Yonatan jumped up from his chair and savagely stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. Tensing his neck, he thrust his head forward on the bias, a movement that resembled his father’s attempts to hear. A cowlick fell into his eyes and he brushed it roughly away.

“But I can’t take it any more! I can’t go on like this!” His voice was choked and seemed on the verge of panic.

Rimona looked at him quietly, as if he had said nothing more than please turn off the radio.

“You want to go away.”

“Yes.”

“With me or without me?”

“By myself.”

“When?”

“Soon. In a few days.”

“And I’ll stay here?”

“That’s up to you.”

“Will you be gone for long?”

“I don’t know. Yes. For a long time.”

“And what will there be for us afterwards?”

“I don’t know what there will be for us. What’s this ‘for us’ stuff? Who says there has to be anything for us? What am I, your father or something? Look. I can’t go on like this any longer. It’s that simple.”

“But you’ll come back in the end.”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“I’m hoping.”

“Then don’t. You can stop hoping. It’s a waste of your time.”

“Where will you go?”

“Somewhere. I don’t know. We’ll see. What difference does it make?”

“Will you study?”

“I might.”

“And then?”

“I don’t know. Why keep asking? I don’t know anything now. Stop grilling me as if I were a criminal.”

“But you’ll come sometimes.”

“Would you like me to?”

“If you feel like coming, you’ll come, and if you want to go again, you’ll go. It can be whenever you want. I won’t change a thing in the house or cut my hair as I thought I would do in the spring. Sometimes you’ll want to come to me, and then I’ll be here for you.”

“No, I’ll want to stay away. Maybe I’ll even go overseas, to America or somewhere.”

“You want to be far away from me.”

“I want to be far away from here.”

“From me.”

“All right. Yes. From you.”

“And from your parents and your brother Amos and all your friends.”

“Yes. That’s right. Far away from here.”