Shalev held the ordinary pen I gave him as though he never handled a
writing implement before. He scrawled his tortured letters
excruciatingly:
"I want to ask you for a big favour."
The dryer banged spasmodically and ceased.
"I want you to explain to my wife why I am keeping silent."
The hush was broken only by the sounds of his laboured scribbling.
"I have a feeling that no one loves me anymore. She is distancing
herself and I am losing my daughters. When on vacation, I am a stranger
in my own home, with no authority or recognition. It feels so helpless.
I cannot hold on to them. Tonight I dreamt that I am screaming as they
retreated, eerily oblivious to my pleading, to my words. So I decided
to keep quiet. Tell her all that for me, will you?"
I nodded and he lifted himself from the crumbling armchair, hugging my
soiled clothes, and trotting towards the rumbling, cornered appliance.
The following morning, at six o'clock, the warden bawled our names,
marking those present. Ensconced in dreary blazers, we fended off the
chill. Shalev, wearing his semipternal T-shirt, leaned on the barrack
wall. "Stand straight" - the warden barked and cast an evil glance.
Shalev recoiled dreamily. "Who's missing?" - our sentinel demanded and,
not waiting for an answer, invaded our windswept accommodation.
Pages:
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148