The Beauty Queen of Jerusalem
Published in Issue #14 Translated from Hebrew by Dalya Bilu(Excerpt from a Novel)
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Shortly before my eighteenth birthday my mother Luna passed away. A year before that, when the family were sitting round the dining table eating lunch together, and she was serving her famous sofrito with peas and white rice, she suddenly sat down and said: ‘Dio santo, I can’t feel my leg.’
My father ignored her and went on eating and reading the newspaper as usual. My little brother Ronny thought it was funny and he jogged mother’s leg under the table and said: ‘Mom’s leg is like a doll’s leg.’
‘It isn’t funny,’ my mother said crossly, ‘I can’t stand my foot on the floor.’
My father went on eating and so did I.
‘Por Dio, David, I can’t stand on my leg,’ she said again. ‘It doesn’t do what I tell it to.’
By now she was on the verge of hysteria. Father stopped eating at last and took his eyes off the newspaper.
‘Try to stand,’ he said. Mother was unable to steady herself and hung onto the edge of the table.
‘We have to take her to the HMO clinic right away,’ said Father.
But the minute we walked out of the door Mother’s leg obeyed her, and she could feel it again and tread on it as if nothing had happened.
‘You see, it’s nothing,’ said Father, ‘You’re hysterical as usual.’
‘Sure, hysterical,’ said Mother, ‘if it had happened to you people would have heard the ambulance sirens from here to Katamon.’
The episode passed without leaving any signs, and Mother would recount it over and over again to Rachelika and Becky and anyone else prepared to listen, and Father would lose his temper and say: ‘Enough! How many times do we have to hear...
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