And the Rat Laughed - By Nava Semel Page 0,21

was, so I opened it and looked up memory.

“The power of the soul to recollect things and not to forget them.”

I gave it some thought, and realized that if I gave her mind the power, I’d be like some kind of battery pack, like an electrical supply, and that maybe whatever ought to be remembered will be, and I wondered whether my own mind had enough power to give to someone else, and how can you measure the power of a person’s mind anyway?

Then she came back, and I asked her if she was OK, because she looked kind of pale under her make-up, and I couldn’t quite figure out why she had to put on make-up on my account, because I saw right away that she’d put on a new coat of lipstick, and some rouge too. She said it was just because of the heat, but she didn’t fool me, because I saw that she was fingering one of those necklaces of hers, moving the beads back and forth. I felt like I was being hypnotized, and I even counted them between her fingers. Forty-one beads. Then she noticed the dictionary open on the table and put it back in the right slot on the bookshelf, next to the atlas. She was standing with her back to me when she said: I was a champion ice-skater.

For a moment I thought she was talking about that one dream that we’d been discussing earlier, a beautiful dream. I wish it had been mine. And then she moved Grandpa’s armchair, pushed the sofa aside, rolled up the carpet, kicked off her shoes and just like that, barefoot, she started sliding across the floor tiles. She took some real spins and axels, like a pro, as if she’d spent her whole life practicing. I started laughing out loud, not like she did. I asked: Grandma, what do you need the internet for? I’ll buy you some inline skates for your birthday, with my birthday savings. Just let me know when your birthday is.

That’s when she sat down on the floor, took my hand in hers, and said: Sweetheart, I don’t know when my birthday is.

But doesn’t everyone know when their birthday is, and when people celebrate it, and what presents they used to get? So how come she doesn’t remember hers? Where will I find the power for her mind, so she can remember such a simple thing, which means a lot to me...

And when she saw how much it upset me, she tried to make it seem like nothing. It’s just like any other day, and you can always celebrate it on a different date.

What different date?

One when something just as important happened.

Like what?

Maybe it was the day when her parents returned, but they didn’t return. Or the day when the farmer and his wife said good-bye and they must have soaked her with their tears because they were practically her parents by then – foster parents – and I’m sure it must have been terribly hard to give her up after they’d saved her life and they’d grown so attached to her. I know they must have loved her. That much I didn’t need to ask.

And now I understood that I didn’t even know how old she was, and maybe she didn’t know how old she was either. It wasn’t her exact age that I cared about, but to this day I can’t take my birthday casually. I mean, it’s the day when I came into the world, the happiest day in my father and mother’s life, and I couldn’t understand why she was playing down the significance of her birthday. I mean, she remembers mine and my mother’s and everyone else’s in our family, even though in the end she didn’t buy me a pet for my bat-mitzvah, or anything else for that matter.

And even though I didn’t say a word, she mentioned the rat again.

A rat?

He was with me, she said. Her voice was soft.

I shuddered.

What a repulsive animal, disgusting as they get. What a nightmare, living with a rat, spending days and nights with it. I would never have lasted.

Believe me, Miri, I changed the subject as quickly as I could, because that rat must have been a nightmare for her. I didn’t even manage to think of a single question I’d prepared, and I forgot every one of the headings in my outline. I don’t know why I wound up asking her what language she’d used