Read Online A Woman in Jerusalem by A.B. Yehoshua - Free Book Online Page B

taps and ingeniously relocating the sink and toilet, without dreaming how soon he would be brutally expelled. Yet he still regarded this room as his own. Uncertain how quickly the electricity would do the job of the sun that had hidden all day long, he took off his rumpled clothes and sat naked on the edge of the tub to test the warmth of the water.
    He was still thinking about the night shift supervisor’s confession. He would have to decide how much to tell the old man and how much to suppress out of respect for that clandestine and abruptly ended infatuation. It saddened him that he would never meet the woman whose identity he haddeciphered. A quick glance from afar was all he would have needed to get a sense of her. Like all of the company’s employees – even the old man himself, who drew a monthly pay packet in addition to his dividends – she had been the responsibility of his division. What had gone through her head when she realized that although she had lost her job she was still being paid for it? Had she assumed it was the supervisor’s continued declaration of love for her, or did she take it to be a clerical error that she could not afford to correct?
    I’ll never know …
    And yet what does it matter?
    I’ve already wasted enough energy on this mess.
    It’s time to call it a day.
    The water flowing from the tap showed no sign of warming up, evidence of how little sunshine there had been that day and how slim the hope for a hot shower was. He sat shivering on the edge of the tub, naked in his former home, while the two substitute parents gave a last flurry of attention to his daughter, who was being worn down by the growing tensions between him and his ex-wife. As far as he was concerned, he thought, switching on the electric heater while gently massaging his body, they could help her with her homework as much as they liked. Perhaps before going to sleep he would find a quiet time to tell her about his evening. Hearing about the pretty woman with the smile who had spent a week in the morgue as a nameless corpse might make her realize that there were other people to feel sorry for besides herself.
    There was a sharp knock on the bathroom door, followed by his daughter’s strained voice:
    “Abba, if you haven’t showered yet, don’t! Ima just called to say she’s coming home because of what you got yourself into. You have to let her have her parking place. So please, Abba, if you haven’t begun to shower, there’s no time …”
    He knew how she suffered from the savage rift between her parents and did not wish to make things worse for her – and so, overcoming his repugnance at having to get back into his dirty clothes, he turned off the tap and rejoined the officemanager and her husband. They were already in their overcoats , holding their folded umbrellas. A khaki stocking cap, the kind worn in simpler times by Israeli soldiers, was pulled jauntily down over the husband’s rugby-ball head. Here was a couple who felt good about themselves and about their contribution to the world.
    “You didn’t have to say goodbye,” the office manager said. “You’ll see me in the morning.”
    “But not your husband,” he replied. He shook the hand of this jaunty man, who whispered a gentle scolding:
    “You should have more patience with her maths. She has too many gaps in her education.”
    The human resources manager reddened and laid a hand on his heart. Then, slipping into his windcheater, he accompanied the two to the street. When, he asked the office manager, did she think the concert would be over?
    “You don’t intend to call him tonight!”
    “Why not? After all the fuss he’s made, he deserves some kind of report.”
    “And you’ve really cleared everything up?”
    “I think so.”
    She regarded him sympathetically. “In that case, you can call until midnight. Don’t worry if he sounds half asleep. He dozes off and wakes up all the time. He’ll sleep better tonight if you calm