The Hit

by Michal Hartstein

  Her cell phone buzzed and she signaled me to wait for a minute. She peeked at the text message and it was obvious she was annoyed.

  "I don't believe it!" she muttered to herself.

  "What happened?" I was curious.

  "The friend who was supposed to meet me here for breakfast can’t make it after all."

  "Bummer."

  "Yes… I took a vacation day especially for this."

  “For eating breakfast here?"

  "No," she smiled, "it was just the beginning of a nice day out. We planned to go shopping and go to the spa afterward."

  "Can't she join you later?"

  "I hope so."

  "Excellent…" I answered and noticed that she was looking at the chair next to me.

  "Are you eating alone?"

  "Yes." I understood what she was driving at. I actually felt like eating quietly and reading a good book – a fantasy that was not about to be realized. I never understood the obsession for eating with company. Why do people need other people to eat in a restaurant? I, for instance, almost always ate my lunch alone. My coworkers at the police station had stopped asking me to join them.

  Revital continued to look at me expectantly. "If you want, we could eat together," she said finally.

  "Sure," I said, trying to sound welcoming. The only advantage of a joint breakfast with Revital I could think of was the option of hearing about Yinon. I imagined that she and Ronen were still in touch with my ex. "I won't let you eat alone on your birthday!"

  "Excellent," she smiled and asked the waitress to bring her order to my table. After several minutes of small talk on cafés in Tel-Aviv, our food was served.

  "Wow," Revital said with excitement as the waitress put the plates on the table, "a real treat."

  "Yes… looks good," I said, and remembered Koby again.

  "Do you eat here a lot? It seems like their lunch dishes aren’t bad."

  "It's my first time here."

  "Did you read the recommendation in the YNET food section? There was a very flattering report on the place a week ago, so we decided to eat here. I thought you might have read it, too, and decided to give it a try."

  "No… I didn't read it."

  "So why did you come here?"

  "Someone I work with recommended it to me," I said and immediately corrected myself, "that is, someone I worked with."

  "What, the police are laying off people, too?"

  "No, he died," I said and lowered my eyes.

  "I'm sorry," she said in a comforting tone.

  "Thank you."

  "Natural causes or something else…?" she inquired.

  "I’d prefer not to talk about it," I said in a choked voice.

  "Okay, sorry," she bit into a fresh roll and continued with a full mouth. "So how is life as a policewoman? Last time we met, you were just starting out." She tried to calculate in her mind how much time had passed. "Wow, it's been really a long time. To the best of my memory, I was pregnant then with Guy, and he’s two, now."

  "It's nice."

  "Just nice?"

  "It's not a conventional job, but it has negative and positive aspects, like any other job. I don't have exciting experiences each day, if that’s what you think. Most of the time, I do office work."

  "But there's office work and there's office work…" She smiled knowingly. I knew that smile; too many people smiled like that at me. I had done what few people dared to do: I had left the golden cage in order to realize my dream. I had decided to do the work most suitable for me, not the work my bank manager judged most suitable. I was lying to Revital slightly when I said that there were negative and positive aspects; it was almost all positive. I loved being a policewoman. I loved the assignments, the structure and the people, something that, regrettably, most of my acquaintances could not say about their own work. I had learned that people do not generally appreciate hearing how much fun someone else has at work. When they hear it, they immediately try to find something negative to say about it. So, right from the start, I pretended to Revital that not everything had been perfect for me.

  "Believe me, it's a job like all other jobs."

  "If you say so…" she said and chewed with an open mouth.

  "So how are Ronen and the kids?"

  "Alright," she said and hurried to swallow the food remnants in her mouth. "Ronen moved to O-D-Nautika. Have you heard of it?"

  "No."

  "It's a gigantic international outfit. He’s very well placed there."

  "Very nice."

  "Thanks to Yinon, to a great extent," she blurted out and was immediately embarrassed. I was actually glad she was the first one to bring up his name.

  "Yinon works there, too?" I asked, making it clear how distant my contact with the man who had been my husband actually was.

  "No," she said and I saw that my question surprised her. "Yinon knew someone there."

  She halted her flow of words. I noticed she was uncomfortable, but her curiosity overpowered her embarrassment.

  "Aren't you in touch with Yinon?"

  "No."

  "Wow, I'm really sorry."

  "Yes, me, too, but we realized it was the right thing for both of us to do. Didn't he tell you that?"

  "When we meet up, Ronen mainly talks with him and I talk with Orit."

  "With who?"

  She looked at me, startled. "You don't know who Orit is?"

  "No," I said, though I had already managed to figure it out by myself.

  "How long since you two were last in touch?"

  I took a deep breath and tried to recall our last conversation. "I think… over a year-and-a-half."

  "You're not serious!" she restrained herself from shouting.

  "Regrettably, yes." In fact, it was longer than that since we had seen each other. Since each encounter between us had ended between the sheets - once Yinon had realized that, even with all the love between us, I was unwilling to change my position about having a family and we both decided to avert false hopes and agony - the best things for us was to break off any contact altogether. He left me Tsumi, a sweet and spoiled dog, and got out of my life.

  "So it's been quite a while since you last spoke?"

  "Indeed."

  "No emails or text messages?"

  "Not even that."

  "Surely you’ve seen his Facebook page."

  "I don't have Facebook, and I'm quite certain he doesn't have an account, either."

  "You two are just weird!"

  I laughed. It was a little sad, but her astonishment made me laugh. She joined in my laughter and, when we calmed down, I asked, "So, who’s Orit?"

  "You’ve probably guessed already… she’s Yinon's partner."

  "Yes."

  "They met at the Sports Club. She’s a Pilates instructor."

  "Yinon’s doing Pilates?" This was a particularly earthshaking piece of news.

  "Yes. He had a very severe hip inflammation, and the doctor recommended that he took classes."

  "What’s she like?"

  "She’s a very, very sweet girl," Revital said sincerely. "Very attached to Yinon, very admiring."

  "How old is she?"

  "I remember we celebrated her birthday two months ago… she was twenty-eight, if I remember correctly."

  "Eight years younger than him," I pointed out.

  "Believe me, she’s the responsible adult of the two." Revital winked at me.

  My look made it clear that I did not find the joke particularly funny. When Yinon and I were married, I always felt that he was the adult between us, and not only because he was born eleven months before me.

  Revital was quick to correct the overtly good impression she had created of Orit. "Overall, she’s a good girl," she said and bit her lip for a moment. "But, you know, not the sharpest pencil in the box, as they say." She winked again.

  This time, I smiled, mainly because I appreciated Revital's attempt to make me feel good.

  "What does she look like?"

&n
bsp; Revital swayed her head lightly as if trying to select her words. This pause made it clear that Yinon had replaced me with a younger, more athletic version, and probably a very pretty one. But Revital's answer surprised me.

  "You know, female Pilates instructors are expected to be stunning…"

  "I wouldn't know… I don't have too many expectations of female Pilates instructors," I answered with a smile.

  "Well, whatever, of all the Pilates instructors I’ve ever met, Orit’s the only one I’d characterize as nice. No more than that. She has - that is, she had - an amazing body, like all female Pilates instructors I know -"

  "What do you mean - she had?" I cut her off. The story was starting to sound odd.

  "I didn’t mean to let it slip out like that," Revital lowered her eyes. "Especially since I know this subject’s very charged for you… But you’ll hear about it sometime anyway, so I may as well say it: Orit’s expecting a baby soon."

  Even though I was sitting, I had a severe sensation of dizziness. I closed and opened my eyes again and again until Revital asked if everything was okay with me.

  "I need to go wash my face," I said and fled to the bathroom.

  I washed my face and leaned against the sink. I stared into the mirror and it seemed to me that I was looking at a stranger. I could not decipher the jumble of emotions which engulfed me. Since Yinon and I had decided to cut off any contact between us completely - unless one of us were to change his or her position regarding bringing children into the world - I had not had a romantic relationship with any man. Here and there, someone had tried to introduce me to a guy, but I simply was not into it. Deep inside, I probably hoped that Yinon would capitulate and come back. Outwardly, I claimed that I was busy and needed peace and quiet, which was also true. I had believed - or hoped - that Yinon had been abstaining as well, and had remained faithful to me. But now I knew that, not only had he met someone new and had sex with her, but he was also about to start a family with her. Yinon had moved on and I had stayed stuck in the same place.

  The tears flowed down on my cheeks uncontrollably.

  The last thing I wanted was for Yinon to know that I was upset about it. It was clear that he was going to receive a complete and detailed report about the meeting. I wiped my nose and washed my face again. I returned to the table and, without sitting down, I took out my purse and left some money to cover my portion of the bill.

  "I hope that's enough," I said.

  "I’m sure it’s fine," Revital said without looking at the money at all. She was busy watching me carefully.

  "I must get to the police station," I lied, although it was clear that she realized I was lying. "Tell Yinon and Orit Mazal Tov," I lied again. I did not want her to tell them anything. I would have preferred that she did not even tell them we had met – but I knew there was no chance of that.

  "Yes, sure," she said and I rushed to get out of there.

  CHAPTER 5

  As soon as I got in my car, I burst into uncontrolled sobbing again. Revital's probing glances were not holding me back anymore and I let myself release the pain. After long minutes, my outburst gradually calmed down and changed to heavy breathing. Thoughts were spinning in my mind at a dizzying rate. I tried to understand my outburst of emotions. Why did Yinon's romantic relationship, and especially his partner's pregnancy, stir me up so much? After all, I had elected to give up our relationship in order not to become a mother. Yinon loved me; I had no doubt about it! It was the reason we had decided to cut off our contact altogether. Was I regretting it now? And, like in all great tragedies, was I regretting it now it was already too late? I tried to isolate my sadness and my jealousy of Yinon and Orit, and asked myself if I still adhered to the principle of childlessness, but it was difficult to concentrate. The jealousy and the disappointment were stronger than me in those moments.

  The phone rang and cut off the jumble of my thoughts. It was Riki from the station. I had asked her to update me when she knew the time of Koby's funeral. It turned out that the body had been released by forensics last night and the family was going to hold the funeral that day at noon, at the Yarkon Cemetery. I needed this conversation; it brought me back to reality and put my life back in perspective.

  Three hours later, I was waiting with a handful of people and quite a few cops in the assembly area at the cemetery. It was the third funeral of a major criminal I had attended, and the most unlike the others. I felt confused. In the previous funerals, I had felt detached, due to my job, but this time the grief and sense of belonging immobilized me. I stood next to three cops who were engaged in an exasperating argument about a soccer game. Apparently, they were expecting many criminals to come to pay their respects to the "family member" who had passed away. But they were proven wrong. For the first time, the number of cops was identical, and perhaps even greater than the number of mourners. No criminal wanted to tie his name to an informer, even after his death.

  I watched the family members starting to congregate. Koby had seven brothers and sisters, a large family by any measure, but I knew not all of them would attend. Two of his brothers lived in Los Angeles, and two more, a brother and a sister a little older than him, had shunned him after he was incarcerated for the second time. A slim, middle-aged woman was sitting on one of the benches, crying. Her crying was heart-rending. A pretty young woman was sitting next to her, holding her in a comforting hug. I assumed she was Koby's mother, who had been forced to experience the worst of all. A man I assumed was his father was sitting on her other side. He was sitting with his hands crossed and his body moving forward and backward in small motions. His eyes were red from crying. His face was deeply wrinkled, and he looked like he had not slept in two days. A small group of people congregated around Koby's parents. There was an additional young woman crying in the arms of a guy who looked her age. The rest of the people did not look like they were particularly grieved; they stood around the bereaved parents and awaited the body's arrival.

  I approached Koby's mother and stood in front of her.

  "Mrs. Ozri," I said in a trembling voice, "I share in your sorrow."

  She raised her tearful eyes and nodded to acknowledge her gratitude. Koby's father looked straight at me and asked: "Who are you?"

  "I am Hadas Levinger of the Israel Police."

  "Did you know our Koby?"

  "Yes," I answered with a little hesitation. I knew it would not be simple, but I felt a need to offer my condolences.

  My presence aroused the curiosity of the other people and they started to gather round.

  "So is it true that Koby actually worked for the police?" inquired the young woman who was hugging the young guy.

  Everybody was curious. The fact that Koby was a police informer had not yet been officially confirmed.

  "I can't provide you with details about an open case under investigation; I’ll only tell you that, although Koby was a convicted criminal, I personally knew a different side of him. He was a very special person and I’m very sad to be here today."

  Koby's mother stood up and hugged me warmly. I had to bend a little because she was shorter than me and wanted to kiss me on the cheek. Her face was wet with tears and perspiration. I felt my own cheeks growing sticky from her moistness, but knew it would be offensive to wipe my cheeks in front of her. She interlocked her arm in my arm and introduced me to her husband, who immediately burst into subdued sobbing. The pretty young woman sitting with them was Koby's youngest sister. Koby had told me about her. She was the only sibling who had kept in contact with him continuously over the years. Two additional brothers introduced themselves and their wives, and then Koby's body arrived and everybody's attention turned to the ceremony.

  Koby's father delivered a short eulogy. He spoke about the well-mannered and kind-hearted Koby I had known. When he had finished, he asked if there was someone else who wanted to say something. After a pause, the firstborn son of the Ozri family approached his father. I noticed now that his eyes were also red from cry
ing.

  "Yes, Father," he said. "I want to say something."

  He bent over Koby's coffin and took a deep breath. "Koby," he said in a trembling voice, "my little brother." He burst into tears and the rest of the mourners joined him. "I want to ask you for forgiveness… forgiveness for years of alienation and lack of concern. You turned to paths that were unacceptable to us, and rather than trying to help you, each of us chose to look after his own interests. We should have tried to accept you; that way, perhaps, we could have saved you. You were a good person, I always knew it. You had a bigger heart than most people I know. Forgive me, dear brother." He burst into tears again. "Forgive me."

  The attendees, including some of the cops, approached him and hugged him warmly. Nobody in the congregation managed to hold back their tears.

  The father's voice broke off time after time while he said the Kaddish. When he had finished, the funeral procession started. After all the prayers had been said and the body was lowered into the grave, the Jewish Burial Society workers tore the lapels of the family members' clothes.

  "Are there any additional mourners?" a worker asked Koby's brother.

  "No. We’re seven siblings. Two didn’t come, and two live in the United States."

  "No wife or children?"

  "He was divorced -" his brother started saying, and before he managed to complete his sentence, a woman and a young girl burst forth from behind.

  "This is his daughter, she’s also a mourner," said the woman.

  I looked at them with curiosity. Koby had shown me several pictures of his ex-wife and daughter, but they were old and out of date. His ex-wife was a very good-looking woman. I knew from her pictures that she was pretty, but they did not manage to mirror the warmth and tranquility conveyed by her blue eyes. Her long hair was bundled under a black kerchief, and she was dressed simply. I knew that her life had not been easy, and that she preferred to stay away from the high life Koby had been able to offer her and their daughter.

  "Daphna'leh," said Koby's mother with excitement and stretched her arms toward the girl.

  Daphna, Koby's daughter, approached her grandmother and hugged her warmly. She was tall and beautiful. She had inherited her mother’s hypnotizing blue eyes, and they seemed to glow in her tanned face. The grandmother and granddaughter united in a long embrace. Then one of the aunts made a tear in the lapel of Daphna's blouse, and they joined the line of mourners. They listened to the instructions about the Jewish mourning laws that applied to them and the rest of the mourners during the coming week.