The Tunnel by A.B. Yehoshua

Author:A.B. Yehoshua
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Halban
Published: 2020-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

arrangements

Luria felt it would be good to visit Maimoni again at the end of the shiva, if only to get to know other mourners, especially Maimoni’s wife and possibly his mother, and thereby deepen his relationship with him. But Dina saw no need for a second visit. Yes, the neurologist is pleased that Luria has found a job, but it’s a job that so far has amounted to a single day, and who knows how the future will play out in light of the new prognosis. So why get any deeper? “But what was the prognosis? The neurologist didn’t seem especially worried,” says Luria. “No, not especially,” says Dina. “In any case, it’s your head and not his, and maybe too the mild growth of the dark spot could just be a product of age. Anyway, don’t forget, Zvi, you are a temporary assistant to this young man, so why be a burden on him?” “A burden? How? True, I’m not a partner, but even so, I feel he will need me more than you imagine, and besides, after his father’s death his feelings towards me will get stronger.”

“Feelings?” She is surprised. “Suddenly you also need his feelings?”

“I don’t need any extra feelings, the love I have here is enough, but if I started something, something you yourself initiated to help me in my condition, why cut it short just because the desert now worries you?”

“Why the desert?”

“The neurologist scared you that I would get lost in the desert.”

“Why should you get lost if Maimoni is with you?”

“Exactly, but so he won’t take his eyes off me I want to strengthen the connection between us, because I too have no desire to get lost in the desert. And I also don’t want him to start doubting my professional ability because I forgot or neglected to inform him of his father’s death. I feel lucid and stable. And I know the way to his father’s house, and I don’t want some other pensioner, say an old friend of mine or his father’s, to offer his services instead of me.”

“Instead of you?” she says with a trace of mockery. “As an unpaid assistant?”

“Maybe. Every pensioner seeks meaning in life.”

“All right, go there, but please, let him know in advance so you will not go for nothing.”

But Luria refrains from announcing his visit, lest Maimoni try to avoid him. And on the last day of the shiva, on a clear winter morning, he sets off for Hod HaSharon, and although he knows and remembers the roads, he does get a little lost. And again, on arrival he finds an open door to a silent house. There is no one in the kitchen, no sign of cooking or baking. But cardboard boxes are strewn in the big living room, and a blanket on the floor is piled with pictures removed from the walls. Luria feels shaky, as if he were suddenly thrust back to the chaotic house where, five years ago, his dementia had germinated.

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