by Dana Arama
The rest of the way, I was much more alert. At the entrance to the moshav, right after the gate, a new pickup truck stopped next to me in a cloud of dust. I looked over and I recognized Nimrod. While he was seated in his van, he looked like his father.
"Hey dude. What's up?"
"We're going out tonight. They opened a new pub in the kibbutz. We’re going there at eleven. Wanna come?” Now he sounded like the Nimrod I knew.
"Maybe. We'll see how this evening with the family goes."
"Hey, if you stopped using your motorcycle, wanna sell it?"
"I haven’t stopped using it. In fact, I thought I’d check it out and leave the car here.”
"Dude, it's really a waste to let it stand. I'll call you and come pick you up.”
"Awesome. We'll talk. No problem.”
Two or three sentences with an old friend, and I already felt at home. Meeting Yoav, my real brother, however, reminded me of why I’d been trying to leave that house all my life. I parked on the dirt road near the house and went to the storage barn. Once inside, I took the dust cover off my motorcycle. I sat on it, already feeling good; then I heard the accusing voice from behind me.
"Stop wasting your time with your motorcycle. Dad needs help in the packing house."
"Hello Yoav, I just got here. I'm just checking that it starts and then I’ll come to help.”
"You can do that once it’s dark; the packaging, you can’t!"
I got off of the bike without starting it, like a small, naughty boy. Only Yoav could manage to make me feel so lousy. He was always so serious and focused that it seemed to me he’d lost the joy of living. If I had to point to one person I didn’t want to be like, it was Yoav.
I covered the bike again, picked up the black bag, and went into the house. The aromas of the approaching Shabbat meal already filled the kitchen. I went into the kitchen, but it was empty.
"Mom, where are you?" I shouted.
"Backyard. Picking herbs," came her reply.
I put the bag of dirty clothes out on the service balcony and went out the side door.
"Hello, my son. What's up?" She straightened the garland of fresh green spices in her hand. Only two weeks had passed since we saw each other, but a new wrinkle had appeared on her forehead. Was everyone rapidly aging, I wondered, or was it the impact of me appearing in last week's newspapers?
"Awesome.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek. "No complaints. I put washing on the balcony. I’ll go help father."
"Good. Yoavi’s in the warehouse, loading crates."
"I know, I've seen him." I tried to keep the anger I felt toward my brother out of my voice.
"Maybe you could go down with him to the orchard?" Only three years separated Yoav and me, but we’d never been able to bond with each other. Even before he joined the army, he’d already set himself a goal to study agriculture and pull the economy out of the swamp. I just wanted to go to sea.
"I’ll walk, thanks." I bent down and picked some little peppers that had ripened and turned red on the bush.
"Do you plan on passing the avocado plantation?"
"Sure." The sharp spiciness of the fresh chili burst in my mouth and a wave of sweat flooded my face.
"They added a few more hives. You’d better take a shot with you!” As always, when she was concerned, she spoke in French. I recognized the worry in her voice, but she knew me too well to try to prevent me from going anywhere.
"No problem," I replied in Hebrew at first, but then I quickly switched to French. "I'll take it with me. Good thing you reminded me."
I’d never get used to this allergy that had been forced upon me. I kissed her again. I hugged her and threw her up in the air. "You’re the most amazing woman I ever met," I said in poor French. I was starting to forget words, which was serious. French as a mother tongue was supposed to be my strong suit with the Mossad.
The courtyard filled with her laughter. "My son is crazy!"
"Crazy about his mother." Yoav was, indeed, the son they trusted, but I was the son that made them laugh.
I went back to the kitchen and put the chilies on the counter. It was the first time I really became aware of the old fashioned style of my parents’ house. I saw the missing kitchen with blind portholes, the odd floor tiles stretching to the living room, and the outdated kitchen cabinets. Perhaps the fact that the renovations were done periodically, at different times of prosperity, made my brother think of it as rough, lacking the finishing touch. Again, I thought of Nadav’s words. Was the touch of wealth I was experiencing making me see my parents' house with different eyes?
My box was in the drawer where she kept the Passover silverware. A syringe full of adrenaline was in my back pocket when I left. I closed the gate carelessly and went to the recently paved road between two rows of houses. On the other side of the road, just in front of my house, I saw an open curtain at the window. I knew Orit continued to watch me go down the road, as she had since we were kids. I guess old habits don’t stop even after marriage. Only the speed with which the curtain was pulled back has changed.
The hidden path, which ran between the avocado grove at the back of the pool, was filled with the moshav children's cries as they competed to be first into the water. I spent many hours in that pool during my youth. Even then, I’d been a strong swimmer. Not only did I want to join the fleet, but I aspired to be the best. With a quiet agreement from the secretariat of the moshav, I copied the key to the pool gate and often used it. I swam a lot more, faster, and harder than friends my age. I practiced swimming blindfolded, with a backpack, early in the morning, when the water was cold. The difficulty and the danger had never deterred me, but the thought of life as a farmer in the village, away from the sea, deterred me from ever wanting to be one.
In the plantation areas, I knew all the trails well. I’d run along them for miles, long before they set the bee hives there. Now, the white boxes stood there like a ticking bomb. I passed through them slowly, trying not to attract the bees’ attention. Although I felt the syringe in my pocket, I preferred to avoid contact with them. I came out from the moshav and began to run toward the large packing house, which handled all the produce of the farm. In less than ten minutes, I was hugging my dad. By the time Yoav got there, I was busy loading boxes of peaches alongside the Thai workers.
***
On Saturday morning, I woke up with a feeling of satisfaction. I had managed to get through Friday meal without arguing with Yoav and his wife and my parents were happy. I managed to play with Jonathan, my three-year old nephew, until he announced I was the best uncle in the world, and I met up with the guys I hadn’t seen for a long time. But best of all, no one mentioned last week’s newspaper. Only when I got up did I start to feel the war raging in my head. The amount of Goldstar I’d drunk last night wouldn’t have affected me so badly without the Arak chasers. My hair stank of cigarette smoke. In the shower, I got rid of the smell and the hair together.
I went into the kitchen and made myself a very strong cup of coffee. I added to it a respectable piece of my mom’s famous chocolate cake. I had to get right the amount of caffeine and sugar to inspire me completely. Despite the headache, I felt like a novice about to meet his girlfriend after a month on base. I wanted to jump-start the bike.
For the time when I was in Alaska and the three months that I lived with Hadas, my two wheeled friend had waited patiently. I returned to the outhouse and pulled the cover off her again. I ran my finger over the logo that announced the model - 500 KLE - and the manufacturer - Kawasaki. It wasn’t just a name. It was a childhood dream of freedom and speed. Her yellow and black color looked like a hornet. She was fast and dangerous.
I remembered the look on my father’s face when I came home with it for the first time. I didn’t have to talk to him to find out that he wished he was me at that moment. That's why I asked him, and not Yoav, to start it up once a week. The engine responded to me like an obedient dog. I knew Pop enjoyed the task I gave him. I could i
magine him going into the shed and sitting on my motorbike to escape the hardships of the world for a short while, running the engine and imagining he was cruising along on it. I laughed aloud at the idea that he went on the bike despite Yoav's grim look… maybe even to get away from it.
I checked the brake fluid and screwed out the engine oil dipstick. Everything was fine. I checked the tires. They were inflated enough for me to get on and go. If the laundry was ready, there was nothing to stop me, but the machine had to be set up right.
At five in the afternoon I put the bag of clean clothes in the back compartment of my bike, took the remote for the electric gate, put the helmet on my head, zipped up my leather jacket and went on my way. Route 4 was busy and I blessed my decision to leave the car in the moshav. Just as I approached the outskirts of Savion, I thought maybe it would be appropriate to inform Gabriella I’d be arriving early, but her promise that I could relax and feel at home away from her stopped me from doing so.
I took the gate remote from inside my coat pocket. I opened the gate and slowly walked the bike up the driveway. Only after I made sure that the gates were closed behind me did I open the garage doors and push the motorcycle into the space between the Cayenne and the wall. I took off my leather jacket. It wasn’t easy riding, wearing a heavy leather coat in the middle of the Israeli summer, but the scratches on it attested to the damage it suffered in my place. I put it on the hood of the Cayenne so I could take off the helmet. Even before I pulled the helmet off of my head, I let my hand quickly touch the hood. It was hot. Someone had driven this car recently. Was it her? Or had she given it to someone to drive? If the former, then who was it? And if it was her, why did she tell me repeatedly that she was going to stay home?
I pulled the helmet off my head, put it on the handlebars and bent down to check the grill. It was steaming hot. It was a long trip. Did she lie to me or did she change her plans at the last minute?
I went into the house and immediately hesitated. From the top of the second floor, I heard classical music and water running through the pipes. I returned to the Cayenne and opened the heavy door. The GPS device wouldn’t operate without the ignition on. But I didn’t need a satellite signal. I just wanted to know the last destination set into the device. I looked it up. Wow. That was a surprise. I knew the country well enough to know that Moshav Elifelet was near Mount Hermon. No such trip could be spontaneous. She’d waited for an opportunity to go there, when I was out of the picture. Why?
Even the trunk was unlocked. I fumbled for another hint. It was empty… almost empty. A piece of yellow paper carried the letters TCA and some letters of the word 'acid.' Acid? The number 90 was clearly visible and a percentage mark was on the side, torn. Again, a chill ran down my back. I was hoping that Google would reveal whatever Gabriella was hiding from me. I closed the trunk and went back to the house. The sounds of flowing water had stopped, but the music continued. I debated whether to make a noise so she’d know I was back, but I decided to look into my findings. I could always tell her I thought she was asleep.
I put my bag on the bed along with the jacket and helmet and rushed to the computer. The combination of the letters TCA could be almost anything. With the combination of acid, I received a clear answer: it was digestive acids. Google revealed that this acid at a concentration of up to 50% was used for deep skin peeling cosmetic treatments. Even after the peel, it required intensive treatment against infections. A 90% concentration of this acid could become a weapon. Why did she go up north with this stuff, I wondered.
I turned off the computer and opened my bag. I put the clean clothes in the closet, and the plastic box with Gabriella’s favorite cake on the bottom shelf in the fridge.
"Hey, you’re back early!"
I turned to her. She was standing at the top of the stairs. Did a look of annoyance flit across her face?
"I hope that’s okay."
"Good. Great, even. Maybe you can join me for the last coffee of the day."
The light coming through the open door made her robe transparent. I think she was naked underneath. "Did I wake you?"
"No. Not at all. I was just resting a little."
She came downstairs slowly. Her feet, exposed with each step, were more stimulating than if she had come down completely naked; I started to feel like a gumshoe in an American crime novel. "I see you cut your hair again."
"Yes," My hand went instinctively my head. "It was too long." I liked feeling the tingling on my hand whenever I ran it through short hair. "So then, you think we worked too hard last week?"
She took some mugs from the cupboard. "Don’t worry. My need for rest doesn’t mean I’m avoiding work. Tomorrow, we’ll get on with our schedule."
"Good. But if you feel you need another day off, you will tell me, won’t you?"
I saw a flicker of amusement in her. "A couple of days at home softened you up? You want me slacking off?”
I chuckled. "No slacking… sometimes you have to listen to your body. If you rest all day and still feel exhausted, then there’s no point going on. It's not like you’re joining the commandos, right?" I thought, if I slackened the training, she’ll go up north again.
She laughed. "Not the commandos. But you're here to train me, in spite of all the excuses I could come up with." She didn’t contradict my words. She didn’t mention that, in fact, she went out and didn’t rest at all. She was lying.
"No problem. That’s what I’m here for." I saw she’d finished brewing the coffee. I opened the refrigerator and took out the milk for her.
"Did you bring cake?"
"I’m here for that as well..." Again, I opened the refrigerator door. This time I took out the box that I’d just put on the bottom shelf.
"You look like a soldier, now." She smiled. What did she mean? I looked too young?
I sat down opposite her and sipped my coffee. Its temperature raised a sweat on my forehead.
“Can you come with me to Paris next week or the week after?"
I didn’t hesitate. "Why not?"
"I don’t know. Maybe because of the army?”
"I don’t need to check in with anyone. Just sit on the plane. What’s in Paris?"
"I need to check something in a place that’s not so pleasant to go alone. I’d be happier with you along.”
"How do you know it’s not a nice place?”
"I know the city very well. I lived there for a few years, when I was studying at the Sorbonne.” She cut another piece of the cake. "You know what that means?"
I smiled. "That you know pleasant places to walk around as well?"
"I meant that if I cut another slice of cake, that means it’s really delicious - but you're right. We can also have some fun, right?"
"Definitely." I took my eyes off from her open neckline. I could have fun with her here and now.
"Don’t you want some cake?" She looked at me with her green eyes. When did she change from being a distant boss, to a woman I wanted to take to bed?
"No thanks." My voice became hoarse and I cleared my throat. "I haven’t been for a run yet today. I don’t want to feel too heavy." I didn’t plan on running, but it was a good way to get away from her. It was already dark and the heat of the day had broken. Running helped me focus the mind. It always had. I knew I had to go north, to Moshav Elifelet, and I had to tell Nadav. It was the kind of thing he expected me to find.
"Regardless the travel overseas, I may need a day off next week..." I hesitated. It was tricky to lie. "I’ll have to call at the base."
"No problem. I’ll make some arrangements of my own.”
"Are you planning on shopping?” I smiled at her and in my heart I was hoping that she would go up north so I could follow her to the exact place.
"A lot less fun. I’ve a meeting with my lawyer. Oh, and a visit to the bank.” She grimaced.
I got up. “I'm going to change and go for a run. We'll talk later.”
In black shorts and running shoes, and my phone in a sheath
on my arm, I set off. I wanted to talk to Nadav well out of her hearing range.
I was already half a mile from the house when Nadav answered. I panted into the microphone, "Listen. There’s been a development. I’ll give you the details later. Any chance you can accompany me north next week?”
"Unfortunately not. We’re on alert. They canceled the regular roster. Now, it’s a week at the base, a week training. I’m on duty this week at the base.”
"I understand. I'll go north myself. To check something. We'll stay in touch.”
"Be careful, yes?”
Chapter 14
Early that week, I developed a new investigative technique. I wanted to check the mail she got. I wouldn’t have to open the letters all the way. Sometimes, you can tell things just based on the sender's name. I bumped into Esther on Sunday, when she first got in. I was already dressed in jogging gear and running shoes.
"Do you want me to pick up the mail for you? I go right past the mailbox when I'm running.”
"Really? It would be very nice of you and it’ll save me a walk in this heat.”
"With pleasure. I just need the key and the box number.”
She looked at the clock. “Oh, on second thoughts, the mail doesn’t arrive for another half an hour,”
“Perfect. I'll do so on the way back.”
She handed me two keys with a happy smile. “Box number 12. Can you also fetch our mail from the other box, too?”
"Of course.”
I tied the keys to my other shoe lace. Now I had two keys tied to my left shoe. The right lace held the key to the front door. I went on my way. I didn’t expect to anything useful immediately. It was a long-term investment.
As Gabriella clearly preferred to sit on the patio during her telephone conversations, I took to another approach. I sat in my room with a window open so I could listen to her calls without interruption. I learned that on Tuesday, she was meeting with Natalia and Thursday with Ohad, the lawyer. I realized from the conversation that from his office, they would continue on to the bank. I decided I’d go north on Thursday. I wasn’t happy to leave her unattended, but I knew that she intended to be in public places where it would be difficult for someone to hurt her.
