Adi Avital-Rozin, writer and researcher of women's literature, a member of the executive committee of the Association of Hebrew Writers and Writers in Israel.
A Tomato Cut into Quarters
A story specially written and dedicated to Mr. Shalom Rosenfeld
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A winter sea breeze stormed into the dark room at half past four in the morning, crept in through the half-open window and shook the vertical curtain noisily. The annoying rattle of the narrow plastic strips of the curtain hit the window and woke her up. Still sleepy, Hannah sat down on her bed and thought it would be better if she got up and closed the window.
Into her fur-lined slippers she slipped her feet, which had been covered in thick woolen socks since the night before, stood with difficulty, straightened her knees, took the flannel robe that was lying at the end of the bed at that time, slipped her arms into its long sleeves and began walking slowly towards the window.
Before she closed it whole, she leaned on the windowsill, and a shiver gripped her as her warm palms touched its cold metal frame. She stood there looking down on the avenue of the old trees below.
Interesting, she said to herself, in the daylight when I look at them from here, I see their tops with their heads up, but at this pre-dawn hour, I look at them and all I see is that their tops have bowed their heads. It's because of the darkness, Hannah explained to herself. Apparently trees are also afraid of it, just like humans.
While she was still standing at the window, a wave of the smell of the sea from the nearby beach wafted through the air, coming and reaching her. She filled her lungs with it. A salty smell of sand, of waves and ripples, of storms, of tides and low tides, and of life itself. Is it winter now? she asked herself, but before she could think at all, the darkness, like a mischievous child playing with her without her consent, threw a huge ball of freezing cold at her and startled her.
She shrank and so did her body. Stretched the long hems of the robe from the right and from the left, placed the hems on top of each other and pinned them to her large belly. Pulled the robe belts on each side, brought them closer and wrapped them together. It's obviously winter now, she said.
For a long time she stood at the window and looked at the street below. A strong gust of wind suddenly flowed into her and ruffled her hair. She continued to look. The main road, on which in a few hours crowds of busy people will run along and across it, and cars and buses will emit their poisonous fumes, stood deserted and its gloom was great.
From one of the treetops came the mournful call of a common nightingale. Oh, oh, oh! Hannah listened to the cry of the nightingale, and tried to locate the place of her residence on the tree. When it didn't occur to her, she took her head and put it inside from the outside.
She sent her hand to the glass, moved it on its rail slowly and closed the window completely, ridding herself of the strange sounds and sights of the night, running away from the noises of the dark, escaping into the quiet room. As soon as the glass kissed the profile and the window closed, a lightning struck Hannah's memory: Yossi should arrive tomorrow.
She stood in front of the closed window and saw herself reflected in it. She looked at her figure and saw that she was smiling from ear to ear. My Yossi should arrive tomorrow, she rolled the words on her lips again, licked their sweetness and began to dance, waving her emaciated arms in the air, circling around herself and moving her rusty and limp limbs everywhere.
While dancing, she remembered how once, when they were little, her Yossi and Nissim liked to squeeze between their fingers the thinned skin hanging on the back of her fat arms. Mom, look how much fat you have, they would say and laugh big, revealing tiny baby teeth. No, children, these are not fats, Hannah then intervened with a smile, reaching forward with one arm, sending two fingers to the arm, pinching it and deciding: these are inverted muscles.
For many minutes Hannah stood and danced with herself in front of the closed window, until she began to sweat. She stopped moving, stood still and panted heavily. This is not the first time this has happened to her, that her heart is beating like this, hurrying and running, and she has no idea where is going. When does this happen to her? Mostly when she's happy, sometimes when she's walking, sometimes also when she's dancing. And what does she do when it happens to her? Usually, depends on what is closer to her, she immediately sits down on a chair or an armchair, but this time, the bed was the closest thing to her. She hurried to drop her body on it, so that he would calm down immediately.
Her short body was still laid on the soft sheets, which smelled like a field of flowers, and her heart continued to beat strongly. My Yossi will arrive tomorrow, she heard her inner voice speaking to her from within herself again, she began to smile once more from ear to ear, and not only did she feel her laughing muscles stretch on both sides of her mouth, but she also felt her eye wrinkles clinging to each other and settling on each other, on both sides the face let out a sigh of relief
Always when Yossi comes from the army, he brings flowers with him. A bouquet of happiness tied with a ribbon and wrapped in transparent cellophane that makes her happy. She then takes the bundle from Yossi's hands, places it on the table next to the door, and goes to embrace her firstborn with her two big arms. She embraces him with a strong and brave hug, and while she kisses his high forehead and his bright eyes, she inhales into her soul the sour smell of his body, and says in a voice full of bitterness: Come in, come in, my son, why are you standing like that at the door? And he, hastening to follow her, precisely following his mother's instructions, enters and closes the door behind him.
Lying in bed, she turned her face to the side of the room, which was still cast in darkness, and laid her gaze on the clean marble surface. I didn't have time to cook anything for Yossi, she said sadly to herself. Her face crumpled and she became sad.
My son, she always says to her Yossi when he comes from the army, look, look what your mother has prepared for you, and one by one she lifts the lids of the pots on the gas, allowing the intoxicating aromas of the dishes to spread through the room. Look, my son, I made you rice with noodles and chicken Sofrito with potatoes, okra in tomato sauce and a special soup
Always before cooking, when the long songs of Umm Kulthum play in the background, as they would have emanated from the large radio in her parents' house, during her childhood days in Cairo, she fries fresh falafel balls that she pinches from a paste she made with her own hands, crushes the soft chickpeas with salt to spread, garlic, fresh lemon and tahini, and also crushes the dried fava beans she cooked into a puree.
Inta, inta, inta Omri, always curls Hannah with her voice and sings, while she arranges the delicious spreads in beautiful plates and covers them with greenish olive oil from a large bottle. She also takes two tomatoes, two fresh cucumbers, two beautiful radishes, and one purple onion, washes them in the running tap water, peels and cuts them thinly, and sprinkles chopped parsley, just like her Yossi and Nissim like. With God's help, with such beautiful plates at my children's weddings, Hannah blesses her sons.
When Yossi was born, she received a small plant of an olive tree in a beautiful clay pot as a gift from one of her friends. When she returned home from the hospital with her baby in her arms, she put the pot aside and did not turn to him. She didn't water it and didn't clean it of dust, didn't bother to put it near the window so it could enjoy the sunlight.
One morning, at the end of many months of neglecting it, while nursing Yossi, she took a random look at the seedling and saw that it had withered. Finished nursing the child, got to her feet, reached and came to the pot and examined it closely with concern. Of the many leaves that were dried already, she recognized only one green leaf. She immediately took the pot in her hands, placed it on the counter and handled the seedling gently.
First, she pruned all the dry leaves and branches, then, with the help of a fork, she turned the arid and dry soil, watered it generously, and finally, she placed the pot in the corner of the room, near the window, so that it would receive light. Lots of light.
Since that morning when the seedling was left with only one green leaf and only one hope, many days have passed, and here it is now, although it is still by the window, but long ago she had moved it to another pot, less beautiful, but bigger, since it grew and grew, became stronger and even grew small green olives.
Hannah looked at the olive tree with happy and proud eyes. Tomorrow when Yossi arrives from the army, he will see it, and will be happy too.
Before the morning sunrise rose over the busy streets of Haifa and also appeared in the window as a large beam, Hannah got up, went to the kitchen and fixed herself a light meal. She took out a slice of bread from the plastic nylon bag, placed it on a clean plate that she pulled from the cupboard, opened the refrigerator, took out a box of white cheese and one tomato. Washed the tomato, wiped it and placed it on the plate, cut it into quarters, and sprinkled salt and black pepper. She pulled out a knife from the cutlery drawer, opened the box of cheese, and spread it generously on the soft slice of bread.
She took in the plate the plate with the slice of bread loaded with cheese and the quartered tomato that were placed on it, went to the chair next to the small table and sat down. While biting into a slice, she remembered how once, when they were little, Her Yossi and Nissim refused to eat the white cheese sandwich that she used to make for them and put in their lunch bag. When they came back from school and the sandwich was still in their lunch bag, she asked: Why? I don't like a sandwich with white cheese, Yossi explained to her, and Nissim added: white cheese is not tasty
One day, she took a white cloth, clean and wide, and placed it on the counter. She took out four yoghurt cups from the refrigerator and placed them on the counter as well. She took a packet of salt and a bag of black pepper. She placed them next to the white cloth and added a clean bowl, a large spoon and two teaspoons. She took two stools, put them very close to the counter and called the children who were playing in their room at the time.
Come see, children, what mother is preparing for you, she shouted at them. The boys ran barefoot and reached her. Come, Yossi, she said, lifting his small body with both arms, and placing him on the one stool. Come too, Nissim, she said, waving him and placing him on the other stool. Let's make non-white cheese together, she said.
Is there such a thing as non-white cheese? The little one asked her, we'll check soon, Hannah answered him and smiled. Yossi, you will pour the yoghurt cups into the clean bowl, she said. And you, Nissim, take a full teaspoon of the salt and two teaspoons of the black pepper, and put it in a bowl, on the yoghurts.
The sons followed the instructions of their mother Hannah, who in the world was no woman happier than her in those moments, of grace and joy. Now, kids, we've come to the more interesting part, she said, keeping quiet to intrigue them. After a long silence at the sight of her children's wide open eyes, she continued. Now, the three of us will mix with the big spoon!
How happy the boys were to mix the soft paste with their mother, the million black peppercorns added to it clouded the natural whiteness of the white cheese. When the two firmly held the white cloth on both sides above the sink, as their mother had instructed, Hannah turned the bowl over and carefully poured its contents into the cloth. She hurried and sent both her hands to hold it as well. While being careful and maintaining eye contact with her sons, she freed one hand and began expertly gathering the cloth from all sides to tie it as a sack.
After successfully tying the bag, she gently placed it on the large, clean bowl. The heavy sac sat down on the open mouth of the bowl and immediately began dripping his liquids into it. Now, children, she explained, when the non-white-cheese is in the sac, let it liquefy. It will take a few days.
On the fourth day, the sack stopped pouring its water into the bowl and became dry. She took it and placed it gently on the counter, also placed a large spoon and a clean, wide-bellied glass jar. She washed the bowl, took the two stools, put them very close to the counter and called the children who were watching TV at the time. Come see, kids, I have a surprise for you, shouted out to them.
The boys ran barefoot and reached her. Come, Yossi, she said, lifting his small body with both her arms, and placing him on the one stool. Come too, Nissim, she said, waving him and placing him on the other stool.
Hannah slowly untied the sac knot, carefully opened the cloth from all sides, and revealed its content to her sons. With the help of the large spoon, she took the non-white cheese out of the sac and transferred it to the glass jar, while sliding it from side to side, clamping the delicacy in the space of the jar, clamping it to its sides, trying to make room for more.
When she was done, she tore off a piece of the whole loaf of bread that was lying on the counter, sent a long spoon into the jar and began to scoop out small pearls of cheese from it. She took out pearl after pearl and spread them on the fresh bread, gave one bite to Yossi, and one bite to Nissim. A second bite for Yossi, and a second bite for Nissim.
How delicious the non-white cheese was to the boys. Since then, the ceremony of making homemade cheese has become an almost regular custom for them, once before Shavuot and a second time before Rosh Hashanah, once yes and sometimes no, and not for a long time.
Hannah returned to her breakfast. She took one last bite of the slice of bread, put the last quarter of the tomato in her mouth and chewed. Tastes of water, earth and meadows swirled on her tongue. When she had trouble swallowing them, she got up and went back to the kitchen.
She took out a low white mug from the cupboard, turned on the electric kettle, turned the lid of the coffee box and opened it. A strong aroma rose from the open box, flooding and teasing her nostrils. Hannah sent a long spoon to the bottom of the box, took out a heaping spoonful and dropped a million of coffee beans, which were once young and green beans that were grown and picked, gathered and sorted, cut and roasted, browned and finely ground - into the white cup
The water boiled in the kettle, she picked it up carefully and filled the cup almost to the brim. Added one spoon of sugar and mix it well. She left the kitchen and returned to the chair next to the small table. She put the mug on the table, sat down heavily and waited for the coffee to cool down a little.
While waiting for the coffee to cool, Hannah heard outside her door the voices of the people from the apartment next door. Tenants whom, although she had never met, she already knew their schedule very well. Every day at nine in the morning they leave, and at one in the afternoon they return. At four they leave again, come back at six, and don't leave again until the next morning. Today, this is the first time she heard them since yesterday at six in the evening when they returned.
She took the coffee mug in her hand, brought to her mouth and took a sip. The hot drink slid down her throat and burned her stomach. Since she was diagnosed with a stomach infection, this has been happening to her a lot, when her stomach is burning. When does this happen to her? Mostly when she's drinking a hot drink, and sometimes, even when she's eating. And what does she do when it happens to her? Usually, she takes a pill, maximum, stops drinking or eating and waits. She stopped drinking, put the cup on the table, and waited for it to cool down a little more.
When the people returned from the apartment next to her for the second time, it was already six o'clock in the evening. While she was still sitting on the chair next to the small table, Hannah looked out the window and saw through it the glow of the stars in the sky. Yossi didn't come from the army, she suddenly remembered.
Hannah worried about her son and her heart is saddened, got up from the chair, went to the kitchen and took her mobile phone in her hand. Returned to the chair next to the small table, sat on it, opened the phone and dialed.
While dialing, she remembered how once, when they were little, her Yossi and Nissim would often call her on the bank's landline, especially on Mondays and Wednesdays, when she worked split hours. Mom, Nissim is making noise and bothering me with my homework, then there was her Yossi roaring into the earpiece and grumbling with justified anger.
My son, let me talk to him, she would calmly ask Yossi. Nissim, my life, would then turn to the heart of the little one who stepped on the line, and ask in every language, don't disturb your brother, take care of him.
Hanna dialed: zero, five, two, six...and extended her index finger on the sensitive touch screen. Once, when she worked in a bank, this was her specialty. She would place the large stack of bills in her hand and use her index finger to rapidly count it.
She finished dialing and waited. A long beep emanated from her phone, followed by another one. A thick male voice answered.
Mom, is everything okay? asked Nissim as soon as he recognized her number on the screen.
Hello Nissimi, my son and my life, this is mother talking, she said.
My dear mother, how are you? Nissim was interested and his voice was soft and pleasant. Toddlers' voices were heard in the background. Who are these children, Hannah wondered to herself, are they are his?
I'm fine, my Nissim, she said. I'm waiting for Yossi to arrive from the army, but he doesn't come.
Long silence
Nissim swallowed the saliva over the line.
My Nissim, Hannah repeated and said, Yossi said he would come to visit from the army and didn't come.
Mother... said Nissim, and stopped.
Look... he continued and his voice suddenly thickened. He cleared his throat and said, Yossi will not come to visit. He is no longer in the army. Yossi fell in battle twenty-five years ago.
Hannah was silent, and what did she have to say?
After a long silence, Nissim continued and said: Mom, wait a minute, I'll call the front desk and ask the nurse to check if you've already been given your pill.
My pill? Hannah repeated after him. If I have been given my pill?
Yes, my mother, replied Nissim. You are in a nursing home in Haifa and every day they give you a pill for your Alzheimer's.
For my Alzheimer's? Hannah repeated.
This is not the first time this has happened to her, which her memory betrays her and runs away from her, and she has no idea where it went. When does this happen to her? Almost every day, and what does she do when it happens to her? Usually, keeps silent
Hannah was silent. And what is left for her to say?
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