The Death of Baseball

by Orlando Ortega-Medina

  “I haven’t told anyone about her because they wouldn’t approve. Her name’s Alina; she lives a few miles south of Beersheba with her family. She’s who I went to see when we were there last week.” He pauses for a moment. “She’s Bedouin.”

  Raphael slaps the side of his head. “Wait, what? You’re dating an Arab girl?”

  Yossi nods and runs his hand through his hair.

  “And you’re keeping this big romance a secret because, what, you’re afraid what people will think?”

  “Our families would disown us if they found out.”

  “Oh, right, I get it now. You’re a coward.”

  “It’s not that.” Yossi turns away from Raphael and stares out at the running spring. “You don’t understand how it is. How things work around here. Socially, I mean.”

  “Guess not.”

  They stay quiet for a few minutes, their breath condensing in the frigid air of the car. Raphael rubs his arms to generate some warmth, and Yossi hands him his coat.

  “So, let me ask you,” Raphael says, slipping on the coat and flashing on the bullets in the side pocket. “If you didn’t have a girlfriend, this Alina ptitsa, what would’ve happened in there just now?” He jerks a thumb in the direction of the tent. “Would you have let me kiss you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Raphael slaps the dashboard and turns away, struggling to hold back tears. “I still love you, you fucker. I’ve never loved anyone before. You’re the first.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It hurts.”

  “I know.”

  Raphael whirls on Yossi. “I hate you.”

  “Shall we go back to the tent?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Come on, gever. Don’t be like that.”

  “Leave me alone, will you?”

  Yossi tugs Raphael’s elbow. But Raphael pulls away and crosses his arms over his chest.

  “Come back to the tent.”

  “I told you, I’m sleeping in here. Just bring me my sleeping bag.”

  “It’s going to get a lot colder. Are you sure?”

  “Of course, I’m sure. I’d rather freeze into a block of ice than spend another minute in there with you.”

  Chapter 15

  Raphael refuses to eat anything Yossi prepares for breakfast. Instead, he digs a pair of stale granola bars out of his backpack and perches on a boulder a few metres away from the campsite to eat them, forcing them down his throat with some metallic-tasting water he sucks out of his canteen. Yossi calls out to him as he finishes breaking down the tent, and the two of them drive back to Mitzpe Ramon in silence.

  When they arrive home, Raphael leaps out of the car and sprints to the apartment, running past Aunt Penina and Tomer, who are sitting on the sofa watching TV. He closes the door to his room and climbs into his bunk. A few moments later, Yossi enters the room toting his machine gun and closes the door behind him. Raphael rolls over and faces the wall.

  “I’m sorry, achi,” Yossi says, placing his weapon on the dresser.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Honestly, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Raphael sits up. “Don’t worry about me, OK? I’ll be fine.” He stands and faces off with Yossi. “In fact, I’ll be more than fine.”

  “Yom Kippur starts tomorrow evening.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So, I’m asking you to forgive me. That’s how it works, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, OK, I forgive you. I forgive you. I just need some time to myself.”

  “I get that.” Yossi offers Raphael his hand. “But, let’s not leave things like this. I want us to start over again. Tomorrow night at Savta’s when we light candles.”

  They are interrupted by an insistent knocking on the door. Yossi pulls it open, and Tomer sticks his head inside.

  “Are you guys all right?”

  “We’re just having a chat, motek,” Yossi says. “Come back in five.”

  “We were just finishing,” Raphael says, pushing past Yossi and slipping out the door. “The room’s all yours.”

  Raphael locks himself in the bathroom and sits on the toilet. He lowers his head to his hands, massaging his temples with his thumbs to relieve the accumulated tension threatening to trigger a migraine, and rests his elbows on his knees. He soon falls asleep to the sound of a steady drip from the bathtub faucet.

  The roar of a car engine outside wakes him. He stands on the edge of the tub and looks out the window in time to see Yossi manoeuvring his car onto the slip road. Raphael remains looking out the window until after Yossi’s car has disappeared down the highway in the direction of Beersheba.

  After saying his afternoon prayers at the edge of the makhtesh, Raphael sits on the wall and smokes a Dubek in the burning sun. Thoughts of Yossi provoke a profound, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. Slipping on a pair of Wayfarers to guard against the glare, he replays in his head the events of the night before, allowing himself to relive his emotions, the anticipation, excitement, ardour, love, rejection, disappointment, betrayal, anger, and hate, all experienced within the course of a few hours. He’d hoped Yossi would be his salvation, his key to surviving this year in hell. Now he knows he’s on his own despite Yossi’s offer to start over. After everything that has happened, he can’t see how to dial back his feelings for him.

  Hopping off the wall, he stamps out the cigarette and heads down the road in the direction of the school, keen to spend the afternoon reading in the peace of the library. As he rounds the corner, the school buildings in sight, an unexpected surge of sadness hits him, and he moves into the shadow of a concrete apartment block to battle back tears. Wiping his face with his bandana, the thought of Yossi’s confession about Alina reignites his anger. He kicks at a mound of dirt sending a spray of pebbles into the dirt-choked gutter and strides down the deserted road. Yossi had fooled him once before. He had promised himself he wouldn’t let it happen again. But he’d allowed Yossi to fool him a second time. He had gotten what he deserved.

  When he arrives at the school, he finds it locked for the holiday, with nobody in sight, not even a janitor who might be able to let him inside. He makes a circuit around the complex, testing each door, the noonday sun pounding down on him. Sweat streams into his eyes and down the sides of his face, leaving tracks in the yellow dust that has adhered to his skin. He lets loose a loud kick at the last door and darts to a nearby date palm to take shelter against the sun. The shadow it casts barely covers his head, let alone his body. So he moves away and heads in the direction of the highway.

  A few minutes later, he is sitting in a dingy coffee shop at the edge of town, sipping thick Turkish coffee from a permanently stained plastic cup and trying to read a book. The proprietress, a leathery Yemeni woman with waist-length, sun-damaged hair, flashes a gap-toothed smile at him every so often as she alternates between wiping down the Formica counter and obsessing over the cash in the till. Raphael spins his chair around to face the wall and spends the rest of the afternoon deciphering Hermann Hesse’s Demian in German.

  When he finally emerges from the coffee shop, he is surprised to see that the sun has started its descent. He checks his watch and, realising it’s nearly 5 p.m., sprints back to the apartment in time to join Aunt Penina and Tomer for dinner. Aunt Penina engages Tomer in family chit-chat, and Raphael tries his best to participate despite the sour looks Aunt Penina tosses in his direction. He glances at Yossi’s empty chair and swallows hard, painfully feeling his absence, ready to forgive him for everything that happened in the makhtesh, if only he could have him near.

  After dinner, the three of them gather to watch the six o’clock news, Aunt Penina and Tomer on the couch, and Raphael sitting backwards on one of the dining chairs. There is some mention of Syrian troop movements, but nothing of the situation on the border with Egypt. When questioned about the country’s readiness, a military spokesman assures a reporter that the country’s borders are adequately defended. The program
then shifts to coverage of local news, including the ongoing holiday festivities around the country. Aunt Penina sighs heavily and switches the channel to a soap opera, then settles back into the sofa. Tomer kisses her on the cheek then rests his head in her lap, and Aunt Penina strokes his hair.

  At around 7 p.m., Yossi pushes open the front door, spots Raphael, and points at him. “There’s my man,” he says in English.

  Raphael leaps to his feet at the sight of his cousin, knocking over the dining chair in the process. Tomer rushes over and rescues the chair, setting it upright.

  “Look at what I found wandering around outside.” Yossi steps aside, and Joanie Smith slinks into the apartment, rubbing her hands on her bell-bottom jeans.

  “No,” Raphael whispers. He steps back, the smile disappearing from his face.

  “Come in, come in.” Yossi pulls Joanie by the crook of her arm into the middle of the room. “Don’t be shy.” He inclines his head at Raphael. “You remember my cousin Raphael, right?” He winks at Joanie.

  Joanie smiles at Raphael and raises her hand. “Hi, Ralph.”

  Raphael raises his hand back at Joanie. “Hey.”

  “Yossi, who is this girl?” Aunt Penina asks in Hebrew.

  “Ima, this is Joanie, Rafi’s American friend. I met her at Savta’s the weekend he arrived.”

  “What are you doing here?” Raphael asks.

  Joanie holds up the piece of paper Raphael gave her at the airport. “You told me how to find you, remember? I caught a bus from Tel Aviv this morning. I hadn’t realised it was so far.”

  “Now, you two”—Yossi leads Joanie over to Raphael—“give each other a proper greeting. A handshake? Maybe a hug?”

  Raphael shakes his head at Yossi, then smiles tightly at Joanie and holds out his hand. Joanie steps forward and hugs him tight.

  “He made me tell him everything,” she whispers in Raphael’s ear.

  Raphael disengages from the hug and takes a step away from Joanie. “Weren’t you supposed to be gone by now?”

  “We go back day after tomorrow. I needed to see you before I left.”

  “I found her at the gas station,” Yossi says, “She was asking some random people about you. It’s lucky I stopped for fuel.”

  “Yeah, lucky,” Raphael says.

  Aunt Penina crosses the room to the dining table. “Have you had dinner, young lady?” She pats the back of one of the chairs. “Sit here with Yossi. I made some nice lamb.” She walks into the kitchen mumbling to herself.

  Joanie shrugs and sits at the table. “Thank you, ma’am,” she calls out to the kitchen.

  Yossi drags Raphael’s chair to the table and points at it. “Sit with us, with your friend.”

  Raphael sits at the table, exchanging awkward glances with Yossi and Joanie as Aunt Penina serves them. When she finishes, she kisses Yossi on the top of his head and withdraws with Tomer to their bedrooms.

  “Joanie and I had a nice long chat.” Yossi picks up a braised shank and examines it for a moment before taking a bite.

  Joanie nods and looks away from Raphael.

  “When was that?” Raphael asks.

  “Over coffee,” Joanie says. She raises her eyebrows at Yossi, who responds by nodding and taking a sip of wine.

  “When did you have coffee? I thought you just ran into each other at the gas station.”

  “That’s right,” Yossi says. He wipes his mouth with his napkin and pushes his plate away. “Then I took her for a coffee.”

  Joanie nods at Raphael. “He knows about the wallet.”

  Raphael looks at Yossi, who stares back at him.

  “He made me tell him,” Joanie says.

  “Is that all?” Raphael asks, still staring at Yossi.

  “He made me tell him about what happened in the park, too.”

  Raphael lowers his hand under the table and punches Yossi’s knee. But Yossi doesn’t flinch.

  “Tomorrow we’re going to Jerusalem to spend Yom Kippur, the Jewish New Year, with our grandparents,” Yossi says to Joanie. “It’s Rafi’s seventeenth birthday as well.”

  “It is?” Joanie says, a smile breaking out on her face.

  “We’ll drop you off in Tel Aviv on our way there.” He points at the sofa. “Tonight you’ll sleep there. We’ll make up a bed for you. It should be comfortable enough.”

  “Thanks.”

  Yossi picks up the dishes and takes them into the kitchen.

  “I’m really sorry about that, Ralph,” Joanie whispers. “It’s like he knew everything already.”

  “What are you doing here anyway?”

  “I had to see you… to ask your forgiveness for everything, for not turning in the wallet, and especially for what happened the other night in the park. I lost my temper badly, which was wrong; plus, I injured you.”

  “You came all the way from Tel Aviv to tell me that?”

  “It’s what the Lord would want me to do. Do you forgive me?”

  “Sure. I forgive you.”

  Joanie peers into Raphael’s eyes. “Also, I wanted you to know that I’ve already forgiven you for the stuff you did to me, which was pretty rotten.”

  Raphael nods.

  Joanie frowns at him. “I mean, you ruined this trip for me.” She pauses, waiting for some reaction from Raphael. “This was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime, and I was so excited to meet one of the Lord’s people on the plane. I thought I’d made a new friend. Then you went and practically framed me for something I didn’t do. I didn’t deserve that.”

  Joanie’s hands start to tremble, and her eyes well up with tears.

  “I’m sorry,” Raphael says, looking at her hands.

  She wipes her face on her jacket sleeve. “I forgive you for that.”

  Yossi steps out of the kitchen and squeezes Raphael’s shoulder. “May we have a word?”

  Raphael nods, still looking at Joanie.

  “Make yourself comfortable, Joanie.” Yossi flips on the TV and nods at the sofa. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Raphael follows Yossi out the door. They trudge across the parking lot to the edge of the makhtesh and climb onto the wall. Yossi pulls a brand new pack of Marlboros out of his breast pocket and taps out a cigarette.

  “I picked up a carton of these in Beersheba today,” Yossi says, lighting the cigarette and handing it to Raphael, who flashes a half-smile. “It was supposed to be a surprise. A peace offering.”

  “Thank you.”

  Yossi lights one for himself and takes a deep drag on it. He stares into the makhtesh and exhales a trail of smoke into the darkness.

  “You told me you hadn’t stolen anything in a long time,” Yossi says after a moment.

  “I told you, I have a condition—”

  “That’s what made you steal the wallet, I get that. But lying to me isn’t part of the condition, is it?”

  “I don’t know. It might be related.”

  “And putting the wallet you stole in your friend’s bag and leaving her with it at the airport was just you being an asshole.”

  Raphael looks sidelong at Yossi.

  Yossi looks directly at Raphael, a stern expression on his face. “Shall I run down the list of everything else?”

  Raphael flicks the cigarette into the makhtesh and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, achi. For everything. I’m trying to change.”

  “Change what? Being a thief or being an asshole?”

  “Both.”

  “Try harder, cousin.”

  Raphael nods.

  “Do whatever you need to do. But don’t let yourself go into adulthood with either. It’s a lethal combination that will destroy you and those around you.”

  “I said I’m trying,” Raphael screams. “I’ve been trying my whole goddamned life.”

  “Steady, achi.” Yossi glances back at the apartment block, then leans in closely toward him. “Listen, if you really want to get better, it’s important that you trust somebody with this. If not me, then someone
else. It’s the only way you’re going to beat it.”

  “I’ll never beat it, achi.” Tears stand out in Raphael’s eyes, and he wipes them with the back of his hand. “There’s no cure for what I have.” He jerks his thumb at the sky. “And He’s no help.”

  “All the more reason to keep someone down here in the loop.” Yossi extinguishes his cigarette on the wall, puts his arm around Raphael, and pulls him close. Raphael rests his head against Yossi’s chest and closes his eyes.

  “Let’s trust each other, achi,” Yossi whispers. He removes Raphael’s kippah and kisses the top of his head, then he presses it into Raphael’s hand. “There’s nothing like the closeness of mutual trust between two people who care for each other.” He kisses Raphael’s head again. “It’s a million times better than sex.”

  Raphael looks into Yossi’s eyes. “What about Alina?”

  Yossi shakes his head. “I don’t know, achi. Things are complicated. Let’s talk about that some other time. We have a whole year ahead of us.”

  “OK, sure.”

  “Anyway, think about it. I’m here for you one hundred per cent.”

  Yossi hops off the wall and walks back to the apartment. “In the meantime,” he calls out, “we have our trip to Savta’s tomorrow for Yom Kippur and your birthday as well. I’m even planning on fasting this year, if you can believe that.”

  “Seriously?” Raphael says, catching up with him.

  “Yes, seriously,” Yossi says, his hand poised on the door to the complex. “I want this to be a fresh start for us, a year to remember.”

  They find Joanie asleep on the sofa in front of a humming test pattern on the TV, her head leaning back, her mouth open. Yossi pulls a couple of pillows and a sheet from the linen cupboard in the hallway and hands them to Raphael and gives him a goodnight hug.

  Raphael returns to the living room and places the pillows at one end of the sofa. He stands over Joanie, considering how best to move her into a horizontal position without waking her up. Sensing Raphael’s presence, Joanie opens her eyes.

  “Where did you go?” she asks. “I didn’t get you into trouble, did I?”