by Pnina Baim
“All the clothes I have are from this girl that I went to school with, and she didn’t have jeans, so I don’t have, either,” Gaby explained.
“Want to borrow?” Devorah Leah asked.
“Yeah, that could be cool.” Gaby pulled off the long black skirt, a relic from her seminary days, that she had been wearing every day to gan. The skirt was so dirty; it was beginning to turn gray. She stepped into jeans Devorah Leah handed her.
“Nice,” Devorah Leah said.
Gaby looked at her reflection in the mirror, feeling frisky. “Hey, I like it. What tops do you have?”
“Hmm…how’s this?” Devorah Leah handed her a black fitted jacket with a colorful Japanese flower printed on the back. Gaby put it on. The jacket was cropped, revealing her belly.
Devorah Leah whistled. “Sexy lady!”
Gaby blushed. “I can’t wear this. It’s way too much. I’m gonna wear a tank top underneath.”
“Don’t do that! You have a hot bod. Why cover it up?”
Gaby shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t escape my school completely.” She took off the jeans and jacket, and got into the shower Shira had vacated. Afterwards, she spent a few minutes moisturizing her skin and blowing out her hair. When she left the bathroom, wrapped in just her towel, Devorah Leah and Shira were already dressed, drinking coffee.
“Hey, do either of you have any nail polish?”
“No, why?” Devorah Leah asked.
“I don’t know, I’m just in the mood.” She got dressed, admiring her body in the reflection in the fitted jeans and funky jacket. She spritzed herself with some perfume from Devorah Leah’s collection and ran her hands through her hair. “Okay, I think I’m ready.”
“Wow, all this just for me?” Shira joked.
“Yeah, I want you to be really into me.”
“You know I always am.” Shira linked her arm in Gaby’s. “We have to hurry up. We’re about to miss our ride because you, my princess, took so long to get ready.”
They ran to the front of the kibbutz where Oren sat smoking a cigarette in his dusty red pickup truck. The girls scrambled into the passenger side. “We’re here, we’re here. Sorry we’re late,” Gaby said.
“Hakol b’seder,” Oren said and started driving.
Gaby’s phone rang. It was Hillel. “Hey, baby, what’s up?”
“Good stuff. We’re going to Beit She’an to hang out. Shira knows some happening bars there.”
“You’re going without me?” he said plaintively.
“I know, I wish you were coming with us. But I needed to get out of the kibbutz, I was going stir-crazy. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“Good, do that.”
Leave it to Hillel not to be jealous. “You’re not mad that I’m going, right?”
“What? No, go. Have fun.”
“Thanks, babe. You’re the best.”
“Just no kissing other boys.”
“No kissing? Not even one?”
“No, not even one. You’re only allowed to kiss me.”
Gaby laughed, pleased that Hillel was a little possessive when it counted. “Don’t worry, I’ll save all my kisses for you.”
“Uch, shut up, you two.” Shira grabbed the phone from Gaby. “Hi, Hillel, bye, Hillel.” She hung up the phone and handed it back to Gaby. “Here you go.”
“Um, thanks for that.”
“Come on, do I need to hear this mushy-wushy stuff?”
“God, I’m sorry. Tonight we’ll just focus on you.”
Shira made a face and Gaby said, exasperation making her voice rough, “Can we just have fun tonight?”
“Yes, fun. Let’s do fun. Oren, mutar li?” Shira pointed to the radio.
“B’vakashah,” Oren said.
Shira turned on the radio to full blast, and Gaby and Shira rocked out to folksy Israeli music until they reached Beit She’an. Oren dropped them off on the edge of a pedestrian thoroughfare and drove off.
The square was well-lit and full of people. Beit She’an was only slightly chilly even at this time of the year and people were dressed appropriately for the Mediterranean-type weather, wearing long-sleeved t-shirts and scarves slung around their necks. Restaurants and cafes lined the boulevard, serving Israeli and Middle Eastern food to groups of people sitting at tables on the sidewalk, enjoying their meals al-fresco. Shira pulled Gaby along until they got to an open bar.
“You like karaoke?” Shira asked.
“No, not especially, but tonight I’m up for anything.”
“I like that attitude,” Shira said approvingly. “Let’s go get some drinks.”
Gaby plopped down on a wicker-backed chair next to a checkerboard table and watched the karaoke stand where two people attempted to sing a song while doubled over in laughter.
A minute later, Shira walked back with a panicked expression on her face.
“What’s wrong?” Gaby asked.
“Chen’s here.”
“Oh no.” Chen was like this annoying bug that just wouldn’t go away, and Shira was not one to avoid scratching an itchy bite.
“What should I do?”
“Let’s go find another bar,” Gaby said desperately, trying to grab Shira’s hand and pull her away from this impending disaster.
“He invited me to sit with him.”
“Who cares? Let’s go somewhere else.”
Shira paused, and Gaby saw the battle was already lost. “Fine,” she said, resigned to the inevitable confrontation. “But at least make him come here. Don’t throw yourself all over him.”
“I won’t,” Shira said. She sat down on a chair next to Gaby, visibly shaken, her knees bouncing uncontrollably.
“Hello, you’re trembling. Calm down. Did you order drinks for us?”
Shira looked blank. Gaby sighed and rolled her eyes. Why did Shira care so much about him? What did he ever do for Shira that made him worthy of this type of everlasting devotion? “Fine, I’ll get them.”
She got up to go the bar and saw Chen walking toward them. That was a somewhat appeasing sign. At least he was willing to put in a drop of effort for Shira. Then her smile dropped. Right behind him, with a knowing grin on his face, was Saar.
Chapter Seventeen
Gaby swallowed hard, trying to maintain her composure. “What a coincidence,” she said as Saar approached her.
Saar looked at her quizzically.
“You know, meeting up like this again,” Gaby added.
Saar shrugged. “It’s a small country.” Gaby narrowed her eyes and he added, “My parents live here. I’m home for regilah, for vacation.” He pulled up a chair to sit by the table. Chen had one arm around Shira and was holding her hand in the other one. He was speaking to her in soft, urgent tones, and Shira was looking away. “On second thought, let’s give them some privacy.” Saar motioned to another table.
Gaby bit her lip and looked at Shira. “Fine,” she said and sat down with Saar.
“What’s happening?” Saar asked.
You mean since we hooked up and I never heard from you again, Gaby thought. “Nothing,” she said.
“Not nothing. You’re working with Shira?”
“Yeah, on the kibbutz.”
“Walla. You also spend the whole day milking cows?” Saar pantomimed milking.
Gaby laughed in spite of herself. “No, I could never do that. I work in the gan.”
“So you rock babies the whole day.” Saar made the motions of soothing a baby.
“Are you just gonna mime everything I say?”
“What’s mime?”
“Miming is making motions like to show you’re milking a baby and rocking a cow.”
Saar leaned back and laughed uproariously, slapping his hands together. Gaby looked at him in bewilderment until she realized what she had said. “Whatever, you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to milk a baby or to rock a cow. Even in this country.”
“Oh
, shut up.”
Saar smiled at her. “You left your necklace with me the other time.”
Gaby scowled, all humor leaving her face. “So why didn’t you call to tell me I left it behind?”
“Come on. Are you mad about that? That I didn’t call you?” he said, getting right to the point.
“Well, maybe.”
“Did you think I was going to call you?”
“No, but you know… it would have been nice after… you know…”
“You know, you say you know a lot.” Saar pulled the sleeve of her jacket, trying to get her to look at him. “Come on. Relax. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to do that. But why are you making something out of nothing? We had fun together, and that was the point, right? To help you get over that boyfriend?”
Gaby sighed, feeling defeated.
“You know I’m right,” Saar insisted gently.
“Fine,” Gaby said. “You’re right, I’m wrong and stupid.”
“You’re not stupid. All girls do this. I can’t understand it. They make castles out of…” He motioned with his hands. “How do you say it?”
“Castles out of cards?”
“Cards? I think I mean air,” Saar said, thinking.
“Maybe sand?” Gaby tried.
“You’re losing your English.”
“My English is just fine. Anyway, I have a new boyfriend now.”
“Always with a boyfriend,” Saar smirked.
Did he think she wasn’t capable of having a real boyfriend? She remembered how she confessed that Benny had de-friended her on Facebook, and her cheeks burned in shame. “No, this is a new one.”
“A new one!” he said brightly.
Gaby shrugged off Saar’s sarcasm, thinking about Hillel’s sweet face. “He’s nice.”
“I’m sure he is. I love nice boys.” Saar leaned across the table. “You know what they say about nice boys?”
“What?” Gaby asked.
Saar just winked at her and then jumped up from his seat. He walked over to the karaoke machine, where a cute girl had just finished her recital of a Celine Dion song. He whispered something to her, and she giggled.
A minute later, the first familiar beats of What Makes You Beautiful by One Direction started playing through the speakers. Saar took the microphone off the stand and started singing with surprising gusto and skill. He walked around the cordoned-off area of the open bar, and in minutes had the whole place singing with him. Soon, everyone was standing up and shaking their bodies to the beat as they sang nana nana nana.
Gaby stared at him, her mouth gaping open in shock, unable to move, even as Shira and Chen stood up to join the festivities. Saar made his way around the crowd and stood in front of her, singing in an impossibly attractive baritone, “…that’s what makes you beautiful…”
Gaby, simultaneously mystified and charmed, sucked in her cheeks to keep herself from grinning like an idiot, trying to pretend she could be indifferent in the face of such an aggressive display of flattery. When the song was done, the crowd clapped and cheered, with Shira and Chen the loudest of them all.
Saar waved to his fans and returned the mike to the stand. An appreciative patron handed him a beer, and he gulped it, handing the glass back to the bartender. He ordered two more, and brought them over to Gaby’s table.
Gaby took a glass and sipped. “That was really something.”
“Thanks,” Saar said with mock modesty.
“I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”
“I can do a lot of things you don’t know about.”
“Very funny,” Gaby said, but she was smiling. It was hard not to forgive him when he was trying so hard. Anyway, it’s not like he was wrong. She was making something out of nothing. If she could move on, maybe they would be friends. It would be nice to have more friends.
Saar finished his second glass and looked over at Shira and Chen. The communal singing seemed to have relaxed Shira as well, and she was leaning her head against Chen’s shoulder, their fingers intertwined on the table.
“It’s your turn now,” Saar said.
“No way, not in a million years.”
“Okay, so let’s just stare at those two fools making up or breaking up or doing both at the same time.”
“I know, it’s so ridiculous.”
“Want to walk around a little bit?”
Gaby hesitated, knowing it wouldn’t be a good idea to be alone with Saar, even if they were friends. But what would be the harm in letting Shira work out her issues with Chen in privacy? “Okay, just for a little bit,” Gaby said. They said their goodbyes to Chen and Shira, promising to meet up later.
Gaby walked next to Saar, out of the bar into the street. He was wearing worn jeans and a blue t-shirt that looked at least ten years old and showcased his lean physique perfectly. Then, catching herself checking him out, she quickly looked away.
Old posters were plastered on the side of buildings with pictures of Gilad Shalit, the soldier who had been captured by Hamas years earlier and hadn’t been heard from since. As she walked past the posters, Gilad’s eyes seemed to follow, beseeching her. Chills ran down her spine, and she jumped involuntarily.
Saar put his hand on her back. “Are you cold?” he asked.
“No, it’s just those pictures of Gilad are freaking me out a little.”
“That’s the point.”
Gaby looked at Saar pensively. “What would you do if you got captured?”
“Blow myself up in millions of pieces so they can’t capture me or my body,” Saar said without hesitation.
“You’re joking. You wouldn’t actually kill yourself. You’re just saying that.”
Saar shook his head. “I mean it. I’m a soldier. I’ve agreed to give up my life for Israel if that’s what I need to do. Whenever a soldier is captured, or even just his body, there’s all these demonstrations, and the media attention,” Saar waved at the walls of posters, “and the parents set up tents in front of the Prime Minister’s house and have these month-long protests, and then the government caves in, because how can you tell a mother you won’t make every effort to bring back her son, and they make the craziest deal under all this pressure, releasing hundreds of prisoners for one dead body. It just encourages the terrorists.”
“Well, what do your parents think? Are they also willing to let you sacrifice yourself just like that?”
“That’s why I’m gonna blow myself up as soon as I see the keffiyehs surrounding me. That way, I’ll take some of them down with me and my parents won’t have to struggle to decide what to do.”
“You might have a point.” Gaby thought for a minute. “But how would they identify you if you blow yourself up?”
“You see my diskiyot?” Saar pulled out his dog tags from underneath his t-shirt. “I have another pair that I put in my boots when I’m on duty. Also, when I first signed up, I gave a blood sample; they took pictures of my teeth…”
“You mean dental records?”
“Yeah, dental records. So in case there’s no body, because my blood and bones and my brain pieces are dripping into the ground, they’ll have all that other proof for identification.”
Gaby jerked back, speechless.
Saar put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a one-armed hug. “Yihiyeh b’seder. Nobody’s dying. Everything is fine.” Then he added, “I mean, nobody is dying right now. But probably sometime soon.”
Gaby made a face at him and pushed him away. “Shut up! You are such an idiot.”
“Girls keep telling me that. I wonder why.” He stopped walking. “Hey, you want to go check that out?”
Gaby looked to where Saar pointed to an unidentified doorway. “What is that?”
“It’s a club. You know…” Saar waved his hands above his head wildly.
How could she resist such charm? He was being so open, and they were having a good conversation. He wasn’t even flirting with her. Didn’t friends go together to clubs al
l the time? “If you promise to dance like that, I’d love to watch.”
“Sababa,” Saar said and walked up to the black-painted entrance, where two big Russian men stood outside.
“Saar,” Gaby started.
“What?”
“You’ll behave, right?”
“Me? Always.” Saar paid the cover fee and they put out their hands to be stamped.
They walked through the dark, noisy club, Gaby moving closer to Saar so as not to lose him. Saar turned slightly and grabbed her hand, pulling her into a larger room. Lanterns mounted onto the earthen walls gave off the only light in the room full of Israelis jumping up and down to booming trance music.
Saar, moving his head in time to the music, mouthed loudly to Gaby, “Want a drink?”
She nodded her consent and he left her alone to get them drinks. Gaby edged back until she was against the wall, feeling uncomfortable with this mass of humanity wildly dancing with each other in every pairing possible; boys dancing with girls, boys bump-dancing into other boys, girls gyrating with their friends.
Saar came back with two iced drinks, and Gaby gratefully drank hers quickly without bothering to ask what was in it.
“So what do you think?” Saar asked, leaning in close so he could yell in her ear.
“It’s good, thanks.”
“No, what do you think of the place?”
“It’s okay,” Gaby said, happy that Saar cared what she thought.
“You’re not really feeling it,” he said, more stating than asking.
“I’m just not into this kind of music. It’s cool, though,” she said, wanting to seem as chilled as Saar.
“I’m gonna fix that,” Saar said. “That outfit is too hot to waste standing against a wall.” He ran a hand around her waist quickly.
Gaby bit her lip against her smile, and Saar winked at her. She watched him elbow his way through the crowd and speak to the DJ, an Ethiopian who had a startling similar appearance to Idan Raichel.
A minute later, he joined her with a smug smile on his face.
“What?” Gaby said, smiling in return, although a little confused at what he had accomplished.
Saar took her hands and turned her in a circle. The music stopped, and then started again, and I Love It by Icona Pop filled the room.
