by Uzi Eilam
Nurit’s eyes were still interested, and Gideon, flattered, continued. “When I finished my degree, I was flooded with job offers. I chose a hi-tech security company. I found it interesting, and I believed I could contribute to the country’s security.”
“You men always think that security is above all,” Nurit grumbled. “Even then, I tried to tell you that there are other, better ways to contribute to society and to the state.” She became more animated, her enthusiasm so familiar to Gideon. “Ever since the Six Day War and the occupation it resulted in, I have no faith in your defense establishment.”
Gideon was astonished. Nurit’s ideological passion hadn’t faded over the years. He was determined to avoid an argument.
“Well, I gained professional experience,” he continued as if she hadn’t said a word, “and I found myself drawn to the broader scheme of things. I did my master’s in systems analysis. It combined my love of math and the managerial experience I’d gained in the industry when I was in the army. Now I work for SRI as a research associate.”
“Sounds like you were all work and no play. What about love?”
“I had a few relationships, but none of them lasted. I couldn’t forget you.” He looked her in the eye, searching for the empathy he’d noticed before. “After I completed my master’s—with honors, may I say—the road to Stanford was short. I took the usual path: someone recommended me, I received a scholarship, and…”
Nurit’s look said she wanted to hear about Suzy.
“It was an offer I couldn’t refuse,” Gideon continued stubbornly. “I didn’t have a family to take care of, so it was easy to pack up a small bag and take off for California.”
“Where did you live? How did you manage?”
“Luckily, I found a place in Escondido Village. Student digs. On campus. But also, an American Jewish couple appeared out of nowhere—Michael and Barbara Goldman—and offered to ‘adopt’ me. I was like a ‘lone soldier’ in the IDF, and those well-to-do people were looking for an Israeli student to take care of. The Goldman home soon became a second home to me. That’s where I met their daughter, Susan. She was a political science major at the University of San Francisco. She was attractive, talented, and very American. We went out a few times whenever she came home on vacation, and after a few months, with her parents’ encouragement, we decided to tie the knot.”
Nurit put her hand on his. “So you had to move all the way to California just to find a wife?”
Her hand was warm and pleasant to the touch.
“At the time, I was looking for a home. To feel like I belonged. Somehow, the attention and warmth the Goldmans lavished on me made me feel like I had parents. I liked Suzy… Actually, we’re living with her parents now too, which feels a little weird to me at this stage of our lives, but Suzy’s happy. I can’t really complain—their home is enormous, so we have our privacy. SRI was willing to pay for our housing, but I think that Suzy’s happier with her mother right there.”
Gideon felt a twinge in his heart. Suddenly, he had no idea why he hadn’t given in to Nurit back then. “Nuri,” he said softly, as he pulled his hand away, “I have to get back to work. We’ve hardly had time to catch up.”
“Would you like to meet again?”
“I’d love to! I have so much to tell you, and so many questions still to ask you.”
“We can meet here. In a week, same time?”
“Why wait for so long?”
“Well, actually, I’m in Berkeley all week. I haven’t told you about that yet.”
The waitress brought the change and thanked them for the generous tip that Gideon had given her with a big bright smile.
They parted with a hug that told them both what they needed to know.
They still had feelings for each other.
2.
Gideon limped slightly as he walked toward his bike. Nurit watched him merge with the bustling traffic. He was obviously used to it. She watched his movements closely. He still pedaled with his knees pointing outward. Only when he was engulfed by the traffic did she turn away. She couldn’t concentrate on her yellow legal pad, and instead, she opened her elegant crocodile-skin purse and took out a mirror and lipstick.
Is that how he saw me? She wondered while examining the wrinkles on the sides of her nose and at the corners of her eyes. She ran her hands over her waist and stomach that had once been firm and strong, before the two kids came along.
I must start going to the gym again, she thought. “Very American,” he called his wife. It is enough to know that there is no great love there. I think I still love him just as much. And he’s still so stable, so stubborn, and he seems as naïve as the day he left the kibbutz. He’s everything that Yudke isn’t. But if we’d stayed together, would he still be the same? Would our relationship have lasted or run dry like my nonexistent relationship with Yudke? He said he had an endless list of questions, but what about mine? I have enough questions of my own, and I still don’t know a thing about that Suzy he married. I didn’t ask him about his research. Not that I’m that interested in the technical or scientific details, but I’m curious to know how he feels there. And I didn’t get the chance to ask him if he still played the flute.
A wave of memories flooded Nurit, sweeping her back to their first date. “A musical date,” they’d called it. A friend of hers from piano class told her about the cute flutist from the kibbutz movement’s orchestra that had convened on their kibbutz for a week of rehearsals. “He’s wonderful,” she reported, “and I’m playing variations of ‘Green Sleeves’ for flute and piano. Come to hear us play.”
Nurit took her up on her offer. Each variation that the duo played was better than the one before. It was love at first sound, and by the end of the week, Gideon and Nurit were inseparable. Music had connected them so strongly that it overcame all their differences.
Nurit gathered her papers and left for home. She turned onto Sand Hill Road and wound through the wooded hills. She loved the thrill of controlling the car as it climbed the bends to the top. The company that Yudke worked for took great care of its people, and the view from their house was breathtaking. As soon as she was through the front door, she went straight to the music cabinet. All these years, she’d kept all the variations of “Green Sleeves.” She now put the sheet music on her black grand piano and began to play the piano’s part as if Gideon and his flute were right there. She was so absorbed in the music and her memories that she didn’t hear the door open.
“What are you doing at home?” Yudke asked in surprise. “Weren’t you planning on being in Berkeley for another couple of days?”
“And what are you doing at home in the middle of the day?”
“I came to pick up my laptop. I’m on my way to a meeting.”
“With who?” Nurit asked, trying to show interest.
She decided not to tell him about running into Gideon. Maybe next week, after I see him again and find out more.
“Since when are you interested in anything I do?”
“Since when do you come home in the middle of the day? Can’t I ask you about your plans for the day?”
“Sorry, I can’t elaborate. And anyway, I’m late as it is.”
“With all your secrecy, you’re still surprised that I don’t usually ask? Go then. I won’t keep you.” Nurit swung back to the piano and placed her hands on the keys.
Yudke left without another word, and Nurit tried to wrap herself in her memories again. She played the piano part of “Green Sleeves,” but the magic was gone. Her anger at Yudke and the butterflies in her stomach after seeing Gideon perturbed her. For a moment, she considered calling Gideon and trying to move their meeting forward, but then she realized that they hadn’t exchanged numbers.
The house suddenly felt deserted. Hollow, even, with Yudke’s evasiveness still echoing through the walls. Nurit longed for her tiny apartment
in Berkeley as she made her way to the kitchen. The fridge was empty except for two-day-old bread and white cheese with olives. She made herself a sandwich anyway. The coffee jar, she discovered, was empty. Yudke didn’t bother at all with the house, and Nurit found herself filling the fridge and cleaning up the house every weekend.
Traffic wasn’t heavy, and driving past the blue carpet of water in San Francisco Bay calmed the storm brewing inside her. Finally, she could think calmly about the research paper she was starting to write. She had only two more preparatory courses, without which she couldn’t submit her dissertation, and she promised herself that she would read the set material that very day.
Darkness descended on the quiet neighborhood as Nurit slid into her parking spot. Her apartment was warm and welcoming, with two light cream-colored armchairs and a low brazilwood table in the sitting nook to greet her.
A floor lamp shone softly, lighting the living room and the bookshelves along the wall. The pastel-green walls were soothing. She tossed the sandwich she’d brought from home in the trash, together with her conversation with Yudke, if you could call it that, which was still echoing through her mind. Instead, she piled her plate with chunks of Brie and cherry tomatoes and poured herself a glass of Chardonnay from the open bottle in the compact fridge. She popped two slices of whole-grain bread in the toaster. What would her parents have said—to them, cheese was only yellow cheese or white cheese… Bread was just plain white bread. They would probably have considered this capitalist degeneration.
While the bread was toasting, she changed into a new pure-silk nightie. Despite her lack of spare cash, she just hadn’t been able to resist it.
3.
Gideon pedaled along as if in a dream. Seeing Nurit had brought back misty memories of his carefree life in the children’s house, and of his love of nature and the archeological surprises in the rocky hills overlooking the kibbutz that he and his buddies had discovered all on their own… Memories of a cave hidden in the hills…of Nimer, the boy from the neighboring Arab village he had become friends with. He was flooded with sadness at how that friendship was lost to the War of Independence and to the voluntary (or forced?) exile to a refugee camp near Jenin of Nimer’s whole village.
He fell in love with the wonderful world of music when he was still a kid. The flute, which had always touched his soul, became his passion, and he always found the time to develop his playing skill and to discover its secrets. The flute was also responsible for his meeting Nurit. The romance that was sparked from the very first note they played together grew and flourished. Their love of music had been a bridge for him and Nurit when they had issues to deal with.
It’s a little strange, he thought as he rode through the narrower streets of Palo Alto, having these memories here, so far away in both time and place. He remembered Nurit’s almost hysterical concern for him when he was serving in the paratroopers and during retaliation operations. She not only feared for his life, she also objected to the actions themselves. The Hashomer Hatzair kibbutz education they had both received—socialist and left-wing—preached a bi-national state, among other things. Thinking about how anything and everything connected with his military activity had provoked Nurit’s inherent antibodies and clouded their relationship brought the pain back.
As soon as he had finished his army service, they decided to leave their kibbutzim. Nurit left her kibbutz in a series of explosions that scorched the earth. She couldn’t stand the rigid education that her parents and the other kibbutz members believed in, and she cut herself off from her family, her childhood friends, and her entire past. Gideon, as usual, managed to leave in a quieter, more orderly fashion. He felt restricted and sheltered in his own kibbutz, and he knew the world had so much more to offer. Nevertheless, he had his own dilemmas and inner crises to deal with. The other kids had looked up to him, and he had to get used to being a small fish in a big pond when he left.
Gideon was accepted to the Technion, and Nurit began studying history and international relations at the Hebrew University. The distance between Haifa and Jerusalem didn’t weaken their bond. Perhaps it even strengthened it.
What made Nurit end our relationship so bluntly? Gideon had asked himself that painful question for quite some time. True, she had been eager to get married and he hadn’t felt ready. She’d persistently brought up her desire to have a family, and he had later realized that she was trying to fill the void that remained after she’d cut herself off from her past. Did I make a mistake? Was I too selfish? Maybe I should have given in to her wishes even before graduating, before I could support a family.
He envied the speed with which Nurit had built her family nest, almost as soon as they’d broken up, yet he could tell that she wasn’t happy, despite their wealth. It entered his mind that she hadn’t learned the importance of economic security from her Hashomer Hatzair education, and that in any case, he couldn’t have given her what Yudke Avni, the son of a wealthy Jerusalem contractor, had to offer. At least for the first few years of his career.
He wondered if he could have reached the same accomplishments with the single-minded Nurit by his side. He thought about the promotion he had been given when he was still doing reserve duty with the paratroopers every year. It was an invaluable experience, and it related directly to the scientific track he was on at the time. The intense impression that his legendary commander Arik Sharon’s tactical planning made on him inspired him and influenced his choice to go into systems analysis research. He believed that there must be a way to express Sharon’s planning genius through mathematical models.
Thus began the beautiful period of the doctoral studies he did in systems analysis at Stanford University. Gideon was free of any family commitments and could devote all the time he needed to succeed in his studies. Michael and Barbara Goldman appeared in his life, and he had no idea how. And there was Suzy… When he thought about her, about how cool and stiff their relationship had become, he was overcome by a wave of guilt.
Kindhearted, gentle Suzy. She granted him more freedom than he dared to ask for. Their son Amitai and daughter Noam were born when they were still living in Israel, and she devoted herself to the home and to raising the children, freeing Gideon almost completely to do his own thing. She didn’t fit in socially with the locals, mainly because of her different background, but she did raise the children almost singlehandedly in a loving and warm home. They turned out 100 percent Israeli, evident from their military service. Only Suzy remained detached…
Did I do enough? he asked himself. Could I have helped her bridge the cultural gap?
Gideon was in no rush, and he cycled slowly on. He liked riding through the parks and the university campus, feeling like he was moving along the kibbutz’s footpaths, time losing all meaning. The bike paths were always packed with riders. Gideon recognized many of them, those who persisted, and he greeted them with a nod. Suddenly, he felt a strange shiver run down his spine, as if he were being watched from behind. He turned his head but saw nothing unusual. He shook the feeling off as his thoughts returned to Nurit.
***
“Good day, Dr. Ben-Ari,” Nancy, the system analysis department secretary, greeted him when he arrived at work. “How are you today?”
“Thanks, Nancy, I’m fine,” he replied with a slightly forced smile.
“Is something bothering you? Can I spoil you with a cup of coffee?” she offered kindly, her short black hair contrasting with her kind green eyes. Nancy took good care of her polished appearance, from her nails to her clothes.
She was always willing to help.
The smell of coffee filled the room as Gideon sipped it from a delicate porcelain cup. He couldn’t bring himself to even touch the keyboard; he was still so absorbed in the memories that flooded him in unstoppable waves.
The invitation to join SRI was a gift from heaven for him and Suzy. It gave her the opportunity to go home, to her friends and fam
ily in Menlo Park, and it gave Gideon the freedom to devote himself entirely to his research. He was happy with Dr. Deutsch’s proposal. And they worked well together.
Gideon took a deep breath, a long sip, and finally, his hands placed themselves on the keyboard, as if of their own free will.
4.
The following morning was clear and cold, and Gideon enjoyed the energetic ride along his favorite route. The cold winter mornings were the ideal time to think without interruption and for new solutions to research problems to be born.
That morning, he had one recurring thought: I really must get to know my research assistants better. As he entered the building, he decided that there was no time like the present, and he was determined to sit down separately with each of them. He trusted Dr. Deutsch’s judgment—they’d been working for the company for almost a year before they were assigned to him, and he’d seen their CVs, but still, now that he was ready to delegate, he wanted to know a little bit more about them before allowing them access to anything important. He’d been working on his own since relocating.
He knocked on the door to the office the assistants shared and, without waiting, opened it and asked them to come to his office.
He couldn’t resist and decided to take advantage of the special treatment Nancy always gave him. Imagine if I’d asked the kibbutz secretary, Smadar, to make us coffee. She would have frozen me with a single glare.
The office was so different from the kibbutz, where everyone was equal, but he enjoyed his status at work. And the food—he never stopped being thrilled by anything that wasn’t roast chicken on Friday nights, fried fish on Tuesdays. Every Friday night. And every Tuesday.
“Morning, Gideon! You’re in early!” Nancy smiled brightly. “Any particular reason?”
“I’m planning to meet with Bill and Bob. You know—my research assistants,” Gideon said quietly, suddenly unsure of himself. “I hoped that the kind of coffee that only you know how to make can break the ice between us. I’m meeting Bob first—Robert Johannsen—and then Bill—William Abrahams.”
