Love Conquers All

by Galia Albin

  Chapter 13

  “Talia, do you have any plans for September 22?”

  “No, Jonathan, why are you asking me this in the middle of the night? Why aren’t you asleep?

  “Let’s do something on that day.”

  “Okay, like what?”

  “Get married.”

  “Jonathan, we just moved in together two weeks ago. I only met your mother last week!”

  “So what? My mother is already in love with you, just as your mother is in love with me. You heard her call me Yoni, meine liebchen? Oh, I left eh bag my mother sent you in the car. Two more suits from Switzerland, one Chanel, the other a Belmont.”

  “How could she? She didn’t even know me, then!”

  “Well, what do you think? I haven’t stopped talking about you for the last three months! She knew about you from the first moment. Even your measurements. So what do you say, Talinka, are we getting married or not?” “We’re getting married, sure, Jonathan. But for right now, will you let me get some sleep, please?”

  They had two weeks to prepare for the wedding. One week before the appointed date, a snag suddenly appeared, in the shape of Tzafi Hadar, who brought a suit of breach of promise against Jonathan. Once more, the town teemed with rumors and gossip, and the newspapers did not even try to hide their satisfaction: they had a juicy, titillating scandal on their hands. The picture of the tearful Tzafi Hadar, a ballet dancer who had become the high priestess of aerobic dancing in the country, was published in all the newspapers. In melodramatic interviews, she unfolded her love affair with Jonathan, which she claimed lasted five years and during which they tried to conceive a child.

  The journalists besieged Talia. Her mother, Jonathan and his mother, too, were constantly harassed. Their pictures appeared on front pages with headlines that testified to the reporter’s vivid imagination: “Talia Rosen Is Stunned!” “Will Jonathan Schwarz Reunite With His Old Flame?” “Grave Doubts About The Wedding! T Won’t Let My Daughter Get Hurt!’ Says Heidi Rosen, Talia’s Mother.” “ ‘Nonsense! Utter Nonsense. My Son Loves Talia. That Woman Is A Goldigger’ Says Greta Schwarz.”

  Jonathan remained nonchalant about the whole affair. Even when he smashed the camera of a press photographer, who happened to be the son of one of his party colleagues, he kept on smiling. “It’s all right; work is work, and friends are friends,” he explained calmly the next day, shopping with Talia to buy a replacement camera for the one he’d destroyed.

  Talia never doubted Jonathan’s version of the story. He had not abandoned Tzafi. She was the first woman he’d had an affair with. She was several years older than he, and sexually experienced. Before meeting her, he’d been very shy and insecure. He found women intimidating. They all seemed so powerful and domineering, like his mother, and he avoided their company. One night, Tzafi Hadar spotted in a restaurant having dinner with his buddies. Their eyes locked, and in the middle of the meal she passed him a note. He sent the note back with a waiter. It said simply, “Wait for me.” From that day forward for almost two years they were together, but he never promised her anything. It was Tzafi who left him when she met a man her own age wanting to marry her. Something went wrong with the affair, however, and the man turned out to be bisexual. In frustration, Tzafi tried to win Jonathan back. He went out with her a few times when he was feeling very lonely, or when her desperate pleading softened him. But in the last two years she stopped calling him and they no longer kept in touch. He had practically forgotten her until sudden resurfacing on the eve of his wedding. But despite her machinations and disparaging remarks, he knew he would always be grateful to her for making him a man.

  At the rabbinate, however, they took the scandal seriously. Rabbi Lehman, Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv, who was to officiate at the wedding, presented Jonathan with a compromise. “Offer to buy the woman an apartment and a car,” he advised Jonathan, “and you’ll never hear from her again. She will disappear quietly. She wants to get something out of this scandal, in place of the husband and children she can’t have. It’s only natural she’s bitter and vindictive. So be generous and help the poor woman. It’s a mitzvah, a guarantee for a happy marriage.”

  So that matter, too, was laid to rest. The papers rushed to announce that a compromise had been reached, hinting that where there’s smoke there’s fire, but Talia was fed up with the entire affair. She adamantly refused to answer any questions addressed to her by meddling gossipmongers. Ditty, practical and sarcastic by nature, said, “You wanted Jonathan... Get used to the idea that from here on out you’ll have very little privacy. You’re in the public eye now, and there’s nothing you can do about it!” Talia had to admit her friend was right. But she couldn’t help feeling a little resentful; being Jonathan’s spouse didn’t justify her life becoming public domain, and it didn’t give the media the right to burrow and meddle in her private life. But when she weighed her right to privacy against living with Jonathan, the choice was clear.

  Six days were left until the wedding. Jonathan’s mother presented her with a gown, a perfect fit, which she had apparently bought before ever setting eyes on her future daughter-in-law. The wedding gown was ivory with tiny pearls embroidered on the front; it highlighted her narrow waist, dispelling any rumors that the bride was pregnant.

  She felt she was walking on air and yearned literally to jump for joy in her flowing, muslin gown.

  Only thirty people were invited to the reception in the elegant apartment of Greta and Yehuda Schwarz on 20 Huberman Street. The velvet, upholstered furniture was pushed aside, and silverware, fine china, and shiny crystal twinkled from carved wooden cupboards. On tables covered with pearly, white linens lay exquisite spreads and expensive wines. Young waiters and waitresses in black uniforms walked about quietly offering the guests trays of food prepared by Stefie Span, the fashionable caterer. A popular, trendy rabbi delivered a flowery speech, and a stylish photographer flashed his camera incessantly.

  Jonathan and Talia, radiantly happy, mingled with the guests. Throughout the night, Jonathan kissed her lips, throat, hands, and the nape of her neck, once she removed her bridal veil. Talia could feel the hostile looks of his friends. “I can’t believe it,” she heard Manu say to Micah quite loudly, “He must be off his rocker!” But Jonathan neither saw nor heard anything. He proclaimed his unrestrained happiness openly, proudly. “Meet my wife,” he repeated to everyone that approached him, “This is my Talia, and I love her so much, I love her so much. This is my wife from here to eternity!”