“Here, this is for you,” said Elam, taking out of his breast pocket a round pebble with a bizarre scribble drawn on it. He stood beside Avital and smiled, watching the girl take the pebble from his hand.
“What is this?” she asked with no particular interest, twirling the smooth round rock with her fingers. Elam was silent and looked at her face with tenderness: he never answered right away. Avital raised her eyebrows and asked again,
“A smooth rock. Why are you showing it to me?”
“Look closer.”
“Well, there is a sun on it… or some kind of beetle? Elam, stop smiling and explain why you need this pebble and why you're giving it to me now.”
“Chariot races.” Elam took the pebble from her palm with two fingers, tossed it up and caught it in his fist.
“No way… For real? And you’re going? Alone? Wait, how did you get it? So this is a pass! Chariots! And horses! Are they Roman? Or ours, local?” Her questions flew at him like arrows. Elam slipped the pebble in his breast pocket and stood nearby, thumbs tucked through his belt.
“Ela-am… Don’t be a mute, tell me quickly… When? Where did you get it from? You’re going, right?”
“Not just me, but you and I. Otherwise I wouldn’t have shown it to you. In a week.”
“Elam… Wow… I am so excited!” She squeezed his upper arm, jumped up lightly, and hugged him for a moment. Elam chuckled, thumbs still hooked under his belt, as he watched her funny hops around herself.
“Horses! You did not tell me about the horses: are they ours or foreign? And how is all of that done there? Have you ever been to the races yourself? Where? At the new stadium? Will there be tons of people?” In excitement, Avital could ask dozens of questions at once; Elam knew this and gave her time to recover from this irrepressible joy before responding to what he considered worthy of a response.
“Wait...” The girl suddenly fell silent and grew thoughtful. “Of course there will be a crowd, and I won’t be able to go with you...”
“Why?”
Both fell silent. He stared at her intently; she lowered her gaze. Lately, almost all their conversations inevitably ended with this exact question, the one that wounded Avital most. She became so sincerely happy about his unexpected gift, but now the conversation reached an imminent impasse, at least for her.
“Well, don’t you know… There they’ll see us together. Again. They’ve been silently questioning me for a while now...”
The girl said this with her head bowed, hiding her eyes.
“Which question?” Elam’s voice became strained, metallic.
“You know... About us, or rather about what it is between us… They all keep pressuring me…”
“And you?”
“And I don’t know…”
“You don’t know what it is between us?”
Avital turned and slowly started walking, Elam beside her.
“You see, Elam, when I'm with you, everything seems to be fine, and I don’t think about anything. But when you are not around, and they all ask... I don’t know what to say to them...”
The two walked toward the girl’s house; Avital twiddled the sleeve of Elam's embroidered shirt.
“Well, why would you care about what they think of you and me? And besides, who exactly are ‘they’?”
“They… Well, all of them—Khatifa… Aunt Dina…” She wanted to mention her parents, too, but hesitated. “To be honest, I’d like to know the answer myself...”
She began restlessly twirling a strand of her wavy reddish hair.
Elam stopped and stared into her face.
“I love you.”
“Oh…” Avital exhaled and smiled: she had heard this from him numerous times, yet still these three words dispelled all her worries and doubts, at least for the time she and Elam were alone.
The two continued walking and did not talk anymore. He again thrust his thumbs under the wide leather belt; she hid her hands in the sleeves of her long linen dress.
Four barefoot boys raced past them, shouting. The last one, of about six, covered his bloodied scraped knee with one hand, and with the other smeared sweat and tears on his already dirty face, trying his best to keep up with his laughing older buddies. Avital and Elam followed the gang with their eyes. They approached the house. Elam kept silent.
“Will you come in?” asked Avital, touching the mezuzah.
“Yes.”
The young man let the girl in, followed, and stopped in the hallway. From the stuffy half-darkness, the father emerged at the sound of the newcomers. The men shook hands and walked through the corridor to the courtyard. Avital slipped off her sandals at the doorstep, wiped her dusty feet with a wet cloth that lay nearby, and walked into the kitchen.
There, on a low rug-covered stool, sat her mother, deftly mixing dough in a clay bowl.
“Is all well?” asked the dark-haired woman without ceasing to knead.
“Yes.”
“Is Elam with you?”
“Yes. He's outside with Father.”
Avital took out two clay cups, poured grape juice from a pitcher standing in the dark corner, and carried them to the men. The two men sat on the rug in the shade of the house and talked. She gave them their drinks, went back to her mother, and sat down next to her.
“Well?” Hana asked, without lifting her eyes from the dough.
“Nothing, everything's fine.” Avital bit her lip, not yet knowing how she would tell her mother about the races. Then, figuring it would be better to pour out all the news at once, quickly spoke,
“Elam invited me to the chariot races at the stadium. There will be horses... Jews go there often, too... You don’t mind, do you?”
Avital wasn’t quite sure about the Jews, but decided that this seemingly random remark could turn into a weighty argument if the mother suddenly does not like the idea about the stadium.
Hana kept silent for a moment, took out another handful of flour, sprinkled it into the dough and continued to knead. After a long minute she uttered,
“Well, why not, go watch the races.”
Avital exhaled in relief. All matters in the house were handled by the mother. It only seemed that the last word belonged to the father, and it was so in public. However, Avital knew that getting her mother's consent was enough for any case to be considered three-quarters settled. The girl was about to go to her room, yet lingered,
“You know, Mom, sometimes I feel like he doesn’t come here because of me, but because of Dad.”
“Oh dear, one must be completely blind not to see that he surely doesn’t come here because of your father. Although it's good they’ve found common ground.”
“And you're not against the stadium?”
Hana put the bowl aside, covered it with a towel and stood up to wipe her flour-stained hands.
“No, I'm not against the stadium. He's a good guy and he loves you... Yet...” She paused, “I asked your father whether he talked to him about you both, about…”
“Mom, don’t talk about it, don’t say anything,” Avital interrupted, but Hana finished anyway,
“Elam is still silent.”
“He is? How so? Wait, did Dad hint at anything?” Avital felt herself blushing, ashamed of her question and vexed that for the second time today the conversation had landed on an unpleasant topic.
“Well, how can one hint at anything? Put yourself in your father’s place: he can’t and won’t begin such a conversation,” the mother's voice clanged with impatient irritation.
“No, no, Mom, don’t. That’s good Dad didn’t say anything to him. And let it be so.”
Now the girl felt thoroughly abashed and wished for her mother to stop touching on the sore spot.
“No, don’t talk about it at all with him... Oh...” She sat down on the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees and sighed sorrowfully,
“Once again everything comes down to this...”
Hana wiped her hands and began to clean the table.
“Avital, all I know is that I spoke to his mother, and they all like you. Shoshana said Elam totally lost his head since he started seeing you. She recently unfolded his working scroll—it’s got more of your name written than numbers. Give him time... Although I don’t quite understand why he is dawdling...”
Hana crouched next to Avital and stroked her daughter’s head carefully.
“Your father proposed to me right away. Avital, my dear, maybe he’s not sure of you?” And before the daughter opened her mouth to answer, the mother got up, grabbed a broomstick, and added irritably,
“Though I do not understand men who take up a business of which they’re unsure. Don’t wade into the water without knowing the ford.”
Voices were heard at the door, and the father entered the kitchen. Elam remained in the backyard; Avital rose from the floor and went out to him.
“Are you leaving already?”
After talking to the mother, her spirits sank completely. A faint chill lingered in her voice in response to the young man’s timid smile.
“Come, I’ll walk you to the door this time.”
She walked past him, went around the house and out into the street.
Elam did not smile anymore and followed obediently. Avital halted and looked into his face. He was silent as usual, gazing down at his beloved. She averted her eyes, her fingers tracing the rough texture of the clay wall of the house.
“I will see you the day after tomorrow... right?”
“I can come tomorrow, Tali.”
“No, tomorrow you’ll be at work all day, you’ll get tired; besides, I myself will be busy tomorrow.”
“Well—as you wish.” Elam put his hand in his breast pocket and pulled out the pebble with the mark again.
“Do you want me to leave it with you or save it until next week?”
“You keep it: I'll definitely lose it... Wait, let me look at it again.” Avital took the pebble from his hand and smiled, “Isn’t this crazy expensive?” and not giving him time to answer, sighed, “How awesome you are! I’ve never seen races in my life. Well, see you soon!”
Elam took the pebble and smiled again: her cheerful face and warm words rekindled his joy. He gently squeezed her hand, lingered a moment longer, and only then turned and walked toward his home.