Forced Silence

by Vered Cohen Wisotzki

  The question made her a bit angry. It was obvious that they would find nothing. However, bit by bit, the apartment began to lose its usual appearance. Every drawer was opened, its contents punctiliously examined. According to Doron’s stories, in situations such as these, the cops conducting the search had no sentimental regard for the homeowners’ feelings. They would turn a house upside down and shake out everything in it to find what they were looking for. She was grateful for Doron’s presence, at least. She couldn’t tell him what had happened, but the very fact that he was there comforted her. She had no doubts about his feelings towards her after tonight. Every time they meet from now on, she knew, there would be emotional import to the encounter, but in light of everything that had happened, she couldn’t allow herself to indulge those feelings.

  “Sir,” one of the cops called to his superior.

  She watched as they emerged from her home office, all excited. One of the investigators held aloft a plastic evidence bag in his gloved hand. Inside was a handgun.

  Galia approached him, mouth agape, gaze riveted to the cold metal of the weapon — an item she knew nothing about. Doron also approached the cop, but he wasn’t looking at the bag, but rather at Galia. She was drenched with sweat and breathing hard. His hand, which a moment earlier had been comforting her, clenched on her shoulder and twirled her around to face him. He ignored the detectives.

  “Why do you look so shocked that they found the gun? What the hell were you thinking, that they wouldn’t find it? How stupid could you possibly be?” he whispered all this into her ear, each word scarring her heart.

  She shrugged his hand off. Slowly, she realized that in less than a day after Naama had looked into the security camera at the restaurant, she had understood that the only way to get Galia to cooperate and help her effort to stall the investigation would be by kidnapping Shir and incriminating Galia by hiding the weapon in her home.

  Galia felt dizzy. She sat in the living room on the armchair next to her, holding her head in her hands, and closed her eyes.

  “You understand, Doron,” the lead detective told him. “This really doesn’t look good. You may want to persuade Udi that she’s not guilty, that she had accomplices, but the evidence against her is just becoming stronger and stronger.”

  Doron looked at the investigator until the latter turned to talk with the other cops; he then approached Galia and sat down next to her. His head was swimming with a myriad of thoughts as he tried to understand how Galia had acquired the handgun.

  “Galia, please, I’m begging you… Tell me that there’s no way that this is your gun.”

  Galia looked at him, desperation enveloping her. Doron appeared to have misinterpreted her look. “What? C’mon, level with me. Are there any other things I’m going to discover here?”

  Galia shook her head, but she had no idea. Naama seemed to always be a few steps ahead of her. She could not know what else awaited her.

  “I just don’t get you. Why are you still saying silent? Don’t you realize that you’re screwed? Yeah? You ruined your life, all by yourself. Do you understand that you’re going to prison? Do you comprehend? Shir will grow up without you, I will live without you. Just say something, anything. I want to help you. Please, just tell me, alone. Tell me who put you up to this.” Doron’s voice broke. He stood up and walked away.

  Galia could not bear to look in his direction. She held herself back from running over to him, hugging him, explaining everything, asking for his help.

  Doron’s eyes looked for hers in vain. They flashed with fury. He wasn’t sure whom to be angrier at, the detectives who discovered the handgun or Galia who hadn’t been smart enough to get rid of the gun first. He knew that thinking this way ran opposed to all the principles of morality which he had espoused throughout his life, but Galia was on the other end now. All he could think of was how to save her from spending years in prison.

  It didn’t take long before the search was done, and when she thought there was no place left in the house which they had not rummaged through and inspected, the investigators packed up their gear. Doron tried his luck, and he learned that everything collected from the house, including the weapon, would be sent to the police forensics unit. He was glad to learn this, and he began thinking about whom he knew in the unit that he could contact.

  The apartment was still guarded by a uniformed officer, who kept anyone from entering or exiting without being checked. The visit from the cops threatened to squeeze from Galia the last of her mental reserves, but she had to fight the feelings of desperation and impotence which threatened to overwhelm her. She would not allow the new situation or her concern for Shir to break her. She would remain strong, in order to see to it that Naama would keep her promise, to bring Shir back home. Then Galia would make her pay for everything.

  Hoping to avoid another confrontation with Doron, she headed for the bedroom.

  “Do you want coffee?” she heard Doron asking. He didn’t want her to barricade herself in her room. He was sure he could convince her to speak with him, to tell her story.

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m going back to sleep,” she lied. There was no way she could get back to sleep after all this.

  Doron followed her, loping down the hallway to catch up with her, grab her arm and twirl her around to face him. “To sleep? You’re going back to sleep? How can you even think about sleep now? How can you think of anything but how deep you’re stuck in the shit right now?” His voice was hoarse, his glare incensed. Galia was afraid she couldn’t compete with his fury, so she chose to say nothing at all. She just pulled away from his grip and walked away.

  Inside her room, she shut the door and leaned on it, knowing that Doron was right. As usual. She wouldn’t be able to shut her eyes at all tonight. Exhaustion only intensified her disappointment. She locked the door so Doron couldn’t come in. She would not be able to withstand another appeal from him to confide in him, to allow him to help her, for Shir’s sake, for their sake.

  Her worries about Shir threatened to drive her mad. The thought that she was far away and among strangers was unbearable. She thought she might try her luck and try calling her sister to see what was up with Shir, but then she remembered that she was under surveillance. All that was left for her was to hope that her sister would soon make contact and to pray that nothing bad would befall Shir. She fought her weariness. Only for a few moments did she close her eyes, vowing that if Shir were to be hurt, Naama would pay for that with her life.

  Chapter Seven

  Shir awoke, a bit scared, in a dark room.

  She was unaccustomed to sleeping in absolute darkness. Galia kept her Barbie nightlight on in her bedroom at home. All she wanted was Mommy. She didn’t want to be with the strange woman named Naama, who looked so much like Mommy.

  “Naama! Mommy!” she called, hoping that someone would come quickly. She held her blanket under her chin, scared to move.

  A light went on at the end of the hall, and Naama entered.

  “Shir, what happened? Why are you awake? Did you have a bad dream?” She sat next to her and stroked her hair.

  “It’s dark here and I’m scared. I wanna go home. I don’t like it here. I want my Mommy. You said we’d meet her. Where is she?”

  Shir sat up and hesitantly hugged Naama, who momentarily grew tense, wondering how to respond. For two nights, Shir had slept through the night with no problem. Now she didn’t know what to do in order to calm down the little girl. She lay next to her, stroking her hair and singing an indistinct lullaby.

  “I want Mommy. I don’t want to be here! This is not a fun trip.”

  “Sh, sh…” Naama calmed her until Shir fell asleep, and then she left the room.

  Naama went back to her bed.

  “So, did the girl fall asleep?” he asked her.

  “Yes, I calmed her down. She misses Galia. I hope she won’t ca
use any problems,” she replied.

  “I hope so too…” he murmured as he fell asleep.

  Even as Naama lay her head on the pillow, she knew that the future would be a challenge. Her thoughts gave her no rest. She had no regrets about what she had done. She had done it out of love, out of a feeling of obligation towards this man, Immanuel, now sleeping next to her. Her beloved Immanuel had saved her life more than once. If she hadn’t done it, he would have done it, despite the immense physical difficulty.

  She had known Immanuel Bender all her life; he was in her earliest memories. When her father would take her to the yeshiva as a young girl, she would sit at his side and watch, hypnotized, the tall, blond boy who stood next to the rabbi and recited his prayers in a beautiful voice.

  Throughout the years that she attended the girls’ seminary in Ein Regev and Immanuel attended yeshiva, she had been sure that she loved him, that she wanted to marry him. Immanuel, for his part, was too busy studying Torah and following in the footsteps of his father, the dean of the yeshiva.

  The connection between them would only be formed when they were older — at the fiery protest against the Intifada, at Bar-Ilan Interchange. Hundreds of yeshiva and seminary students traveled to the demonstration. It was Immanuel who had been standing next to her when a policeman’s nightstick smacked her in the head, and he was the one to get her to the hospital.

  She caressed him. Since their first real meeting at the protest, she had completed her studies in the seminary and realized her dream of marrying him. They even planned to move to the outpost adjacent to Ein Regev, where many of their friends from the settlement lived, as well as other national-religious young people who were tired of life in the big city, but they kept pushing it off. For the time being, they lived in her mother’s house, which was large and spacious.

  Now in bed, Naama felt the pain of having to leave everything and flee, to leave her life behind her, along with all the people to whom she had grown accustomed and developed connections to. More than anything, she was pained by the thought of leaving her mother — that was Daniela, the woman who had raised her all these years, as if Naama was the fruit of her own womb.

  She had the utmost respect for Daniela. Daniela had turned her life upside down by adopting a religious lifestyle after meeting Naama’s father Baruch. She had dedicated herself to Naama’s education and caring for Baruch, especially when he fell ill. Everything she did, she did wholeheartedly.

  However, Naama felt that she had disappointed her mother somewhat. Daniela had made clear, repeatedly, that there was no chance that she would violently oppose anyone who came to evacuate her — even if that meant that her beloved Naama and Immanuel, who lived with her, would lose their home too. She had lived a life of comity and compassion, always getting along with everyone. It was she who had attempted — unsuccessfully — to persuade Naama to reconcile with Galia and rebuild their family connection.

  That move met with unmitigated failure. In the meantime, Naama’s extremist tendencies had only been reinforced by her husband and their friends. All of them thought alike, and for them the impending evacuation was an unconscionable crime against the Jewish people.

  ***

  Once again, Doron was proven right. That night, Galia could not shut her eyes, not for a moment.

  She was tormented by her thoughts. Concern about Shir ate away at her; she hoped Naama was taking care of her baby and protecting her. Galia could not stop thinking about what it would be like to see her little girl again. However, at the same time, her heart ached thinking about the moment when she would have to break the news to Doron and reveal all she had concealed from him.

  Dawn was breaking now, and through the closed blinds, light seeped weakly. Galia could imagine her grim fate, sleeping in a narrow cell, on a bunkbed with some other convict. The sunlight filtering through the blinds appeared to her like that of a naked lightbulb hanging over her. Time for self-pity? No! Galia decided to distract herself from the worst case scenario and get out of bed. Leaving the room, she splashed some water on her face.

  In the living room, she found Doron lying on the sofa fully dressed. She grimaced, thinking about how uncomfortable he must have been all night. The telephone sat on the table next to him. He was asleep, but his expression was still troubled.

  She looked at him, her emotions churning, washing over her. How could she have thought, even for a moment, that she could be apart from this amazing man? He was everything to her; her life; the father of her child, who looked so much like him. She would do anything to turn back time. Yes, sometimes he was absent, sometimes he was late, but so what? He was hers. She could always call him on the phone, hug him, kiss him… She could always express her love.

  However, since the separation, she had no right to call him hers, even after their mad lovemaking. Their relationship could not go back to the way it had been, not once he learned what she had kept from him.

  The telephone rang. Galia sprang up to grab it, hoping it was her sister, but Doron was closer and answered first. He grimaced, then handed her the phone.

  “Hello?” she answered. She realized that Doron was trying to get her attention and whispering, “Remember, the cops are listening.”

  She nodded her understanding.

  “Galia? How are you doing?” Daniel’s voice sounded worried.

  “As well as can be expected, Daniel.”

  “So, do you want to tell me what happened? Or do I need to find out by watching TV? By reading the newspaper?”

  “Listen, Daniel, I…” She didn’t know how to begin to explain.

  “Forget it. What difference does it make? I saw you yesterday on the news leaving the courtroom. I could have never guessed that you’d be mixed up in all this. You know what a mess this made for me today in the newsroom?”

  “I can Imagine.” Galia didn’t have much to say.

  “We have to talk about this. Look, I’ll just pop in. I have to talk to you. I was on my way yesterday, but they wouldn’t even let me in the building.”

  “Yeah, they’re guarding me. Only people who live here can enter the building.”

  “Well, guards or no guards, I have to speak to you. I believe that I can help you too.” There was worry in his voice; she was important to him.

  “Daniel, you can’t help me with this. Actually, being in the newsroom is the best help you can give me! Knowing that Our Haifa is in good hands takes a tremendous weight off my shoulders,” she insisted.

  “Galia, the paper is the last thing you need to worry about now. I will take care of everything,” he tried to calm her. “Still, there are a couple of things I’ve got to tell you.”

  Galia noticed that Doron was wandering around the living room restlessly. She could guess that he wasn’t happy about the conversation.

  Daniel continued, “Listen to me, I cannot accept that you’re guilty, not for a second. Let me help you!”

  “Thank you, Daniel. I truly appreciate the offer. But as I told Doron, there’s not much you can do. It may seem crazy to you, but the simple fact is I am guilty. You remember, we were at Maxim for lunch. I went back later. Remember how I wasn’t really surprised when you told me about it at the office? Right? That’s why I didn’t respond to your messages; it was on purpose. It was me, I admit it. I have no choice but to face the consequences.”

  “Galia, I know for a fact that you’re lying! Let me come to you.” His voice had grown insistent.

  “Enough, Daniel, really. I truly appreciate that you want to help. But again I have to ask you not to involve yourself, please. You’re there watching over the paper, let’s see what happens. Make sure the weekend edition comes out. Calm down our staff. That’s the most helpful thing — and the only thing you can do for me.” She hoped that Daniel would understand and let the issue go.

  “I see you still don’t understand that I can really help you.�
� He fell silent for a few moments, then stated, “You know what, how about I drop by just to get your signature on a power of attorney, and some other important papers, before I send them to Amit the photographer and to Naama?” His voice sounded different.

  Galia’s breath caught. Was Daniel trying to hint something? Which Naama? Had he mentioned the name Naama on purpose? She hesitated. She couldn’t know anything for sure.

  Daniel interrupted her thoughts: “So I assume it’s okay if I come?”

  “Uh, Daniel, I’m not sure. Why don’t you check if it works for you?” She realized she was drenched in cold sweat.

  What did it mean? Could it be that Daniel knew about Naama? Is that why he thought he could help her? She had to clear the matter up; she had to preempt whatever might endanger Shir.

  “I’m on my way,” Daniel said and hung up.

  Galia sat down on the sofa, raising her eyes towards Doron, hoping that he didn’t recognize her growing panic. She had no intention of showing him weakness now. She thought about Shir only, how to protect her.

  “It’s morning already,” she announced cheerily. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, strong coffee, ASAP,” Doron answered, following her into the kitchen.

  Throughout the previous night, the Special Investigative Unit had been holding a marathon meeting. As soon as the gun was discovered, there was great tension in the air. Deputy Commissioner Udi Fleischer, head of the Department of Investigations and Intelligence, was the tensest of all.

  He knew the procedures; he knew what he had to do. The anonymous telephone call only increased his suspicion that others were involved in the crime. In his view, Galia’s accomplices were trying to cover up their tracks and leave her to shoulder the blame. He himself had no intention of giving up on looking for these accomplices, whether Galia helped him or not.

  Whom had Galia gotten mixed up with? Whom did she have these ties to? he asked himself. How had she managed to hide this from everyone, especially from Doron?