A Life Worth Living

by Pnina Baim

  “That’s nice,” Elanit interrupted, without elaborating on what was nice about being named after a child who had been brutally killed. “Your hours will be eight to five and the pay is four thousand sh’kalim. You will be paid on a monthly basis.”

  Gaby sucked in her cheeks so that her mouth won’t gape open. Why do people say that it’s hard to make money in Israel? In just one month, she’ll have enough money to buy Rafi his tefillin. And, not to rub it in, but it was pretty cool that she was going to be working for an institution like Yad Vashem. There was no way anyone else she knew was doing anything even half as prestigious. All those girls back home were pushing paper around a desk, and she was going to be doing something important, though she still wasn’t clear exactly what that thing was.

  “Although our office is not located in the actual museum, I would recommend you take in a visit soon, so you can see the big picture of what we do. Admission is free.”

  “Why aren’t you located in the museum?” Gaby was curious enough to ask.

  “There are a lot of tourists and celebrities who visit the museum, and we don’t want the commotion to be a distraction.”

  Gaby nodded, and then realized that Elanit was still waiting for her to agree to the position.

  “Yes, that sounds great,” she agreed quickly.

  Elanit gave her a brief, knowing smile and sent Gaby to the HR office to fill out some forms and be given a login and password for the database. Then she was sent to another office where she was told to find Cobi, who would help get her started.

  The door to Cobi’s office was propped open, and she could hear voices talking in a mixture of Hebrew and English. The room was fairly plain, painted the same clean white and floored with the same speckled tile as everywhere else in Israel, but it was bathed in light that streamed in from the two large opened windows. The light, combined with the light blond wood of the desks, gave the room an almost ethereal feeling, like you were floating instead of standing in place.

  When her eyes got used to the light, she saw two twentysomethings sitting at desks pushed against the wall. A third desk stood against the perpendicular wall. They perked up when she walked in, brazenly checking her out.

  Gaby felt a little silly in her corporate uniform in front of the two of them, a girl – cute in a curvy, fresh-faced way, with short black hair kept out of her face with a flowered headband and thick black frames – and a young man, his red curly hair grown out to comical proportions, wearing a gray, woolen skinny tie on top of a white t-shirt.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Shalom,” the girl said. Her face was friendly and welcoming, and Gaby immediately relaxed.

  “Hi, I’m Gaby. I just started here,” Gaby offered.

  “Oh, madhim! We were hoping to get someone soon. We’re so backed up,” the girl said. “I’m Tali, and that’s Cobi.” She pointed to Cobi, who smiled in greeting.

  “You spoke to Elanit?” Cobi asked.

  “Yeah, she said I should work on the tapes from the testimonies of Orthodox survivors in English.”

  “Sababa. You can have them all.” He began sorting through CDs stacked in a pile on his desk. “Here you go.” He handed her a pile of about ten CDs.

  Gaby looked at them dumbly. “What am I supposed to do with them?”

  “You go sit at that desk,” he said in an exaggeratedly slow tone, pointing to the empty desk. “You put the CD in the computer like this, and you put in the headphones like so, and you start typing.”

  “Really? I just start?” She was sure there would be some type of formal training period first.

  “Yeah,” Cobi said in a normal voice. “First, you type it on this program.” He opened up a file on the computer. “Then, afterwards, we have to sift through the information and categorize the dates and the people, and we put it in the database.” He adjusted the light on the monitor and shifted it downward. “Keep your computer screen position down like this, so you can see the text.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. Why is it so bright here?”

  “Sometimes you need light to dispel the darkness,” he said sagely and Tali laughed.

  Gaby sat down and stared at the blank form. What a wonder that, of all things, her religious background and the mere fact that she grew up in the United States helped her get her first real job. There was no time to ruminate about the series of coincidences that brought her here, though. In front of her stood the stack of CDs, waiting to be transcribed.

  Cobi had gone back to his desk and was playing music, something folksy she didn’t recognize. Taped to the wall above his desk was a black-and-white poster of a group of young refugees on a ship, arms around each other’s necks and huge smiles on their faces. HATIKVAH was scrawled on top. Tali had pasted a large cut-out of a colorful butterfly on top of her space. Gaby looked up at her blank wall, still waiting to be decorated.

  She put her earphones in and pressed play. Then, just as the date was stated, she stopped it. Soft music was coming out of Cobi’s computer and he was tapping his keyboard to the rhythm.

  “What are you playing?” she asked Cobi.

  “Hallelujah.”

  “Oh, I love Jeff Buckley!”

  “No,” said Cobi, with a much-put-upon sigh. “Leonard Cohen was the one who composed it.”

  He looked at Gaby, sitting at her desk, not making a move to start her work, and said, “You know what, he has this great other song. It’s called The Partisan. Here, let me play it for you. It’ll help get you in the mood.” He scrolled through his song list and selected the song, raising the volume so Gaby could hear the mournful singer, crooning of resistance, death, and the price of freedom.

  After it was done, Gaby sat quietly.

  “Nobody does it like Leonard Cohen, right?”

  Gaby managed a half smile. If it was possible, she was even more apprehensive about delving into all these painful stories than she was before she heard the song.

  “Go get them, tiger,” Cobi said with a wink.

  Still, Gaby just sat there.

  “Just start,” Tali said. “Don’t be scared.”

  Gaby smiled, embarrassed to be caught so anxious in front of these two cool-as-a-cucumber veterans. Then, she plugged her ears again with the ear buds, took a deep breath, and pressed play.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Gaby took off her headphones and groaned. This last transcript was tough. She reviewed the notes she had typed while watching the filmed interview. The survivor was a diminutive man who had grown up in the hills of Czechoslovakia, and spoke in a stoic, unemotional voice about how he had lost his wife and children, and then remarried and moved to Israel, where he started another family. Now, his descendants numbered in the dozens. If his four older children had still been alive, he would have at least four times as many descendants.

  It was hard to absorb the destruction. She couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to have children and not be able to take care of them, but to watch them suffer and die. How did survivors wake up every day and continue living?

  She opened up a web browser and started surfing idly, letting her mind relax as she looked over meaningless pictures of celebrity make-ups and break-ups. She vaguely thought of going on Facebook, but she had gotten bored of the repetition and mindless chatter that her old New York friends thought was essential to post. Who really cared about what you ate for dinner and if you got a good deal on a sleeveless dress at Banana Republic?

  The Israelis she knew, like Shira, Devorah Leah and Hillel, tended not to have much of an Internet presence, only updating their profiles sporadically. She had once, guiltily, tried to internet-stalk Saar late one night when she was the last one in the office, but he, unsurprisingly, was nowhere to be found.

  Elanit walked into the office and immediately Gaby straightened up and clicked the browser shut. Elanit was a no-nonsense woman and didn’t take kindly to small talk or down-time while on the job. “Gaby, you have a minute?” Elanit asked.

  “Yeah,
of course,” Gaby said, hoping Elanit hadn’t caught her spacing out.

  Elanit came over to Gaby’s computer and pulled up the last report Gaby had uploaded. She began scrolling through the report, highlighting text. “Look here, and here, and here. What do you see?”

  Gaby looked askance at Elanit, then at the backs of Tali and Cobi who were assiduously ignoring the two of them. She looked backed at the screen. “Um, I don’t know. A report?”

  “You need to be more careful about spelling and grammar errors. I don’t want to waste time fixing all your mistakes.”

  Gaby’s mouth opened, but nothing came out as she struggled to find an excuse to defend herself with. Finally, she mumbled, “But there’s no spell-check on this program.”

  Elanit looked at her with disapproval. “So spell-check it yourself.”

  Gaby pursed her lips as she looked at the pages of report she had painstakingly written, listening to an audio file over and over again as she scrambled to get every detail of the story of a family with five young children as they fled from place to place, trying to stay ahead of the Nazis. “I thought I was doing a good job,” she said softly.

  “I didn’t say you weren’t doing a good job. But part of doing a good job is making sure your work is error-free.”

  “Okay,” Gaby said, trying not to feel deeply hurt. She had been so proud of the work she had done so far, and now Elanit was telling her it wasn’t good enough.

  “Listen, I normally only hire college graduates, and I took a chance on you. You need to prove to me that I didn’t make a mistake.”

  “Okay,” Gaby said again, looking down at her keyboard. Was this where it was going to start all over again? Someone telling her she wasn’t good enough?

  “Good. Have a good night,” Elanit said, and left the office.

  Gaby bit her lip and stared bitterly at her computer. She was working as hard as she could. Going over the lengthy document and trying to proofread it herself seemed like an impossible task. It seemed easier to just get up and leave all the horror stories behind. She wasn’t getting paid enough to stick this out.

  “Don’t get upset,” Tali said. “She yells at everyone all the time.”

  “Really?” Gaby asked, hoping Tali wasn’t saying that just to make her feel better.

  “Yeah. She yelled at me for not dressing professionally.”

  “What about you?” Gaby asked Cobi.

  “Nobody yells at me, baby,” Cobi said, peering intently at his screen.

  “Nice try. She yelled at him for his English. She told him if he doesn’t improve his vocabulary, she’ll fire him.”

  “No way. She said that?” Gaby’s eyes widened in delighted shock. Not that she was happy they got criticized, but it was nice to know she wasn’t the only one who wasn’t completely up to par.

  “Yes, she did,” Cobi said proudly.

  “So what did you do?”

  “I started reading books in English to get better.”

  “Oh,” Gaby said, deflated. She had been hoping for details of some mega blow-out, not that Cobi had shaped up rather than get shipped out.

  “There is no need to be offended if she gives you rebuke. Elanit doesn’t mince her words,” Cobi slowly said, articulating each word carefully. “But at least you know she’s being frank with you.”

  “Wow, I see the books really helped,” Gaby said. “Is your English good enough to proofread my notes?” she added, ignoring the fact that she was the only native English speaker in the group.

  “Here, I’ll show you a trick.” Cobi came over to Gaby’s computer, and standing so close to her she could smell his cologne, he cut and pasted the whole file into a Microsoft Word document. All of Gaby’s mistakes were immediately highlighted in glaring red and green squiggles. “Now, before you submit anything to Elanit, just go through the Word doc and fix your mistakes.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Gaby said gratefully. “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” Cobi said, pushing Gaby’s desk chair straight so she faced her computer. “Now get to work.”

  Gaby laughed and turned back to her screen. She put her hands on the keyboard and, following Cobi’s advice, got back to work.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The sun was setting, turning the sky a warm orange. The stones of Jerusalem seemed to be more vibrant than ever as they absorbed the last light of the sun.

  Gaby hurried along with the rest of the rush-hour crowd. She reached the bus station, and joined the group of commuters staring up the road for the bus. It had been a long day, but it felt good to be part of the working force, coming home after putting in a full day at the office. This was way better than being stuck in seminary, or rocking babies for hours on end in the kibbutz. At Yad Vashem, she was accomplishing something.

  It had taken a few weeks, but she was slowly but surely getting the hang of the job. She finally felt like she had somewhere to be, with important work to do. It was hard not to feel superior to the girls she left behind in Brooklyn and seminary – not that she was trying hard not to feel superior – but she had real work to do, not meaningless busywork in some corporation. She had even gotten comfortable enough to decorate her office space with a painting of Hebron that Rafi had done in an after-school club.

  Of course, it was difficult to listen to the CDs, and watch the DVDs, and then transcribe the information into the database. Often, she found herself having to rewind the recording repeatedly to catch mumbled details. The survivors were old and usually had thick European accents that Gaby struggled to make sense of. The details of families on the run, life-time neighbors turning hostile, children murdered in front of their parents, and the brutal agony of the camps was simply horrifying. It was hard to disengage and simply jot down the pertinent details, instead of imagining the event in explicit bloody detail as she was wont to do.

  But regardless of how often Gaby needed to get a drink of water or walk outside to compose herself, she was happy she took the job. Because of her, these testimonies would be preserved for all time. Because of her, the dead had names and the living were comforted.

  It was a shame Serena didn’t get this job. With her fascination with the Holocaust, she would have been a natural fit. Gaby made a mental note to email Serena later and see how she was doing. Last she heard, Serena was working as a counselor for children with special needs. Hopefully, she was happy there.

  The bus came, and she squeezed her way on, handing her Rav-Kav to the driver. She held onto the metal bar as the driver swerved his way around the busy streets of the city. The bumps and turns were making Gaby slightly nauseous, and she regretted getting onto the bus. It wasn’t that long of a drive; it was probably walking distance. She quickly went over the route in her head, surprising herself how well she knew the streets of Jerusalem. Tomorrow, she’d try getting to the Central Bus Station by foot.

  The bus pulled into the station, and Gaby got off with relief. She stood on the long security line to get inside the building. When she reached the front of the line, she let the guard check her pink-and-black handbag, and waited to collect it on the other side. Watching the guard check her bag made her think of Hillel and how he had taken care of her when he was stationed at the Central Bus Station. The memory made her miss him intensely, and as she rode the escalator to the second floor, she impulsively called him.

  The call rang a few times, and then went to voice mail.

  “Hey,” she said. “I’m in the tachanah merkazit, and it always makes me think of you. I hope everything is good…” she trailed off, feeling stupid. “Anyway, have a good night,” she said quickly, and hung up the phone.

  Shaking her head, she went onto the bus and found a seat. Why would Hillel want to talk to her? He hadn’t spoken to her since the night she came home from the kibbutz. There was no reason to think he was ready to forgive her.

  Just as the bus pulled out, and she was ready to sink into one of her self-flagellation moods, her phone rang.

  “Hi,”
Hillel said.

  “Hi,” Gaby said, smiling in the darkness. He called her back! He must still like her a little bit if he called her back so quickly.

  “I got your message.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, what’s up?” Gaby said for lack of anything better. She couldn’t just launch into the details of her life after all this time.

  “It’s going good.”

  It was silent for a minute. Gaby scrambled to think of something to say that wouldn’t seem too presumptuous.

  “One of my friends had a connection with this shipping company, and he thinks I could work for them when I get out of the army,” Hillel offered.

  “Really? That’s awesome. I’m so happy for you. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

  “Thanks,” Hillel said, and Gaby could hear the smile in his voice.

  “I also got a job,” Gaby volunteered.

  “Oh, yeah? Doing what?”

  “It’s a little crazy, but I’m working for Yad Vashem,” she said proudly. “I type up all these transcripts and put the information into a master database.”

  “Wow, that’s really something. How did you get that job?”

  “It’s an interesting story, actually,” and she told him about needing money to buy Rafi a pair of tefillin and Henny meeting Elanit the night Gaby babysat for the Hoffingers.

  “If you need help buying the tefillin, I could do it. There’s a sofer just down the block from my apartment.”

  “Yeah? That would be great because I actually have no idea of how to go about buying it. I mean, I’m sure my mom could do it, but…”

  “No, I’d be happy to help.”

  “The thing is…” Gaby bit her lip. “Rafi needs someone to teach him how to put tefillin on and say the b’rachah on the Torah. Henny’s husband will most probably end up doing it, but I hate that everyone feels like they have to pitch in to help us. It’s like we’re this pathetic, helpless family just because we don’t have a father.”