by L. Rosenman
“What do you mean, Lynn? Why did you call me David?”
She looked directly over his shoulder, toward someplace and something that was happening inside her head. “I don’t know. It’s something intuitive. Sometimes I just find myself using phrases from the Bible. That warning, for instance, was originally meant for King David. I often think of you with the name ‘David’ rather than ‘Dave.’ You may think I’m paranoid, but I have a feeling that even the leg injury, even though it happened in your childhood, and also things that are happening now, are happening to you because someone’s after you. I don’t really understand it myself. Just listening to my feelings. They say to me, ‘David, be careful!’” She smiled to soften the strange message. “Your story’s fascinating.” Lynn added. “Sad and yet hopeful. And I promised to tell my own.”
She began her confession. “I have nothing to hide. My life is basically as simple and boring as I said -”
“Still, you’re being followed and you choose to hide here, in the farthest corner of Eilat. You have to admit, it’s suspicious. It doesn’t fit with your claim to be a woman with a ‘boring life,’ as you say, especially since such women don’t really exist. You certainly are not one...”
She looked at him. “There are lots of unresolved parts in my life. I don’t remember a lot of my childhood, only fragmented pictures of kindergarten and of overprotective parents. I don’t even remember school and university in sequence. It’s like there are lots of voids I can’t fill. But I have all kinds of daydreams, visions... “
“And they are?” Dave didn’t mock her. He seemed really interested.
“Stories about characters from the past. From the Bible, to be accurate. I connect to my imagination and picture how people looked during biblical times - the figures of kings and prophets. I feel especially connected to the kings David and Saul and the whole story with Michal, Saul’s daughter. That’s why I chose the name Michal when the desk clerk asked me for my name at the hotel. I didn’t want to be identified as Lynn. Sometimes I just feel kind of like a Michal. Like a king’s daughter.”
Dave listened, absorbed, his eyes fixed on hers. Suddenly, an image floated in her mind’s eye: a fraction of a moment when she was running down a marble staircase that curved more and more toward the bottom, but without end. Down the stairs ran a trail of blood, and she quickly ran down, her heart pounding and her eyes wide with horror. She knew the sight that was to be revealed to her eyes: the body of a man in a blue robe, lying on the floor of the building, his heart pierced by a dagger set with precious stones. He was lying in a pool of blood... but... she was running down and down, never reaching the bottom of the stairs. The image disappeared and she sighed.
“Sometimes I have nightmares or visions of blood, and it’s very scary. That’s why I thought I may once have been involved in some act of violence. Someone tried to kill me, maybe, or I tried to kill him? Maybe it’s a hint of something that might happen in the future? I don’t know.”
Dave thought that, on a regular day, he’d certainly be of the opinion that the woman in front of him wasn’t in a healthy mental state. Maybe she’d been involved in something violent, as she said. In any case, his instinct should be to stay away from her. But in Lynn’s case, he sensed a captivating sincerity. His heart quickened, and he felt the stirrings of an adventure, of adrenaline kicking in. He recognized a lot of truth in her words, even though there was more hidden than told. She was so fragile. He must be on her side.
“Either way, I don’t think we should go to the police. Even if a person attacked me for some reason, if indeed, anyone’s even looking for me, going to the police would only validate my mark in the eyes of the persecutors. I’m not even sure I’m really being followed. Maybe I’m imagining it? In any case, if I am, then the disguise should shake them off my trail. I’m very glad I chose to live in your trailer. I feel more confident.”
“Thank you for your honesty,” said Dave. “The missing sections in your memory... it’s as if someone tried to implant in you the identity of a woman named Lynn, but wasn’t very successful at it.”
“Sloppy work!” She burst out laughing. “Or maybe that’s just me – unable to concentrate, fuzzy.”
He looked at her for a moment and saw a fluttering, frightened chick inside an upright and confident woman. He opened his arms and she went into them. They embraced, and she felt protected, like two parts of the crossword fit together to make a bigger puzzle.
“It’ll be okay,” he said.
For two hours, they sorted, discarded, packed, and arranged everything in the little room, cleaning and polishing until the small two-by-two cell with a small window and
a bed seemed cute and inviting. Dave put a small rug on the floor and promised to put up a curtain the next day. She said she’d bring her small suitcase that night.
Lynn rushed off to the schnitzel stand, and Dave started to sing while he set up his fishing nets. He hummed songs he hadn’t sung since he used to sing in his room in Beer Sheba, when his mother would close the doors and windows so the neighbors wouldn’t hear.
At eight in the evening, it was already completely dark. A tourist was taking pictures of the beach from the promenade near the hotels. Lynn quickly passed by him with her small suitcase, but he looked at her and began to photograph her. She felt angry and stopped immediately.
“What do you think you are doing?” she challenged him. He didn’t answer, just snickered and walked away. She didn’t recognize him. He was a different person from the man with the black hair that she’d noticed on previous days.
Later, she unpacked her few clothes in the trailer, and for the first time since she left her apartment in Tel Aviv, she felt calm. In the tiny room, among Dave’s cushions, she felt safe and secure. Maybe even... a little happy.
06/23/2013 – Eighth day of disappearance
Lynn rose for her eighth day since leaving Tel Aviv. She was no longer a stranger to this place. She enjoyed waking up in the tiny room with a window that revealed the blue color of the sea.
She quickly put on a bathing suit and went down to the beach. The sun hadn’t yet risen fully, but a few people were on the beach, mostly children who’d come to take a dip and dabble their feet before the last days of school. She jumped into the cool, pleasant water and swam until the coral reef disappeared beneath her feet, a sign that it was time to go back. When she came out of the water, shivering, she wrapped herself in a big towel Dave had given her and rushed to take a shower. Her hair was still dripping while Dave fixed her breakfast, this time on the plastic table outside the trailer. He kept looking at her, fascinated by the beautiful creature who’d landed on his doorstep a few days earlier. He looked her over, appreciating her body, and Lynn slapped him on the arm. He remembered the agreement he’d signed and needed no further reminder.
While she helped him fold the nets and organize the house, he asked, “Lynn, you’re still wearing the glasses and wrapping your head in scarves. I know you’re scared. How about we ask Nathan to accompany you to work and get him to escort you back when you’re done?” Nathan was a large stocky seventeen-year-old. He didn’t go to school because he wasn’t interested in it and instead would perform various tasks that Dave would ask of him for money.
“Who’ll pay him?”
“I will!” Dave chivalrously volunteered.
“God forbid. If I could, I’d pay him, but I’ll be out of money before long. It’s a luxury. But... you know what?” She thought for a moment. “We’ll try it for a couple of days and then we’ll see.”
Nathan accompanied Lynn to her workplace, just a twenty-minute walk. Their conversation flowed, and Lynn realized that Nathan ditched high school because he had no need for it. Within a few short minutes, his words disclosed the intelligence, maturity, and mental stability with which he was blessed. Even his parents, he said, quickly understood that, and they trusted him to build a beautiful life without the institutional path. When they arrived at the schnitzel stand, t
hey still hadn’t noticed the two men who’d followed them at a distance the whole way. Lynn went into the kitchen, and Nathan went his own way.
When she returned in the evening, Dave was waiting for her with a proposal. “Look, Lynn, I think that what you cook - the cutlets, and all the delicacies... I think you could profit from it yourself.”
Lynn listened intently.
“I suggest we open a small restaurant here. Fast and direct food for the residents of the camp. Some people who live here don’t have the time to prepare lunch for themselves. And there are children who’d come, and there are also the tourists who pass through. Nothing big. You make a few dozen cutlets, cutlets, and fritters, and I’ll make the salads in the morning before I go out to sea… we’ll set up a few outdoor tables here, borrow chairs from the neighbors, and... Voila! Lynn’s Restaurant!”
Lynn thought for a moment, took a deep breath, and exhaled it slowly. “The truth is... I do feel much safer here. If you want us to be partners, I wouldn’t mind. We’ll invest together and earn together.”
“Excellent,” said Dave, handing her his phone. She looked at him in surprise and shook her head quizzically, as if asking- ‘what is it you want’?
“Call Ron, your boss from the schnitzel place. Let him know you’re quitting.”
She smiled and called. Dave heard some shouting and cursing and then the call cut off abruptly. She looked at him, nodded, and stood up.
“Just one more thing, Dave. If you don’t mind, I think our restaurant should be called
Michal’s Cutlets.”
“Why Michal?”
“I’ve always loved that name. I wish I’d been named Michal when I was born. At least the restaurant will have that name.”
Lynn went to the fridge and checked the inventory of ingredients at her disposal.
Chapter 6: Saul
06/18/2013 - Third day of disappearance
When they came down for breakfast, Saul ate hungrily and didn’t notice that Anna was hardly eating anything. She’d decided she had to lose some weight for him, so that he wouldn’t be distracted by other women.
As she drank her coffee and thought, he excused himself. “My dear Anna, I have to go up to the room for a moment. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Anna nodded with a smile. Saul gave her a little kiss on the cheek and glanced at her with a strange look, and the next moment he was gone.
After waiting for twenty minutes or so, Anna also decided to go to their room. Saul wasn’t there. Even his backpack, which was actually hers, had disappeared. She reached for her purse, which she’d left hanging on the chair. The bag was in its place, but the wallet was open and all the money that had been inside was now gone. Anna collapsed on the bed and sobbed with the pain of insult, grief, and a broken heart.
The maid appeared, hearing the cries, and saw Anna rolling on the bed and screaming. Anna didn’t speak to her. Only when the shift manager was summoned did she calm down a bit, explaining that her partner had run off with her cash and belongings. They checked together that nothing else was missing and called the police. Anna’s shame was immense. She sighed and wished the ground would swallow her up there and then. She didn’t even know Saul’s last name, she had no pictures of him, and knew nothing about his past. “He claimed he’d lost his memory...”
The officer grinned, but held back from laughing out loud. He felt sorry for the innocent woman who’d been taken for a ride so easily. He filed the description given to him and promised to look out for him at the bus station and the airport, but regretfully pointed out to her that she had not been hurt physically and that petty theft of some old clothes and a few bills was not grounds for opening an investigation. He advised her to wait by the entrance of the hotel in the evening. Perhaps her gentleman crook would return.
Two days later, Anna was still watching the beaches, hotels, and restaurants. Eventually, she gave up, returned to Tel Aviv, and continued to sell her jewelry at her stall.
Saul left the hotel and walked to the bus stop, where he changed his clothes, rented a locker, and left his bag inside it. He went to a barber and announced it was time for a shaved head and had all of his hair cut off. He stroked his bald head and his three- day-old, white, tufted beard with pleasure, his scalp shining in the sun. Saul decided to resume the original mission for which he had come to Eilat: finding David. He was determined to meet him face to face, make sure he was the real David, who was plotting to kill him, and finish him off. He walked around the beaches and heard a lot of calls of “David!” but these were usually directed at a black-haired, tanned man; an elderly sunbather on the beach; or a child running into the sea without a floatie. They were not the right ‘David.’
By midafternoon, Saul came to the market stalls, a chain of outdoor commerce one and a half miles long. They sold cheap stuff, usually imported from India, China, and Korea - clothing, scarves, caps, sunglasses, jewelry, and fans.
“Oh, juicy and naïve Anna,” he recalled with a tinge of longing. Worthless items attracted locals and tourists like flies to honey. Fortunately, Anna had thoughtfully provided him with a lot of cash. Therefore, and after some hesitation, he bought a large and elegant black shirt made of a light cotton fabric at one booth and a bracelet dotted with nails at another. He strapped a green bandana to his bald head and donned a pair of black sunglasses. That was it; he very much fitted the image he wanted to present. He especially wanted to look as different as possible from the man who beat up Mr. David in Tel Aviv. Even if someone was looking for him, he wouldn’t recognize him now. He sat down on the steps near the beach and waited. He didn’t know why; he just felt that he had to wait for something to happen soon.
As the day went on, he paid more attention to the guy selling sunglasses nearby. He had an expert line of patter. He clapped male customers on their backs, shouting, “There you go – a real man!” For dark haired women, he used compliments like: “Honey, you look just like Angelina Jolie, at the very least!” The blonds were greeted with: “Believe me! Bar Refaeli would be dead jealous of you right now.” She was, his “sweetheart” whether she was fifteen or fifty. Saul noticed that he placed his entire takings in a small metal box that he kept locked. He didn’t give out any receipts, of course. Later on, an older man arrived, his face wrinkled and his hair gray, bringing a meaty sandwich for the trader.
“Thanks, Dad,” said the trader. His elderly father sat down on the trader’s stool and rubbed his lower back while the younger man left, presumably for a short break. Sales fell dramatically. The father only answered direct questions and made no effort to sell. He only stood up if the client had already given him the money. After two girls in miniskirts left the stall, a small man with steel muscles and a wrestler’s thighs approached.
“Where’s Gidi?” he asked.
“He left,” the father said.
“And when’s he coming back?”
“He didn’t say. Maybe a little later.”
“Don’t waste my time!” The muscular man lowered his voice to a threatening tone, but was still audible. “You know why I’m here, right?”
“No, not really,” said the father, but his mustache trembled. He looked around. Saul made himself look like he was examining merchandise in a nearby booth and listened with great interest.
“I’m here for the taxes. Gidi promised three days’ taxes. Give it to me now!” He came within a centimeter of the old man’s face and grabbed his arm, bent it backwards and the old man shouted in alarm. “Why are you shouting?” The muscleman gave a bright smile and exclaimed loudly, “I came to say hi, and this is how you treat your friends, huh?” Menacing again, he hissed, “Where’s my money?”
“How much? How much?” Gidi’s father asked.
“Because you’re his father and a good person, make it a grand. Then we’ll call it a day.”
The father muttered something to himself and was opening the cash box when Gidi suddenly returned. “What are you doing?” he admonished his father. “What are yo
u giving him?”
“The... the taxes you said you’d give him...” murmured the old man.
“Hey, asshole! What do you want from my father? Can’t you see he’s an old man?” shouted Gidi at the thug.
The muscleman approached Gidi and said, “A thousand and I’m gone. This is what you pay. Tomorrow it’s twelve hundred. Or tomorrow, it’s ciao, Pappy. Got it?”
Two elderly women were browsing the goods, oblivious to the drama. “Excuse me, how much are these glasses?”
“See to them, Dad!” Gidi said.
Gidi’s father went to serve the customers, and Gidi took out four two-hundred bills and handed them to the thug. “Screw you, shithead!” The muscleman spat on Gidi’s shoes, while stuffing the money in his pants and hurrying away.
Saul went to sit behind the stall, but still in earshot. After several more successful sales, a city inspector approached the booth. At first, Saul thought he was a cop and shrank in his seat, an absurd attempt given that he was wearing a green bandana and looked enormous, even when sitting. But the inspector was actually looking for Gidi.
“Hello, sir. Are you aware that you’re in violation of the Municipal Law Section BB750, sub-section B?”
“Really?” Gidi sat down in his chair with a calm smile, all sweet. “And what is this law, Inspector?”
The inspector flipped through his papers and quoted, “No person shall engage in peddling on the street or a public place within the city without a permit from the Licensing Department at City Hall.”
Gidi laughed loudly, alarming the old ladies.
“Permit? Why? I’m sitting here doing good deeds, aren’t I? I’m fitting glasses for pretty girls, and they thank me for making everything look pink to them. Would you also like some spectacles, Mister...” he read the tag on his uniform, “… Anton?”
“God forbid. Are you trying to bribe me?”
Gidi roared with laughter. “Bribe you? I’m doing good deeds, and those who wish to do so, reward me with money.”
