They closed slowly in front of us, and the elevator began its climb to our room on the fourteenth floor. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me deeply. I was sure that if we had the luxury of being together for fifty years, each time he kissed me, my body would still beg to meld into him and never let go. His lips trailed to my ears. “I love you.”
Inhale, exhale, and enjoy the moment. I pulled my head back. “I love you too.”
“Just not enough to stay.” The elevator doors opened. A group of senior citizens stood waiting to enter, saving me from the need to respond.
Inside the room, he pulled the curtains closed. “Shower and nap before dinner?” He untied my bikini top, letting it fall. Then he looped his fingers around the sides of my bottoms and slowly pulled them to the floor. “If you asked, I’d follow you to Pittsburgh.”
My heartbeat quickened. Before I could respond, he kissed me and lifted me into his arms. “Carnegie Mellon has been trying to recruit me for years,” he said, placing me in the center of the bed.
He laid down beside me and pulled his fingertip down the side of my body. “If moving to Pittsburgh is the only way we can be together. I’d gladly return to my old school.”
The tear factory kicked into overdrive. “You can’t leave here. Your family is like royalty in this country. Golda Meier’s great-great-grandson cannot become an ex-patriot.” I swiped at the tear running down my left cheek and swatted at the one escaping from my right eye.
He lifted my chin, raising my eyes level with his. “Love for Israel runs through my veins, and I never imagined living somewhere else, but if that is what it takes to be with you--I’ll move.”
“No, you can’t do that.” I rolled off the bed and rushed into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. In no time, he banged on the door.
“Are you using the bathroom or hiding?”
“Please, I need a few minutes.” Through the door, I heard his feet padding against the marble floor. I leaned back against the toilet tank. My heart raced. My mind screamed you have no right to happiness.
Breathe, breathe. I ripped off a piece of toilet paper and wiped my eyes. Time to tell the truth. I pulled a towel around me and opened the door. He rushed to me.
“Let me put some clothes on and then we can talk.”
“Why, we’ve had many conversations naked.” His arms engulfed me, and he nuzzled against my neck. “I love you naked.”
I tightened the towel around me and sat on the edge of the bed. He sat down next to me, pulled me close, and stroked my hair.
“I told you my brother died in a car accident. But what I didn’t tell you was I caused it. I killed my brother.”
He released me and turned my face to meet his gaze. “I don’t believe that, Julie. You told me his car went off the road and flipped over.”
I didn’t want to look at his beautiful face. I stood, walked to the window and stared at the Dead Sea. “The morning Lehman Brothers sent us all home, I packed up my desk and cried all the way to the subway. As I watched the tunnel walls, I panicked. Jack didn’t make enough to cover all the apartment expenses, and at that point, I didn’t know if I qualified for unemployment insurance. And even if I did, I didn’t know if it would pay enough to cover my share of the expenses. When I got to our apartment, I called him, hysterical. He tried to calm me down and assure me that we would find a way to pay the bills.”
I moved from the window to the desk in the corner and sat down. “But I shut out his words and continued to crunch numbers in my head, still unable to control the panic and sobbing.”
I stopped talking and tried to breathe through the crushing sensation inside my chest. By telling Avi this information, I was forcing myself to go to a place inside my brain that I feared, hated, and avoided. To get out of bed each day, I built a mental wall around this fact and locked the door. By speaking the truth out loud, I broke through that wall and entered my own living hell. “Jack must have called the airline right after he hung up, because he texted me from the Raleigh airport a few hours later and said he’d be home by seven o’clock.” I stopped talking and blew my nose on a wadded-up napkin that was sitting on the desk. “He wasn’t due home until the next day. If I hadn’t called him, crying, he would have stuck to his original schedule and would be alive today. Jack is dead because of me.”
“Did you ask him to come home early or change his flight plan?”
“No. But he wanted to come home for me.”
“How do you know? Maybe the meeting ended a day ahead of schedule. Maybe he didn’t feel well and wanted to go home. Maybe a million other reasons, but whatever the reason, you cannot hang on to this misguided guilt.”
I shook my head. “No, it was my crying. Jack could never stand to see me cry.”
“Come here.” He held open his arms, and I walked into them.
“This is why I can’t stay here, and you can’t come to Pittsburgh. In both cases, I’d be happy, which isn’t fair to Jack.”
“Julie, forget how he died. You can’t be fair or unfair to somebody who isn’t here.” He stroked the back of my head, his hand running the length of my hair, over and over.
I moved from his arms to the bed, closed my eyes, and curled into fetal position. “Nothing will ever make me believe I didn’t kill him. And nothing will ever make me believe he wants me to be happy. I need to go home and live up to my promise to visit his grave every day.”
“I’m a brother, and if this happened to me, I wouldn’t want my sisters to stop living.”
“But you’re not Jack.”
***
That evening we ate a quick, silent dinner in the hotel dining room and returned to our room. Avi watched television and stroked my back as I pretended to sleep.
“I know you’re not sleeping and just want silence. But I need to know whether to set the alarm for four-thirty. Do you still want to climb Masada tomorrow?”
I rolled over and sniffled. “Yes. I still want to.”
“Good. I promise to be quiet for the rest of the evening.”
I curled around him, getting as close as possible. The need to feel his skin overwhelmed me. As he held me, my body begged for all of him. He understood and satisfied my hunger.
As I drifted off to sleep, he lips skimmed my ear. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Chapter 23
The alarm on his phone buzzed at four-thirty. As usual, he groaned, and I climbed out of bed. An electric kettle sat on the desk. I filled it, plugged it into the outlet, and pulled two small packets of instant coffee from the basket beside it. “Avi,” I said, emptying the contents into paper cups. “Coffee time. Get up.”
He groaned, rolled over, and threw his forearm across his face. “I’m coming.”
“We have to beat the sun.” When I woke, I promised myself that I wouldn’t mention the confession of the day before. I truly loved this man and didn’t want to taint this trip in any way. The memory of our time in Thailand and Israel needed to remain one of pure bliss.
As he promised, we munched on granola bars and downed the horrible instant sludge.
Within twenty minutes of waking, we walked in the dark to the car for the short drive to Masada. “You don’t want to talk about yesterday, do you?”
“Nope,” I said.
“Do you think you will ever want to talk about it?”
“Nope.” I turned and gazed at the side of his face. “I love you so much, but I know what my responsibilities are, and after I fly out of here on Saturday night, I have to begin living up to them. But between now and then, I want to see as much of Israel as possible and make love to you enough to last a lifetime.”
He nodded.
“So, tell me about Masada.”
He launched into a description of the Essenes, the Jewish sect who lived on top of Masada, which is the Hebrew word for fortress, during the time of the Second Temple. I leaned back into my seat back and wallowed in the smooth sound of his voice.
Only a few cars peppered t
he large parking lot at the base of Masada. He pulled our backpack, containing our water and snacks from the trunk and tossed it over his shoulder. “Let’s hike,” he said, clasping my hand before turning on his megawatt flashlight. “Forward.” He flashed the light on a small sign that read “Snake Path.”
Only a hint of sunlight rose above the horizon, and the path lived up to its name, snaking back and forth over the bleached earth and rock. A few people trekked behind us, but we were going to be the first people of the day to reach the top. Little by little the sun peeked above the Jordanian side of the Dead Sea. At the summit, an explosion of color from the sunrise greeted us. We leaned against the safety railings, hands tightly clasped together, enjoying the grandeur. “How can you not believe that all of this was created by someone or something?” He stretched his free arm across the horizon.
“The last time I answered that question you tossed me into a lake. I leaned over the railing. “I’ll say I believe in anything if it keeps you from flinging me off this mountain.”
He started laughing. “Come on. Let me give you the tour.”
As we meandered around the ruins, he gave me a history lesson followed by an archeology lesson.
“How do you know what that old pile of rocks is?”
“Easy, my mother.” He tossed his arm over my shoulder. “I’ve lost count how many times I’ve walked this site. Some parents take their kids to Disneyland. Mine dragged us to every ancient ruin in Israel.”
“That’s sad.”
***
The climb down the mountain was much easier than the ascent. We walked off the mountain sweating from the heat of the risen sun that beat down from a cloudless sky. “I hate to complain, but it’s hot out.”
“And it’s only nine a.m. You don’t want to be here mid-afternoon. You could fry an egg on the hood of a car. But, we can cool off in the water at Ein Gedi.”
***
Ein Gedi wasn’t very far down the road. Even at this early hour, people poured out of two tour buses parked near the far edge of the parking lot. At Ein Gedi, Avi led me up another winding trail, but instead of dust and rocks, lush reeds and tamarisk trees flanked this path.
Masada smelled dusty. The perfume of plant life floated in the Ein Gedi air. As we ventured deeper into the oasis, I detected the scent of water.
We trudged forward, stopping for a few moments to watch an ibex graze in a ravine and to enjoy the antics of a green bee-eater, flitting around on the low branches of a dead tree. Energy pulsed all around us. Birds sang and swooped from tree to tree while insects buzzed. A waterfall greeted us at the end of the path. I gazed up to watch the stream spill over the side of the mountain landing in a small catch basin beneath. A few people waded into the basin, which spread out between the rocks, like a pond. I pulled off my shoes and stepped into the water. “Oh!” I jumped back. “Cold, very cold.”
Avi waded in up to his knees and continued toward the waterfall. “Come on in.”
“It’s freezing.”
“Come in. Not many people get the chance to stand under a desert oasis waterfall.”
I bit my bottom lip. I hated cold water--really hated it, but I forced my feet to move forward, gasping when the water hit my shins. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
He held out his hand, and I continued walking toward him, sucking in my breath with each step. For a few moments, we stood together under the falls. Then I bolted toward the shore. “Sorry, that’s as much oasis waterfall as I can take.”
“Wimp,” he shouted, spinning around under the falls, laughing.
***
By one o’clock, we had eaten lunch, packed our bags and checked out of the hotel. Less than three hours later, he checked us into another five-star hotel.
“What shall we do in Eilat?” I asked while wrapping him in a hug.
“Nap.”
“No, let’s go outside and check out the neighborhood.”
“Nap. We’ve been up since four-thirty and hiked for miles. We can donate an hour of our time to a nice pre-dinner snooze.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Fine, I’ll sleep, and you can go hang out at the pool for an hour.”
He dove onto the bed, and I dug around in my backpack for my bathing suit and coverup. By the time I changed out of my clothes, he puffed rhythmic breaths of sleep. I pecked his forehead before tiptoeing out the door.
I wandered through the cavernous lobby, searching for the door to the pool, but became fascinated by all the people bustling around and sat down on a sofa in the back corner.
A woman draped in a flowing caftan strutted across the marble floor, appearing to be holding court for the three other women clustered around her. Leaning against the check-in counter, a young mother bounced a fussy baby on her hip, while a toddler clung to her hand. Beside her, her husband appeared animated as he discussed something with the desk clerk.
Here I sat. A young woman lounging on an elegant sofa inside a marble and glass lobby of a five-star hotel, as the man I loved napped on a king-sized bed in our very elegant hotel room. Me, the caftan lady, and the young mother all had one thing in common--we were all alive.
My mind rushed back to the previous evening’s conversation. It didn’t matter what Avi thought. Jack’s death was my fault, and all the repentance in the universe couldn’t make up for it. Jack would never sit in another hotel lobby. He’d never see Jerusalem again, and he’d never again kiss the woman he loved.
When we were children, Jack and I walked home from elementary school together. On Fridays, my mom would greet us at the door holding two lollipops. Occasionally, we’d get home and find her empty handed. She’d explain that there was only one lollipop left in the bag. We knew that meant that neither of us would get one until she bought a new bag. She kept everything equal.
Jack and I weren’t equal anymore.
I asked the front desk clerk for directions to the swimming pool, left the lobby, and the disturbing thoughts behind.
***
Our two and a half days in Eilat played like a dream honeymoon minus a marriage.
The northernmost tropical coral reef in the world sits off the coast of Eilat, in the Red Sea. He taught me to Snuba, which seemed like scuba diving for beginners. Because the water temperature was seventy-eight degrees, and the air temperature was ninety-five degrees, the sea water felt frigid. Pulling on a wetsuit is worse than pulling control-top pantyhose over Spanx.
I trailed behind him as we probed the reef until I gained some confidence and swam ahead of him. That ended when he clasped my arm, pulling me away from a puffer fish that I had been pointing to. Afterwards, he explained that it was beautiful but poisonous.
But, the best part of the dive occurred when I spotted a clown fish swimming near an anemone. I yanked at the back of his trunks to get his attention. “Nemo!” I mouthed through my mask. His wide smile flashed through the wet plastic covering his face.
After the Snuba adventure, we stopped at a place called “Dolphin Reef.” The uniqueness of the attraction was the dolphins were not held captive. They could swim in and out of the park area back into open water at any time.
We snorkeled and played with bottle nose dolphins. One kept poking at me with his nose. “First the elephant kiss and now a dolphin flirts with you. Most boyfriends just worry about other guys hitting on their girlfriend,” Avi whined. “I have to be jealous of all mammals.”
“And bugs too. Bugs love me. A very attractive wasp asked me to the prom in high school. I would have gone with him, but this adorable groundhog asked first.”
He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. We treaded water, laughing, as the dolphin circled around us.
After an hour or so in the water, we climbed out, dressed, and said goodbye to the dolphins. “What’s next?” I asked.
“Food, what else?” he said, opening the car doors.
“I get the white car thing now,” I said, tossing my damp towel over the hot leather
seat.
“Let’s go back to the hotel, head to the pool, and order some pre-dinner food, say falafel and French fries.”
I smiled and rubbed his stomach. “That’s not a snack. It’s a complete mystery to me how you have a flat stomach with your eating habits.”
After a few hours of hanging out at the pool, we showered, napped, and hiked off to find dinner. “What are you hungry for?” he asked.
“Pasta, it’s been weeks since I’ve swallowed a noodle.”
“Pasta it is. And, I know a terrific place.”
The small restaurant was blocks away from the tourist area. Of course, when we walked in, the owner greeted Avi like a long-lost friend. He seated us in the back corner, lit the small candle in the middle of the table, and poured Chianti into our glasses.
Within minutes, a waitress appeared to take our order of salad, garlic bread, and ravioli. Avi asked for a carafe of the Chianti.
“I need to ask you a question,” I said.
“Go for it.” He leaned back in his chair.
“I get that your family is kind of the Israeli version of the Kennedy family in the United States.”
“We are not,” he said, voice saturated with indignation.
“Forgive me,” I said, twisting my face into a contrite expression. “We’ll just say that you have excellent lineage in this country. While I get that lends itself, to a degree, of public interest, and I get that you’re very sexy, but you’re not an actor or a singer or any other type of public personality who would normally draw so much attention. Your sister is beautiful and a member of the Knesset, but she doesn’t seem to have the same level of notoriety as you do.”
He exhaled and looked down. “I told you that I’m an heir to a small fortune. It’s from my great-grandfather, not the Golda side. He bought up a lot of land when he first came to Israel. He held it for a very long time. The value increased exponentially. Hence, when he passed away, my grandfather became wealthy, and that wealth passed down to my dad.”
Jerusalem Stone Page 19
