Don't Ask Me If I Love (7 page)

“What does that matter?” I said. “He had some charm, and style. He didn't give the President the image of an undertaker this faceless bore does now.”

“Take it easy,” Ram said.

“It's a gray world anyway,” I persisted.

“I think I have to be going home,” Joy said. She looked dreamily at the red sunset.

“What's the rush?”

“Well, I want to eat, and wash, and then go to some party I'm invited to.”

I felt disappointed at that.

“O.K.,” I said, “let's go.”

When she got out of the car in front of her house, Joy said, “Why don't you go and have supper and then pick me up around nine?”

I hesitated because I had the feeling this invitation wasn't really sincere.

She put her small white hand on my arm for a brief moment.

“Well?”

“O.K. If it means all that much to you.”

She laughed and walked into the house.

The party we went to also took place in a house in the Old City.

The apartment belonged to a long-haired, strange-looking American named Alan. He seemed to be an old acquaintance of Joy's. As we entered, he came to us enthusiastically and kissed her fondly on the cheek. He was short, maybe thirty and had a big black mustache.

I disliked him immediately.

As we went farther into the long, dimly lit room, it became clear that many of the people there knew Joy. They hugged her or kissed her, or slapped her on the back, or just shouted at her from wherever they were sitting. The place was rather crowded; mostly with Americans, but there were also a few Israelis, and two or three Arabs. Somewhere, in the background of the semidarkened room, a record player loudly played Aretha Franklin. Most of the guests were sitting on the floor or on small chairs and smoking. One or two couples were dancing, stumbling every now and then into the legs and arms of those who were sprawled on the floors. No one seemed to be saying much and through the thick, smoky air and faint light, it was hard to get a good look at the faces. You could, however, tell that they were by and large long-haired and dirty and not particularly worth seeing. I realized that Ram was not going to have the time of his life, and I wasn't even sure about myself, though for different reasons.

“I hope I am not corrupting either of you,” Joy said.

We finally found three neglected cushions in one of the corners and crumpled onto them. She between the two of us.

“I wouldn't know,” I said to Joy truthfully.

She was pressed close to me so that I could feel the warmth of her body through her thin white dress. I didn't move at all, waiting to see what would happen next.

A young American next to me handed Joy a cigarette and she put it in her mouth and inhaled deeply. Then she took it out and, putting her arm around my neck, placed it between my lips. She closed her eyes.

“Have some grass, baby,” she said in her low-pitched voice.

I took the smoke into my lungs and blew it out at length. I looked down at her chest, moving slowly with her breathing. Her breasts were clearly visible through the light material of her dress, which was white silk. She didn't have anything under it.

I moved my eyes away and looked up.

There were two couples on the floor, doing a slow shake. One of the girls, a pretty black-haired American who was dancing with her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted in abandonment, started unbuttoning her blouse. Underneath, she wore a black bra, and her tanned skin was sweating all over. It was very hot. I put my hand out and touched Joy's neck. She was still sitting with her eyes closed, her head leaning backward, against the wall. She opened her eyes and looked wearily ahead of her. I offered the burning butt in my hand to Ram but he shook his head.

“An officer and a gentleman,” I said to Joy. She didn't react.

My hand went down and dug inside her dress. I touched the warm skin of her breast, it was smooth and soft.

“Dance?”

I looked up. A tall blond American, whom I had not noticed before, was leaning over us.

“Pleasure,” Joy said.

She was up and away before I could say damn. The cigarette in my hand went out and I threw it on the floor. They started dancing. I glanced at Ram. He was watching the scene placidly, through half-closed eyes. He wasn't looking for kicks. Ram was there just to keep me company.

I shrugged helplessly, rested my chin on the palm of my hand and went back to regarding the blond couple. They were both excellent dancers and were obviously having a good time. In contrast with the phlegmatic, motionless figures around, they made a strangely vivid picture. Time went by and they kept swaying, showing no signs of fatigue.

Someone tapped me lightly on the shoulder.

“Have a joint, man.”

Alan, the host, seated himself between Ram and me and offered me a freshly lit cigarette. His face twisted in a friendly grin.

I took the cigarette and stared at it for a moment. Then I dropped it on the floor and crushed it with the heel of my shoe.

Alan stared at me with utter bewilderment.

“Now why did you have to do that, man?” he asked thickly.

“That's what I felt like doing,” I said happily.

He shook his head.

“You shouldn't have done that, man.”

I put my hand out and slapped him lightly on the cheek with my forefinger.

“Don't call me ‘man',” I said to him. “I am not one of your bloody American friends.”

He just sat there and stared at me uncomprehendingly.

“Now, why did you say that?” he said, “I came here to settle.”

I laughed for no reason.

“Yankee, go home.”

“I am as good a Jew as you are.”

I slapped him on the back and laughed some more. I saw Ram stiffen.

“Probably better,” I said, “probably better.”

Ram shook me by the shoulder and started getting to his feet.

“O.K., genius, we're on our way.”

His face remained impassive. He held out his hand and helped me to my feet. Joy and the tall American stopped dancing and came over to us.

“What's going on?” she demanded.

She was sweating and her dress was glued to her breasts and to her hips, so that the brown color of her skin showed through.

“Oh, it's you again,” I said.

She studied my face with cool, pale blue eyes.

“Take it easy, it's only a party.”

I turned away from her.

“Oh, get out of my life.”

I started walking out.

Behind me I heard Ram's calm voice. He was speaking to her.

“He has his moods.” Pause. “That's just the way he is.” Pause. “I'm really sorry about that.” Pause. “I hope you'll have a good time.” Quiet.

“Thank you.”

Then he came after me.

I WENT home and to bed without even brushing my teeth. I dreamed of a gray day in some unknown, ugly environment. Everything around was filthy and mucky and dirty. There was a strong, bad smell that came from nowhere. The thin gray walls, planted on the gray soil, added to the depressing atmosphere, even Joy added to it. She looked strange. Extremely thin, so thin, you could almost feel her bones underneath the S.S. uniform. Even the clothes were gray. It all seemed like a scene from a weird black and white movie. I couldn't remember why I was there. The uniform I saw, as it all came closer, was ripped and torn. The missing pieces of cloth uncovered deep, ugly wounds, smeared with black blood. I looked at the pale, strained face and the white, strawlike hair that hung around in disorder, and wondered whatever aroused my interest in this girl. I was about to walk away from there when an invisible sniper began to play with his rifle. He was a crack shot. The bullets went squarely into Joy's chest, making a dull, muffled sound as they crushed into the bone. I stuck my hands in my pockets and watched. She didn't fall down and didn't utter a word. Her eyes were opened wide and staring aimlessly. They were the only pretty thing about her. The shooting stopped abruptly but the sound didn't. It was not the same as before, and was growing louder and louder until it became almost painful. I looked around, irritated, but there was nothing to see. Only the gray soil and the gray wall and the gray sky. My eyes fell back on her face. Her mouth was working frantically and it occurred to me that the loud, unpleasant noise was the sound of her screaming. I vaguely considered telling her to be quieter about her problems when I observed that her popping eyes were no longer aimless and I closed my half-opened mouth and followed her gaze. There was a small hole in the wall, just by her feet, and there were furry creatures eagerly crawling out of it. The rats started tearing zealously at her shabby clothes. They had long, glittering teeth and big bloodshot eyes. There were dozens of them, and their number was increasing constantly. They were eating the uniform quickly and it soon all disappeared. Joy made a helpless gesture with her hand and attempted to cover her breasts with a transparent arm, then dropped it lifelessly at her side and gave up. The small animals now started biting at her flesh. Her screams subsided and she sunk quietly to her knees. Her eyes focused on me, no longer wide and horrified. I lowered mine a bit. A vicious-looking rat which was bigger than his companions, climbed on her knee and thrust his teeth in her genitals. A dark stream of blood poured out. The rat pulled his hairy head back and stared at me for a moment from dark wolfish eyes. Then he pushed in again and disappeared in the recess of her body.

I was relieved to wake up. I put on the light and peered out the window. The moon had disappeared already but the sun was not yet up. It was a little bit after three. I resented the obviousness of the dream. It left me with a bitter taste. I dressed and started hunting for a book, but there was nothing new on my shelf; 1 had read them all. I overcame an impulse to drive over to Joy's place.

I lay on my bed and waited for the sun to rise.

Sprawled in the back seat of a bus, a few hours later, I tried to catch up on my sleep. Ram was sitting next to me and reading the morning paper. Time's a-wasting, I thought bitterly. If I had enlisted when I should have, I would be chasing Joy at my leisure, between lectures at the university and swimming in the sea. Who needed the army?

Ram frowned at Nixon's picture and turned to the back page.

I remembered Gad saying that Nixon would be the end of Israel after completely ruining the United States first. He didn't even dislike the American President. He just considered him simple.

Gad was a born pessimist, he didn't believe that anything would ever turn out right.

He isn't doing so bad for himself right now though, I thought grimly, doing his second year in the university while you are stuck here guarding that stupid river.

Gad claimed he was studying economics in order to be rich. He didn't really care so much for money, he said, but there was nothing else to do except live well while you could. Anyway, nothing could possibly last long. With that stream of Russian arms and Chinese arms supporting the weaker side.

I tried to brush my thoughts away. Gad held no charm for me. He had a good mind but it was always calculating and scheming and plotting. I didn't like him.

In three weeks, I said to myself, it will be all over. Ram and I were supposed to get a three-week leave before our discharge. It was a custom in the army. It was supposed to help the soldier find a job and get settled in civilian life. What's three weeks against three years?

I sat up in my seat and leaned on the window sill, looking at the bare landscape we were passing. The light brown color of the soil dominated the scene but there were also increasing amounts of green. From time to time, we passed groups of Arab villagers who stood by the road and followed us with their dark, sulky eyes. I was never sure if all of them really hated us. The young, half-naked brown children often cursed at us as we drove along, but sometimes they would wave and show their big white teeth in what could easily be taken for a friendly smile. But then, those were the smaller kids.

“I wonder if the Russians are really going to move soldiers into this area,” Ram said from behind his newspaper. “If they do, we could be in a spot.”

“Can't expect the Arabs to fight the whole of Israel by themselves.” I said. “They've only got seven countries around here.”

“On the other hand, Russia is farther from here than from Czechoslovakia.”

“If we could be independent,” I said, “if we didn't have to crawl to the Americans for every breath of air, they wouldn't stand a chance, even if they could bring the whole Russian army.”

“Oh, they won't beat us,” he said confidently, “they could just make life a lot harder.”

“Make it a five years' service. You'd love it.”

“Wouldn't you?”

“Anything you say, chief.”

We arrived in the camp early and went to our residence. It was before ten. The soldiers were not due before eleven, and weren't supposed to go on duty until after lunch.

The camp was set on an old Jordanian base, about two miles west of the river. It consisted of a number of long asbestos huts, of the same color as the sand. They were usually teeming and swarming with flies and mosquitoes and always hot as long as the sun was out. Life fell into a routine that was only disturbed when one of our posts was attacked by guerrillas, or when we had to chase them through the hills to the caves. Gradually, that too became a routine. We would lose some soldiers but they lost many more. I often wondered to my self why they repeated the same mistakes over and over. They were always caught and killed in the same manner. They learned little from experience. That was lucky because there were always more of them than of us.

I went to my room, stretched on my bed and waited for the time to pass. After a while, Ram appeared and sat on one of the beds. He stared quietly at the ceiling for a long time, while neither of us talked. Outside the big trucks unloaded the freshly returned soldiers. Their voices, discussing their girl friends of the previous night, filled the air and finally faded away as they strolled to their huts.