The Marsh Angel, Hagai Dagan [free e reader .TXT] 📗

did look good. A little reserved, a bit skinnier, but there was a lucidity to her eyes.

Afik opened two bottles of Goldstar beer and placed two glasses on the table. He sipped his beverage and thought to himself he’d rather have an Austrian zwickel. It was raining outside, the thin drops tapping lightly on the windows. It was as if Tel-Aviv was washed out, tired and gray, flushed out in the turbid water running down the curbs towards the gutter.

I brought you something, he said, and pulled out of his bag a bright-colored wallet embellished with an intricate floral pattern.

She took it from him and observed it intently. It’s pretty, she said. Interesting. Soothing.

I thought of you when I saw it, he said. I can’t even say why.

It’s very… vegetative.

Earthy, he said.

Yes.

I’ve missed you, he said, and was all of a sudden struck by just how truly he had missed her.

She looked at him, as if getting his measure, and smiled cautiously.

Say, he said, you’re going to finish your studies here soon, right?

Yes.

And what are you planning to do after?

I don’t know yet, but I’ll probably look for something in the Weizmann Institute, or at a university.

How do you think your chances are?

It’s very competitive, but I think I have a decent chance.

And if you were to look for something abroad, say, Germany, or Austria? Your field is pretty in demand abroad, isn’t it?

Yes, I’d say so. It would probably be easier to find something there.

The pay’s better as well. And the language barrier isn’t as significant as in the humanities, since all you write are equations, anyway.

I’m not sure I see where you’re going with this.

Say I’d relocate to work abroad, and say I’d propose that you come with me…

She stared at him in surprise. He had entertained the idea during the flight back, but never got around to thinking about it seriously. It was all happening spontaneously. He wasn’t sure he could find a job abroad, but he knew his chances were good: Yaki told him that he’d ask to add him to his team. They of course never found out that it was he who helped Dallal escape. He threw the phone that he had used to call her down a watery shaft in a nearby construction site. Oz suspected him, but he was instructed to return home and the special task-force was disbanded. The prime minister received a detailed report about what had happened, that the double agent Raspberry managed to escape. The events in Vienna convinced the prime minister to pull the plug on the operation which was underway in Iran. He promised the director of the Mossad and the director of the Shin-Beit that he would stop sharing operation plans and covert activities with the cabinet. He did not fire the minister of the interior, Jacob Ben Amram.

Is that your way of asking me to get back with you? Afik asked.

Maybe.

Maybe, or definitely? insisted Afik who, unlike lieutenant colonel Shalom Abuhab, did not like ambiguities.

Uh, definitely.

Uh, and are you leaving the country?

Perhaps.

So, you want us to live together in Europe?

I think so.

Where in Europe?

Vienna. What do you think?

I need to think about it. It’s all very out of the blue. I thought we broke up.

We could rent a private house at the edge of the city, bordering the forest, with a plot of land at the back, he said, thinking of Dallal’s villa in Wilhelminenstrasse. It’s not as expensive as it sounds. It’s about a fifteen minutes’ tram ride to the city center, I think… We could plant some fruit trees there. And we could have a porch to sit on in the evenings, drinking wine. Or beer. The Austrians have excellent beers.

Seems like you’ve given this a lot of thought.

He hadn’t. In fact, he wasn’t even sure that this was a good idea, but the image was suddenly clear in his mind. If you had to answer now, gut reaction, without thinking, what would you say?

I’m not a gut-reaction type.

Suddenly, he was overcome by an uncontrollable urge to touch her, like a cascade of something warm, dissolving, like volcanic mud or chocolate fondu, an urge washed over him and swept him towards her. He extended his hand and carefully stroked her cheek. He brushed her hair with his other hand. She stood still. He pulled his hand back.

So, you want my gut reaction?

Yes.

Okay. Then maybe.

Maybe?

Yes.

He looked at her. She seemed beautiful to him. He thought he was feeling happiness, or something approximating it.

But what, we’ll be living together? Like, all the time?

He hesitated. That would be a bit much, wouldn’t it?

It might.

Maybe we could rent adjacent apartments. Or at least a very big house.

That would be expensive.

But at least that way we won’t grow to hate each other and spend the rest of lives eating dinner in awkward silence.

Do we have awkward silences?

Actually, we don’t.

Our silences are okay, aren’t they?

Yes.

She smiled, but her eyes still measured him, like a tracking beam.

He turned to look at the window. He reached his hand absentmindedly into his coat pocket, feeling around, touching Dallal’s pendant which for some reason was still there, lying at the bottom of his pocket. He of course had cleaned and dried it, but then returned it to his pocket; in moments of distraction, his hand would occasionally reach in, thoughtlessly, fingering it as if it were a rosary of prayer beads. The rain was still coming down, but the clouds had parted, as if waiting for something to appear. He turned back to look at Afik. Her eyes were expectant. There was also a calmness in them, which depended on nothing.

He smiled at her.

Uppsala-Vienna-Tel-Aviv, 2016-2020

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