Free Suddenly in the Depths of the Forest by Amos Oz Page B

to be released from being hands, to be hidden, to be free to escape from their owner and never come back. And when Maya mentioned Emanuella's name, there suddenly appeared at the corners of Nehi's mouth a sort of grin that looked both forlorn and slightly malicious, a twitch of meanness that at the same time begged for a bit of sympathy.
    What, you don't like it here? he said, suddenly hurt. You don't want to stay? Just a little longer? Okay. Go. I don't care. Go. After all, I'm not alone here. Go. I'll hold back the darkness so it doesn't overtake you before you reach home. Go. It doesn't matter. Go. If I really wanted revenge, I could keep you here with me forever. Or at least I could counter your questions with a few difficult ones of my own. Why, for example, do all of you let your parents shut you up every time you try to find out what really happened before you were born? Why do you always let them change the subject and talk about other things? Maybe it's because you didn't really want to find out, to know? Maybe you were even afraid to know? Because it's easier to be lied to and not have the burden of all your parents' secrets placed on your young shoulders? Not just the two of you, but all the children of the village? How convenient it was for you to have your parents keep their shame and guilt to themselves and not taint you as well. Isn't that so? Or maybe you even guessed what the truth was, but your guess frightened you too much. Because if your guess was correct, then suddenly, from this day on, no one will be allowed to hurt or ridicule anyone else. And how would we live and amuse ourselves without occasionally humiliating someone? Without a touch of abuse, without mockery, without occasionally stepping on someone else?
    Maya said, Look, Nehi, you yourself are mocking the rest of us now. And you're rather enjoying it, aren't you?

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    Na'aman was so lonely that he learned to speak to animals in their own tongues. Several years later, when the entire village began saying he had whoopitis and kept their distance from him and threw stones and pieces of roof tiles at him from farther off, he found himself a cave in the mountains and lived there alone, surviving on mushrooms and berries. Only sometimes, at night, he would wait till all the villagers were safely shut up in their houses, then he would go down to drift like a shadow through the narrow streets of the dark village.
    To this day, he still goes down there. In the dark. Goes down only when everyone is behind their iron shutters and iron bolts. Goes down to roam the village because he's sad up here, despite his love for the creatures, despite all the wonders of the mountain.
    In the dark of the moonless night, he wanders through the empty, narrow streets. And sometimes, he and Nimi tiptoe around together, approaching one house or another, peeping between the slats of the shutters to watch families quietly immersed in their last, peaceful preparations for sleep.
    Because it's pleasant to listen through the curtains to the bedtime story a father is reading to his daughter, or to a mother sitting on the corner of her little son's bed humming a lullaby that brings a sudden ache to Nehi's old heart. And sometimes he likes listening through a half-closed window to the sleepy bedtime conversations between tired couples as they drink their nightly tea in the warmth of their room. Or when they sit and read in the silence of the night or when the people living in one of the houses occasionally exchange a few words that break Nehi's heart and bring tears to Nimi's eyes, simple words like: You know, you look really lovely in that flowered robe. Or: I'm so glad you finally went down and fixed the cellar steps today, thank you. Or: That bedtime story you told the boy tonight was beautiful and it reminded me of my childhood.
    So he wanders among the deserted yards at night for two or three hours, alone, and sometimes with Nimi, until the last light in the village is turned