Here I Am by Jonathan Safran Foer(189)

“Ah.”

“I’m so relieved you’re home.”

“Oh, I don’t live here,” Jacob said, his reflexive flirtatiousness stimulating the thought that maybe she was the one whose husband had an aneurysm in the middle of the school year. “Just purchasing a few things for my actual home.”

She didn’t laugh. She was visibly moved. Was she the one for whom Julia brought over all those dinners?

“There was a list of everyone who went.”

“Went?”

“To Israel. They hung it outside the sanctuary.”

“I didn’t know that,” he said.

“I never used to pray. Never. But I started going. A lot of people did. Most mornings the sanctuary was full. Anyway, I looked at it every day.”

He thought, I can still tell the truth, but only now. After this, an awkward misunderstanding will be a lie that is worse than what it is concealing.

“I had no idea,” he said.

And there are smaller lies available (that I was turned back at the airport), and even half-truths (that there was a crisis at home that needed me even more than the crisis abroad).

“There were two lists, actually: one with the names of those who went to fight, and one with the names of those who died. Everyone on the second list was on the first list, obviously.”

“Well, it’s really nice to see you again,” Jacob said, hating the truth, hating the lie, and knowing nothing between.

“They never took them down. Maybe they’re supposed to be some kind of memorial? Or maybe even though the war is over, it somehow isn’t?”

“Hard to say.”

“What did you do?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“In Israel. Were you in logistics? Infantry? I don’t know the terminology.”

“I was in a tank unit.”

Her eyes widened.

“Being in a tank must have been terrifying.”

“Not as terrifying as being outside of one.”

She didn’t laugh. She brought her fingers to her mouth and said, “You didn’t drive it, did you?”

“No. That requires a lot of training and experience. I reloaded the ammunition.”

“Sounds grueling.”

“I guess it was.”

“And did you see battle? Is that the right way to put it? See battle?”

“I don’t know how to put things, either. I was just a body. But yes, I saw battle. I imagine everyone did.”

The sentence advanced, but his mind stayed back with I was just a body.

“Did you ever feel that you were in grave danger?”

“I don’t know that I was feeling much of anything. It might sound clichéd, but there wasn’t time to be afraid.”

Without looking down, she took the locket between her thumb and forefinger. Her hand knew exactly where it would be.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m asking too much.”

“No, that’s not it,” he said, seizing her offer of regret as an escape route. “I just have to get out of here in time to pick up Sam.”

“Is he well?”

“He’s doing great. Thank you for asking. And—?”

“Dylan.”

“Of course.”

“Dylan is having a hard time.”

“Oh no. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Maybe,” she began, but then shook the thought away.

“What?”

“I was just going to say, maybe if it’s not too much to ask, you could come by sometime.”

“I’m sure Sam would like that.”

“No,” she said, a vein in her neck suddenly visible, or suddenly noticed. “You. I meant you.”

Jacob no longer understood. Could she be as brazen as she sounded? Or was she mistaking him for a parent who was a child psychologist, as he’d mistaken her for the wife of an aneurysm victim? He was attracted to her, he wanted her, but this couldn’t go any further.

“Sure,” he said. “I could come by.”

“Maybe if you shared some of your experiences, it would make things less abstract for him. Less scary. I think part of what’s so hard right now is not having any details.”

“That makes sense.”

Although it didn’t.

“It wouldn’t have to take a lot of your time. I’m not asking you to take him on or anything.”

“It doesn’t sound like it.”

“You’re a good man,” she said.

“I’m not,” he said.

And then, finally, she laughed. “Well, I suppose only you know for sure. But you seem good.”

Once, Benjy called Jacob back into his room after tuck-in and asked, “Are there things that don’t have names?”

“Sure,” Jacob said, “lots of things.”

“Like what?”

“Like this headboard.”

“It’s called headboard.”

“Headboard is what it is. But it doesn’t have its own name.”

“True.”

“Good night, love.”

“Let’s give them names.”

“That was the first man’s first job, you know.”