Suddenly, a Knock on the Door: Stories by Etgar Keret, Nathan Englander, Miriam Shlesinger, Sondra Silverston Read Free Book Online

another “violent outburst” in front of the child, the two of them will make sure the agreement we signed finds its way back to court for appeal.
    “What violence?” I say to her. “Five years we were together, did I ever once raise a hand?” She knows she’s got nothing to say on that front. She had it coming to her a boatload of times, and I was the picture of restraint. A different guy would have kicked her right on over to the emergency room at Ichilov. But me, on my life I’d never raise my hand against a woman. And somehow, before I know it, Amram’s gone and got himself involved. “Even now, right this minute, you’re violent,” is what he throws out at me. “You—you’ve got a crazy look in your eyes.”
    “It’s not a crazy look,” I say, and I smile at him. “It’s a touch of the human soul. It’s what we call feeling. Just because you have no trace of it in you doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.”
    In the end, springing from the abundance of his nonviolence, it’s Amram who starts with the shouting, and the threats, telling me I’ll never see my own son again. It’s a shame I didn’t record him. What a mouth that guy cracked open, filthy as a sewer. But I keep smiling and acting all relaxed just to wind him up. We ended up settling the matter with me promising not to do anything like that ever again. As if it was just exactly what I had scheduled for the next day, to go find myself another five-year-old girl to knock down in the park.
    Next time I pick up Roiki from the playground, I go straight for the subject of his grandma. I could wait him out, let him bring it up himself, but children will sit on those kinds of things for a long time, and that’s time I don’t have. “Since our last talk,” I say, “has Grandma come by to babysit you?”
    Roiki licks the watermelon ice I bought him and shakes his head. “If she does it again,” he asks, “are you going to make Grandma hurt?”
    I breathe in. I want more than anything in the world to say yes, but I just can’t risk it. If they make it so I can’t see him anymore, I’ll die. “I want to—more than anything,” I tell him. “More than anything in the world, I want to hurt her. To hit her harder than hard. And not just Grandma. The same for anyone who hurts you.”
    “Like that girl in ice-cream-cone park?” he says, his eyes sparkling.
    “Like with the girl from the park.” I nod. “But Mommy doesn’t like it when Daddy hits. And if Daddy hits Grandma or anyone else, they won’t let me come by to play with you anymore. To do all the things we do. Understand?”
    Roiki doesn’t answer. His Artik drips on his pants. He lets it melt down on purpose, waiting for me to intervene. But I don’t. After a long silence, he says, “It’s not nice for me alone in the room.”
    “I know,” I tell him, “but I can’t make it stop. Only you can. And Daddy wants to teach you how.”
    I explain to Roiki exactly what to do if his granny locks him in again. Which part of the head he needs to butt against the wall if he wants to leave a solid mark without really injuring himself.
    “And it’ll hurt?” he asks.
    I tell him that it will. I’ll never once in this life lie to him. Not like Sheyni. When we were still together, we took Roi to the pediatrician for his vaccinations. The whole way there she was messing with his brain, talking about stings and bees and special treats for good boys, right up until I cut her off mid-sentence and said, “There’s going to be a lady there with a needle who’s going to cause you pain—but there’s nothing we can do about it. There are some things in this world we just have to get on with.” And Roiki, who was then barely two, looked at me with that intelligent gaze of his and understood. When we got into the room you could see his whole being wanted to draw back. But he didn’t protest and didn’t make for the door. He took it like a little man.
    Together, we go over every step of