All I Love and Know by Judith Frank Read Free Book Online

Lydia’s and Sam’s suitcases into it, then sat down on the bed. He thought about a novel he’d recently read that depicted an epidemic of blindness, in which only one woman could see. That would be him now, he thought, the one functioning person in a family blinded by grief.
    The mattress sat on a low wood frame, and the bed was neatly made. From the little adjacent bathroom he could smell Joel’s scent, his aftershave. He ran his hand over a pillow, noticed several long brown hairs. Ilana’s. He closed his eyes, thinking about the skin sloughed off all over the bed and floor and windowsills, and the hair on the pillows and in the shower drain. Someday, someone—maybe even him—would clean this apartment, and in doing so they’d eradicate all the earthly remaining traces of Joel’s and Ilana’s bodies. He stood and opened the door of one of the closets that lined the front wall and thrust his head into Ilana’s blouses and skirts and blazers. When he emerged and shut the closet door, he saw a small figure standing in the doorway. Gal’s cheeks were a hectic red and she was sucking her thumb. She wore purple leggings and a purple-and-white-striped T-shirt; he remembered Joel saying that purple was apparently young girls’ color of choice when they outgrew pink and got snobbish about their previous lack of sophistication. He folded his long legs into a crouch. “Hey there, Boo,” he said. “Wanna come give me a hug?”
    She came to him and allowed him to hug her, with an obedience that hurt his feelings a little; he picked her up and sat down on the bed with her on his lap. He tucked her hair behind her ear. She pushed him and reared away from him. “ Ichsah ,” she said in the universal guttural expression of disgust of Israeli children. “You smell bad.” Then she whispered, “Ema and Abba died.”
    He thought: She’s seeing if it’s true in English, too . “Yes,” he said, squeezing her and kissing the top of her head so she wouldn’t see his tears. She wiggled loose and looked searchingly into his face, then put her two hands on his cheeks. Matt tried to return her gaze as honestly as he could. Her features were thinning and becoming more defined as she passed out of her babyhood and into childhood, and her brown eyes were weirdly fierce, as if she were trying to look into his soul. “Has anybody brushed your hair in a while?” he asked, raking his fingers lightly through the tangled mass. “Go get me a brush, and I’ll brush it.”
    She hopped off his lap and went into her parents’ bathroom, and emerged with a hairbrush. She stood patiently between his knees with her back to him. He hastily tore Ilana’s hair out of the brush and looked at the little nest of hair in his palm, then stuffed it in his pocket.
    Her hair was dark, and slightly shorter than shoulder-length. He removed the headband that held it off her face and brushed for a while, bringing out its gloss, thinking that this was as good a place to be as any. Gal was compliant; when he tugged too hard, she let out a quiet whimper that broke his heart because he knew what a shrieky little beast she could be. He wondered if he should be saying something to her, emphasizing how many adults loved her and reassuring her that she’d be taken care of, but he was frightened of saying something that would cause permanent damage. He could hear talking and crying from the other room, and then Lydia’s raised, angry voice and the sound of shushing and whispering because the baby was still asleep. Someone turned on the shower. He brushed for what seemed like a long time, until static made the fine hairs crackle around the brush. Then he heard the quick clack of Lydia’s footsteps, and she burst in, her lips tight. “Honey,” she said to Gal, “go get something to eat, okay? Your savta will find you