Max shot a brief, angry glance towards Yiftach as he entered. “Young people today have no values whatsoever, not one drop!” he shot out heatedly, pointing with his chin towards the TV screen, “Just look at those girls, no shame!”
Yiftach took off his shoes. “My first day at work went well, thanks for asking, Dad.”
“Why do you need all that shit? The State Attorney General’s Office… what a dump… like New York…” he waved his hands about in large circles, “What was so terrible about staying in the Tel Aviv Attorney General’s Office?”
“New York is a dump?”
“Every place that isn’t your home is a dump.”
“Okay, I’m going to my room. In case I don’t see you again, I wish you both good night.”
“Good night,” Chava replied. His father wrapped himself in silence.
Yiftach entered his room, the room where he had spent most of his childhood and adolescent years. After deep contemplation, he whispered softly: “Is it at all possible? How come no one ever did it before me? No!” he told himself, “it doesn’t make any sense, and anyway, it isn’t practical.” He lay on his bed, stared at the cracked ceiling and felt the room spinning around him. Sporadic childhood memories passed before his eyes like pictures from an old, faded movie film: He sees Toto, the family’s golden retriever that they had to put down after cancer had spread throughout his body; he looks at Amitai; he laughs with his mother. Three memories, one longing. One family that time had erased. There was another question that kept bothering him and he started to verbalize it with a weak voice: “If I spent two good years in New York, and not just like anyone, but at the expense of the State Attorney General… if I’ve been recruited to one of the most senior staffs in the State Attorney General’s Office and I am privileged to work with the great Weissman himself… and now, if I am a promising, young attorney and the best is yet to come… then why, why do I feel so bad?” He made an effort to consign those thoughts to a deep, isolated hole in his brain. His eyes slowly shut and he was drawn into a dream,yet another dream in which he and Nicole are together again, busy with final preparations for their wedding. Now everything became clear to him—his life was like a river that was flowing backward.
Chapter Five
“And the Philistine said: ‘I defy the ranks of Israel
this day; give me a man, that we may fight together.”
Book of Samuel I, 17:10
Tammi looked at Ro’el, leaning on her elbow, her hand resting on her cheek. She was thirty-four years old, but since she maintained a healthy lifestyle and kept active, she always looked younger than her age. Indeed, she felt like a young girl though, lately, when she glanced in the mirror, she began to notice that her real age was closing the gap. The café’s ambience momentarily created a pleasant feeling that spread throughout her body and her face reflected this optimism. Here she is on a cold and rainy day in a nice, warm café near the lake, in the company of a stranger—a man who is reading to her a novel he has written. The tall girl with the long straight hair at the nearby table abandoned her cup of tea and her girlfriend stood up and walked towards the ladies’ room, swinging her butt provocatively. Ro’el observed her keenly.
“There you go. See, all men are the same!” Tammi stated, sounding vexed.
Ro’el turned his eyes back to her. “Even those who write novels?”
“All men!” she refused to back down. “I wouldn’t at all be surprised if your novel is no more than a trap to help you impress the ladies.”
“I’m married,” he said.
“So where’s your ring?” she continued defiantly, unaware of all he had been through the day before.
His voice remained calm, but his eyes were sorrowful. “You know, the second sentence you chose to say to me when you approached me this morning was that today, of all days, your car got stuck. As if hinting that there was something significant about today, that car trouble now could turn it into an especially gloomy day.” He glanced at his watch; it was seven minutes past ten. “And after just half an hour of our acquaintanceship, you present me with an axiom that cannot be contradicted, stating that all men are the same, that they are all skirt-chasers and sex maniacs.”
“It’s a law of nature. Don’t pretend to be naïve,” she shrugged her shoulders.
“Perhaps it is, but I tend to think that there is a connection between the two—the fact that today is a special day, that cannot include a broken-down car, and your principled anger towards men.”
He said no more but continued to look at her. She didn’t respond and his eyes signaled that it was now her turn to speak. “You introduced yourself as a lawyer. You didn’t tell me that you also have a Master’s degree in psychology.”
“Criminal lawyers spend a lot of time with clients who are behind bars. Think about it, they need to be attentive to matters of the soul as well. Familiarity with the law and with court rulings isn’t enough. And you still haven’t answered me,” he insisted.
“Answered what?” she evaded him.
“Is there a connection between the two?”
“You’re not in court at the moment and I’m not on the witness stand,” she wanted to clarify the rules of the game to him. Her face lost its softness and clearly his interest in the matter agitated her.
“You don’t have to give me any answers, but you are the one who approached me; it was you who sat down at my table andbegan a conversation with me. If you don’t want to continue, we can stop here.”
She expelled air through her pressed lips and stared into space. “My boyfriend and I broke up yesterday, after four years together,” she blurted out, “and my shitty car is full of carton boxes that I have to bring over to my friend, Inbal. I’m going to move in with her for a while.”
He remained silent, not finding the right words to say. “Maybe your car isn’t that shitty, maybe it too is having a hard time adjusting to the new circumstances and doesn’t want to reach Inbal…”
“It too?”
