Look for Me (20 page)

I climbed the stairs and tried Tanya’s flat. Tanya opened the door immediately. She looked like a character in an old Italian movie, with her eyes widening above a delicate white handkerchief which she held dramatically to her nose, and with her equally dramatic outfit: tight black lace dress, red high-heeled shoes, shiny red bead necklace.

“We can’t figure out what that smell is,” she said. “And we’re afraid to find out! It’s definitely coming from Jacky’s place. What if he’s hanged himself! What if he’s been rotting away for a few days in there? That already happened to me once, with my poor friend Irenie. I’m not taking a chance like that again! I still have nightmares.”

“I’m sure he’s alive,” I said, though I was beginning to feel a little worried myself. I rang Jacky’s bell but there was no answer. I reminded myself that this in itself didn’t mean anything; Jacky rarely answered the door.

“Jacky, open up, it’s me, Dana!” I shouted. “Are you there?”

Jacky hardly ever left his flat. When he did go out, he draped himself with prayer shawls. He was very gaunt and his shaggy gray beard reached his midriff; he seemed to belong in a Grimm story, except that no one in Grimm walked around with prayer shawls over his shoulders. We never saw him eating and it wasn’t clear what he lived on. There was no point bringing him meals because he’d arrange the food neatly on the hallway floor, where it would attract every cockroach in the city. Maybe that was his intention, to feed the cockroaches. One could never be sure with Jacky.

I continued pounding on the door. Finally it opened a crack and two heavy-lidded eyes peered out at us.

“I have nothing more to tell anyone,” Jacky said. “There’s no point asking me. I’ve told them all I know.”

“Jacky, what’s that smell coming from your flat?”

“What smell?” He opened the door and Tanya and I both stepped back, as if pushed forcefully away. This was a smell with kinetic powers.

“I don’t smell anything,” he said.

“How can you not smell anything!” I exclaimed.

“That’s what they asked me when they took me in. I told them all I knew.”

Despite the heat, Jacky was wearing a heavy sweater and brown corduroy pants. It was hard associating him with the pop star who’d had such an enthusiastic and devoted following, once upon a time. Daniel had often sung his songs.
I had a dream about angels, they were carrying you out of the tank, and your uniform grew wings, and I wanted you back.

Jacky returned to the ratty, rust-colored sofa in the center of the room and folded his arms. The sofa was the only piece of furniture that had survived his efforts to remove listening devices from his flat. “I think it’s coming from under the sink,” he admitted.

I entered his bare flat, opened the cupboard door under the sink, and stifled a scream. There were five dead mice lying on the torn linoleum. They looked like tiny pink fetuses.

“What is it?” Jacky asked.

“Mice. Dead.”

“I knew that,” Jacky said. “I put poison.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell us?”

“I thought maybe the government sent you. They have a file on me.”

“Yes, I know. Who can blame them?”

“What should we do?” I asked Tanya.

“I’m not touching them,” she said. “Find a man.”

“Where?”

“They’re all over the place,” Tanya laughed.

I went downstairs, crossed the street to the City Beach Hotel, and asked to see Coby, the manager. After a few minutes he emerged from his back office. Coby always wore a suit and tie, which I suppose was expected of him, and he was tall and slim, with dark-framed glasses: the cumulative effect was reassuring. He looked like a character in a slick, fast-paced movie about corporate intrigue; he’d be the person who stuck to his principles and didn’t give in to temptation.

“Coby?” I said. “I’m a friend of Rafi’s.”

“You’re Dana, of course. I’ve seen you around. How are you?”

“We have a mouse problem. In Jacky’s apartment. There are some dead mice under the sink.”

He smiled. “I’ll send the guard,” he said. He stepped outside and approached Marik. “Go up with this woman, please, and help her get rid of a dead mouse,” he said. “You’ll need a bag to put it in.”

“Thanks, Marik,” I said. “I hope you don’t mind mice?”

Marik didn’t answer, but he got up from his stool and followed me to Jacky’s flat.

Jacky looked at Marik calmly and said, “He’s a government agent. I can spot them miles away.”

“I wish,” Marik said. “Then maybe I’d be paid something.”

Using the bag itself as a glove, he maneuvred the mice inside it. “This smell could wake the dead,” he said. He had a heavy accent, and when he spoke, the words seemed to be colliding against each other in odd rhythms.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Uh,” he replied.

“Tell them to stop sending mice,” Jacky said. “I’ve told them everything I know.”

“Jacky, aren’t you hot? It’s boiling in here. Let me open a window, get some air in.”

“No, no! They’re going to listen in!”

“I’ll call them and ask them not to listen for the next ten minutes, okay? I know someone, I have connections.”

“Oh, all right,” Jacky said. “Anyone seen my glasses, by the way? I used to have a hearing aid, but they took it away during the interrogation.”

I opened the window. It didn’t stay up on its own but I had given Jacky a stick to hold it up. I looked around for the stick, and finally found it under the sofa.

“Jacky, do you have any more poison lying around?”

“No, I used up the box. But I do have some Band-Aids.”

“If you poison any more mice, tell us.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Jacky said, smiling to himself.

“Jacky, can I get you anything? Do you have food?”

“I’m not that naïve!” Jacky said. He unzipped his fly. “I have to air my penis,” he said.

“The treats that await us!” Tanya said. I looked around in alarm to see whether Marik was still there; he’d think our entire building was populated by deviants. But luckily he’d vanished.

“Well, we’d best be going,” I said. “Take care, Jacky. And call me if there are more mice.”

I left the flat and shut the door behind me. “Why am I familiar with the penises of two of the three men in this building?” I asked.

Tanya smiled. “Poor Volvo. I heard he was the life of the party before his legs went. Do you think we should find some woman for him—you know, pay someone? I still have some friends in the business, I could get a good deal.”

“He says he doesn’t want sex. But when I help him bathe that’s not the impression I get.” We both began giggling like schoolgirls. “‘A bit more soap,’” I imitated Volvo, keeping my voice down in case he came back just then.

Tanya returned to her flat and I went to the hotel to thank Coby.

Coby was in the lobby, giving instructions about chairs to Hussein, a bony, nervous man of indeterminate age who worked at the hotel. The lobby was filled with well-dressed religious guests; they were honoring some leader or other, and maybe also raising funds for their political party.

“Situation under control?” he asked me when he’d finished explaining seating arrangements to Hussein.

I nodded. “Thanks.”

“Anytime you need something, just ask.”

“Thank you. Do you know Rafi well?”

“Of course,” he said. “We were in the same unit. Come, let’s have coffee. Have you had supper?”

“No, but I can’t eat so soon after seeing those mice.”

“Poor Jacky. Remember him from before?”

“Of course. Who doesn’t?”

“It’s the drugs that did it.” I followed him to the dining room. We sat by the window, next to the table I’d shared with Rafi four days ago. Coby told the waiter to bring us coffee.

“Once you start mixing them together, anything can happen,” he said, still on the subject of Jacky’s history. “Once you lose a sense of boundaries … once you stop saying, this yes, but this no, you’ve had it. With drugs, that is. Maybe with anything …”

“How’s business?”

“Well, lousy of course. The war … If you ever need a room, let me know. If you and Rafi ever need a room, just say the word.”

“Why would we need a room? I have my own room.”

“Well, you know, room service, a hotel, everyone likes hotels for a change.”

“Anyhow, I’m married. So is Rafi.”

“Rafi’s been through a lot.”

“He’s lucky. He has a wife, a steady income, a well-behaved daughter, a penthouse apartment. I don’t feel sorry for him.”

Coby raised his eyebrows and gave me a deeply skeptical look. He didn’t believe I meant what I said, but he let it drop.

“Coby, do you know anyone in Intelligence?”

“In Intelligence? Why?”

“Not just some clerk but an officer, someone with access to files. Do you?”

“I don’t know, I have to think. What’s this all about?”

“My husband. I found out that information about him is available in army files. I need to find someone who can get into those files.”

“Why not just ask them?”

“I’ve asked them a million times, of course! They don’t want to tell me for some reason. I thought they didn’t know, but I just found out that they do know. They know, but they don’t want to tell me. So I need someone who can go into the computers and tell me.”

“If they’re not telling you, there’s a good reason,” Coby said.

“Like what?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. But there has to be a reason.”

“But what? What could it be? I’ve thought and thought, and I just can’t figure it out. He isn’t in an institution, he’s alive. He’s alive and he lives alone.”

“Maybe he’s left the country?”

“No, the detective checked. He hasn’t left.”

“Maybe he left without anyone knowing.”

“You have to show your passport no matter how you leave. He doesn’t even have a passport, he never applied for one.”

“Maybe he’s working in espionage.”

“Espionage! That’s a joke. He spent practically his entire training period in jail—for wearing pajamas under his uniform, for talking back—once he even peed on a whole bunch of grenades. He and some other guys, but he was the initiator, they were having a contest. He hated the army. He deliberately shot
in the air at target practice, he begged to be put in laundry, and finally he got his way, he got to do laundry. If he were a spy, this country would be in big trouble.”

“You never know. People change. Spying isn’t the same as fighting.”

“I wish you knew him. That’s the last thing he’d do. He doesn’t have any qualifications.”

“Well, that’s all I can think of. I can’t think of any other reason.”

“Do you know anyone who can find out? Please?”

“Let me think for a minute … Let’s see. I do have a cousin, I’m not sure exactly what he does, but maybe. I’ll talk to him. But if the army has a reason, my cousin is going to have the same reason.”

“Just try. Please.”

“Sure, I’ll ask him. Do you have your husband’s ID number?”

I wrote down Daniel’s ID on a napkin and Coby slid it into his pocket. “All my hope is on that napkin,” I said.

Coby smiled. “I won’t lose it, I promise. Where do you know Rafi from?”

“We go to the same activities. We’ve been at the same events lots of times, but we never talked to one another until the demo last Saturday, in Mejwan. Or rather in Ein Mazra’a, they wouldn’t let us into Mejwan.”

Coby shook his head. “You guys are so clued out, it’s hard to fathom.”

“We’re not clued out.”

“Yeah, well. You only see one side.”

“Rafi said you lynched a Palestinian,” I said.

“I didn’t lynch anyone.”

“Yeah, but he says you were there.”

“I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“And someone’s balls got shot at.”

“There were lots of incidents. It was so long ago, you can’t possibly expect me to remember. And if they could have, they would have torn us to pieces too. Luckily, we were too strong. What does it matter, anyhow? It’s water under the bridge now. We tried peace, we tried negotiating, we tried giving them what they wanted, and now we’re under attack again.”

“Yes, we gave them what they wanted. You can now be owners of your own house. But meanwhile we’re just going to move into another room, and another room, and also we’ve got the keys and also we’re just going to stay in charge of the water, we hope you don’t mind. And oh yes, we still need to post a few guards in the kitchen, and if we kill someone who walks in the garden without our permission we’ll be fined two shekels, is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, well. Trust takes time. And you see, we were right not to trust them.”

“Maybe they were right not to trust us.”

“Maybe. Maybe we’re both right. Maybe we’re just doomed to go on killing each other forever. I personally am planning to move. I’ve had it.”

“Move where?”

“My wife has relatives in Boston. We’re thinking of going next year, but we might be able to pull it off sooner. I want my kids to grow up in a seminormal environment.”

“Will you do the same thing in Boston? Hotel management?”

“Maybe, or maybe I’ll go into business with my wife’s uncle.

We’ll see.”

“You’ll miss things about this place.”

“Yes, but there will be things I won’t miss … Seen any good films lately?” he asked. He began talking about European and British directors and their best and worst films. He was mad about Mike Leigh. Bertolucci had a bad-movie phase, he said,
but
Besieged
was a masterpiece. He said he used to like Kieslowski, but now he thought he was just a voyeur. Some movies aged well, like
Wild Strawberries
, but others lost their appeal with time, as audiences became more sophisticated.

His conversation helped me forget about the mice, and I took him up on his offer to have dinner, though I insisted on paying. By the time I left the dining room it was eight in the evening, time for the sea.

F
RIDAY