He intended to chew a heartburn tablet and go down to the shopping center to have the broken radio fixed or to replace it if necessary. But suddenly there appeared before his eyes, so vividly that he could almost touch it, the image of a frail, myopic East European Jew wrapped in a prayer shawl, wandering in a dark forest, muttering biblical verses to himself, hurting his feet on the sharp stones, while softly and silently the snow fell, a night bird gave a sinister shriek, and wolves howled in the darkness.

Fima was gripped by fear.

The moment he put the receiver down, it occurred to him that he had not asked his father how he was. He had forgotten his intention of taking him to the hospital for tests. He had even forgotten to notice whether the old man still had a whistle in his chest. He fancied he had heard a little squeak, but he was not certain: it might have been nothing but a slight cold. Or his father might just have been humming a high-pitched Hasidic tune. Or perhaps the noise had come from some fault in the telephone line. All systems were running down in this country and no one cared. This too was a byproduct of our obsession with the Territories. The ironic truth was that, as some future historian would discover, it was really Nasser who won the 1967 war. Our victory condemned us to destruction. The messianic genie that Zionism had managed to seal in the bottle popped out the day the ram’s horn was sounded at the Wailing Wall. He laughs longest. Moreover, to pursue this line of reasoning resolutely to its bitter end, without flinching from the most unpalatable truth, perhaps the ultimate conclusion was that it was really Hitler, not Nasser, who had the last laugh. When all’s said and done, he continues to persecute the Jewish people ruthlessly. Everything that is happening to us now has its origin one way or another with Hitler. Now what was I going to do? Make a phone call. It was something urgent. But who to? What about? What is there left to say? I also am lost in the forest. Just like that old saint.

21

But the Glowworm had Vanished

AND BECAUSE HE HAD FORGOTTEN TO LOCK THE DOOR WHEN HE brought the newspaper up earlier in the morning, and because he was absorbed in a futile attempt to reassemble the radio, he suddenly looked up and saw Annette Tadmor standing in front of him, in a red coat and a navy beret worn at an angle, which made her look like a French village girl. Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were glowing from the cold outside. She looked childlike, meek, pure, and painfully attractive. He instantly recalled what he had done to her two days earlier and felt unclean.