Chapters (33)
“I don’t think so. Anyway, I can only speak for myself.”
“So what about you? You don’t have an aversion to women?”
“No, Mrs. Tadmor. If anything, the opposite.”
“Oh! What’s the opposite of an aversion?”
“Sympathy, perhaps? Curiosity? It’s hard to explain.”
“Why aren’t you looking at me?”
“I don’t like to cause embarrassment. There, the water’s boiling. What’s it to be, then? Coffee?”
“Embarrassment to yourself or to me?”
“Hard to say exactly. Maybe both. I’m not sure.”
“Do you happen to have a name?”
“My name is Fima. Efraim.”
“I’m Annette. Are you married?”
“I have been married, ma’am. Twice. Nearly three times.”
“And I’m just getting divorced. To be more accurate, I am being divorced. Are you too shy to look at me? Afraid of being disappointed? Or maybe you just want to make sure you never have to hesitate whether to say hello to me if we meet in the street?”
“Sugar and milk, Mrs. Tadmor? Annette?”
“It would actually suit you, to be a gynecologist. Better than it suits that ridiculous old man who can’t stick a rubber-gloved finger into me without trying to distract my attention with some joke about the Emperor Franz Joseph’s deciding to punish God. May I use the phone?”
“Of course. I’ll be back there, in the records room. When you’ve finished, just call me so we can make you another appointment. Do you need one?”
“Fima Efraim. Please. Look at me. Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to cast a spell on you. Once, when I was beautiful, men used to fall for me like flies; now, even the assistant in the clinic won’t look at me.”
Fima looked up. And at once recoiled, because the combination of anguish and sarcasm he saw on her face made him throb with desire. He lowered his eyes to his papers and said carefully:
“But you are still a very beautiful woman. At least, to me you are. You don’t want to make a phone call?”
“Not anymore. I changed my mind. I’m changing my mind about lots of things at the moment. So I’m not ugly?”
“On the contrary.”
“You’re not too good-looking yourself. Pity you’ve made the coffee. I didn’t ask for anything. Never mind. You can drink it. And thank you.”
She stopped at the door and added:
“You have my phone number. It’s in your files.”
Fima pondered this. The words “a new chapter” seemed rather cheap, yet he knew that in other times he might well have fallen for this Annette. But why only in other times? Finally, in Yael’s old words, he said to himself, Your problem, pal.
And, after filing the papers away, he locked the records room and washed the cups, ready to close up.