“It’s all right,” said Yonatan. “Never mind. You’re all right.” He nodded once or twice, as if in wholehearted agreement with himself, and said no more. Neither, seated across from him again, did she. The music grew soft and tranquil. In a minute it would fade away and be gone. Rimona reached for the cigarettes, took one, lit it with a match, and began to cough until the tears came, because she didn’t smoke. With a gentle, careful movement she stuck it between Yonatan’s lips.

“That’s how it is,” he said.

“What is, Yoni?”

“Everything. You. Me. Everything. Did you say something? No, I know you didn’t. Then say something, goddamn it! Say anything, scream, tell me what’s on your mind, if anything ever is. What next? What’s going to happen to you? To me? What exactly is going on in that little head of yours?”

“The winter will end,” said Rimona. “Then spring and summer will come. We’ll go somewhere on vacation. Maybe to upper Galilee, or the seashore. We’ll sit on the porch in the evening watching the stars come out or the full moon rise. Do you remember once telling me that the moon has a dark side where everyone goes when they die? You shouldn’t frighten me like that, because I believe whatever you tell me, and I don’t stop believing it until I hear you say you were only joking. And then at the end of the summer you’ll be called up as usual to the reserves, and when that’s over, you’ll take two days off from work and tell me about the new people you met and the new equipment your unit has. It will still be hot, and when you’re done working for the day, you can sit on the lawn with Udi and Anat and talk politics. At night they’ll come over for coffee and two of you will play chess.”

“And then?”

“Then it will be autumn again. You’ll go to the all-kibbutz chess tournament and maybe win another medal. When you come home, it will be time for winter plowing. Your brother Amos will get out of the army and maybe he’ll marry Rachel. You’ll start picking lemons and grapefruit, and then oranges, and you and Udi will be busy all day getting the shipments out on time. But I’ll ask you just the same, and you’ll agree, to turn the soil in the garden so that I can plant chrysanthemums again, and other winter flowers too. And then winter will come back, and we’ll light the heater and sit here together, and it can rain and rain all it wants and we won’t get wet.”

“And then?”

“Yoni, what’s wrong with you?”