Jerusalem Stone

by Susan Sofayov

  During my first date with Avi, we sat on that moonlit beach, and he held me, speaking calming words, hoping to console my grief. Now, it was my turn. I held Rivka as she sobbed.

  “The last time I heard from him was September 15, 2008, two o’clock in the afternoon my time and seven in the morning your time. I’ve replayed it in my head thousands of times, looking for a clue as to why he dumped me. I left class, stopped for falafel, and called him.” She swiped at her eyes and sniveled. “He said he couldn’t talk because he was on hold with the airlines. He was trying to change his flight because the man he was scheduled to meet with got sick and canceled the meeting. He said that if he could catch an early flight, we could Skype when he got home. But I never heard from him again.” She sobbed into her knees.

  I patted her back and fought back my own tears.

  “He didn’t dump me?” she asked, her face still buried in her knees.

  I leaned against her and wrapped my arm around her back. “No, he loved you until the day he died.”

  “I don’t understand. I googled him so many times. The only Jack Wasserman I ever found, died in Pittsburgh, but he was thirty-two years old. I thought it might have been a cousin.”

  “The newspaper reversed the numbers on his age. No one in our family bothered to send in a correction. It didn’t seem important at the time.”

  She swiped at her nose with her arm and looked me square in the eye. “How did he die?”

  I closed my eyes and inhaled. “A car accident. Let’s go back to Avi’s apartment, and I’ll tell you the whole story. We can’t sit in the middle of this path, sobbing. Someone will think we were attacked or something and call the police.”

  I stood up and reached out my hand to her. She sat for another moment with her head between her knees.

  Then she lifted her head and gazed into my eyes. “He loved me?”

  I bit my lips and nodded. She clasped my hand and stood up.

  We walked out of the park, holding hands. She wept, but I didn’t offer words of comfort. There were no words that could ease the pain of grief. Grief was like steam in a pressure cooker. It built up to the point where it exploded out. Rivka needed to cry.

  It didn’t take long to find a cab. We settled into the backseat, and the driver passed back a box of tissues.

  “Rivka, did you say that Jack was trying to change his flight at seven o’clock in the morning?”

  “Yeah, like I said, the guy he went to meet got sick.” She pulled a handful of tissues from the box, blew her nose, and handed the box to me.

  “Are you sure it was early in the morning?”

  “Yes, he was seven hours behind us.”

  I stared out the front window of the cab, remembering that I didn’t call him until I got home, which was close to noon. Jack didn’t change his flight because I was crying. It was already re-scheduled. I crushed my hands against my temples, trying to recall the words of our conversation, but all I could remember was me talking and him repeating, “It’ll be okay, Jules.” Maybe he told me his flight was changed, but I wasn’t in the right mind frame to hear him. Or, maybe I talked so much, he didn’t have the chance to tell me. “I’ll never know the answer,” I said, not to Rivka, but to myself.

  Chapter 29

  A shirtless Avi opened the door to find two crying women holding hands. “What the hell is going on here?” His gaze shifted from my face to her face and back to mine.

  I barreled into his arms and squeezed him as tightly as I could. “You’ve been right along--bashert, not an accident.”

  He switched his gaze from my eyes to his sister’s face. “My sister’s crying and you suddenly believe we’re meant to be together. What the hell--one crying woman leaves the apartment, and two crying women come back?”

  “Go put a shirt on,” I whispered in his ear. “I’ll make coffee, and we can explain. Hurry up.”

  Rivka followed me to the granite island and sat down on the closest chair. I poured the water into the pot and launched into the story of Jack’s death. A few minutes later, Avi entered the kitchen and stood a few steps behind her chair. I continued telling the story of Jack’s passing. Tears streamed down Rivka’s cheeks, and occasionally, she blew her nose into the wadded-up tissue clamped in hand.

  “Stop.” He held his hands like goal posts, his palm facing me. “Rivka, why are you sobbing over Julie’s brother? Yes, it’s heartbreaking, but--” He moved beside the chair to see her face.

  “Of course, she’s crying,” I said. “Remember I told you about the Israeli girl Jack wanted to marry? The one whose name I couldn’t remember?”

  The light flicked on in his eyes. He stared at his sister. She gazed down into her untouched coffee mug, squeezing the tissue and passing it from hand to hand.

  “Her name was Rikki, which I just realized is a nickname for girls named Rivka. The girl my brother wanted to marry was your sister.”

  He sat down, clasping his head.

  “Jack brought me here. Not just to find you, but to find Rivka. He needed me to be the messenger to explain the unreturned emails and phone messages. But I think what he wanted most from me was to tell her that he loved her, one last time.”

  For a moment, I watched silently as Avi stroked her hand. The emotions swirling in my head overwhelmed me, but more needed to be said. “Jack wanted to find someone to take care of me. He found you, exactly the type he searched for when he was alive. I know he orchestrated this, because there’s a limit to coincidences, and we passed it. Jack gave me my childhood wish to marry twins the best way he could. The day you bought me that necklace in the Arab market, you told me I needed to stop smothering him and let him rest in peace. Now I can. He would have never led me here if he wanted me to be miserable and visit his grave every day. He wants me to be with you and Rivka.”

  Rivka turned toward her brother. “For nearly two years, I’ve been miserable because he suddenly stopped Skyping, emailing, and calling. I left message after message with no response. I never told you about him, because you would have told me that long-distance relationships never work. Or worse, that I was completely crazy thinking I was in love after knowing him for only ten days.”

  After she said ten days, his gaze shifted from her face to mine. I smiled.

  “But it was love. He was perfect for me. Even after all this time, I go to bed and pray he gets over the reason he cut communication with me and calls.” She stopped speaking and swiped at her red eyes with the tissue. “He’s never going to call.”

  I walked over to her and lifted the hand Avi wasn’t holding. “I’m the phone call you prayed for.”

  For a moment, we all held hands in silence, trying to process the inconceivable information running through our heads. The situation was the definition of bittersweet.

  “I know what we need.” Avi walked to the wine rack and pulled out a bottle. “I’ve been saving this bottle for a long time. I wanted to open it for a celebration. But I’ve changed my mind.” He pulled the corkscrew from the drawer and gracefully popped the cork. Then he walked to the dining room and returned with three wine glasses, obviously crystal, not our usual ones. He filled each glass half way and passed one to Rivka and then to me. His eyes misted as he lifted the cup into the air. “This is for Jack, whose love for two women spanned time, place, and life. Thank you for leading me to your sister. And for sending my sister a final message of love--to Jack.”

  By the time the cups reached our lips, tears ran down all our cheeks. Rivka set the cup on the table and inhaled. “He was such a good kisser.”

  Avi and I cracked up. “Really?” I looked at her and smiled. “Not according to his first girlfriend. She told me he slobbered.”

  She winked and sipped her wine. “Well, he must have practiced before he met me.”

  For the next half hour, we drank wine, and I told them Jack stories. Including his love for a hornbill he dubbed Chester. It felt good, recalling memories minus the knife of mourning and guilt shredding my heart.
Finally, I felt like I had the right to love him the way I did when he was alive.

  “In case you two have forgotten, we’re due at Aviva’s house in an hour for dinner,” Avi said.

  “Oh, shit.” Rivka gulped down the last of her wine. “I gotta go. Aviva gets cranky when someone is late. A pregnant Aviva gets hostile.” We followed Rivka to the door. First, she hugged her brother and then turned to me. “See you in an hour.” She hugged me and whispered, “Thank you.”

  Chapter 30

  “I’ll race you to the shower,” I said, ready to run.

  “Oh, no, slow down. We’re not finished.” His expression was flat, unreadable. “We’re not on the best of terms--remember? You said ‘no’ to my marriage proposal.”

  Whoa, a punch in the heart.

  “Believe me, today has been a blessing. But less than two hours ago, you broke my heart.”

  “I didn’t think you’d change your mind in less than two hours.”

  “Come here.” He pulled me to the sofa and pushed me down. “Let’s try this again.” He dropped to one knee, pulled the white bag from his pocket, opened it, and slowly slipped the ring on my finger. “Julie Wasserman, will you marry me?”

  “Yes! Yes. Oh, yes.” I lunged into his arms, knocking him off his knee and onto the marble.

  “Ouch!” he yelled, rubbing the back of his head. “This isn’t going to work.” He got up, pulled me to my feet, and scooped me into his arms. “I have an idea. We don’t have much time, but let’s consummate this deal.”

  I smiled and nodded as he carried me into the bedroom and set me on the bed.

  “I love you and promise to love you forever.” He kissed me, and my heart soared.

  ***

  “I’m really sick of wearing these same clothes over and over for the last month. Except for the dress you bought me,” I said, zipping up my shorts.

  “Why didn’t you say something? We could’ve gone shopping.”

  “Why would I waste our time together shopping?”

  He sat on the bed, watching me dress. “We did in Thailand.”

  “That was an emergency. I was out of clean underwear.” I slipped on my sandals. “Let’s go. Is there some place we can stop and buy something for dessert? I feel bad for not baking anything.”

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he tilted his head sideways and stared at me.

  “Hello. Hello,” I said, waving my hand in front of his face.

  “Sorry--just thinking.”

  “There’s no time for PhD Avi. Put your shoes on.” I kissed the top of his head and walked into the bathroom to put on some lipstick.

  Through the bathroom wall that abutted his office, I heard him dropping books on the floor--weird, very weird. “It doesn’t sound like you're putting on your shoes.”

  When I returned to the bedroom, he was standing at the foot of the bed, holding two hardback books, with one of those cheap ribbons stores sell at Christmas time stuck on top.

  He thrust the books toward me. “I was going to give these to you right before the wedding, but I’ve changed my mind.”

  I looked at the top book, The Drifters. My eyes widened. Then I read the title of the second one, The Source. Holding both, I sat down on the bed and gazed at the smile on his face.

  “When you talked about shopping, it reminded me of the day we stopped at Adir’s book store. Open The Source first,” he said, plopping down beside me.

  It was a signed first edition. The inscription read:

  To David,

  Thank you for tutoring me on Israel’s historical intricacies--without you, Eliav would not exist.

  L’chaim,

  James Michener

  1965

  I looked up at him. “Wow.” I shook my head. “The original owner of this book was the inspiration for Eliav. I can’t believe that some family sold this book.” I turned it over. “I wonder who the David of the inscription is or was.”

  “My grandfather,” he said.

  My eyes widened. “Your grandfather was the inspiration for the character, Eliav.”

  He shrugged. “My grandfather and James Michener were friends.”

  “Your great-great-grandmother was Golda Meier, and your grandfather was the inspiration for a character in literature. Are you related to any other famous people you’ve neglected to mention?”

  He twisted his mouth. “Wellll...” He dragged out the word and looked at his shoe, appearing embarrassed. “Binyamin Netanyahu was sandek at my brit.”

  I looked at him, slack jawed, shaking my head. “Really?”

  He swung his arm around my back. “No, but I wanted to see how you’d react. Open The Drifters.”

  I opened the book. As I suspected, it was also a first edition signed by James Michener. But it was the original purchase receipt, tucked between the pages, that caught my eye.

  I recognized it the moment I opened the book. Avi bought it at Caliban, the bookstore where I worked in college. “You bought this at Caliban.”

  “Remember when I went to my office after our argument in the Arab Market?”

  I nodded.

  “While I was in there, I remembered that I bought a first edition at Caliban, but I couldn’t remember where I put it. So I dug around my office until I found it--until I found both.”

  I ran my hand over the smooth paper.

  “A few years after I graduated, I went back to CMU for a conference,” he said. “Look at the date and the cashier’s name.”

  The book was paid for on October 22, 2004 at eleven-fifty-three a.m. The cashier’s name was Julie.

  “It could have been you, right? You worked there in 2004.”

  My voice caught in my throat, and I swallowed hard. “Avi, I sold you this book. In 2004, I was the only Julie working there.” I sat on the bed, shaking my head in disbelief. “Why are you giving these to me?”

  He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. Then he touched the ring on my finger. “When I met you, you were drifting. Then you came here and found your source.”

  “You traded me The Drifters for The Source. I didn’t want to read it, and I didn’t want to come to Israel.” I kissed him deeply. “You made me find my source.”

  ***

  The traffic on Mamilla Street diminished since Rivka and I took the taxi to the park. The noise created by airbrakes and honking horns was replaced by indicators that Shabbat was nearing. Closed signs hung in the windows of businesses. Other than the orthodox men in black hats rushing toward the Old City to welcome the Shabbat bride at the Kotel, very few people walked the street. Even the air around us felt as if it, too, was beginning a Shabbat rest.

  “I have to ask you. When did you buy this ring? We’ve been together every minute since I arrived in Israel.”

  “I called Aviva from Thailand and told her what I wanted. She ordered it from Malka, a family friend who is a jeweler. I trusted her to get Thai rubies. There was a lot of speculating around the size, but--”

  “You ordered it from Thailand!”

  “Yeah, and remember that phone call that woke us from our nap the day we walked the ramparts? I told you it was work calling. That wasn’t true. It was Aviva telling me the ring was ready. I didn’t--”

  “You ordered it from Thailand!”

  “You keep repeating yourself.”

  “You decided to propose when we were still in Thailand?” There was no word except stunned to describe how I felt.

  He stopped walking and gazed into my eyes. “Julie, I decided to propose after our first date on the beach.”

  I wrapped my arms around his middle and squeezed.

  “The challenge was getting you to the point where you’d say yes.”

  I rested my head on his shoulder. “The ring is magnificent, but not necessary. I would have said yes if it was a rubber O ring.”

  “You said ‘no’ remember?”

  I did remember. And it scared me to think how close I came to losing him. “Can you ever forgive me for that?”


  He rolled his eyes. “Hmmm, let me think...”

  I jammed my hip into him. “Don’t take too long. We’re almost at your sister’s house.”

  “Before I forget, we can’t stay late. You only have a backpack worth of stuff. I need to do real packing.”

  My eyebrows lifted. “We?”

  “Yes, we. I want to meet your dad, visit your brother’s grave, and I wouldn’t mind stopping at CMU to say hello to a few old friends.”

  “You’re coming home with me? When did you call the airline and make the reservation?”

  “When I bought your ticket to Pittsburgh, I booked one for me. We’re in first class, so, hopefully, we’ll be able to sleep on the plane.”

  When I agreed to come to Israel, he promised to have me back in the United States in time to start my new job. I knew he had purchased a ticket for me, but... “You bought the ticket before you proposed?”

  “Of course,” he said, looking smug.

  “And if I said no, you’d cancel it?”

  He shook his head and snickered. “Julie, Julie, think.” He tossed his arm over my shoulder. “I’m an engineer. Engineers solve problems. This situation presented only two possible outcomes--yes or no. If you said, yes--wonderful, no problem to solve. I’d fly to Pittsburgh with you, meet your dad, and help you pack. Believe me, I prayed you’d say yes, but I prepared for a no. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt like hell when you said the word--like you threw an ax into my chest. I hid in my office because I needed some time alone to regroup.”

  “I interrupted your regrouping by pulling you into the bedroom.”