“When he was alive, did you tell him that?” he asked her disdainfully.
“What?” She didn’t understand.
“You know, now he can’t hear what you just said,” he continued, and Melody, who heard the exchange of words, quickly interrupted him and politely ended their dialogue.
After everyone had gone, Yiftach and Melody got into the car to head home and organize things for theshiva, the week of mourning. Yiftach took the driver’s seat, Melody sat next to him and, between them—lay a heavy silence. Yiftach broke the silence when he said, “That’s it, now I’m officially an orphan. No more Mom, no more Dad… that’s what happens when history turns into a legend…”
“And that’s what happens when a legend turns into a myth,” she added.
“Myths are dangerous things,” he said.
“What’s dangerous about them?”
“They always explode in the end.”
“And then what?”
“And then whoever believes in them becomes very frustrated.”
“I didn’t lie to you,” she returned to the subject that weighed so heavily upon her.
“I know,” admitting that he had overreacted. “Who is this Eitan?” he dared to ask, not really sure that he wanted to hear the answer.
She took a deep breath before replying. “Eitan?” she thought out loud, “Eitan is a man who, when I see him, I will cross to the other side of the street—in order not to get hurt… Eitan is a man who, if he happens to be in the same train station as me, I will take another train, even if it’s heading in the wrong direction—just not to confront him and be hurt…”
“And this is the man who you want to meet in another three months?”
“My dear Yiftach… you’ve read the letter after all… so you tell me—should I go or not?”
He answered her as he turned on the ignition, “I think that at the end of our lives we will regret the bad things we’ve done, but we will regret far more all the good things we didn’t do. In short—go.” The car began to move forward.
“What was it about Eitan that you loved so much?” he asked her as they continued on their way. She answered with a wink, “He had a huge bed in his bedroom.”
“And in his soul—did he have a small conscience?”
“Yes, and that’s not the only small thing he had…”
“This conversation is quickly going downhill.”
“No,” she stated, “it’s actually just taking off.”
The week of shiva was far more exhausting than he could ever have imagined. Once again, to go through all of Max’s old picture albums, to touch those memories that the photos of the happy Posner family now brought to the surface, erased by time, and to listen to the many visitors who came to console him, to share memories and to offer—mostly out of basic decency—to help in any way they could. Melody was present the entire time, helping, reinforcing and supporting Yiftach, who was devastated and hung on to his sanity with the last remnants of strength he still possessed.
At night, when the house would empty of the guests and Yiftach lay down to sleep, a strange thing occurred—Max neverappeared in any of his dreams. In the early morning hours, before the consolers started to arrive, Yiftach would imagine that, in reality, none of this had actually happened. In those moments of longing, he carried on as he had in the past. He walked around the house barefoot and, when he reached the dark kitchen, he made himself a cup of black coffee and imagined that at any moment now his father would sit down on the empty chair and they would have the same conversation that repeated itself every morning before Yiftach left for work, and then Max would pick up the morning newspaper. It was a longing for the familiar. It was a longing for banality.
***
“I had a feeling that Max would die,” Tammi said with a touch of sadness, “but I didn’t think it would happen before the trial ended. Now he’ll never know how the trial ended and what became of Yiftach, Melody and Eitan.”
Ro’el pursed his lips and didn’t utter a word.
“So let’s see, where do we stand with the legal procedures?” she concluded in a loud, official tone. “There was a reading of the indictment; the prosecution presented their case, the defense presented theirs… what now?”
“Now both sides present their closing arguments. Each side recaps the evidence that supports their own case. Either side can also address or downplay any contention put forth by the opposition. Mostly, though, the each side re-emphasizes its strongest points and arguments,” he answered, “which precede the judges’ verdict. First the prosecution presents its closing arguments, and then the defense presents theirs. It’s a very challenging stage of the legal procedure. Consider this—after having gathered a lot of information throughout the trial, the lawyers from both sides now need to condense everything intoshort, concise summaries that precisely convey the message they want to put across—why the defendant is guilty (from the prosecution’s side) and why he is not guilty (from the side of the defense). From my experience, these summaries have a significant impact on the judges’ decision.”
“Okay, Ro’el, so let’s get to it, what are you waiting for?” she said enthusiastically, “Let’s summarize!”
Chapter Twenty-Three
