Hold on to the Sun (7 page)

“Yes, yes,” said Monyek, and he contemplated the ocean which had grown somewhat darker and bluer. His fingers went on rubbing each other, and the signet ring shone as it moved back and forth. He nodded his head and seemed about to say something to Lusia. But he merely smiled distractedly and she smiled mechanically back. Her swollen feet, supported by the buckles of her orthopedic shoes, alternately clattered and dragged on the esplanade.

At the top of the bluff they passed a stone balcony
jutting out from the heights of the esplanade like a pier suspended in midair. A black iron mast pointed at the shifting clouds above it. They passed it without stopping.

“That’s the Map of theWorld Observatory,” said Monyek, and he laughed a little, as if to apologize for the fact that they’d walked all the way up the hill without exchanging a word.

“Yes,” replied Lusia, as they started down the hill toward the row of restaurants.

The ocean air was dense and briney, and the foreign voices spread over the esplanade. She tightened her grip o n her purse and looked at the people sitting on the restaurant terraces, at the festive little flags, and at the slender women walking in front of them along the esplanade on their high, pointed heels. Then she looked at Monyek Heller walking by her side, his head lowered toward the pavement.

“We’ll eat out tonight, eh?” said Monyek in the end. “We’re on leave from the hotel, we only took half-board.” And he creased his lips in an effort to laugh.

“
Nu
, gefilte fish they won’t give us, but we’ll try to make do with French cuisine.” He went on, stressing the words “make do” and tightening his tie in order to affirm his membership in the world of the oceanside resort.

But the restaurants were full, and the tables outside on the terraces were all occupied too. The diners sat crowded together nibbling at shellfish piled in pale heaps, and it was
evident from the satisfaction with which the waiters turned Monyek and Lusia away that business was prospering this weekend at the beginning of summer.

“Here!” Monyek pointed at an empty restaurant where the tables were all set for dinner, and signaled Lusia to go in in front of him. The waiter who hurried out to meet them shrugged his shoulders and said without enthusiasm, “We’re waiting for an organized group, but if you like we can set one more table for you outside.” He pointed to a table for two standing at the edge of the terrace, close to the glass wall of the restaurant.

“That’s quite satisfactory,” said Monyek, and cleared the way for Lusia between the tables. He brought up the rear and helped her pull up an iron chair and slide it beneath her, as she straightened the skirt of her suit. Then he pulled up the chair on the other side of the table and sat down.

Lusia sat up straight in order to proclaim it was a very nice place. She hesitated for a moment and decided in the end against hanging her purse on the back of the chair. She placed it on her knees and clasped it to her bosom.

“Do you think we’ll see the Hararis again?” she asked.

“Why?” asked Monyek.

“I want to give them a letter for Israel. For my children, you know,” said Lusia.

“Don’t think about it.” Monyek dismissed the subject with a smile and picked up the menu that was standing on the table, and presented it ceremoniously to Lusia. “I’ll
translate for you,” he announced, emphasizing the importance of the occasion.

“Yes, yes.” Lusia opened the folded cardboard menu. “Because if something happens they won’t know where to get in touch,” she said, and stared without seeing at the list of names in the unfamiliar language.

“Don’t worry, really. We’re here now. There’s a beautiful view, and also . . . ” But Monyek didn’t finish the sentence.

“Yes, very beautiful!” Lusia quickly agreed, turning down the corner of the menu.

Monyek took his eyeglasses out of his jacket pocket and put them on. The thin lines of the gold frame gave him a scholarly air, arousing speculation as to what he might have become if he hadn’t gone into ladies’ wear. For a moment he concentrated on trying to find the exact Polish equivalent for the names of the dishes on the menu, while Lusia bent stiffly forward, all attention. In the end she said, “Really, it’s all so expensive. The meal, the trip . . . ”

Monyek interrupted her with a complacent air. “
Nu
, please. There’s no need . . . ” And he beckoned to the waiter.

Lusia closed the menu and replaced it carefully on its stand, just as it had been before.

The waiter wrote down Monyek’s order, removed the two menus, and rapidly poured water into their glasses. Monyek smiled contentedly at the efficient service and glanced at
Lusia like a wealthy man showing off his possessions. Lusia took a slice of bread and pinched off a piece between her fingers. She filled her mouth and chewed slowly.

Monyek smiled and said, “
Nu
, it’s not easy to find the right woman.”

“What?” Lusia stopped chewing.

Monyek rested his hands on the table, but quickly drew back when the waiter arrived and deposited their orders.

“Bon appétit!” he said to Lusia Taft, as if they were in the habit of exchanging such civilities. He poured a little wine into his glass, tasted it, and then poured for Lusia.

“Good, the wine is good.” He smacked his lips like a connoisseur.

Lusia stuck her fork into the steak and began cutting into it slowly.

“We can still begin again!” said Monyek.

“Yes,” replied Lusia. She put the meat into her mouth, praising it as she did so. “The meat is very good.”

“Yes, it’s good,” said Monyek, stretching his legs under the table, and he turned to the plate in front of him.

They sat chewing, on either side of the table, sipped their wine, and resumed their chewing.

“Nothing like this in Israel, eh?” said Monyek, scraping the meat from the bone. He straightened his woolen tie and continued, “Everything is so tense there. A hard life. Here at least a person can live in peace. Afford to take a break at an oceanside resort from time to time.”

The waiter stopped a number of vacationers who were about to sit down on the terrace of the restaurant.

“Inside if you wish. Outside all the tables are booked!” he said, as they tried to argue with him, pointing in an aggrieved way at Monyek Heller and Lusia Taft.

 

When their dessert was placed before them the sun had already set, and the bluish light of the long evening had enveloped the terrace. The esplanade was full of weekend vacationers, and their light clothes were also covered with blue dust.

They had already placed their spoons next to their glass dishes and Lusia had opened her purse and removed her lipstick in order to freshen the red smear on her lips when a large tourist bus drew up in the street in front of the restaurant. It maneuvered clumsily until in the end it parked right outside the terrace, completely hiding the fishing harbor on the other side of the esplanade and the play of light and evening on the clouds.

The waiter hurried to the entrance of the terrace in order to welcome the people descending from the bus two by two and talking loudly to each other in German. At their head marched a short, plump man who seemed to be the tour organizer. The waiter ran behind the customers and showed them to their places.The organizer made jokes, and from time to time he slapped the shoulders of the people sitting down. And in the space of a few minutes the terrace
was packed full of couples sitting in crowded rows. And all alone in the corner, as in a tiny enclave, stood the table of Monyek and Lusia.

The manager of the restaurant came out. He was wearing a black suit and a bow tie in honor of the occasion. He too received a friendly slap on the back from the organizer, and then he hurried off behind the waiter to collect the orders from the diners and to see that everything was to their satisfaction. The waiter deposited bottles of beer and wine along the tables, which was greeted with cheers and an outbreak of loud chattering.

Monyek screwed up his napkin and wiped his mouth with it several times. The waiter banged their glasses of tea down in front of them and hurried off with his tray to serve the German diners.

“
Commun za va
?” The man sitting closest to their table at the end of the row of diners turned his face toward them with a broad smile.

His words directed the attention of the people next to him to the couple sitting on the terrace, and they all turned smiling faces toward Monyek and Lusia.

“
Non parler français
.” A second man, wearing a brown-checked suit, joined in the conversation, laughing with the full weight of his body.

The wives of the two speakers stared at Lusia with the respect due to a native of the place. One of them, whose hair stuck out like a fair ball around her head, pointed to
her lips in order to indicate that she didn’t speak the language, accompanying this gesture with a low laugh.

The first man, who apparently knew a greater number of words, went on. “
Nous bataillons ici
,
comprenez
?
Bataillons
?
Krieg
.”
²¹
He pointed to the people sitting around the tables and broadening his smile and shaking his head from side to side in an exaggerated way as if telling a story to children, he continued, “
Maintenant ici
.
Visite
.
Visite
.
Avec Frau
.
Comprenez
?”
²²
he asked, and burst into friendly laughter.

And as if waiting for a signal to join in, the man in the three-piece brown suit and the two women also laughed, nodding their heads at Monyek and Lusia.

The waiter returned and unloaded his tray.

When Monyek picked up the bill lying on the table, the Germans were already tackling their first course. Monyek placed some bank notes on the saucer with the bill and rapidly counted out the coins for the waiter’s tip. He stood up, Lusia stood up too and gathered her bulky purse to her bosom.

The man with the square chin turned toward them, smiling through his chewing and said, “Au revoir Madame, au revoir Monsieur!” He waved his hand at them.

The two women also turned their heads, and the man
in the brown suit quickly wiped the grease off his lips with his napkin before calling out in a broken accent, “
Au rouvour
!
Au rouvour
!”

Monyek and Lusia squeezed their way to the exit along the space left between the outer wall of the restaurant and the chairs of the diners. Monyek exited first and Lusia, treading heavily in his wake, had difficulty finding a place to plant her orthopedic shoes. Sounds of pleasure and chewing filled the terrace. Laughter accompanied the raising of beer and wine glasses and the jokes and funny anecdotes. The people seated next to the wall of the restaurant turned their heads to look after them enjoying their food and the delightfulness of the occasion.

They walked along the esplanade, and the German voices from the restaurant terrace were gradually swallowed up in the noises of the evening. The restaurants were still full and the empty shells of white shellfish stood in piles. A troop of youngsters in black leather jackets and tight boots passed them. Monyek and Lusia made their way through the people standing next to the brightly lit shop windows, and when they approached the Municipal Casino they saw women in evening dresses and fluffy fur capes stepping out of black limousines and disappearing up the marble staircase like huge moths, leaving a train of darkness behind them.

As they reclimbed the bluff opposite the Map of the World Observatory, Lusia glanced at Monyek and saw he was looking down at the pavement. They walked without
saying a word. Lusia’s heels clattered in the intervals between his steps and she clutched her bulky purse to her bosom still, as if she were leaning on it for support as she walked.

The evening spread toward the street lamps, and down below, on the beach next to the water, the twilight trembled. Lusia shifted her purse from hand to hand and drew the lapels of her jacket together to arrest a sudden chilly breeze.

“Did the doctor send you to have tests?” she asked.

“Yes,” grunted Monyek.

“What were the results?” continued Lusia.

“He said there was nothing to worry about for the moment. But still, I should start taking things a bit easy. Get used to the idea that things aren’t what they used to be.”

“But he was optimistic, no?” persisted Lusia.

“Yes I think so,” answered Monyek, as they passed the balcony of the dark observatory.

After a second, Lusia said, “That’s encouraging.”

The lamp on the post rising from the observatory was unlit, and the balcony with its shell-shaped stone balustrade hung over the ocean like the shadow of obsolete grandeur.

“I don’t know what kind of world we’re living in!” Monyek suddenly burst out, and his sharp chin trembled. “How they can come here without being ashamed, I don’t understand!”

“Don’t think about it,” said Lusia almost to herself.

“There are some things I just don’t understand,” continued Monyek, striking his head passionately with the palm of his hand. “I just don’t understand!”

“Romek also used to say that people should learn from the past. He was a man with values,” said Lusia. “But how long can you go on thinking about the same thing?”

“The cheek of it!” continued Monyek, and his voice grew tired.

“Really Monyek, you shouldn’t upset yourself,” said Lusia, and there was a certain tenderness in the way she beat time with her free hand.

“Yes,” said Monyek, and he tugged distractedly at the hem of his jacket.

They descended the esplanade from the top of the bluff and the observatory, and Monyek’s steps resumed a subdued tapping between Lusia’s heavy strides.

“Yes, there are still a few good years in front of us,” he said.

“Yes,” said Lusia, and nodded her head.