THE KNIGHT AND I
THE KNIGHT AND I
A thought-provoking love story between an Israeli guy and a German girl that unfolds against the backgrounds of Mexico and Tel-Aviv. (Hebrew version available at Stanford, Princeton and University of Toronto’s libraries.)
How gentle and frail she seemed to me right now.
In a moment she’ll be turning towards the door. A few more seconds and I’ll be able to stop pretending. I’m barely holding on, forcing myself not to freak out. Any moment now I’ll be running after her to the narrow corridor with its walls painted in light and antiquated shades of brown, on the way to the archaic elevator with the latticed sliding door– which reminded me of old movies from the fifties with winding staircases in the background– running and smashing the door of the elevator into a thousand pieces.
A final glance at the open window. The white curtain, reaching almost to the ground, cavorted to the sounds of the breeze blowing in from the Gulf of Mexico and twitched like the midriff of a belly-dancer, with packed suitcases at its foot. One more final hug, clutching each other tight. When our foreheads touched I felt my hands starting to shake at the thought that maybe this would be the last time I would hold her.
We stared into each other’s eyes, unable to stop. Out of the corner of my eye I could clearly see her mouth opening slightly, as if she were trying to say something. Any moment now she’ll say, “I want you to stay here with me. Please, don’t go!” But she didn’t say a thing.
‘I don’t want to hurt you, for God’s sake say something!’ was my silent plea. But she just kept on breathing heavily. Again and again I tried to say everything that I was holding back so firmly inside. But something wouldn’t let me release the words. As if my will-power and my ability had split into two separate and completely independent entities. And perhaps it was the load of pessimism and fear of disappointment that was weighing me down, burying any ability to express emotion.
“What? What is it, baby?” she asked and her voice thickened as if she were about to burst into tears. I glanced down at the floor and drew a deep breath. I wanted to tell her that I loved her, that I would do anything to stay here with her, if only I could! But more than anything, I was trying to avoid crying myself.
“I don’t want to leave you,” I whispered finally in Hebrew so she wouldn’t understand, still looking down, my hands hurting her arms beyond my control.
“What are you saying?” she asked in a broken voice, her eyes darting from side to side and trying to focus on my pupils. “Please, tell me!” A tear fell, both from her eye and from mine.
I looked at her again and turned my head away. I took a deep breath, sniffled softly and clenched my lips together tighter.
“I love you my baby,” she killed my heart, “I love you.”