UNTITLED

I rubbed at the tears with my thumb and a smile pulled at one corner of my mouth. I dumped the onion rings in the pan and turned on the tap. I held my hands under the running water, watching the water hit them and splay off into the sink. After a few moments I smelled them carefully and dried them on the dish cloth. Ileaned against the counter and stared into space, thoughtful.

"The onions are burning Lizzy."

I began to laugh through my tears. Another monkey's wedding. I scrabbled at the onions vigorously with a wooden spoon as I encouraged my thoughts on.

"Oh, hell. I am the champion messer of the world. I just wasn't cut out to be a good cook. I dont quite know what I was cut out to be either. I get carried away by my own emotions. I am purposeless."

"What does that mean?"

"I suppose I don't know what am at...and I mind. Lots of people don't know and they don't mind. I mind."

"You're going to get married."

I sighed.
"I suppose yes. That's not purpose though. It's sort of routine really. The birth, marriage, death routine."

"You really do not have to get married you know."
"It's hard to explain about love, even to yourself. And then...Ihate living on my own...you need someone," I lied.

I held the pan under the tap and let a stream of hot water run on to it. Steam enveloped me for a moment, then my little brother broke into a song. I wondered whether he knew his singing always had a way of breaking the clotted sadness in my head.

"Would you kill anyone? Any...you know...person?" he asked.

"I am not sure. How can you ever tell the answer to that? I wouldn't want to kill anyone. And I think if I ever did kill anyone, for whatever reason, it would probably be the wrong thing to do."

There was a long silence. Only the sound of the gas fire whispering through the room. I watched as tired dust settled on the kitchen windowpane. I looked past the window, out into the street. A building outside was still smouldering and some workmen were clearing away the rubble. There was a queue at the police checkpoint and women stood with shopping baskets, shuffling along a few metres at a time. Bags open. Shuffle. I watched a man light his cigarette as they waited. Hands patting up and down bodies. Bags open. No love lost. No time for humour. Guns always at the ready. Bags open. Never turn your back on anyone.

I could see feet shuffled and shopping bags shifted from one arm to another, to ease the weight. Grey piles of stones and guns strapped on waists. Their day was done.

A crane was w3orking on the road and I watched as it gently swang its load from one point to another. A couple of men stood near them and watched also. Curled ropes and lengths of chain and the high buildings stained with floor dust. The cars moved slowly over the cobblestones. Two men stood nearby talking, gesturing, their eyes warily on the movements of the crane. A dog sat near them, fluffing out its fur to keep the wind from penetrating.

"God give me patience!" My brother's shrill voice brought me back. "How many times do I have to call you?"

"Oh, am sorry."
"Yes you should be. M hungry. And I wouldn't kill anyone." He said fiercely. "I wouldn't. No matter what."

"Joram..sometimes we are not able to really help the things that happen to us. The things we do. We have no control...at times, that is. It's far much easier to think the right thoughts than do the right things."

"I wouldn't. I wouldn't." he repeated.

He started to sing again, there being no answer to that.