Free The Extra by A. B. Yehoshua Page B

it’s my concerto . . . mine and yours . . . ours . . .”
    â€œOf course, ours. I even said that to everyone: Let’s wait for Noga, for our Venus, I promised her, and she knows the score by heart and is ready at any time . . . And if this were just one concert, it might have been possible to ask you to come back for a few days, but this is a whole tour, ten concerts for our subscribers in the Netherlands, Germany and Belgium. How can she—this is what management said—leave her mother, who must decide within three months where to die, Jerusalem or Tel Aviv.”
    â€œTo die? Why die? How can you talk like that?”
    â€œSorry, sorry, not to die, but of course to live. To decide where to live, Jerusalem or Tel Aviv, as you explained to us when you requested this long leave of absence.”
    â€œBut how did you find another harpist who could do this concerto?”
    â€œWe found one. Admittedly not at your level, but we found her. Christina van Brienen from Antwerp. She has played the concerto in the past and happens to be available.”
    â€œI never heard of her. How old is she?”
    â€œYour age, maybe a bit younger. She teaches at the conservatory there.”
    A long silence.
    â€œNoga?” the flutist whispers. “Are you with me, my dear? Are you listening?”
    â€œYou betrayed me, Manfred. You are an immoral person.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou betrayed me, Manfred. You promised and I trusted you, and now you’re stealing what is precious to me and giving it to another woman.”
    â€œBut it’s not me, Noga. Why me? It’s all because of that stupid Japanese pianist who irresponsibly played tennis. Have you ever heard of a pianist playing tennis?”
    â€œIt’s not the pianist, it’s you. You. And I’m miserable now because I relied on you. You’re the first flutist of the orchestra, you’ve been there a long time and have status. You could have told management that you will not play the Mozart concerto with anyone other than the harpist of our orchestra. You betrayed me, Manfred, just like all the Dutch did.”
    â€œDid what?”
    â€œBetrayed the Jews.”
    â€œThe Jews?” He is shocked. “Where did that come from, the Jews? No, Noga, don’t be angry with me. It hurts you, and it hurts me. The members warned me: Don’t tell her now—when she gets back it’ll be a thing of the past. But I didn’t agree, because I’m an honest man and I have to tell the truth, and after all we will play again in the future, other works, maybe more modern, something wilder, there will always be new pieces for flute and harp, it’s such a special combination.”
    A long silence.
    â€œNoga?” He calls her name, concerned that she may have hung up.
    But she suddenly challenges him.
    â€œAnd if I agree to come right away to Arnhem and commit to all ten concerts?”
    She immediately senses the confusion of the flutist, who stammers uneasily: “Right away? How? And without any rehearsal? And what will we do with Christina, who became available just for us? No, my Venus, it’s too late.”

Eighteen
    N OT UNTIL THE EVENING did she manage to collect herself and call her brother to tell him about the loss of her concerto. “But please,” she warned, “don’t start cursing the Japanese pianist, she’s not the guilty one. I’ll deal with the actual guilty party, and you, Honi, just help me with a small compensation—say, Georges Bizet in place of Mozart.”
    â€œGeorges Bizet?”
    She tells him about the production of
Carmen
to be staged at the foot of Masada, for which, she has been told, female extras are needed, women not necessarily young who know how to listen and respond to music. This job comes without pay but provides a hotel room by the Dead Sea, and of course the enjoyment, three times over, of the opera