The Missing File by D. A. Mishani

Author:D. A. Mishani
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2013-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

10

He knew all along that Michal would find out sooner or later.

It happened on Thursday, when they were both home in the afternoon—exactly two weeks after the start of the investigation.

Ze’ev was working at his desk on the balcony. Just like on the day he had watched Avraham and his policemen through the half-open shutters. Michal was in the kitchen, feeding Elie, to the sounds of his favorite CD of children’s songs, and then she laid him down in his bed for an afternoon nap.

The black notebook beckoned him, called him to open it. It was risky in the middle of the day. He reread the first three letters and the opening paragraph of the fourth he had written the night before. After her shower, Michal came over to the balcony and asked if he’d like to have some lunch with her; he said he’d make do with a sandwich at his desk because he didn’t want to take a break from his work. Was he hinting at something? Was this the route he wanted their conversation to take?

He didn’t feel quite ready to confess to her about joining the writing workshop, but he could not hide the birth of his writing for long. Not from Michal. She was there with him when all previous attempts had failed, when he was frustrated that he had no place and no time for writing, when he was scared that it would escape him, never to return. But what happened after he told her was inconceivable. One of the most terrible days of his life.

It was one of the very first things Ze’ev had told Michal when they first met. He was a graduate of the Hebrew University’s Department of English Literature, and she had a degree in political science from Tel Aviv. Just like everyone else, they had met during their teaching diploma studies at the Kibbutzim College. Such a long time ago. They all used to ask one another if they really wanted to be schoolteachers, and everyone would say no. Except for her. She was twenty-seven at the time, and he was a year younger. Both were single, after being involved in more or less serious relationships. Ze’ev had told her that he wrote, or rather that he wanted to write, and Michal hadn’t asked what, only said that it was wonderful, and that she hoped to read his stories one day. He was not sure then whether she was implying a long-term relationship or was simply expressing a general confidence in his ability to write and be published.

As Michal approached, he closed the notebook. She ran her fingers through his hair above his neck. He didn’t turn around.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked, and he said, “No. Why?”

“I think there is. You’ve been working on something for a while now. Did you think I hadn’t noticed?”

If he had responded to her question, his answer would have been a profoundly complex one. He thought she both noticed and didn’t notice.

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