She tugged the curtains together but left them open a crack. ‘A little light will make you feel better,’ she suggested.
‘You can’t really think the sun can bring back the dead.’
‘No,’ she agreed, gazing down, adding timidly, ‘not even our prayers can do that.’
‘Just leave,’ I pleaded, but she stood her ground.
‘Will you at least drink some tea?’ she asked in a small voice.
I changed tactics. ‘How on earth did you get in here?’
‘Izzy gave me the key.’
‘You know Izzy?’
After stooping to pick up one of my socks, she replied, ‘I met him yesterday evening when he left your building. And this morning, when he came back, I asked him what was the matter with you. We talked. He’s a nice man. He bought some gherkins from me and my mother.’
She picked up another sock and an undershirt. Without looking at me, she said, ‘I wanted to tell you I’m very sorry about your niece.’
‘Did Izzy come by this morning?’ I asked, passing over her sympathy, since the last thing I wanted was to discuss what had happened.
‘Yes, he brought coal for you. When he came out to the street, he told my mother and me that you slept through his visit.’
It was only then that I noticed that the room was warm for the first time in months.
‘Where the hell did he get coal?’ I questioned.
‘He didn’t tell me.’ She folded my trousers neatly and draped them over the back of the armchair. ‘You need nourishment,’ she observed.
‘My God, girl!’ I snapped. ‘How could you think hunger is my problem?’
She ran into the kitchen. I was sure I’d achieved my goal of making her burst into tears, but I didn’t hear any sobs. When she returned, she sat down in the armchair, on the front edge of the cushion, and looked at me as if ready to wait for me to tell her what to do. Her eyes were so needful that I turned away. After a while, I noticed her staring at my breakfast plate. I didn’t want to be kind to a girl who didn’t have the courage to ask for food when she was famished, so I said nothing.
‘Do you mind if I eat your egg?’ she finally asked in a fearful voice.
‘Be my guest.’
After she’d gobbled it down, she licked the plate. Then she realized how she must have looked and blushed.
Imagine living like an insect for the last six months and worrying about etiquette. Only Jews could raise such absurd children.
I threw off my blanket and kicked my legs over the side of the bed. My feet found the puddle of urine I’d made. Good for me.
I asked her to turn away from me while I dressed. While I was buckling my belt, I said, ‘Bina, for the love of God, find someone else.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, looking at me with a puzzled face.
‘Go earn some points with God where you’re wanted!’ I told her.
But even my bullying didn’t make her cry. Tightening her lips, she did her ballerina walk to the front door and left. She never looked back, thank God.
Leaning back against the wall for support, I told myself I had saved her from wasting her time on me, but in truth I’d wanted to slice one more wound into the only enemy I could reach.
Izzy came over again late that afternoon. I was sitting in bed with my dream diary, scribbling a list of all the cities I would have wanted to visit if I weren’t where I was.
‘You’re up!’ he exclaimed, astonished. ‘What are you writing?’
‘I’m deciding where I’ll go when I get out of here.’
Only after that reply popped out of my mouth did I realize it was true. I went over what I’d written. Genoa seemed my best option – a former colleague of mine from Vienna was living there, and I could probably catch a steamer to Izmir. Or England. Hannah and I had spent our honeymoon in London – and two other vacations there – and we’d always loved it.
‘A man from the Jewish Council came over last night,’ Izzy told me, sitting down at the foot of my bed. ‘He said his name was Benjamin Schrei.’
The mattress sagged towards Izzy. I felt I was made of broken and rusted metal, and all those useless pieces inside me were sliding in his direction.
‘I told him you were sleeping, but he wants to talk to you,’ Izzy continued, and then he poked around his mouth with his tongue and spat something into his hand.
‘What’s that?’ I asked.
‘A tooth,’ he replied. ‘They’ve been falling out.’
‘Open your mouth,’ I told him.
I looked in. His gums were bleeding and his breath was putrid, like mouldy bread.
‘What the hell is happening in there?’ I asked.
‘Scurvy,’ he replied. ‘I managed to buy some oranges, but they haven’t helped yet.’
‘Lemons would be better,’ I observed.
‘So find me a lemon.’
‘Does it hurt?’
‘Only when I eat or talk,’ he replied dryly. ‘So what do you think Schrei wants?’
‘Who gives a damn!’ I replied, and I realized that that was what Stefa would have said. Was that how I would go on – by imitating the sound of her voice in my head? After I’d drawn one tight circle around Genoa, and another around London, I added gruffly, ‘You shouldn’t have told Bina she could help me.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because she can’t!’ I declared.
