World Cup Wishes by Nevo Eshkol

Author:Nevo, Eshkol [Nevo, Eshkol]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781409090793
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2010-04-02T04:00:00+00:00

9

THEY’RE STANDING ON either side of her, barely reaching her shoulders. She’s looking at the camera with that piercing stare of hers (the girl’s too smart, Maria once told us. If we don’t watch her, she’ll grow up to be bad), and they’re looking at her. Not exactly at her. It would be more accurate to say they were looking in her direction (and perhaps they were just giving each other sideways glances? Trying to see who was closer to her?).

I’m almost positive that the one on the right is Noam and Nimrod is on the left. But perhaps I’m wrong. Noam’s forehead is broader, but you can only see it when he has a certain kind of haircut. And on each small head, there’s a concealing, festive crown of leaves.

Amichai took that picture on their last birthday, when Ilana was still alive. They pursued Maria’s daughter subtly then. Shyly. But as soon as their mother died, it was as if some inner restraint was released, and the war for the heart of their beloved became totally uninhibited. And we, who at first had watched that threesome with smiles of amusement (ah, the sweet love of children), now had an expression of concern on our faces (what, can the sweet love of children be that intense?).

When Noam was brought home after his flight to the university, Nimrod was not happy. You’re such a baby, you did that just to get attention, he said. And it was clear whose attention he was talking about.

When Nimrod competed in the district judo championship, Noam sat next to her in the stands and tried to dampen her enthusiasm. He’s the biggest boy in his age group, he whispered in her ear, that’s why he beats everyone.

They competed in front of her in all sorts of weird contests: who could remember a nine-digit number by heart? A ten-digit number? Who could hold his breath longer? Who could eat the most strawberries without throwing up?

She was the judge in those contests. And she decided who the winner was. But she kept delaying the biggest, most crucial decision.

You’re being mean, Maria rebuked her in the end at home (Ofir told us about this conversation like a father talking about his daughter).

But why, Mor? the girl asked her mother, looking up at her, and in a characteristic gesture, tucked some unruly hairs back into the yellow bun on the top of her head.

Because you enjoy the two of them showering attention on you, and you don’t care that you’re hurting them, her mother said firmly.

But Mor, I really love them both, the girl protested. Really!

Perhaps she’s right. Who says that we have to love only one person? Ofir ended the story on a contemplative note, and Ya’ara flashed me a look (or was I only imagining that she flashed me a look?).

*

In the end, Amichai showed up for the meeting with the donor.

Unshaven. Wearing once-white trainers.

Before we went inside, he asked us to handle the presentation because he was still recovering from yesterday.

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