Free All Backs Were Turned by Marek Hlasko

I?”
    â€œWhere did you find them?”
    â€œOn the table.”
    â€œThey’re not mine,” he said. “They’re Dov’s.” He took them out of his pocket and looked at them for a moment; then he put them back.
    â€œDid Dov tell you where he was going?”
    â€œHe said he’d be back around ten,” Esther said. “He said something about going to the airport. They left together. Dov and Dov.” She touched Israel’s shoulder, and he spun around; half of his face was still covered with soap. “What do you think? Will he help us?”
    â€œWith what?”
    â€œWill he do something about those men?”
    â€œEsther,” Israel said, “Dov isn’t twenty anymore. He’s tired.”
    â€œWell, I’m twenty,” Esther said. “I have the right to expect something more from life. I spent two years in the army, then I married my Dov.” She fell silent and stood there, leaning against the window ledge. He could see a drop of sweat at the base of her short, straight nose. “I only see him at night,” she said. “He’s always worked like a horse, but then those men came here and nobody wants to help him.”
    â€œDov is tired,” Israel said. “He didn’t have an easy life. And now he can’t take any risks.”
    They heard heavy footsteps in the hall and turned around; Dov’s father stood in the doorway.
    â€œYes,” the old man said. “He won’t take any risks. He burned everything behind him and came here like a worthless bum to eat his brother’s bread. He’s not too old for that, and he knew he was not risking anything by coming here; he knew his brother loved him and would share his last piece of bread with him.”
    â€œAnd what do you think he should do about those men?” Israel asked.
    â€œWhat’s done, or should be done, with thieves,” the old man said. “No matter what people think.”
    â€œI hate violence,” Israel said. “I came here so that I’d never have to look at it again.”
    â€œI see,” the old man said. “You came here so you’d never again have to look upon violence. Beautifully said, Israel.” He took a step toward him. “Do you think the men who came here before you had this country handed to them on a plate?” he asked. “No, Israel. Nobody gave it to them. To take it, they had to resort to violence, and the best of them died doing it, as usually happens. How can you, a Jew, speak to me of violence?”
    â€œYou’re an old and religious man,” Israel said. “It wouldn’t be proper for me to argue with you.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t know how to,” the old man said. He stepped up to Israel and took him by the arm. Israel shivered. Although it was almost a hundred and forty degrees, the old man’s hand was cool and dry.
    â€œLook at him, Esther,” the old man said. “He’s unique. He should like violence. All weak men do.”
    â€œDo you want some tea, Pop?” Esther asked.
    â€œNo,” the old man said. “I want you to look at him. Look at him, Esther.” He watched her in silence, his lined face twitching slightly; he continued to hold Israel’s arm in his bony hand. “I asked you to look at him, Esther,” he said again.
    She turned her head and regarded Israel. Her expression didn’t change; her gaze was intent, but indifferent.
    â€œWould you want him for your husband, Esther?”
    â€œI already have a husband, Pop,” Esther said quietly. “That’s the only answer I can give you.”
    â€œWould you like to have him in your bed, Esther?” the old man asked. “Look at his arms, Esther. I bet I’m stronger than he is.” The cool hand tightened its grip on Israel’s arm. “Would you go to bed with him, Esther, if you didn’t have a husband and could do whatever