by I J Shur
A few days later, the deal with the couple was signed and Udi felt extremely satisfied.
Chapter 3
One day Udi arrived at a meeting that he had scheduled with Gideon, the “all-powerful” CEO of a large department store that specialized in building products. They’d met ten years earlier and were friends. Udi arrived on time as usual. Gideon smiled at him, and they made their way to his spacious office on the second floor. He took a seat in his leather chair and pulled a cigar box toward himself. He took out a thick cigar, rolled it through his fingers, and offered it to Udi. Udi refused, and Gideon lit the cigar, then pushed a button and asked his secretary to prepare a strong cappuccino for Udi.
“So…how are you doing?”
Udi nodded.
“Before we begin our conversation,” Gideon said, “I’d like to introduce you to Rona. She’s a lawyer and so is her husband actually. She’s now dealing with our business clients. I’ll call her.”
He pressed the button on his desk again and asked his secretary to send Rona in.
“This is Udi Shoham,” said Gideon to Rona. “You asked me about him, and I thought you’d like to meet him.” Udi looked at Rona and smiled, embarrassed.
“So this is the guy who’s playing hard to get,” said Rona. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”
Udi looked into her eyes; they were brown, almond-shaped, and full of light and expression. She smelled wonderful—clean and exotic. She wore a shirt with the collar folded down and the top buttons undone—a look designed to reveal an exciting meeting between two firm and well-tanned globes. His eyes darted down to her legs, and he decided that the proportions were good.
He loved to look at people, to analyze them—their bodies, their heads, their eyes, the bone structure of their shoulders, their bottoms, their legs. Each of these body parts taught him the secrets of life. He always watched how people walked, how they moved. Udi’s senses were quick to gather as much information as possible, and even before a word of conversation had been spoken, he had the information he needed to build a profile, which might—or might not—help him in the relationship.
For a moment Udi’s head was flooded with thoughts of delight, of how interesting it could be to get into a deep conversation with Rona, spiced with witty repartee and innuendo, about life and its meaning. There was a connection in her gaze. It telegraphed to him a sense of worldliness, the knowledge of life, and a sharp mind. He sensed her inexplicable depth and he paused, deciding whether to use one of his great punch lines or to simply let the moment pass, to avoid the price he might have to pay if he turned the tone of the conversation from professional to flirtatious. Udi decided to let the opportunity go.
“I’d be glad to meet with you another time.”
“The world will stop spinning, and nothing else will move until you set an appointment with me—here and now,” Rona said with an assertive smile.
This woman is so intriguing! She smells amazing!
“Tomorrow at ten,” he said. “I’ll be in my office and we can talk.”
“Aren’t you writing it down?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Important things I remember,” Udi responded with a smile.
Chapter 4
At seven o’clock, Udi arrived home and found his wife and children around the dinner table. The moment he crossed the threshold, he was assailed by guilt. Again, he felt like he was letting his wife down, that he wasn’t living up to her expectations. He could have called to ask how she was doing, or whether she needed something. He could have come home early to spend time with the children, to free her to do her business, but he hadn’t done that. Once again, he would hear the complaint that the “tourist” had arrived; once more, she’d scold him in front of the children and he would feel that she and they were against him. In his head, he defended his actions against her complaints, which did not take too long to come.
“We didn’t hear from you all day long,” said Varda.
“I was busy.” He rubbed his forehead.
“So busy that you couldn’t let me know what time you were coming home? Maybe I could have used your help if I’d known when you were coming… And your mother called, about your father. He’s not feeling well…”
“Is there anything left to eat?” Udi tried to change the subject, attack being the best form of defense. He knew that his replies would only produce more questions, and therefore, he hurried to alter the balance of power in the conversation.
“How was school today?” he asked Meirav, his younger daughter.
“Miss Cohen, the English teacher, is a real moron.”
Udi arched his eyebrow.
Meirav didn’t wait for his question. “She hates me, but it’s okay because I hate her more.”
“What happened?”
“She picks on me all the time. Everybody loves me, and she can’t stand it. Everybody asks me what the teacher intends when it isn’t clear what she says—instead of asking her—and that drives her crazy. Today I asked Noah for something, and she yelled at me in front of the whole class. She said that I’m always interfering, and she said that I take advantage of my status. She thinks I think I’m queen of the class, and she thinks that I don’t respect her.”
“Do you disrespect her?” Udi widened his eyes.
“She has an inferiority complex since she comes from the slums. That’s all.” Meirav stuck her nose in the air.
“I’ll go and have a word with her tomorrow,” Varda said, glancing at Udi. “Once a week she explodes on our poor Meirav. I won’t allow it—even if she does misbehave sometimes.” Varda stated her case firmly, and Udi felt a sense of security. He smiled in appreciation. He pulled out a chair at the table and sat down.
He shifted his gaze to Michal, his eldest daughter, already seventeen years old and lost in her cell phone. She was always busy with her own things. When he addressed her, he was always cautious not to upset her if it wasn’t the right moment. His heart filled with pride when he looked at her. He always knew that she would go far—as far as she wanted.
Sometimes, due to his fear of how she would respond, a tremendous wave of frustration would come over him when he tried to speak to her. No matter how he spoke, he knew she would take it as an attack and snap back at him.
“Is there the slightest chance that you could disconnect from your screen for a moment and tell me how you’re doing?” he asked.
Michal’s thumbs danced out a message at rapid speed, faster than Udi could get the words out of his mouth.
Without even raising her head, she sniped, “The whole house doesn’t have to stand to attention just because you arrived.”
“I just asked how you’re doing. I didn’t ask anyone to stand up. And don’t forget,” he added, “that you weren’t born with a telephone in your hand. It can be taken away just as easily as it was given.”
“You can’t take away my phone! After that you’ll be asking the walls how they are, not me.” She looked at him with total disdain.
“Take away her phone and stop threatening,” Meirav chimed in.
“I can handle your sister all by myself,” replied Udi. “But thanks for the help.” He turned to his wife. “Do you manage to communicate with her?” he asked, knowing full well that he had left himself wide open to an attack.
“It’s a matter of time. If you spent enough time with her, you’d get a more detailed response.” Varda sniffed.
Udi knew that she was right.
Michal lifted her gaze and met his eyes.
He sat up straight. “When can we sit down for a bit and talk?”
Michal shifted her gaze back to the screen. Udi knew that there was no power in the world that could persuade his daughter to talk to him now, after he’d threatened to take away her device. Despite that, he threw the open question to the air, if only so that she would know that he was not offende
d and would not bear a grudge against her.
“And you? Do you manage to get any words out of Michal?” he asked Oren, the middle child, who was fifteen years old. Oren usually left the stage open for his sisters and didn’t try to get involved in the conversation. Udi was amazed at Oren’s knowledge when he finally did have something to say.
“There are mountains that are so high, it’s not even worth the time to try to climb them.” Oren stared blankly at the wall as he spoke.
“From where do you get these words of wisdom?” asked Udi, amazed.
“When people don’t talk to you, you make up words of wisdom,” Oren quipped.
“How are you? How are you doing in school?”
“Fine,” Oren grunted.
“Can you elaborate?”
“I’m really doing fine.” Oren repeated his worn-out joke, and Udi knew that was the longest sentence he was going to get out of his son that night.
“If you want other answers, or longer ones, vary your questions,” said Meirav. “Every day you ask the same question, and then you’re surprised that you always get the same answer.”
“What, for example, would you like me to ask?” inquired Udi.
“For example,” replied Meirav, “ask him about the punch he got from David. Ask him why he wasn’t included in the soccer match during break time. Ask him about the pop quiz that he had in English and got a hundred on. Would you like other ideas?”
“An excellent idea!” Oren smirked. “Let’s start with those questions tomorrow. I’m going up to my room.”
“Daddy, come and say good night to me. I’ll wait for you in bed,” said Meirav, giving him a quick hug. Meirav liked him to stay with her in her room until she fell asleep. Sometimes they had “adult” discussions, and Udi would brim with happiness. Once, she told him that she preferred the “smart boys” to the “cute ones” since the cute ones were only show-offs. He’d asked her if there weren’t any that were both cute and smart, and she replied that there were, but that the pretty and stupid girls had hold of them.
Oren got up from his chair, took his plate, and placed his cup on it. In his other hand, he grabbed the knife and the fork.
“You don’t have to take it all at once. You’re going to break something!” Varda scolded.
“I won’t,” he replied, placing the things in the sink before going off to his room.
An uneasy silence prevailed. Michal took long gulps from her cup and asked, “Are you going to fight, or can I leave you guys alone and finish my homework?”
“I am too much in love with your mother to fight with her,” said Udi. “Go to your room. I’ll come by soon.”
“I’m going to hang up the laundry,” Varda said. “The dishes and the dishwasher are up to you.”
“Piece of cake!” replied Udi.
He breathed a sigh of relief. Varda and the kids had all gone upstairs, and he stayed below. He loved clearing the table and filling the dishwasher. It was a kind of meditation for him, and it provided him with the tranquility he craved at this time of the day. Thoughts of his father had continued to bother him ever since Varda had mentioned his mother’s call. From week to week, his dad’s medical situation deteriorated.
Udi’s mother had repeatedly said that the old man was no longer as harsh and callous as he had once been. Sometimes he would break into tears without explaining why. More than once, he’d called to say that he didn’t know where he was, and one night he’d fallen from his bed and he’d had to wait until the morning for a neighbor to help him up.
Even when he did recognize people, he might have trouble remembering their names. On several occasions, his mouth opened as if he was about to say something, and it would just stay like that—open—but he didn’t speak. His mother said that the doctors were saying that there was a possibility that this was a form of dementia—Alzheimer’s disease possibly.
Udi had not digested the fact that his father was seriously ill, and maybe he wasn’t ready for that yet. An inner voice told him to be there for his father. He shuddered slightly, and his eyes filled with tears. What did that mean, exactly? Was his father, who had been by his side for his entire life, about to come to the end of his life? He thought again about the meeting with the psychologist. “I need to talk to him,” he said out loud.
His thoughts got the better of him, and he got ready for bed.
Chapter 5
The following morning, he found himself contemplating his ten o’clock appointment with Rona. She interested him. Despite the fact that he found his job enjoyable, it was fairly routine. All day long he ran from meeting to meeting, from briefing to briefing, from finding the solution for one problem to finding the solution for another. He sometimes broke the routine by way of unusual meetings or other types of events.
He arrived ten minutes early for his meeting with Rona. She stood at the end of the hall, cheerfully conversing with the department store’s owner. Udi approached them slowly. He didn’t want to appear too keen. He preferred to seem as if he just happened to be there.
A wide smile, flashing rows of snowy-white and symmetrically perfect teeth, greeted him. The almond-shaped eyes were as bright as a beam of light from a lonely lighthouse. Her wide smile was inviting and warm. Her hair curled around her face, and a tight black T-shirt emphasized a fit and curvy figure. Her cleavage gave off such a pleasant aroma that he thought that he could visualize the wake of the trail of perfume she had generously applied to it.
Udi offered his right hand and shook hers warmly. He tried to let go after a second or two, but Rona held on for a good long moment. The handshake was meaningful to Udi on two levels. On the one hand, he meant for it to give the meeting an official beginning straight from the outset, but on the other hand, he wanted to feel the palm of her hand. In some ways, the palm of the hand is connected to the soul. There are short and evasive handshakes, and there are those that are warm and enveloping. There are those that are strong and powerful, those that are airy and fleeting, and those that are rounded and erotic. The strength of a handshake is like an expression, a statement, and it can provide many insights. Udi was not surprised to feel a tremendous warmth bordering eroticism at her touch.
Rona asked Udi for coffee with milk and sugar, and then they ascended to his office on the second floor.
It’s truly amazing to see the interaction between two people who sit opposite each other. Two distinct channels of communication open immediately, the first being verbal and dealing with practical matters—defined, measured, calculating, and cautious. The second channel, not necessary the lesser in importance, is the intellectual one, and in it, a conversation is not being carried out, but rather a series of spontaneous thoughts are thrown into the air—unfiltered, pure, and primitive thoughts that establish a direct connection.
The further the conversation progresses, to the degree that a level of chemistry is established, the border between the two channels becomes blurred, and pieces that are more meaningful than thoughts become verbalized.
“Let’s not waste time,” announced Rona. “I’ll tell you what I’m doing and why I asked to meet with you.”
“I’m listening,” Udi tersely replied. He knew that in no time, the business talk would be over and the conversation would move on to other areas. He thought Rona knew that too.
“After ten years as a real estate lawyer at a practice in the south, I left and joined a private real estate office as a full partner. The office is located in this area, and I’m looking for a contact—and later on a partner—who can come in on deals that are in this area.”
Udi looked into her sparkling eyes with slight defiance. “How did you decide on me?”
Rona had come prepared to smash the flying ball into the net. She said, “I did a little snooping and asked some different people in the area who work here. Your name came up more than once. You’re a person with the right
experience and contacts necessary to deliver the goods—in a big way! We want a win-win situation—equal investments and equal profits.”
Udi agreed with her assessment of him, but experience had taught him that offers like this were a dime a dozen. These kinds of declarations—“symmetry in investments” and “equal profits”—somehow lost their power at precisely the moment when they crossed from the world of planning into the real world and someone suddenly had to reach deep into his or her pockets.
In business, Udi was a hopeless romantic, so he decided to give it a chance. The fact that the marketplace was full of charlatans did not discourage him, and one thing he knew: One should not allow previous bad experiences to sabotage a good plan. Udi looked into Rona’s eyes, wondering about the myriad thoughts that rushed through her head. He waited to see if she had anything else to say. He knew that sometimes a searching stare and a long silence could cause the person on the receiving end to blabber on out of a sense of embarrassment and say things that they had never intended to say—and certainly had not meant to say at the first meeting. Rona looked back at him.
“You make a good first impression,” he said. “It looks like you are serious .” He stared at her for a long moment and added, “You’ll have to convince me that you’re different. It takes time to build trust and, out of that, a healthy business relationship. I’m not up for a long journey of getting acquainted that’s only to be followed by disappointment and an incredible waste of time.”
Rona nodded. “I understand that someone else let you down and that now I’ve got to pay the price.”
“Correct,” replied Udi. “If only you had been the first in line of all those who have made offers of partnership and action!”
