“It’s not, but still, it sounds like a date to me.”
“It’s not a date.”
“If you say so…” Max ended the conversation.
Yiftach reached Melody’s apartment and knocked on the door. Melody opened it looking less anxious than she really felt. She apologized and told him she must shower to remove the day’s grime. Meanwhile, Yiftach’s eyes roamed around the smallapartment and, as he looked around, he thought to himself that there was an ambiance of vibrant loneliness about it. He stopped at the door to her bedroom and peeked inside. On the nightstand near her bed were two thick books. He didn’t know that she had planned to read them last year, but somehow never got around to it. She seemed to never have enough time, not during her year of internship or now, with her demanding job at the State Attorney’s Office. She certainly didn’t have one dull moment during the intensive and highly publicized trial, with the uncompromising demands made upon her from Attorney Posner, who didn’t allow her even a single day off. She sometimes tried to recall, but couldn’t, the last time she was without her laptop anywhere, and a tormenting thought began to gnaw at her that perhaps this is what the life of highly successful but burnt-out people looks like. There were so many things she wanted to do to bring joy into her life. Her bedroom, for instance, needed some renovation. She had planned to fill up the holes in the walls, left there from previous tenants, and paint the walls a calming light lavender color. She had even bought a can of putty, a spatula, paint and a roller, and also new handles for the wardrobe closet, but never touched any of it. The project kept getting postponed to the weekend after. She didn’t like the fact that on weekends she was working just as hard as during the week. Even when she did find some time for herself, there was always something else that took priority—dishes in the sink that had to be washed, a bedroom that had to be straightened up, laundry that was waiting for her attention, and bills that needed to be paid.
Melody stood under the stream of water as the soap suds trickled down her body, purifying it. The pleasant sensation of warm water on her exposed skin kept her standing under the shower stream longer than was necessary. She suddenly thought of her parents, whom she loved very much. How she longed tomeet a man who would love her the way her father loved her mother. How she longed to become a mother to children exactly as her mother had been, and continued to be, for her.
Yiftach was still viewing her room. On one wall hung an aerial photograph of Kibbutz Regavim. On her vanity table, Yiftach noticed a photo of a very handsome young man. After ascertaining that Melody was still showering, he picked up the photo and studied the face of the man, not knowing who he was.
Melody stepped out of the shower and looked at her reflection as she dried her glowing skin. Her breasts were never particularly large, a fact that had preoccupied her when she was younger. But now she felt fully accepting of her body. In fact, how could she not? Her flat belly and her long, thin, smooth legs testified to her healthy lifestyle and her daily jogging routine. She put on a sweatshirt and a pair of leggings and went out to Yiftach, who was waiting in the kitchen. She filled the kettle with water and put it on to boil, then poured two strong cups of coffee. They sat down on the faded couch in the living room. The coffee’s rich aroma was invigorating.
“You’ve got a nice place here,” he said to her, “actually I imagined it a bit differently.”
Yiftach Posner imagined how my apartment would look? she thought to herself. “How did you imagine it?” she asked.
“Smaller, older…” he said as he gazed at her, imagining a sea of stranded sailors reflected in the blue of her eyes. After a moment, he asked, “What are you thinking about?”
“About the fact that I actually created a nice little home for myself,” she said sadly, “with a fully equipped kitchen and no one to cook in it, a flowering garden with no one to play in it, and a bedroom with a huge bed with no one to make love in it.”
She asked him to tell her about Nicole, and he talked about his inability to recall any significant period in his life in which she hadn’t been a part of it, and how that fact was nowmaking his life difficult. They had known each other practically their entire lives, they had studied at the same school and had served in the army near one another, but had entered into a romantic relationship only during their student days at Tel Aviv University. She was studying biology and he, of course, studied law. She’s very beautiful, he said, with golden hair and big, mysterious blue eyes. They had planned their wedding ceremony for just a small number of guests at a Jerusalem synagogue lit with nothing but candlelight. Melody listened avidly to his story, a story of a man who had loved deeply and now was left with a broken heart. What does it feel like, she wondered, to be with someone who loves you so much? In relating his story about Nicole, Yiftach described so well the feelings and emotions that she felt about her own story with Eitan.
“And how do you imagine your next girlfriend?” she asked after he had finished talking.
“I have no idea.”
“Everyone has some idea about that.”
“Apparently not everyone.”
“Okay, so begin with those things that are integral, things that are a given and, if that’s hard for you—then start off with the things that you don’t want.”
“Betrayal,” he quickly said sadly.
Both of them were longing for physical intimacy that stems from love and mutual trust. Neither of them had experienced such intimacy ever since their breakup with their previous partners. Naturally, there were opportunities for them both, for finding a partner for casual sex was never a problem for either one of them. But it wasn’t their style—not hers, nor his. She wasn’t brought up that way and he had no interest in it now. In fact, she had slept with only two men in her life—with Eitan, and before him with Yoav, her first boyfriend. She had nointerest in adding to this list just to gain a few isolated moments of pleasure. His list too was not especially long—four women, which included the one from Palma de Majorca, whose name he didn’t even know.
He looked into her lovely eyes and stroked the softness of her face with both his hands. Melody felt that she had already betrayed most of her principles, yet tried to uphold the one fundamental truth that she still believed in—the feeling of regret over a missed opportunity is forever worse and long-lasting than the pain of rejection. In other words—it’s worth a try. Lewd thoughts crossed her mind. She wanted to put out her hand and pull Yiftach close to her but, luckily, she didn’t have to, because it was he who had the pluck to draw nearer.
They kissed. Both had waited for this moment far too long. The stubble of his thick beard gently chafed the delicate skin on her face. She felt excited, triumphant and somewhat fearful. He felt lust, euphoria and passion. Her body temperature rose as his heartbeat intensified. Melody was still hesitant, so she tried to show polite restraint. Yiftach started to place his hand under her shirt and he liked what his groping hand felt. The touch of his hand was pleasant to her as well. Then, just before they crossed the point of no return, she stopped him. They both stopped. He hugged her tenderly and she threw herself into his arms. An involuntary smile crossed her face as he pressed her to him. Her head rested on his shoulder and he breathed in the fragrance of her hair.
“It’s a bit late, I think I’ll be going,” he said, but sounded as if he wasn’t really interested in doing that.
“Only after you take what you came for…” she replied. He brought his lips close to hers and she immediately pulled away from him. “I meant that you should take this…” she waved a book at him, his reason for coming in the first place. “You are hopelessly forgetful!” she laughed in an intoxicating, childlikevoice. After she kissed him on his mouth, he left and, standing outside her front door, tried to make sense of his emotions. Part of him was still excited about what had just happened, while another part of him thought that something was wrong with it all. Again his feelings were clashing with each other, relentlessly harassing him. But actually, when was this ever not the case?
That night Yiftach dreamt that he was lying on rough, unfamiliar ground. A storm was raging and heavy rain kept falling. He escaped to an old synagogue that was lit with nothing but candles. He realizes, this is where he and Nicole are supposed to get married. He rushes to the entrance and notices water seeping through the window into the lobby, filling it completely. He tries to shut the damn window, but the wind is too strong and he can’t close it. He rushes to the main prayer hall and sees that the forces of nature had smashed all the stained-glass windows. Cracks appear in the walls of the synagogue and the ramshackle tile roof begins to shift. The main entrance door is forced open and a faint voice is yelling at him: “Yiftach, you must get out, now!” He recognizes that voice, he knows who it is. It is Melody’s voice. At that very moment, the doors of the Ark containing the Torah scrolls crash against the wall and break into smithereens. Yiftach senses that the walls are about to collapse. I must save the ring I bought for her! It’s there near the Torah scrolls, he thinks to himself. “Yiftach! Time is running out!” he hears Melody begging him, “get out now, please!” He decides to go check the scrolls. Parts of the ceiling begin to fall. In another minute, everything will collapse and all will be lost. “Yiftach, my love…” he hears Melody crying, “you can still make it!” Her broken voice stops him and he considers whether she is right. But then, the walls begin collapsing on his tired body and the roof caves in and nothing remains standing. With great difficulty, he hears Melody’s weak voice fading away: “Tell me,was all that worth it?” she asks him, “was it really worth it?” and, at that moment—her voice disappears forever.
Chapter Fifteen
“And Elishah said to him, take a bow and arrows;
and he took for himself a bow and arrows.”
Book of Kings II, 13:15
Yiftach was arranging his black tie when Max entered the room, holding a tumbler with clear arak in it. “Doctor Levanon told you, even when Mother was still alive, that you must cut down on your alcohol consumption,” he said to his father as he studied his reflection in the mirror.
“Doctor Levanon died two years ago, and I’m still here,” Max replied dismissively and immediately continued. “How was your visit at Melody’s last night? You came home late.”
