City of Secrets Read Online Free

cheese,” Brand said.
    Finally he had some money. The first thing he bought was a new sweater, the thickest he could find, a navy cable-knit made for skiers, decorated with snowflakes. The second was a radio so he could fall asleep to music.
    For Eva he wanted to buy roses and jewelry and perfume. Her clients gave her gifts—nylons and Swiss chocolates were favorites—so why couldn’t he? They would end up fighting, he knew, but, flush for the first time since before the war, he couldn’t resist the grand gesture. After several visits to the tinker’s bazaar, dithering over the hammered silver bracelets and rings laid out on silk squares, he settled on an amber pendant the Yemeni dealer claimed was good luck.
    â€œIs for someone very special,” the dealer asked.
    â€œYes,” Brand confessed.
    â€œShe is already lucky.”
    Since it was expected, apologetically, in his own inept way, Brand argued the man down a few shillings.
    â€œBlessings be upon your house,” the dealer said.
    â€œAnd upon yours,” Brand said, returning the bow.
    He planned the evening like an action, checking the weather forecast against the calendar. He would surprise her with it on the full moon. To soften her up he bought champagne, the onegift she couldn’t refuse, and the new Benny Goodman record. They would dance, and after, sprawled on the couch, laughing and half drunk, he would magically produce the pendant and offer it like a declaration. She would lift up her hair in back so he could fasten the clasp, and he would kiss her there. For days, as he drove the tourists up the Mount of Olives to watch the sunset, he pictured the moment when she would turn around and give him that crooked smile he’d come to love.
    He could also see her throwing it at him, tearily beating his chest with her fists. Hadn’t she specifically told him not to do this? Did he understand nothing?
    So he was puzzled when, after the first half of his plan worked perfectly, instead of gratitude or histrionics, she accepted the pendant from him grimly, thanked him and set it aside.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” he asked. “Don’t you like it?”
    â€œYou shouldn’t waste your money on me.”
    â€œI don’t have anyone else to waste it on.”
    â€œThat’s the problem.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œDon’t be stupid,” she said. “You know why.”
    â€œI don’t.”
    â€œAre you going to pay for my apartment?”
    The question was unfair, sprung on him so bluntly. He resisted saying she could live with him. He didn’t dare suggest he move in with her, and so had no answer.
    â€œDon’t be like that,” she said, mimicking his pout. “Can’t we just have a nice time?”
    He wanted to take the pendant and leave, but where would he go? He agreed with her and drained his champagne.
    â€œCome on,” she said, taking his hand, “let’s dance.”
    She spent the rest of the evening trying to cheer him up, letting him put the pendant on her and then wearing it to bed, and though he played along, Brand wouldn’t be consoled. In the candlelight, her whispered urgings mocked him. It was all false, and long after she’d fallen asleep he lay beside her, contemplating her soft face and the monstrous scar. He would never know the woman she’d been, the bride and lively young wife. When had he become so sentimental? She was an insult to Katya’s memory. He was just lonely, marooned in a foreign city. It was no excuse, and he resolved never to fool himself again.
    When he finally slept, he dreamed of the bleeding man, not in her bed but in his backseat, reaching for him as they drove through the Old City, trying to warn him of something, but when the man leaned in close, trying to speak, instead of words, out flew a gout of hot blood, drenching Brand’s shirt, shocking him awake. He was naked and sweating. Beside him,