“You must understand, Effy: I’m not reminding you of your great night at the Gefens’ to explain myself. That’s something I haven’t even managed to do to myself. At least not in words. After all, it’s not your fault you’ve developed a little paunch. One doesn’t wipe out a marriage just because one of the partners snips the hairs in one nostril and forgets to do the other. Or forgets to flush the toilet. Especially since I know that despite the pettiness and the vicious remarks you’re still fond of me in your own way. Maybe more now than when we came back from Greece and for some reason I was the lucky one, even though you could hardly tell the three of us apart. Maybe it’s something like this: You’re in love with me, but you don’t really love me. No doubt you’ll say I’m just playing with words. What I’m saying is that, for you, being in love means wanting to be a baby. You want to be fed and changed and above all adored nonstop, day and night. Admired around the clock.

“I know I’m contradicting myself: it’s true that I married you because I was taken by your Grecian childishness, and now that I’m leaving you, I’m complaining that you’re childish. Okay, you’ve caught me in a contradiction. Enjoy it. Sometimes I think that if you had to choose between the joy of sex and the joy of catching me in a contradiction, it’s the latter you’d find more exciting, more satisfying. Especially as there’s no risk of pregnancy. You get so hysterical every month, afraid I’ve fixed you and landed you with a baby on the sly. Which doesn’t stop you hinting to your friends that the real reason is that jet engines are Yael’s baby.