Briss, the

Finalist, Best First Book, 2010 Commonwealth Writers' Prize (the Caribbean and Canada) There is a Jewish proverb that goes: Grandchildren are your reward from God for not having murdered your children. And so The Briss begins, with Sammy, the father of two grown children he would like to choke the life out of. His daughter Marilyn has just ended an affair that should have been kept a secret. In the meantime, his younger son, Teddy, who had left months ago on a ten?day Birthright Israel tour, got himself mixed up with gush shalom Israelis who introduced him to a diaspora Palestinian woman visiting her ailing grandmother in Ramallah. Teddy falls in love with her, and, well, knocks her up. Sammy, who fought in Israel in '48 but moved back home to Winnipeg years ago, a move he has regretted, is forced into an angry struggle with his son that reveals all their unresolved emotional conflicts. A wildly entertaining and poignant novel, The Briss explores, on a personal level, family relationships, and on a political level, the continuing debate about Jewish identity and its connection to Israel and Palestine. [A]n almost perfectly executed comic novel ... [a] multigenerational comic gem and a wonderful debut ... Tregebov has a tone?perfect ear for dialogue in both settings, and a compassionate eye that finds humanity and humor in all his varied characters. ? Vancouver Review [Tregebov] has a pitch?perfect ear for language and dialogue ... The Briss ... teeters precariously between comedy and tragedy ... Tregebov, like other exceptional Winnipeg Jewish writers including Adele Wiseman and Miriam Waddington, ultimately succeeds on the force of his authenticity, which gives rise to genuine pathos and a comedic glimpse at the absurdity of life ... Buy it. ? National Post The cast of players, from stars to walk?ons, are distinct and immediate ... The characters are in the room with you ... [The Briss] is a trend?breaker, aggressively funny and stealthily horrific, plus it doesn't fret about including serious discussions on the politics of war ? sort of like Hemingway, but with stand?up panache in place of biblical cadences ... an equal literary might be at work here ... Tregebov's Jewish Winnipeg raises echoes of Richler's Montreal. ? Globe and Mail [A] provocative novel [that's] ideal for those who like a little politics with their humour ... outrageously funny, even as it confronts hard questions of Palestinian, Arab, Israeli and Jewish identity. ? Winnipeg Free Press Tregebov. . . isn't just interested in tackling the problems of the Middle East, but also in showing how remote conflicts can influence the lives of ordinary Canadians ... With such controversial subject matter, it's inevitable that The Briss is going to ruffle some feathers ... Tregebov paints a sympathetic and often funny portrait of an aging Jewish couple disappointed by their children, and ostracized by their friends. ? Prairie Books NOW The Briss ricochets from Winnipeg kitchens to the ravaged West Bank. Its family dialogues soar on absurdist realism: the illogic of resentments, clashing egos and dangerous ideals. Mixing humour with the stealthily horrific, Tregebov echoes the incisiveness of Hemingway on war, with stand?up panache in place of biblical cadences ? Jim Bartley's Top 5 for 2009 (Globe and Mail) Excerpt: Chapter One 1 ?Aw, Christ!? Sammy was so irritated it looked as if he had been electrocuted. ?Dad.? ?Aw, Christ.? ?Dad?? ?Tell it again. You?re a what?? Teddy told him again. Sammy?s heart plopped. ?Aw, Christ. Say it ain?t so.? ?Can?t,? Teddy said. Only seconds before, Sammy?s wife, Anna, unnerved, had given such ageshray that she had jolted him off his recliner, and out of his Sunday dereliction. When he had made it to the kitchen she mashed the cordless phone against his breastplate. ?You talk to him,? she had said. And then she had shut herself in the bedroom and now he knew why. He had been watching a ballgame. The Blue Jays were muddled once again. ?Shut the ballgame off,? she had shouted, ?and get in here, Sammy.? He did as he was told. He went to the kitchen and she had mashed the phone into his breastplate and now he was suddenly in galus. ?Chrissakes, Teddy.? That?s how it had started. In the middle of the ballgame. In just a flicker, and now he was in galus. ?Well, what?s it going to be,? Sammy had said, when he had taken the phone. This was his usual greeting, his private ?wassup.? But then Teddy filled him in on a few things. ?A human shield?? ?A human shield.? ?A human shield.? ?A human shield.? ?Who for?? ?Which side do you think needs human shields?? ?Chrissakes. There?s something wrong with you.? Teddy had always had the feeling that there was something wrong with him, while family and family friends always had the certainty, offering audibly behind his back, ?That kid, there?s something wrong with that kid.? That sort of thing, once it gets rolling, never stops. So, when he announced he was a human shield, and had been issued a residency document by the Palestinian Authority in Ramallah, the people back home would comment, ?there was always something wrong with that kid.? Even the watchless official, Yussuf, at the ransacked PA office in Ramallah, to whom Teddy had expressed his wish, looked at him with concern and asked if there was something wrong with him. ?No, there?s nothing wrong with me. I want to be a human shield.? The next moment the PA man cupped his mouth as if he was trying to avoid water gushing out. ?Are you certain in your action? We all have our foibles.? It was a liminal moment. But Teddy had already stepped up to the plate. ?Yes. I am certain in my action,? he said, in the diction that was rubbing off on him. ?Are you pressed for time?? ?Not really.? ?What time have you?? ?I don?t know.? Teddy didn?t have a watch either. It was a time in Ramallah when no one had a watch. Or, to be exact, no one had a watch left. The PA man and his staff had been visited just a few days earlier by an incursion of a helpful unit of the Israeli Defence Force, made up of watch repairmen it would seem, because, during their search, as was the case in their search of the house that he was living in, they interrogated the terrified PA civil servants with a professionally relentless single line of intelligence questioning, pointing at each person?s wrist asking: ?Watches?? ?You? Watches?? ?You there? Watches?? That?s how Teddy lost his watch???the Dynamite Watch, as Baba X called it. ? ? ? ?There must be something wrong with you,? said the PA man, Yussuf. ?Everything?s going to shit here. There?s no future here. In two years? time, half of Ramallah will be in Los Angeles running liquor outlets. No one will defend us. It?s all over. Like no one defended you Jews against the brownshirts. We can?t keep on living like this. There comes a point when enough is too much.? The PA man?s confused locution made Teddy smile. ?Why are you doing this? May I ask, for I am gobsmacked.? ?What?? ?Astonished.? ?Oh. Out of shame, I guess.? ?Don?t be a silly oaf. This is none of your business. You?re not Israeli. You?ll give your mother a heart attack.? ?It won?t be the first time.? He looked at Teddy. Teddy looked at him and smiled. Yes, it was true. He actually had given his mother angina once. The PA man saw what was wrong with him. He lacked limits, this boy. Family and family friends always said something was wrong with him, but none of them could put their finger on exactly what it was. But the PA man saw it, the way someone sees it?s raining. Teddy had followed the PA man through a warren of rooms, then farther back into an office that looked as if it had been totally unhinged from the building itself and was swinging above the ground, held shakily in place by an invisible membrane. The PA man started searching his desk for paper and his rubber stamp. The creak and flop of a shutter thrilled Teddy, making him feel exposed. For a moment he thought he saw a sunbird hovering, glittering with green and purple iridescence. The computer monitors were smashed in and Teddy suspected that the printers had gone the way of the watches. All the filing cabinets had been flung open, some shat in. The PA man had to take a copy of Ha?aretz which Teddy was carrying, cut out the blank paper from a minimalist Lexus ad, and write out a declaration in Arabic and stamp it with one of the few stamps left on his desk, and then sign it. The historical piquancy of a Palestinian helping a Jew didn?t escape him either. ?You?ll see this is quite the white elephant.? ?A what?? ?A possession entailing great expense beyond its usefulness.? While Teddy smiled the man folded his new pass into an envelope, tucked in the flap, and handed it to him. ?This is great.? The PA man smiled and said, ?God is Great. You?ve just made aliyah.? Teddy felt the hot dry print of Yussuf?s palm on his nape, its fatherly intent. ?I am gobsmacked,? said Teddy, feeling tremors of emotion. In any case, when he walked out of the office he held a piece of paper in his hand that made him a resident of a state that didn?t exist whose entire infrastructure had been demolished and shat in. He felt a tremendous sense of relief as he walked back to the house near the Amari refugee camp where he was staying in Ramallah. The first thing he did when he got there was phone his parents and tell them the news. ?Ma?? ?Yes. Hello. Who?s this?? ?It?s me.? ?Teddy?? ?Hi!? ?You?re there?? ?I?m here.? ?Where are you?? ?In a camp near Ramallah.? The word Ramallah was so foreign to her, he could have just as well named a crater on the moon. ?In a Palestinian refugee camp near Ramallah,? he said. ?It must be crawling.? ?It?s not crawling.? ?Who goes off to live in a camp?? ?Jean Genet did.? ?Who?? ?Jean Genet, the French playwright.? ?Ah, the lunatic French.? ?That?s fringe, Ma.? ?What are you doing there?? ?I made aliyah, sort of. I?m a human shield.? ?A what?? ?A human shield.? His mother was quiet. He absolutely knew what she was thinking and what she would say next. He knew it. He knew it. Here it comes. ?Do you know what a neshome is?? He was right. ?Of course, I do.? ?If you knew, you wouldn?t have told me what you just told me. I can only presume you don?t know what it is.? ?I know what it is.? ?A neshome?? ?I know the word.? ?You?ve just taken my neshome out.? ?Ma.? ?You?ve taken my neshome out. I have no more neshome.? ?Ma.? ?Sammy!? she yelled. ?He?s watching the game, your father. Sammy!? When Sammy came to the kitchen phone Anna, unnerved, mashed the phone against his chest and fled to the bedroom. ?You talk to him! The little shit.? She was ?afflicted,? she said. Once inside her bedroom, she banged the door shut and started to cry; she couldn?t resist looking in the mirror to watch herself cry, commiserate with herself a little, until she saw a loose thread hanging from the bedskirt, and then went after it with a little scissors. ?Where?s the big parade?? inquired Baba X, Anna?s mother, who had been sitting at the dining table, eating coffee cake with her and drinking tea when Teddy had phoned long distance. Sammy ignored her. ?Where?s the big parade?? ? ? ? Ancient Baba X???the kids, Marilyn and Teddy, but mainly Marilyn, had named her Baba X???wearing her usual bright African shift with multi-coloured chevrons, her permed white hair, the wickerwork wrinkles on her cheeks and eyes, her huge post-cataract Ray Charles sunglasses, was startled by all the action. ?Why the big parade?? she asked Sammy again, changing the interrogative, looking about the room for Anna. ?Where?s Anna?? She didn?t like being ignored. Her bosom was full of crumbs and she was brushing them off onto the table, then forming them into lines with the heel of her cracked palms. ?Who phoned?? Sammy ignored her again. ?Who phoned?? ?It?s Teddy.? ?It?s Teddy,? she said, to no one in particular. ?Teddy,? she said again, ? ashtick gold.? ?He?s no shtick gold,? Sammy said under his breath. ?He?s a shtick gold.? ?He?s a shtick drek,? Sammy said. ?What?s he saying? Where?s Anna.? Sammy ignored her again and took the conversation into the hallway, walking in Anna?s footsteps to the bedroom, holding the cordless phone outside the door, maintaining two conversations at the same time, one with Teddy, at a distance of thousands of miles, in which he spoke softly, as always, and one with his wife, at a distance of one yard, in which he had to shout. Sammy was someone everyone liked, full of jokes and charm, but low on responsibility. But now he was serious, being stuck with the parenting for the first time in his life. He put his eye to the crack in the door, but he couldn?t see a thing. ?Your mother?s crying in the bedroom, she won?t let me in,? he said evenly. To Anna: ?Anna, come out of there.? To Teddy: ?We were going to the Sophisticates. We were almost ready. I was going to play Omaha.? ?High?low?? ?High?low. Twenty?five?fifty.? ?Dollars?? ?Cents.? Behind the door Anna was still feeling sorry for herself, still looking in the mirror. ?Dad, there?s no lock on the bedroom door, just go in.? ?Does anyone else know about this?? Anna shouted at Sammy through the door. ?Ask him that!? Sammy to Teddy: ?Who else knows about this?? ?You mean besides the PA?? ?What?s the PA?? ?The Palestinian Authority.? ?Don?t mention that word. For us, there is no such thing as Palestinian.? Sammy could hear his own heart thump that thump as he raised his voice. ?The adjective?? ?They don?t exist. They?re mosquitoes.? ?Actually, I might come out on CNN in a story they did on Jewish human shields in the occupied territories, but I doubt they?ll air it.? ?They?d better not. For your sake.? To Anna: ?He?s a human shield.? ?I know,? she said, ?he told me.? To Anna again: ?He?s a human shield.? ?I know. It?s not normal,? his mother squealed through the door. ?What?? ??I know. It?s not normal,? I said.? ?Would you come out. Chrissakes, Anna.? To Teddy: ?What do you mean a human shield?? ?You know what it means.? ?She wants to know if people here will find out?? he asked. ?Sooner or later. I told you it might be on CNN.? ?On CNN? Everybody will see you.? ?No they won?t.? ?Everybody follows the news here. Wait, your mother?s coming out.? ?Give me the phone,? she snuffled. ?Let me talk to that little shit.? Shit, the magic word, dried her tears. ?Just wait a while,? Sammy told her. ?Give me the phone.? ?No.? ?Why not?? ?You can?t hear him and it?s costing him money.? ?I?ll put my hearing aid on.? ?I thought you said the batteries were shot.? ?They?re only worn down.? ?What?s the difference? You said they were shot.? ?So what? You say a lot of things, too.? ?What do you want to tell him? It?s long distance. It?s costing him money.? ?Tell him I don?t want him getting hurt or injured. The little shit.? ?Dad?? ?She doesn?t want you to be a human shield if it means you?re going to be hurt or injured.? ?Dad, hurt is the same as injured.? ?I don?t want him being a human shield period, the little shit.? ?She?s worried. She?s a worrier.? Anna gave him a vinegary look. ?Tell her not to worry. I?ve been assigned to what?s left of the Department of Education building. Right now the most dangerous place is the Mukata, protecting Arafat. I may get assigned there next week though. I?m on the list.? ?I?ll put you on a list. Schindler?s list.? ?What?s he saying? What Schindler?? Sammy repeated what Teddy told him, that he was on a list to protect Arafat?s Mukata. ?Let me talk to that little shit. I?ll give him a Mokata. I?ll give him a Mokata up his ass.? ?Wait a while.? She grabbed. Sammy spun, holding on to the phone as if it were the Torah being snatched at by skinheads. ?I don?t want to hear the name Arafat in my house,? she said, pulling on the phone. ?It?s killing me. He?s sucking my neshome out. He?s grinding it down. Tell him that.? Anna barged off to the bathroom. ?She can?t stand to hear his name. You?re killing her. Again.? ?Don?t mention it then.? ?It?s too late.? ?Let me talk to her.? ?She?s gone into the bathroom.? ?What?s she doing in there?? ?She?s doing a lot of flushing.? ?What?s she flushing?? ?Controlled substances???how should I know? This is killing her, you know. She doesn?t want you to be a human shield. Here she comes. She?s back.? To Anna: ?What were you doing in there?? Anna: ?I was looking for my hearing aid.? ?Dad, nobody wants to be a human shield. An American girl got killed by an Israeli bulldozer while trying to protect someone?s house. They scooped her up, dropped her and smashed her with the blade.? ?You believe that?? ?I was there.? ?What do you mean you were there? What?s it your business?? ?Well, it?s your fault. You?re the ones who sent me here. She sent me here. What was she thinking of?? ?Not to consort with terrorists.? ?They?re not terrorists.? ?What are they?? ?Resistance fighters. Insurgents.? ?You say insurgents, I say detergents.? ?Anyway, I?m a human shield, not a terrorist.? ?She didn?t send you there to be a human shield. And she didn?t send you to Ramallah. She sent you to Jerusalem.? Anna spoke into the receiver: ?She, she, she. Why she? He?s not going to make me feel guilty. You neither. The two of you. You?re not going to make me feel guilty.? ?You told him to go.? ?You wanted to have children.? ?Now that was uncalled for.? ?You wanted them.? ?I wanted to make sure somebody would be at my funeral.? ?What makes you think I?d spend money on your funeral?? ?They won?t let me rot. Somebody will organize something, sooner or later.? ?Give me that phone, or it?ll be sooner than you think.? ?Just wait a while! You?re not having the phone!? Sammy gently pushed her away and walked back into the kitchen-living-dining area, and then around his recliner, Baba X watching him from the dining room table. Sammy looked at the television set, the screen greenish black. Anna followed him, uncapping the hearing aid case and shaking the device. ?What are you shaking it for?? Anna: ?He?s not going to make me feel guilty.? ?Who are you talking to?? ?You.? ?Why in the third person?? ?Dad?? ?Hold the line.? ?Dad, what?s she saying?? ?Her usual. Nothing. She knows from nothing. She hears nothing, and she knows from nothing. Like her mother. They?re both stone deaf.? ?I?m not tone deaf; I have a deficit.? ?I said stone deaf.? ?What?? ?Dad, how?s Baba?? ?She?s out of it, too. They?re both out of it.? ?It?s shocking the things going on here, Dad.? ?We didn?t send you there to be a human shield. We thought it would straighten you out. She?s begging you not to be a human shield. You?re taking her neshome out.? ?I?ll pay him,? Anna threatened. ?She says she?ll pay you.? ?I don?t want her money.? ?He doesn?t want your money.? ?Dad, it?s a war zone. We?re committing politicide against innocent people.? ?What?s politicide? Genocide we know.? ?Why did you send me here?? ?Shock therapy. God knows you needed it. After what you did. Personally, I would have sent you down into the mines, but she thought you?d be better off there, for what you did.? Then there was a silence. ?What he did? was always met with silence. ?Dad?? ?Just a second.? ?Dad?? ?Wait. There?s something wrong with your mother.? Anna had sat down at the dining room table next to Baba X to load the batteries into her hearing aid. But now she was perfectly still, staring at the device, so still that Sammy thought she was having angina. ?Are you having angina?? Baba X stopped forming rows of crumbs. ?Anna, are you having angina?? ?Dad?? ?Shhh.? ?Dad?? ?Hold on a second. There?s something wrong with your mother.? ?Are you having angina?? Sammy thought Anna might be faking it, just to get attention. But then again, he had thought that the last time and she actually did have angina. Teddy listened to a galactic silence that was glancing off a satellite. ?Dad?? ?Shhh!? Anna was practically catatonic. ?Is ma okay?? ?Shhh, I said.? Anna finally looked up and made a wave with her hand, picked up a new battery with the tweezers and refitted it. She was handy with gadgets, she always said. Sammy drew a breath, relieved. ?Dad? Is ma okay?? ?She was overacting. It was just her hiatus hernia.? ?It wasn?t my hiatus hernia.? ?Maybe it?s her heart condition?? ?She thinks it?s a heart condition.? ?Dad, innocent people are being killed here. The money you send through the synagogue, it goes for settlements, and then there?s the helicopters, the curfews, and worse, the collective punishments.? ?Good.? ?Do you know they have something here called Minhal Harisot, a Demolitions Administration, to organize the destruction of Arab homes? Dad, I?m ashamed.? ?Of that. But what you did? That didn?t shame you?? ?What I did? What did I do?? ?You know what you did.? He certainly did. ?Hey, she knew what she was doing.? ?A married woman. Why a married woman? Why did you have to be a sneak?? Unusual to hear his father mention ?what he did,? because at the time he did the thing he did, his father didn?t say a word. He never did. When he dropped out of medical school: nothing. Or when Marilyn dumped her husband, Jack, the nebbish, he didn?t say anything then either. Sammy the Ostrich, Anna called him, a play on his name, Ostrove. He should be on Sesame Street, she?d say, with Big Bird. Sammy the Ostrich. She could really repeat herself. ?And a rabbi?s wife.? ?Wasn?t a real rabbi, dad. It was someone who marries lesbians.? ?He?s got more than one wife?? ?No. And the rabbi wasn?t a he.? ?All the worse.? ?They were a lesbian couple. They were supposed to be cool about it.? ?That?s not how it plays here, in the community.? ?What?s done is done.? ?What?s done is never done. And then the running away.? ?I didn?t run away. You sent me here.? ?She sent you there. She did it.? ?You?re not going to make me feel guilty,? Anna piped in. ?And that goes for him, too.? ?Yes, I am.? ?This is such a shande. Such a shande. He wants to kill me, the little shit.? Anna stuck the hearing aid into her ear and with her pinkie adjusted the volume, loud enough to make it whine with feedback. Baba X shivered. ?Give me the phone, let me talk to him, the little shit.? ?You had the phone; you handed it off to me.? ?You don?t know how to talk to him.? ?And you do?? ?Dad, we have to protect the innocent. It?s part of our Jewish humanist heritage.? Sammy to his mother: ?He says he has to protect the innocent. It?s part of our human Jewish heritage.? ?Tell him to come home, the little shit. I?ll protect his heritage alright. I?ll cut off his heritage.? ?You tell him!? ?No, you, he?s your son.? ?I thought you were so hot to talk on the phone.? ?I changed my mind. You tell him to come home. For once in your life, you tell him something.? ?Kackerveisscourage,? muttered Sammy. ?That was uncalled for.? This part Teddy heard, and the kackerveisscourage crack made him smile. ?Ask him why he?s not a human shield against terrorist suicide bombers, the little shit,? Anna urged, snapping the hearing aid case shut. ?She wants to know why you?re not a human shield against terrorist suicide bombers.? ?Killing Jews,? she added. ?I thought she said she didn?t want me to get hurt or injured.? ?She?s upset. She didn?t mean it.? ?I?m a shield against helicopter bombing, tank bombing, F-18 bombing. Is there any difference between suicide bombing and helicopter bombing?? ?Of course there is,? said Sammy. ?What?s the difference?? ?A big difference. Suicide bombing is cowardly. And they do it for the money that Saddam Hussein sends the families.? ?And bombing from a helicopter is brave?? ?It has more dignity.? ?Dad!? ?People are going to call you a self-hater, ocher Yisroel.? ?I?m not the only Jew who criticizes Israel.? ?The only Jew I know.? ?What about Chomsky?? ?Who?s Chomsky?? ?Never mind.? ?Look, I?m not going to debate you long distance on this,? Sammy said. His father wanted to wallop him, but he was far away, and besides, he had never laid a hand on the kid in his life. Never even raised his voice. ?There is a difference between suicide bombing and helicopter bombing,? said Anna, having come up with something. ?Suicide is against the Torah.? ?Suicide is against the Torah she?s telling me.? ?What about Massada?? ?In Massada they were fighting the Roman legions, there aren?t any of those on those buses in Tel Aviv.? ?So suicide can be justified.? ?No, it can?t.? ?You just said it could.? ?If you?re fighting Roman legionnaires, but not kids on buses.? ?What about Arie Itzhaki?? ?Who?s Arie Itzhaki?? ?A Jewish bombmaker fighting the British. He blew himself up shouting ?Death to the British.?? ?I don?t know from any Arie Itzhaki.? ?Or Shlomo Ben Yosef?? ?Who?s he?? ?They have songs for him in Israel. He threw a grenade into an Arab bus.? ?I don?t know from these people.? ?And you know, there?s a Jewish school in Australia called Massada College. Isn?t that glorifying suicide too?? ?I don?t know from Arie Itzhaki or Shlomo Ben Yosef or Massada College in Australia. And you?re probably making it up. All I know is that suicide is against the Torah.? ?So is all killing.? ?No it?s not.? ?Thou shalt not kill.? ?You?re making a literal interpretation. In the Torah it says you can break the laws if it?s to save a life. And the Jews hold life sacred.? ?Not like people we know,? piped in Anna. ?Ask him how many Jews have to die for us to have a little homeland?? Sammy did this. ?Well you ask her how many Palestinians have to die before they can have a homeland, too.? ?I can answer that myself: Six million.? That seemed to be the end of the argument. The ultimate ratiocination. ?Dad, the Palestinians didn?t exterminate European Jewry.? To Anna: ?He says the Palestinians didn?t exterminate European Jewry.? ?The Mufti of Jerusalem was an ally of Hitler, tell him that,? said Anna. He told him that. Teddy sighed. ?Well, tell her that in the archives in Jerusalem they?ve found letters from Shamir to the Nazis during WWII offering to help them fight the British in mandate Palestine.? Sammy didn?t even bother relaying this to Anna because it was so absurd to him. ?Did you tell her that?? ?Don?t talk nonsense.? ?Ask her about Feivel Polkes.? ?Who?s Feivel Polkes? She doesn?t know any Feivel Polkes.? ?Adolf Eichmann?s contact in Palestine. Hagannah. Eichmann deported 100,000 Jews in 1935, when he was in charge of Jewish transfer. That?s why Eichmann had been in Palestine.? ?None of this is true.? ?It?s true.? ?It?s not true.? ?It is true, I can show you the documents.? ?Why would they give those documents to you?? ?I mean photocopies, from books.? ?I want to see the real documents.? Teddy sighed and gave up. ?This is costing you too much money,? Sammy said. ?I?m hanging up.? ?Don?t hang up yet, Dad, I have something to tell you.? ?Have you got enough money?? ?Ask him if he has money,? said Anna. ?I just asked him that.? ?Ask him again.? Anna got up, taking out her hearing aid and leaving it on the table. She checked the note pad on the kitchen counter for the account number to which they would wire funds if he ran short. ?Check the number with him.? ?I?m not checking no number.? Baba X slid the hearing aid her way, not knowing exactly what it was. ?Ma, leave it alone.? ?Don?t get on your high horse,? said Baba X, pushing the hearing aid back to where it had been. ?You?re always fiddling.? ?I?m bored. I need something to do with my hands.? ?She?s out of it.? Anna brought the bank account number to Sammy. ?Check it with him.? ?I?m not checking it.? ?Just check it.? They both repeated the number into the phone in unison, like a countdown at Cape Canaveral. ?We?re sending you $500 for your birthday.? ?It?s okay. I?ve got money.? Teddy felt an ache in his throat that anticipated tears. ?Rich or poor, it?s good to have money.? ?I said I?m okay for money.? ?We?re sending it anyway.? ?Tell him we?ve got the Dickie?s. But they didn?t have a 31 leg. Ask him if a 32 leg is alright. You can?t get a 31 leg. I?m sending him the 32 leg.? ?Ask him if he still has the Dynamite Watch,? said Baba X more importantly. Dickie?s, watches? Sammy wanted to ignore her but he thought it was a valid question: ?Do you still have the Dynamite Watch?? Watches? Teddy remembered. How could he tell them that Israeli soldiers stole his watch, had stolen everyone?s watch. Either they wouldn?t believe it, or they wouldn?t like it. So, at this point he almost hung up, but he had to go through with it. The big news was still to come. ?I?ve still got the watch.? ?He?s still got the watch.? ?He?s lost the watch?? ?He hasn?t lost the watch. He?s got the watch.? ?Dad, I still haven?t told you why I phoned.? ?There?s more?? ?Dad, something amazing has happened. I?ve met someone.? ?He?s met someone.? ?You?ve met someone? Where?? ?In Jerusalem. Someone amazing.? ?When did this happen?? ?Three months ago. Right when I arrived.? ?You work fast.? Sammy to Anna: ?He?s got a girlfriend.? Anna, sarcastically: ?Good for him. We?re suffering and he?s getting laid, the little shit.? ?We?re going to have a baby, Dad.? Sammy said, ?Real fast.? ?What did he say? What?s real fast? What?s he saying? Sammy? Sammy!? Sammy to Anna: ?He?s expecting.? Anna stuck her hearing aid back in and rushed up to Sammy and tried to put her hearing aid ear close to the phone. Baba X: ?Who?s expecting?? ?Dad?? ?You?re positive?? ?We did the tests! You?re going to be grandparents.? ?He did the tests.? ?When are you expecting?? ?Late summer. Maybe September.? ?What?s her name?? ?We haven?t named it. We don?t know if it?s a boy or a girl.? ?No, the name of the girl?? ?Ada.? ?Ida. Nice name.? ?What?s he saying?? asked Anna. ?You?re not letting me listen.? ?You can?t hear anyway.? ?He?s expecting, he says.? Sammy sat down at the dining table, to dramatize the news. Anna sat down next to him. Baba X, now straining to listen, swept all the coffee cake crumbs into one pile. ?Who?s expecting?? Baba X asked again. ?What did he say?? asked Anna. ?He?s met a girl. She?s expecting.? ?I know that.? ?They?re going to have a baby in September. Her name?s Ida.? ?Ida?? ?Dad, her name?s Ada.? ?What?? ?Ida who?? his mother interjected. ?Ask him: Ida who?? ?Who?s Ida?? inquired Baba X. He could hear his mother?s excitement in the background and his grandmother?s bronchial rasp. ?Who?s Ida?? The fact that her son had gone to Israel and had met a girl there, and was going to settle down, have a baby, all blended together, consuming on its pyre the shameful business about the human shield. ?I knew it,? he heard his mother say. ?I had the feeling there was good news. I?m psychic. I?m really psychic.? ?You?re not psychic,? Sammy said. ?Who?s expecting?? Baba X asked again. ?Teddy?s expecting,? Sammy told her, the way he would swat at a mosquito, almost shouting. Then he beamed. At last a grandchild. Marilyn would probably never have one. Anna smiled at him. ?Ma,? she said to Baba X, ?Teddy?s expecting.? ?He?s expecting? He?s not married.? ?Don?t mix in.? ?Do you want my say-so?? ?No.? ?That?s uncalled for.? The two parents grinned at each other stupidly, relieved that someone else would take charge of their son from now on. The burden, like storm clouds, seemed to have parted and decamped, forever. ?Who?s Ida?? the grandmother insisted, completely left out. ?Shhh.? Baba X shut up, feeling sorry for herself, vowing never to talk to them again for the rest of her life. She started working on the crumb pile again. Suddenly Sammy?s face went yellower than hen?s feet, and he put the phone down on the table by the pile of crumbs Baba X had heaped together. ?Sammy! What?s the matter?? Anna grabbed the phone, eyeing Sammy, who was now turning white. ?Teddy? It?s me.? ?Ma.? ?Who?s this Ida? Have you met the parents?? ?Not yet. I?ve only met her great-aunt, when I was sick.? ?You were sick?? ?Just a bad flu.? ?You should go to the hospital.? ?I?m over it.? ?Just a second, your father doesn?t look so good. Sammy, what?s the matter?? ?Ma?? ?Your father doesn?t look so good all of a sudden. Hold the line.? ?Ma.? ?Can?t you hold the line? He?s pale.? ?Sammy?? ?Something?s occurred to me,? Sammy said. A terrible thought had occurred to Sammy, and he was digesting it first because he knew Anna wouldn?t be able to take it. ?Sammy?? ?Give me the phone,? he said, with mosaic authority. She handed him the phone. He fumbled it, and it dropped on his big toe. ?Fuck!? ?You dropped the phone.? ?I know I dropped the phone! Fuck, fuck, fuck!? No one had ever heard Sammy say this word before. ?Sammy?? Sammy picked up the phone from the floor. His heart had split in two. And his toe was throbbing with pain. ?Teddy?? ?Dad?? ?What name did you say this girl Ida was called?? ?Ada. With a dieresis.? ?What?s a dieresis?? ?It?s those two little dots above a vowel.? What Sammy had to ask was difficult to get out because his saliva was frozen: ?So, this Ada person, she isn?t an Arab, is she?? This was the closest word to Palestinian he could utter. ?Sammy!? Anna gasped, grasping for breath with both hands. ?Who?s an Arab?? ?Who?s an Arab?? Baba X parroted, breaking her pact with herself not to speak to them for the rest of her life. ?Anna, who?s an Arab?? ?Ma, don?t mix in,? Anna said to her mother. ?And leave the crumbs alone!? ?What crumbs?? ?Those crumbs.? ?They?re not crumbs.? ?Yes, they are.? ?Who?s an Arab?? Baba X insisted. ?Shhh.? ?Don?t you Shhh me. Who?s an Arab?? ?Ma, you?re out of your element.? ?What element?? Sammy made a gesture with his hand to shut them up, spreading out his five fingers with such severity that you could see webbing between them. ?Teddy, is she? Is she an Arab?? His saliva had frozen. ?I?m not going to ask you again?? ?Dad!? ?Teddy!? he began again, ?what kind of ?Ida? are we talking about here? Ida like in Ida Lupino? or ?Ada? like in the opera?? ?Ada, Ada, her name?s Ada, like in Ada, the opera, with a dieresis.? ?Again with the dieresis.? ?Her name?s Ada Shawari al-Husseini. But a lot of people call her Ida, too. Not everybody pronounces the dieresis.? ?Stop with the dieresis.? ?Tell me plain and simple, is she an Arab?? ?Yes.? Anna only needed one look at Sammy?s face. ?She?s an Arab,? Anna said to her mother, ?look at Sammy?s expression.? Sammy?s lower lip hung down, almost to his throbbing toe. ?We are fucked,? he announced. ?Who?s fucked?? asked Baba X. ?She?s an Arab, ? Anna said, again. ?I knew it. I?m psychic. I told you I?m psychic. I?m dying. Tell him I?m dying, the little shit.? ?Teddy, are you sure?? asked Sammy, his heart in his pants. ?Of course he?s sure, the little shit,? his mother blurted. ?Give me the phone!? ?Are you sure she?s an Arab?? said Sammy, pre-empting her. ?Maybe she?s just part Arab.? ?Part Arab???give me the phone!? Anna to Teddy, after grabbing the phone: ?Are you sure she?s an Arab?? ?Of course I?m sure.? Teddy said. ?Her name?s Ada, like the opera, some people call her Ada and some call her Ida. She grew up in Europe.? ?So is it Ida or Ada?? ?Who?s Ida?? asked Baba X. Anna to Baba X, as if it were her fault: ?It?s not Ida, it?s Ada, like the opera.? ?Ada? Like Verdi?s opera?? Baba X knew some opera. Before television she had twenty Mario Lanza records that Teddy had scratched up with her knitting needles when he used them for drumskins. She hummed a phrase from the overture of Ada. ?Ma, you?re out of it.? ?What?? ?You?re out of it.? ?You always say that. I?m out. I?m in. I?m out. It?s like poker with you.? ?Shhh. I?m on the phone.? ?I can see that.? ?Teddy, is she a real Arab?? ?Ma, she?s Palestinian.? Anna?s lips tightened. She put the phone down in the pile of crumbs. Sammy took up the phone and said, ?Teddy, are you sure?? His toe was really killing him now. ?She?s really an Arab?? ?I told you. She?s Palestinian.? ?A Palestinian.? ?Sorry.? ?To hell with sorry!? ?Now he?s sorry,? said Anna. ?Dad, she?s carrying your grandchild.? ?Who?s an Arab?? Baba X asked. ?Ma! You?re out of your element,? Anna shouted, ?you?re out of your element. We?ll tell you what?s going on in a minute.? ?I want to know what?s going on now.? ?In a minute.? ?Why not now?? ?Just a second.? ?Tell me now,? Baba X insisted. ?You?re so stubborn.? ?I?m stubborn?? ?Teddy?s going to have a baby.? ?I know that. That?s wonderful. A mazel tov is due.? ?With an Arab girl!? ?A shikse?? ?She?s a fucking Arab!? Sammy shouted at her. ?So she?s not a Jewish girl.? ?She?s a Palestinian, for Chrissakes.? ?A yasel,? Baba X said. ?If she?s not Jewish, the baby will be a yasel.? ?A yasel.? ?A yasel,? smiled Baba X with some concern. A yasel was on the way. Teddy?s parents sat mutely, awed by Baba X?s remark. Baba X, whose natural impulse it was to give Teddy everything he asked for, even the knitting needles that put paid to her vintage Mario Lanza records, said: ?Teddy?s yasel.? She had sized up the situation and it was all right with her. She had wanted to see a baby from him before she died. ?Do you want my say-so?? ?No, we don?t.? ?Do you want my say-so?? ?We just said no.? ?Dad? Are you there?? ?Where am I going to be? You?re going to have a yasel, you know that.? ?A yasel? Dad, what?s a yasel?? ?It?s Yiddish.? ?I know it?s Yiddish. What does it mean?? ?It means, what, I don?t know, it?s hard to translate a word like that, something like ?false messiah?.? ?The Christ?? asked Teddy. ?That?s right. The Christ. The Christchild, something like that. That?s all the world needs. Another crucified Jew.? ?Dad, don?t worry.? ?Why shouldn?t I worry?? ?It?s only the size of a macaroni.?