“It’s nothing,” said Rimona. “Don’t be angry, Yoni.”

“Who’s angry? I’m not angry. I’m only asking you a question and hoping to get a straight answer for once in my life. That’s all.”

“Then ask it,” said Rimona, bewildered. “You’re angry that I’m not answering, but you haven’t asked me anything.”

“Okay. It’s this. I want you to tell me exactly what you thought three, three-and-a-half years ago on that Saturday night when you decided all of a sudden that we were getting married.”

“But that’s not the way it happened,” said Rimona softly. “And besides, why are you asking?”

“I just am. To get an answer from you.”

“But why ask now? You never did before.”

“Because sometimes I think … were you going to say something?”

“No. I’m listening.”

“But I want you to stop just listening your whole goddamn life! Talk. Open your mouth. Say something. You’re going to tell me right now why you married me, what you wanted from me, what was going on in that head of yours.”