“That Nicole doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Yes she does, just in the past.”
“Which means she is nonexistent.”
“She does exist, but in the past.”
“And the past that you’re talking about—does it exist in the physical world? Is there a place where the past continues to occur?”
“No…”
“So, therefore, neither it nor she exists.”
“They do!”
“Where?”
“In a non-physical place—in memories.”
“Precisely. It is the memories that you are clinging to because you think that if you let go of the memories, Nicole will disappear and with it will also vanish the one chance still left for you to be together again.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“That you are allowed to let go of your memories of Nicole and that each time you talk about Melody, you’re not impartial. Remember, my son, the heart is never impartial. Why don’t you just stand up and do something?”
“Like what?”
“Like to forget about Nicole and think of Melody, you idiot!” Max’s patience ran out and his nerves were highly strung. “You really don’t understand? I already lost one son in my life and I’m not very happy to see my other son losing his sanity. If only I could, I would get up and slap your face to save you from the swamp you’ve been sinking into ever since the whole story with Nicole went wrong. But I’m too tired, I’m too old and, damn it, I’m too sick to do it. Chava!” he yelled, “I don’t feel well! I want to go to sleep.” Yiftach turned to go to his room, feeling a bit ashamed of himself.
That night, Yiftach twisted and turned in bed and couldn’t sleep. He felt confused and lost. He walked out of the house with some misgiving, got into his car, and drove off. He kept changing radio stations until he finally landed on a stupid debate on a sports channel. The world was now split in two, thanks to the principled war that he himself had created, so he sometimes enjoyed hearing people arguing about nonsense. After about ten minutes, he pulled up to the beach in Netanya. At four a.m., the dark skies enveloped him in grogginess and he fell asleepin his car. He woke up three hours later thinking about the dream he just had. When he suddenly glanced at his cellphone, he noticed six unanswered messages: two voice messages and four text messages. Chava was looking for him, her voice was frightened and anxious. She asked where he was and why he wasn’t answering her calls. In her last message, she told him to come to Meir Hospital in Kfar Sava as quickly as possible.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“And Saul said: ‘God do so and more also;
for thou shalt surely die, Jonathan.”
Book of Samuel I, 14:44
Yiftach knew why Chava had called him even before he reached the hospital. He drove like a man possessed, as if a demon had taken hold of his body. No force on earth could prevent him from seeing his father a moment before he rose to heaven. When he arrived, he found Chava sitting on a chair next to a white curtain. She immediately noticed him and even though her face remained impassive, her red eyes revealed all. She nodded her head as she said: “Yiftach, I’m so sorry.” Cringed with dread, he yanked the curtain open as if doubting her words and there, on the hospital bed, his father lay lifeless. The old man’s angry face was chalk white. Even in death he looked disgruntled. Even death could not grant him the peace and quiet he so lacked ever since the death of Amitai and Emma.
“Oh no…” Yiftach moaned as Chava stood behind him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He felt that his mind was in a complete muddle.
“His death was pronounced about fifteen minutes ago,” she explained as Yiftach gazed at his father with moist eyes and kissed his troubled brow. Death always comes unexpected, he thought. “Around midnight he could hardly breathe,” Chava continued relating the events that he had no interest in hearing, “so I immediately called an ambulance. The doctors say he died of complications from pneumonia.”
The doctor on duty arrived. His full, pale face and his roundeyeglasses reminded Yiftach of an owl. “Are you the son?” he asked mechanically, though he did try to sound empathic. Yiftach nodded like a robot. The young doctor’s knowledgeable words were no longer of help to him and didn’t interest him at that moment. “My condolences. He developed a serious case of pneumonia and, at his age, his body could no longer cope.”
“I’m sure you did everything you could,” Yiftach said, without sounding like he meant it.
While the staff entered the room to tend to the deceased, Yiftach sat on one of the chairs and decided to uproot any sense of longing from his heart. The confrontation with Melody weighed heavily on him now and he didn’t need that. He called her, tense and anxious, but when she answered the phone, he felt a strange calmness spreading throughout his body.
The following day at the funeral, Yiftach sat on the bench in the front row with Melody and Chava on either side of him. There were black circles around his eyes, reflecting his state of extreme exhaustion. A respected and learned rabbi officiated the ceremony. Before the memorial service began, he instructed Yiftach to go to the adjacent room to confirm the identity of the deceased and then asked him questions about Max—what kind of person was he, what was his profession, what were his hobbies, etc. Just a few dozen people attended the memorial service—acquaintances of Max and Emma who were still among the living, friends of Yiftach from his army days, from university and work, and a few friends of Amitai who had maintained some contact with the Posner family. Heart and Weissman also attended the funeral, as did several cousins whom Yiftach, the last of the Posner bloodline, hardly recognized.
When the body was lowered into the open grave, he fell apart completely, feeling defeated, exposed and humiliated. He looked at the earth that covered his angry father and was unable to cry; he felt like he was drowning in a pitch black, filthy well. Whenthe ceremony ended, Melody hugged him and, sensing how tired he was, she stroked his cheek and said, “Don’t worry, everything will be okay.”
“At times I think that nothing will be okay,” he answered quietly.
Chava shook his hand and also hugged him with tears in her eyes. And some elderly cousin also shook his hand with her trembling hand and said, “Your father was a good man.”
