eggshell. At the door, I asked again if I could help with something, I offered to change the lock. I hadnât yet pulled out the box of solutions.
Daphna smiled, held onto my hand and the bare middle finger with both her thin hands, and said: âItâs really good you came. You helped me. See you next week.â
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I made an urgent request for her recent phone conversations. The woman with the white braid from the Jewish branch brought them to me herself, and again proclaimed how sensitive that material was, that I should take that into account. I almost kicked her out of the office, I didnât know why she suspected me so much, as if I were stamped with some sign I didnât see.
She made call after call, like a madwoman, trying to get hold of some money. Girlfriends rejected her. Sorry, but we donât have anything to give. Some men talked to her very nicely, even offered to meet. I need money, she said firmly, urgently.
âOf course, I understand,â one of the voices pounced on the chance. âCome on, letâs meet this afternoon and talk about it.â She didnât want to meet them this afternoon, or evening, and the conversations ended with nothing.
Afterward, she called her sonâs friends to find out if they knew where he was, to tell him he had to be careful, that they were looking for him. They all said they hadnât seen him in years, that they hadnât been in touch with him for ages.
In the middle of all that, Hani called from Gaza, asked gently if the people from the Peres center had answered her. On the verge of tears, she replied that she couldnât help him now.
âWhat happened, Daphna?â he asked her.
âItâs the boy,â she said. âProblems with him.â
âDrugs?â he asked, as if that was a repeat conversation.
There was static on the line in place of her answer.
He coughed a long time and when he calmed down, he said: âI used to play with him. He was such a beautiful child. You said with a laugh that he was ugly, against the evil eye, so nothing would happen to him. I taught him to swim in the sea, remember? He swallowed a little water and got scared, I told him not to be afraid. Too bad I canât see him now. Iâd talk with him, heâd understand how lucky he was to be born to you. So heâd know what heâs losing . . . â
âI donât know why he hates life so much,â sobbed Daphna.
Hani coughed again, at length, tearing up his lungs. I imagined the dirty bed he was lying on, his face sweaty from the disease, the unplastered wall. How did he manage to emit that soft voice?
âIâll call you, Hani,â she said in a weepy voice. âWhen the situation improves a little, weâll talk. Meanwhile, hold on. Iâm thinking of you.â A sharp beep signaled the end of the conversation.
I wrote Haniâs details to our contact in civilian management. A few minutes later, he called back and said there was no problem, theyâd take him to Ikhilov Hospital. Weâre like gods for those people, in one phone call you can save a life. Informers and traitors live longer these days, itâs well known; Primo Levi wrote the same thing in his memoirs. âTheyâll expect him in the oncology department,â said the older officer. âHe has to come alone to the crossing, just donât let anybody try to play any tricks on us. An ambulance will take him from our side.â
I took Haimâs suggestion and ordered tickets for Sigi and me for a play on Thursday evening, a time when normal people are starting to calm down after managing to get through another week. My week had no beginning and no end. Sigi dressed up and told me cheerful things about the child, and avoided her usual complaints. When the lights went out, she clung to me and clutched my hand. A few minutes later, my cell phone began quivering against my leg with gentle electric currents.