“Melody,” Weissman turned to her with the expression of someone who feels nauseous, “could you please leave us alone for a moment?” Melody obeyed and left the room. She closedthe squeaky door behind her and leaned against the wall, slowly sliding down to the dusty floor. She couldn’t hear and would never know to which narrow, twisting paths the two men’s conversation continued to flow. She regretted having gotten up late and, hence, was forced to forego her morning run. Running now, for her, was the only time in which she could be alone with her thoughts; running was therapy for her lost breath and a chance to unleash her suffering soul. That was why she always ran alone, and never understood those who ran together in groups. Finally, Yiftach came out of the room, a smile of triumph on his face. She looked at him hesitantly. “Can you tell me?” she asked cautiously.
“He’s supporting it, he’s going to introduce it today at his meeting with Dr. Kena,” he said with confidence and turned to his office. She seemed confused. The complex idea that he had presented still demanded thought and analysis, but already at this point, Yiftach’s rush to throw love into the jailhouse seemed to her like a morning run heading in an unfavorable direction.
Chapter Ten
“In that day the LORD made a covenant with Abram, saying: ‘Unto thy seed have I given this land, from the river of Egypt unto the great river, the river Euphrates.”
Genesis, 15:18
“Put more effort into it!” her personal trainer barked at her. It was six a.m. and Melody was at the gym. She hadn’t gone on her daily run, but went straight to the gym instead. She would shower at the gym’s facilities and go straight to work. “Now, stretches. Let’s go! Stand up straight. Now bend down and touch your toes!” Melody particularly hated this part, because it always released shots of pain that started at her heels and rose up to her lower back. At least it meant the end of the session, she thought. When the training ended, she was covered with sweat. She showered, dressed, gathered her things and headed for the office.
Yiftach opened the door like a raging monsoon and passed Julie without even saying hello. His eyes were on the target as he took quick steps along the long corridor. Various scenarios flashed through his mind at great speed, but he tried to push them away. There was but one scenario that he hadn’t considered—that which would take place in just a few seconds. He reached Weissman’s office and, as usual, Weissman was sitting behind his large desk. Yiftach looked at him, making it clear that it was now his turn to speak. Weissman glanced at him briefly.
“What did he say?” Yiftach asked assuredly.
“What did who say?”
“Rafael, what did Dr. Kena say?”
“Oh… that… in the end, we didn’t talk about it.”
Yiftach’s face quickly fell. He couldn’t believe the words he had just heard. “Why?” his anger began to grow.
“Yiftach… Weissman tried to sound calming, “don’t be angry… I thought about it again and…” Weissman didn’t stop talking, but Yiftach stopped listening. Only the walls heard the explanations. Yiftach was no longer there. He turned sharply to his office, picked up an empty carton box from beneath his desk, and began throwing things into it—two books, framed certificates that hung on the wall, and even the desk lamp. Weissman entered the room. “Yiftach…” he called to him, but the young lawyer continued packing his things. “Yiftach…” but he went on packing without responding. “Yiftach!” Weissman raised his voice and Yiftach stopped and looked at him. “Actually…. that desk lamp you packed… it’s… ours…” While Yiftach’s fury was burning inside him, Weissman came a bit closer to him. “Put the box down for a minute,” he said, “and let me explain. The circumstances have changed.”
Now it was Yiftach who drew closer to Weissman, so that only the carton box in his hands separated them. “Promises don’t change even when circumstances do—that’s what makes them promises.” His voice was quiet, yet soaked in fury. He left the office without saying goodbye to anyone, not even to Melody who was talking to Julie at the reception desk. Melody looked at Julie, but the latter just shrugged her shoulders to indicate that she knew nothing.
***
“I understand,” Tammi remarked, sounding like an admonishing parent, “that the hero of your novel is smart, charismatic and all that, but this behavior of his doesn’t sit well with me. He either loves or hates, he’s either stuck in place or isrushing ahead at 150 miles per hour. He doesn’t seek the middle road—not in his love relationships nor at work. It seems to me that he divides the world into the good guys and the bad guys and, whoever was good yesterday, like Weissman, for instance, can be thrown without warning to the side of the bad guys the next day. Well, the world isn’t like that, it isn’t divided into those who seek to do good by you and those who wish to harm you. There are also all those in the middle, who don’t do either of the two things, but simply ignore your existence.” She glanced over at the woman sitting with her back to them who just then turned another page in her book.
“What are you trying to say?” Ro’el asked.
“That he’s a bit childish.”
“I would say, ‘totally.’”
“And if I were his mother,” she added, “I’d say all that to him.”
“Well, maybe Max will do just that…” he smiled, and she gave him a smile signaling him to continue his story.
***
Yiftach entered the house, the filled carton box in one hand and the other hand holding a plastic bag into which he had thrown whatever couldn’t fit in the box. His father was sitting in the small kitchen, drinking tea with lemon. Without saying a word, Yiftach went into his room and sat on his bed. Nicole is in the arms of another woman, as of now I am unemployed, and my life is miserable, he ruminated. This is not how he had imagined his first year back home. He never thought he would find himself so deep in this dark hole. According to the plan he had conceived, he was now supposed to be married to Nicole, expecting their first child, moving quickly forward to the top of the State Attorney’s Office, and completely pleased with the direction hislife was taking. But, as John Lennon said, ‘Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.’
His father entered the room and sat down next to him. Yiftach was about to say something, but Max began talking. “There are moments when no explanations are needed. I think this is such a moment.” To hell with it, Yiftach thought, what’s the point of hiding the fact that he is shattered? He placed his head on his father’s shoulder and—finally, for the first time since returning home—allowed the tears to flow in the room of his childhood. Now, towards sunset, his father was a friend to him.
A week went by, fading away with the ravages of time. Apparently, the world had no interest in Yiftach’s suffering. It was now noon and the sun spread its pleasant warmth across the land. One week of inactivity and fighting emotional battles led him to finally step outside and breathe some fresh air. He began walking and decided to go to the post office and pick up a parcel that was waiting for him. It was his lucky boxer shorts that Ricardo had sent. The heat of the sun beat down on him and, as he walked along the paths of his village, he tried to recall when the last time was that he had been so idle. He felt lonely, though not alone. ‘Alone’ is an objective term, as a person is either alone in space or is in the company of other people. ‘Loneliness,’ on the other hand, is a subjective concept, as a person may be alone in space yet not feel lonely, and he may be with others yet feel very lonely. Suddenly Yiftach viewed his life as wretched and boring. His longing for Nicole… his desire to penalize love… these now seemed to him like such puny, deteriorating hopes. At times it seemed to him that he was drowning in a sea of memories, sinking to the bottom and disappearing. Jerusalem seemed to him like a labyrinth of streets in a desolate, dark and filthy city.
Yiftach returned home and ate lunch and, while the food in his mouth turned into a sticky mush, pessimistic thoughts continued echoing in his head. After finishing his meal of meatand rice, he cleared the dishes away and rinsed them in the cracked, yellowing kitchen sink. His hunger had vanished and his satiation left him feeling empty. From the window looking out at the main worn-down path, he suddenly noticed Melody approaching the house. She rang the doorbell that played a harsh-sounding, nonsensical melody. He opened the door, very happy to see her, though he hadn’t a clue as to why she had appeared out of the blue with no previous warning. She studied the man standing at the door. His smile was forced. He seemed trampled, as if he had returned from wrestling a violent animal. She asked how he was and, when he said that all was heavenly, she knew that all was hellish. They sat in the living room and Chava brought them orange juice and cookies in a large, glass bowl. There was something seductive about the way the cookies were placed in the transparent bowl.
“It’s freshly-squeezed juice, from the oranges from our tree in the yard,” he told her.
“And the cookies?” she asked.
“They’re vegan date cookies that Chava baked; she’s my father’s caretaker.”
She glanced at a framed photo sitting on a bookshelf. It was a photo of Amitai and Yiftach. The resemblance between them was obvious, especially their intelligent eyes and bashful smile.
