Do you understand what I want?” he asked. “Do you think you can do it?”

“Yes.”

He sat back in his chair and smiled.

“That's fine. I would like you to write a treatment on this theme, and send it to me. I won't pay you for it, but if I like it, I'll ask you to work it into a script, and if I like that too I'll produce the film”—he paused—”together with you, and you'll get fifty percent of the profits. It could be a lot of money.”

“I see,” I said.

“What do you think of my proposition?”

I smiled. “Terrific.”

“It's a deal, then.”

He reached for his breast pocket and pulled out a small white card. He handed it to me.

“This is my address and phone number in Hollywood. You can call me collect if you have any questions. And when you're through with the treatment, just mail it to me. O.K.?”

I looked at the card and put it in my pocket.

“I have a few questions right now,” I said.

“Yes?”

“What kind of ending do you want?”

“That's up to you,” he said. “Think of something. But he definitely shouldn't die in the war. That sort of thing is no good. You can't kill him, altogether.”

“And her?”

“The story line is O.K.,” he said. “Her part just needs developing. The audience abroad, especially the American audience, would get more involved if the heroine is an American girl. It brings the film closer to them. You just have to increase the number of scenes with her, and shorten the story after her death.”

“All right.”

“Just give it some careful thought,” he said. “I'm sure you can manage.”

“How long are you staying?”

“I'm flying to New York on Saturday. I am going on a tour of the West Bank tomorrow, during the day. I'll be back here in the evening. I'll probably go to sleep early.”

“I'd like to try to write one or two short outlines,” I said, “and show them to you before you leave. I want to be sure that I understood what you have in mind.”

“I'll probably have supper here around eight,” he said. “You could drop in then, if you want.”

I suddenly remembered that we were invited for dinner at Ram's mother's. I hesitated for a moment.

You have to know your priorities, I told myself.

“All right,” I said, “I will.”

I got up.

“Thanks a lot,” I said, “I'll be seeing you.”

“Give my regards to your beautiful wife.”

“Thanks.”

I took two steps and then turned back to him.

“Could she play the female lead?” I asked.

“Maybe,” he said. “We'll have to see about that.”

“She could be good.”

“I think so too,” he said, “but there are screen tests and acting experience and such to be considered. There is not much point worrying about it now. We'll see about it when the time comes.”

“All right,” I said.

WHEN I came home I found Joy sitting in the armchair, in our small living room. She looked upset.

“What's the matter?” I asked.

“Nothing.” She shrugged. “I am just worried.”

I sat on the floor by her feet.

“What about?”

“I don't know where it will all end. The Egyptians and Russians keep moving the missiles and breaking the agreement all the time. And what does Nixon say? Just relax. It really makes you feel well-protected.”

“The only dependence we can ever have is on ourselves,” I said.

“That's what your father always says.”

“He is right.”

“I guess, but we still have to try to get outside help.”

“Dayan says that we cannot remain inactive any longer. He says he would not stand by such policy.”

“I know,” I said.

“I'm afraid he'll resign.”

“No. I don't think he'll be pushed that far.”

“Aren't you worried?”

“You'll get used to it.” I said, “in time.”

Her face finally relaxed.

“Now we've even got cholera.”

I laughed.

“That is a mess. But don't you see that this is what holds this country together—its innumerable problems?”

“Yes, I'm beginning to see that. What happened with Bennett?”

“I think we have a deal,” I said. “I'll have to change the story a bit but that won't really be a problem.”

I got up and pulled her to her feet.

“Let's go for a swim,” I said.

“Where.”

“Any swimming pool.”

She laughed.

“Now? Do you realize what time it is? None will be open.”

“I used to climb over fences in my younger days,” I said, walking to the bathroom to get a towel. “Are you too respectable for that?”

The following morning I got up early and sat down at my typewriter. I typed two short outlines. One of them ended with the heroine's death in a road accident. The second ended with both main characters still alive but lying sick in bed with cholera. I tried to make this version as funny as possible without making it a comedy. I was already through with my typing when Joy woke up and came into the room. It was after eleven, but she didn't have to study that day. We had a small breakfast in the kitchen and read the morning papers. There wasn't any dramaic news for a change. The split between the factions in the government was sharpening and the hawks were pressing for more assertive action. There were a few articles analyzing President Nixon's statements and promises. Quite a few of them concluded that there wasn't anything behind them at all.

After thoroughly reading the English paper and the Hebrew paper for beginners she was receiving every day in the mail, Joy sighed and got up to take a shower. She came back after a few minutes dressed in one of her old white dresses, and said she had a lot of shopping to do in the supermarket for the weekend. I told her I would drive her there. I much preferred it to going back to my economics book.

We strolled around in the supermarket for about half an hour, buying all sorts of food. Finally we joined the shortest check-out line.

“I hope this will be enough,” Joy said, handing me two huge paper bags. “Actually,” she said, “we probably won't even need all of it. We're having dinner out tonight.”

“I forgot to tell you,” I said as we were walking slowly toward the exit. “I can't go this evening. I'll have to call Ram's mother and apologize.”

Joy stopped walking and turned to me, surprised.

“You can't go? Why not?”

I took a few more steps but she didn't come after me, so I turned and walked back to where she stood.

“I have to go and see Bennett. He is leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Why do you have to see him again?”

“I want to show him two outlines I've written. I've got to be sure I have it right.”

“Why can't you show them to him this afternoon?”

“He'll be on the West Bank,” I said patiently, “and later in the evening he'll be asleep.”

“Oh.” She shook her head in cold understanding.

“Send it to him in the States. You'd get an answer within a week.”

“I don't want to lose time on this,” I said. “He could find someone else or change his mind altogether. Anyway, I told him I was coming. I can't cancel it now.”

Her mouth tightened into a thin, unpleasant line.

“Sometimes I just don't believe you,” she said.

“Look, do we have to discuss it here? Let's at least …”

“We'll bloody well discuss it here,” Joy said sharply. “What's your hurry? He isn't expecting you yet.”

“O.K.,” I said.

“One would have thought,” she said, “that Ram would mean more to you than Bennett.”