'I'm sorry,' he went on, turning paler, 'I must have bitten you. You know, in the heat of passion.' 'Never -ind,' she smiled at him, the ice cube to her lower lip, 'no-ing ha-ened.' Which was a lie, of course. Because some-ing had ha-ened.
The instructor, who was supposed to be this well-known writer, even though Aviad had never heard of him, told her that there was something soul-piercing about the banality of the ending, or some other piece of crap. Aviad saw how happy that compliment made Maya.
That night I dreamt that I was a forty-year old woman, and my husband was a retired colonel. He was running a community center in a poor neighborhood, and his social skills were shit.
“My mom always says that ‘thank you’ are the only two words in the language that can never hurt,” I said. “So let your mom blow you,” Vered said and smiled, and I thought: what a day.
Story time with Keret
Keret reads "What Animal are You?" at Chicago Humanities Festival, 2012