by L. L. Fine
Sweetcute: ???
Noah: When Abraham discovered that God was going to crush Sodom and Gomorrah, he fought to save them. Noah, discovering that God was going to destroy the whole world, didn’t object and just did what he was told. Because of that, he’s not considered a saint.
Sweetcute: So you are styled more on Abraham, eh?
Noah: I won’t judge myself. I’m doing what I can, and this is it.
Sweetcute: I hope you succeed, man. I really hope so.
Noah: Me too.
08/22/01 Email
Hey Mr. Fine,
A few days have passed and I haven’t been in touch - hope you’ve been able to bear my absence heroically... just kidding. The truth is that these days life is beautiful. I'm starting to feel that Lia (and I'm sorry I can’t tell you her real name because inside I scream it all the time) is starting, really, finally, to come to me. It makes me cry with joy. All this time, with all these things that have happened, I didn’t really know what's going on with us.
She doesn’t express emotions, you know? It’s just the way she is, she keeps it to herself. And I can’t read such a person. I need people to be open with me, because I find it hard to be open myself. Don’t think I don’t know it.
All this time she liked me, but didn't really let me get close. Get it? I would imagine so. And I'm in love with her. I admit it. Head over heels in love with her. And all this although I have few positive signals from her. Not that I can see, at least. Maybe someone else would be able to tell me we’re okay, maybe that's how it should be. But who have I got to tell me that?
I have no one in the world. You know that. My family is irrelevant, you already know. Real friends? I never bothered to make any. No one really understands me, what I am, who I am. Rabbi Eligad understand me, but he’s not exactly a friend.
I'm alone, Lir. For years I was alone, I just got used to loneliness. Never had a person who really took me into himself, just wanted to be with me, really opened to me. Lia hasn’t either.
But now I feel she's doing it. Suddenly there's ...
Intimacy. That's the word.
Suddenly I feel intimacy. Such closeness between people. This look in her eyes, the way she places my hand on her bump. Her breath on my neck, her continuous attempts to remove my mask from my face.
Maybe I'll take it off, who knows.
And she whispers to me. Just comes to me, and speaks in a low voice that, from a few inches away, only I can hear.
You know what that means to me? It's like the sun coming out in the middle of the night.
Yesterday, after a few minutes with her, I went to the bathroom. I went in, through the door, and I sat on the toilet and cried. Not bitterly, not weepy.
It was tears of relief. Like a child who finds his mother, I should think. Not really - I've never found my mother. I wouldn’t know how it feels. But if I found ...
So I cried.
And it was fun. It was liberating. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me, I still don’t believe it. But the sun can shine in the night, and how someone, and I'm not talking about a super-someone like Lia - but just a girl, can make you feel such intimacy – is a mystery to me. I am for her and her alone.
And you’d certainly feel like this for Lia. She is so really, really hot that men really respond to her. And I know how you’d look at her. I look at her like that. And she is a super-someone who, if she wanted, could easily be a model. And about her character ... she’s so complicated. So cool, aloof, don't-touch-me like that. Especially to men. Doesn't give a fuck about anyone. There was a rumor she's a lesbian.
And when you're in love you don’t mind of course, but it’s still nice to know you're in love with someone so beautiful, so perfect, so hard to get. And you get her. And she gets you. And you fit together and it's perfect.
It also surrounds you from all directions and injures you, so you ask yourself how you could live so long without this love, how you could exist not knowing that someone is thinking of you and wanting you so much. And why only now, dammit? Why has it happened only now? And you can get angry and rave and cry for all the years you've lived in the dark, in the cold - but in the end you don’t mind, because only an idiot would live in the past when she’s looking at you from a distance of only an inch. Her eyes, you can drown in them.
And your son is in her womb.
And your hands fold together. And your fingers touch. And she slips onto you without noticing that her body wants you by itself, naturally, with no thought at all. And affection is in the air. And intimacy.
Only an idiot would think about the past, when the future is before him and it is so beautiful.
So I decided I did not want to be an idiot anymore. And I yield to the future, yes. And let her be with me, and talk to her about what we’ll do, and what will be, and how we’ll live, and we’ll go out together to the United States, and what would we miss from here?
And get married. And bring more children into the world.
They’ll climb on my neck and back. And they'll laugh at me and look at me just as I looked at my father when he wasn’t yet a dead man walking, with such admiration. Greater love.
Me, a father?
The thought is so strange. I have never been a father. I never thought I'd lived enough. Or would be old enough. Being a father comes with responsibility, you know? Sure you do. Me and responsibility? East and West!
And suddenly I'll be a father, with a father's responsibility. It's exciting to me, as if I have a seal of confirmation that says I’m allowed to. I can, too. I can damn well live.
Which is a relief. I didn’t realize how much.
This is what I wanted to share with you today. There’s also more to say on greater subjects, but that's for another moment.
Sorry for the wait.
Z.
08/22/01 Email to Zomy
Thank you.
08/23/01 Email
Well, now for a technical report.
There is a crown. Basically it’s quite right, as computer software. Its DNA is ready as a program.
Soon we'll finish organizing the biological prototype, make a few experiments, and it will start to breed. It went pretty easily, despite Lia being disturbed by the ease with which this corona is generating mutations. This virus is quite crazy, each time a bit different than the last generation. She says there's a risk, but it’s also our best chance to succeed, because it’ll be hard to vaccinate against it.
I have a dilemma. On the one hand there’s no alternative, and on the other hand this is a step you cannot return from. Sometimes I feel really irresponsible. On the brink of insanity.
Normally we do experiments for years before we release a virus into the air, and probably fix a lot of bugs in the process. There are things in the genome that can pop up in just another 10 generations, but we don't have enough time to calculate that far ahead.
We have two more weeks, barely enough time to build the prototype and initiate breeding. Lia and I intend to get married, and so force the system to keep us together. If it’s in the States or Israel, is up to Keshny, and how much he wants Lia here. If he leaves us here we will have more time to experiment. If not, then so be it.
What has happened? Why don’t you go to chatrooms any more?
08/24/01 Email to Zomy
I'm not in chats because I’m under some pressure at work. We’re launching a new organizational plan (such bullshit - hard to believe that someone’s actually paying for it) that requires a lot of my office hours, that's why I don't do chats. Unlike you, I have to work hard at pretending to be important, while actually I don’t make a difference to anyone. Never mind, with the state of the economy today, at least I have a job. Even though it's nonsense.
So, things are going well for you? I'm happy for you.
Funny, but somehow I hope you stay in Israel. I feel very close to you, and also to Lia, as if you were my neighbors. The Internet makes it feel like you’re distant relatives. That's how his
torical novels are born, which is nice. So stay here, okay?
It’d be strange to think of you so far away, in the US. Although it shouldn’t affect anything – it’s not as if I’d ever bump into you anyway, is it?
But still, the possibility that by happenstance we might be in the same place at the same time, makes me feel good. Maybe you'll be the couple in a cafe next to us? I'll go to cafés in the streets because of you. I'm sure I'll recognize you: glacial green eyes bossing the oxygen mask.
The man behind the oxygen mask - someone has to write a book about it. : -)
And maybe you met me without me even knowing? Did you follow me? Today this thought doesn't threaten me anymore, I even hope it happened. You know what? I’d be surprised if it did not happen. You are very straightforward in the things you do, so for sure you've seen me. How about telling me where it was?
Your turn.
08/24/01 Email
About a year ago, Café Bialik. After that at your home, at your fencing class, and in a few other places. A secret for you: we even talked.
I don’t have an oxygen mask, but I use it when I want to.
Enjoy guessing.
08/25/01 Email to Zomy
A café? A year ago?
That was before you contacted me for the first time ... tricky.
Well, it doesn’t surprise me. You must have followed me for some time. I hope you made the right move, and I hope for both of us that I made the right move ... I'm actually going to publish it, you know. I think it’s great material for a book, and you were right. What else is going on with the pregnancy? Are you all right? And the crown?
Your turn
*
"You don’t have permission, I'm sorry.”
They were back in Keshny's office. More cordial now, smiling. But their smiles froze at Keshny’s words, just as their bodies froze in the air conditioning stream that hit them from above.
"What do you mean, no permission?" Zomy shot back in a surprised voice.
"You do not have permission to leave together for America. Lia’s staying here, in the Research Department. We don't have overseas laboratories, you know. Sorry."
"So... so... I stay here?" Zomy still could not understand Keshny’s exact words.
"No. You, your role here is done. They’re waiting for you overseas. Even though we’re late because the project was ... hacked."
"But I can’t go abroad and leave here ..."
Keshny raised an eyebrow, silencing Zomy mid-sentence. Apart from this slight movement, his face hadn’t moved since the beginning of the conversation. His eyes remained firmly on the papers on his desk, refusing to meet with those of Zomy and Lia.
"There's no way I'm staying here alone, Keshny," Lia cut. "I'm going with him, and that's it."
"Unfortunately," Keshny almost sighed, "it's not up to you. As long as you belong to the team here, you have no such choice. You forget who we are, and where we are."
"I don’t forget anything. And if that’s the case, I won’t be staying here."
"Where exactly will you go?" Keshny directed his eyes at her for the first time.
There was something ominous in this movement. Something threatening in his scornful tone, of his 'Where exactly?' It was not a hint of a question. It was a confident assessment.
Where would she go?
Lia weighed the options. Seemingly, everything was open to her. It was a democracy, wasn’t it? But traveling overseas could be problematic. She could not travel to the US as an independent. She did not have a green card, and was not sure she'd ever be able to get one. Anyway, she’d have to marry Zomy, and fast.
Even then, there was no chance of finding work in the US. She would have to pass exams to get an American medical license. Not a trivial matter, certainly not during pregnancy and childbirth. In addition, her expertise was not, to put it mildly, commonplace outside the Institute. So where would she go, really?
"I'll go where he goes," she said finally.
Keshny raised an eyebrow again.
“It won’t necessarily be a place suitable for a woman and a baby. Anyway, you're essential – here. And this is your place. Voluntarily."
Or involuntarily?
He turned his eyes back to the papers on his desk, closing the discussion, and continued writing the document, whatever business he had been attending to before the two entered the office. Lia and Zomy exchanged glances.
"Then I withdraw from the system," Zomy dropped a bomb.
Keshny looked up. Slowly.
"I don’t think you can do that."
"Why not?"
Keshny cut himself off completely from the documents. Slowly, by design, without haste. It was so transparent, thought Zomy. This whole situation was so transparent. Planned in advance. Perhaps even long before today.
And Keshny’s earlier story, pretending to help them, was all invented. He tricked them. Both.
"You cannot quit, precisely for the reason Vanunu could not resign from where he was. You just know too much. You, too," he waved his hand in the direction of Lia, "if it comes to that."
"I'll take it as high as possible!"
"It came from high as possible. Listen," Keshny softened his tone a little. "Don’t think that I haven't fought for you on it. But ultimately it’s not my decision, and I don’t know how to help you. You’re going abroad within a few days, and you are staying here. It's final."
"And if we get married?" Lia implored.
"Then marry. That won’t change anything."
"I'll have to give birth sometime."
"Three months, six months ... you'll get your maternity leave. But this won’t be retirement, and you'll come back to work here. In the Institute."
"But…" she continued, but Zomy took her hand.
"Forget it, Lia. He can’t help us."
"I'm sorry," Keshny responded.
"It's okay. We'll manage somehow."
And they left the room.
08/28/01 Email
Congratulate me. I'm a married man.
We did it instantly, no messing about. We went to a rabbi I know, not Eligad. Another rabbi, of weddings. A simple one. We did it in a few minutes, Las Vegas style with streimels and gefilte fish made by his wife.
I don’t know how I’ll continue from here on.
The Institute is pushing me to go to the US already. Soon it will be an order, but I'm not ready to travel without my wife. And she’ll not stay without me. We’ve made it clear to everyone. Our immediate boss won’t listen, so I went over him. I sent letters, showed some muscle.
I'm good at showing muscle and Lia’s calling in all her contacts. We'll see what happens.
Re the second issue, it suddenly seems less important and yet the most important in the world, then yes, there is success. The first test tube was incubated with success and the apostles are ready to wash the world with their New Testament. Heresy.
Well, I’m feeling low. I'm pretty well drained of energy. These have been an exhausting few days. No one’s asked me to vacate my room, but it's in the air. I'm already deleting materials from my computer that I don't want anyone to know about, certainly not when I'm not here to control events.
But I think that in the end everything will work out for the best.
It always does, doesn’t it?
*
The shadows lengthened.
Summer lay dying on the ground, covered by the heat of the afternoon. Humid air, in stark contrast to the dry chill of the Institute, threatened to almost physically push Lia back inside. Moisture has this ability, sometimes. Daunting. It has a taste as well. Sometimes this metallic taste, sometimes a salty taste, sometimes bitter. This time it tasted particularly aggressive, like old sweat.
Or was it just the pregnancy playing with her?
She was amused to find out that all the tales about pregnancy were completely true. Whatever they told her about, everything they joked about, suddenly materialized into a strange reality. Confusion, forgetfu
lness, strange sensations, heaviness, lack of fitness (that, in general, was driving her crazy), bizarre food cravings, strange passions, all came to her, lying on a canteen tray of silver plastic.
You're pregnant, babe, she thought to herself. And corrected herself: you're a pregnant, married woman, babe.
The bizarre ceremony, still fresh in her mind, felt like a dream that hadn't ended yet. As if it was still going on, even now.
Strange. She had never thought about what her wedding would be like. She, herself, had been to dozens of weddings. Friends, work colleagues, distant family members. All married, some with traditional ceremonies, some in Cyprus, some with civil ceremonies. But everyone had a wedding party; a party for love and marriage.
Whereas she…
An hour of stale, sweaty, drooling. Of long, incoherent mumblings and an occasional vague glance at her. Heavy traffic. A second-hand veil. Bang and we're done. A cheap broken glass and blessings of good fortune from several bearded witnesses she had never met.
And Zomy. A cartoon of himself, really. Slowly turning blue without his oxygen tank, standing upright with a black skullcap that changed the shape of his head. She wanted him to sit down, but he would not, of course. Me? I'm fine, no …
Until his eyes rolled up, and her hero dropped - didn’t fall, just dropped - to the floor.
Then he took a little oxygen. He completed the ceremony sitting down, of course. Oh, what a ceremony.
And a honeymoon? Not now, don’t think about it yet. Maybe later, in the United States. When there’s time, when we’re organized, hopefully before the birth. Or, God willing, we'll do it here. Depends which way the wind blows.
And really, where had the wind gone? She knotted her eyebrows angrily. The weather could be so oppressive, sometimes, dragging her spirits down. Today was just a warm moist cloud, which affected her hair in just two long minutes of walking to the car.
