Galia awkwardly shifted on the chair. Droplets of sweat burst forth on her forehead. He pulled her to her feet and looked into her eyes. She lowered her gaze, trying to avoid his penetrating eyes. His hands gripped her arms tightly, but she ignored the pain.
“Cut the crap, Gali. I know that you’re not capable of such a thing. Maybe that’s you on the tape, but there’s no way you were acting of your own free will. You wouldn’t dare to conceive something like that, not on your own. And you wouldn’t hurt a fly! I know you, and this makes no sense. You would realize immediately that you have too much to lose. So what is it? Is someone threatening you? Extorting you? Who knows better than me that these things happen.” He looked at her questioningly. “You’ve got to level with me.”
Galia avoided meeting his gaze. “No one’s blackmailing me, and no one’s threatening me, Doron. Things have happened since you left. I did it because I thought it was the right thing to do. And I still believe that,” she lied brazenly.
“That’s bullshit and you know it! You never had such extreme political views…” For a moment, he recalled the protest she had attended before they met, that fiery right-wing protest. He remembered that she had told him during one of their first dates, but she had never given him the details.
“As if I could have voiced a different opinion while we were together? You’ve never been particularly tolerant of disagreement…” She knew that what she was saying was ridiculous, but perhaps she could upset him enough to convince him that she was guilty. “Doron, I never agreed with your politics.” She remembered that protest too and decided to make a risky move. “And lately, it’s only gotten worse, what with the Disengagement and all. The only reason I didn’t say anything was out of consideration for your position—”
“Really? Consideration? When have you ever cared about my position? And suddenly you ‘express’ those views by trying to shoot a minister! I don’t believe a word coming out of your mouth. I know you well enough. There’s no way that you would do such a thing because you believed it was ‘the only way,’ so stop screwing with me. Where the fuck would you even get a gun from?”
Galia was surprised; she wasn’t prepared for his reaction. Still, it was only natural for Doron to have questions. Why hadn’t she thought of that earlier?
“The less you know, Doron, the better,” she dodged the question.
“What is better? What? I want answers, Galia. How did you get the gun? What did you do with it? What did you think, that you wouldn’t be caught? What happened? How did it happen? This makes no sense. This is just a nightmare.” Doron rubbed his face as if he was trying to wake himself up.
“Okay, so now what?” she asked, eager to conclude their quarrel.
“Now…” He looked at her despondently. “Now, my dear, it looks like you’ll be arrested, interrogated, and thrown into prison as soon as possible. Did you think about that? Do you have any concept of what you’re mixed up in now? Do you understand that you’re going to be locked up? That they’ll take Shir away from you? Have you thought about Shir at all? That’ll definitely serve your political views, right? Think long and hard about it, before you lose everything: your family, your newspaper, your whole life. I’m begging you: give me a better explanation, so I can help you.”
Galia was silent. She had nothing more to say.
He turned to the door when he realized that he wasn’t going to get the answers he was looking for. His senses told him that he was not wrong, and that Galia was acting like this due to some sort of crisis.
“I cannot believe what you’re saying. I don’t understand how you’ve gotten mixed up in all this, not at all. I know you’re not telling me the truth. Something is very fishy about this whole story. Do me a favor, will you? Just one favor. Call Roni. You’re going to need a good lawyer. I’m leaving now.” He opened the door. “I’ll be back later. I know Shir is still at kindergarten, but we’re going to have to think about — you know what, I’ll have to do the thinking, because I don’t think you’re capable of doing that anymore. So I’ll have to be the one to figure out what to do with our little girl. In the meantime, I suggest you stay home. Don’t talk to anyone except Roni, and don’t go anywhere else.” With that, he left.
Everything around her was quiet. As she stood in the middle of the living room, she could hear her heartbeat. She stared at the pictures on the sideboard, caressing them frame by frame, image by image. The feeling of loss had seeped into her. Her hand froze as she hovered over the photograph of her beloved parents, the last picture she had of them. Her parents had fallen out of love when the financial burden had snuffed out all good thoughts and feelings in their lives.
As her mother told it, her father found refuge in devout faith. He started spending hours at prayer with new friends, who were happy to welcome him into their circle of believers, embracing with a bear hug — a hug so powerful that it could not prevent the worst thing happening to their family. Galia remembered the tearful horror and shock that gripped her when a few years ago, before her mother passed away, she told Galia the story of their lives that she had not known until that day.
It had been after that protest she’d participated in, the one at Bar-Ilan Interchange she’d been so eager to attend. Luckily for the demonstrators, the weather had improved a bit after the previous night’s storm. Thousands had arrived, from dozens of settlements in Judea and Samaria, as well as other spots in Israel. They had all come to Bar-Ilan Interchange, raring to protest the wave of terror — and to block a major transportation hub, should there be a need.
Dozens of photographers and camera operators, from Israel and the world, were at the interchange, ready for anything. The police had set up roadblocks, trying to redirect the vehicles which passed through the interchange at rush hour to alternate routes. The news on the television and radio began each edition that morning with reporting from the scene, and the police commissioner was quoted as promising to shut down any attempt by the crowd to surge onto the highway itself, even if this meant using force.
Galia was initially placed with her photographer on a distant corner, but bit by bit, without her noticing, she was pushed forward by the crowd towards the center of the action. She made sure to note the posters with slogans like “Jewish blood isn’t free,” as well as the energized crowd, calling for condemning the ongoing terror attacks and for harsh treatment of any terrorist, Arab-Israeli, or Palestinian. At a certain point, the protestors started being pushed towards the highway, and within seconds a riot broke out.
Cops faced off against protestors — screams, shoves, nightsticks brandished. Together with her photographer, she was shoved towards the protestors, and their ire jostled and knocked the camera to the ground. Galia turned around to speak to her photographer, and that was when she saw her.
At first it was the burning eyes, then the face. As if from a mirror, her own face was staring back at her. Their eyes met. She was discombobulated for a moment; she took a second to digest the sight. In horror, she saw how that beautiful face twisted in pain, as blood trickled down from her forehead, into those burning eyes. Apparently, one of the police officers who had witnessed the attack on their camera had struck the doppelganger from behind with his nightstick. Galia tried to make her way through the crowd, but it was too thick. When she looked up again, all she could see was a tall blond man pulling her double, putting more distance between them. She saw that the protestors, like the police, had lost all control; suddenly, her photographer grabbed her hand and pulled her out of harm’s way. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, she knew that those seconds would change her life forever.
Later on that very day, she learned the details of her childhood.
In a shaking voice, her mother told her the truth, after Galia had pressed her — about the day her father Baruch had announced that he was leaving her, that he was moving to a settlement in Samaria with his new friends. Tearfully, Haya told her daughter how
Baruch had insisted on taking one of the twins with him, how she had foolishly accepted this proposition, hoping against hope that he would come to his senses and soon come home. Her father? Galia didn’t even know he was alive, believing that he had died of some disease, but in fact he had abandoned her in infancy! Galia refused to believe it. How could it be that her father had willingly abandoned her? How could he have taken her sister with him, the one with the burning eyes?
“Mom, I don’t believe it. It makes no sense. All these years I had a father, I had a sister, but you never told me about them. You never even gave me a hint…” Galia was agitated. She rose from her seat and started walking around the living room. Finally, she asked her mother, “Show me. I want to see pictures. I’m sure you have pictures. I want to see my sister, and my father too.”
Haya slowly rose and went into one of the rooms, returning with a small box, which she placed on Galia’s knees. Inside the box were a number of old photographs and a pair of baby shoes.
“That’s it? That’s all you kept of theirs? That’s supposed to be enough for me? How could that be? How could you have kept all this from me? How can it be that this is all we have left of our family?” she fumed at her mother.
“I gave him almost everything. I wanted him to remember me. I thought that he would come home one day. Unfortunately, I never heard anything from him or from them, not one word all these years, all this time. He never tried to contact me, and I did the same thing. I believe that it was your sister that you saw today, our second daughter. We named her Naama…” Haya’s tears were flowing freely, but Galia felt incapable of consoling her mother. Galia was too angry, too disappointed, too agitated.
All this had happened just a few days before she met Doron — that first, somewhat miserable meeting, when he had told her about himself, but she had withheld everything about the life, the family which she didn’t have. Or did she?
Doron had never met Haya. After the shocking revelation, the limited relationship between Galia and her mother deteriorated to nothing. A few days after their discussion, Galia still felt that her mother was hiding details of her life. Additionally, she couldn’t shake the notion that Haya could have made more of an effort to find Baruch and Naama — or at least to stay in contact with them.
Much as it pained her, Galia had to admit that the dissolution of their relationship had put tremendous stress on her mother, leading to Haya’s suffering a massive stroke, which caused her death a few days later.
Now Galia put the photo back down. If only, she thought, Mom was still here with me. She would know what to do. She could convince Naama to give Shir back.
The telephone rang unexpectedly, jarring Galia out of her musing. “Yes, Doron, I’m home. I haven’t left, so you can—”
“Gali, just be quiet and listen up.” Doron’s voice was urgent, and Galia’s heart began pounding. “On the way back to the station, I heard that there are officers on the way. They are going to arrest and interrogate you.” She suddenly felt weak in the knees, as her lungs emptied of air. Was she going to faint? It was beginning.
“Don’t freak out, they know who you are. Right now, all the orders have to go through me, so you have nothing to worry about just yet.”
Galia didn’t know what to do about Doron, but it was clear to her that his involvement had to come to an end. Shir’s life hung in the balance.
“Doron, I don’t think you should be tied to this in any way. It doesn’t look good. Just stay out of it. Let everyone else do their job…”
“Their job? It’s my job! And if I do it right, you won’t need to spend even one minute in jail.”
Galia’s eyes were wet with tears.
“I’m near Nazareth. I’m gonna drop into the office and see what material they have, and then I’ll be back a few minutes after that. I want to be there when they show up, so I’ll try to slow them down a bit. Have you called Roni yet? He should be there when they come to take you into custody. Once I get there we’ll think about this together.”
“Doron, please,” Galia whispered into the phone. “Don’t come.” She was afraid that his appearance would shatter her and she’d tell him everything.
“Don’t be crazy, I’m on my way. Bye.” He hung up.
Roni Schechter was an excellent lawyer and a good friend. Galia wasn’t enthusiastic about calling him, but she knew that she would need an attorney regardless. They had met through Doron’s work, and over the years a strong bond had formed between the families. They spent a great deal of leisure time together, even having joint family vacations. Galia knew that she could rely on him and explain to him everything that had happened.
After the telephone call, as she waited for Doron and the detectives to arrive, thoughts began running through her head. I have to get ready, she thought. What does that mean?
She had to gather a number of things to take with her, if they even allowed that. She didn’t know what it meant to be taken to the station for interrogation. All she could imagine was what she had seen in crime thrillers or what Doron had told her about his own investigations.
She also had to put her affairs in order at the office. But what should she say? Whom should she talk to? Daniel? Could she rely on him? Could she look Doron in the face once he found out that she had confided in Daniel while leaving him in the dark? No, she couldn’t do that to Doron. On top of that, she was so suspicious now that she couldn’t be sure about where Daniel’s loyalties lay — with her or with the paper’s readers. It was clear to her that the two men in her life deserved an explanation, but she would delay it until a later date. She had to consult Roni.
A few minutes later, as she was talking on the phone with Daniel, trying to deflect his attempt to figure out what had happened and why she had so abruptly left the newsroom on such a busy day, she heard the doorbell ring and the door open.
It was Doron. “I got here as quickly as I could.”
“Doron’s there?” Daniel asked accusingly; Galia could guess what he was thinking.
“He came to see Shir,” she lied. “Listen, I can’t talk about it right now, Daniel, but I promise you’ll get an explanation in the next few days.” In a day or two, she was sure, Shir would be back home, and she could explain herself to everyone. The thought that Daniel was perhaps now preoccupied with puerile jealousy angered her. “Look, I have to go. We’re agreed: I’m handing the reins over to you. You can do whatever you like. Enjoy it!” She tried to make light of the situation, to avoid the explanation she was not prepared to offer.
“And… I’m not sure that you’ll be able to reach me over the next few days…” She glanced at Doron. “I’m really counting on you.” It was true: she was relying on him.
Doron grimaced and moved towards her impatiently.
“Okay, Galia, I’m here for you. You know that.” Daniel’s tone was personal and intimate once again. “Whenever you need me, just call. I insist.”
“No problem, Daniel. Thank you so much.” She hung up.
“It was smart not to give him any explanations,” said Doron. “I’ve never trusted him too much. He would run and rat you out in the paper. ‘Haifa Personality Accused of Assassination Attempt’ — I can see the headline already. He would not hesitate for one second.”
“On the other hand, I’m not so sure, Doron. Daniel owes me a lot. I know he gives me a lot of credit for what I’ve done.” She knew that she was one of the few people Daniel would stubbornly protect. Right?
Daniel was known for his predatory nature, throwing elbows at anyone who stood in his way. As close as their relationship was — perhaps too close at times, from her point of view — Galia was always saying to herself that if Daniel ever wanted to retake full control of the newspaper, he would stop at nothing. She recalled for a moment one occasion where he had jokingly said that should he want to be in sole charge of the paper again, all he had to was find out her secr
ets and then blackmail her. She could not forget how a shiver had run through her body as she pondered what might happen to her if Daniel ever uncovered her secrets…
However, she gave him no indication that he had found her pressure point; she lied to him and told him there were no skeletons in her closet. He, however, continued to fantasize about this possibility — and if he got her into his bed along the way, then his victory would be twofold.
Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Galia froze, certain that the cops had come to take her into custody. Doron noticed this, but told her, “Just sit.” He went to open the door. It was Roni.
Roni strode into the living room, looking into her eyes. He set down his large briefcase by his feet, turning to them. “Now then, would you two mind telling me what is going on here? Doron, why don’t you try? Galia was absolutely incomprehensible on the phone.”
“Why don’t you have a seat too.” Doron asked.
Roni’s eyes widened as he listened. He looked from Doron to Galia and back again. He tried to understand the madness unfolding before him.
“Okay, now let me hear what Galia has to say.” He looked at her questioningly.
“Roni, I have nothing to add.” She desperately wanted to take him aside and give him a true explanation, but she knew that Doron would never approve; and if he stormed out and left her, she would die. Roni seemed to read her thoughts and turned to Doron.
“Doron, do me a favor, why don’t you make some coffee for me and you. I want to speak to Galia alone for a moment.”
Doron looked at Galia questioningly, and she nodded, so Doron went into the kitchen. Galia stood up and walked out to the balcony, where she hoped to recover a bit and tell Roni everything. Roni followed her. She leaned on the cold metal railing and thanked God that the rain had stopped. Then she lit a cigarette for herself and laid out her entire life story for Roni, who was shocked.
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