At that second it dawns on me—I understand, in its entirety, my mother’s plan; which nearly brings me to split my sides and roar with laughter—but at a single hint from her, I hold it in. No need for other people to hear us.
Intoxicated, I marvel in her plan; and in my mind I shout: My God, this is so clever! So deceitful! This costume, I think, is so much fun! Designed for the pleasure, so to speak, of a blind man... Ha! What does he know! That damn blessing may yet be mine, after all.
In my excitement I stumble across a thought, which is so outlandish that immediately, it makes me sober up. “What if he suspects something,” I ask, in a whisper. I hate to admit it, but it is not love for my father, nor respect for his age, that drive me to such hesitation. Rather, it is fear: The fear to be found out.
She lowers her eyes, thinking intensely, searching for an answer.
So I press on: “What if he touches me? He will guess, perhaps, that I am not the son I pretend to be; and so, instead of a blessing, I will end up, God forbid, being cursed!”
What can she say, I wonder. True, my mother is close to me. We could always think alike. But for the life of me, I cannot understand her right now. She is the mother of twins, so in my mind, she should love us both, in fairly equal measures. In the years to come I would often wonder: Why would a woman do this, why would she pit one son against another?
This is how Yankle describes the plot, which his mother Becky (Rebecca) conceives to cheat both Esav, her other son, and her husband Isaac who is lying on his deathbed. Her plan is for Yankle to fool his blind father, and wear a costume, pretending to be his twin brother. When she tells Yankle, "On me your sin, my son," it is not love for him that drives her.
This is the moment depicted in my sculpture of Rebecca: her hand gesture is meant to wave away his fears--but at the same time, it is only herself that she hugs. You can see nother view of this piece here.
This is the moment depicted in my sculpture of Rebecca: her hand gesture is meant to wave away his fears--but at the same time, it is only herself that she hugs. You can see nother view of this piece here.
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"Her prose is beautiful; she paints intricate, emotionally resonant pictures with words"
I enjoyed his narration.
ReplyDeleteOh thank you so much Kiru. I enjoy it too, every time anew!
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