Hatchet

by Israel Levy

  Hatchet

  Israel Levy

  Copyright © 2018 Israel Levy

  All rights reserved; No parts of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information retrieval system, without the permission, in writing, of the author.

  Translation: Rona Zelivansky

  Contact: atsoolevy@gmail.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  About the Author

  Message from the Author

  Chapter 1

  The shadow blocked the sunlight, stripping away its warmth at once, sending shivers through her body and making goose bumps pop up all over her tanned skin. She lifted her half closed eyes. “Excuse me, you’re blocking the sun,” she testily called out to the figure that towered over her.

  “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to,” said the figure, (“South American accent,” she thought to herself).

  Her eyes instinctively shut as he moved aside, allowing the sun to strike her once again. Her hand groped for the sunglasses that lay by her side and she put them on instead of the round prescription glasses she had been wearing.

  The figure that had been nothing but a dark silhouette against the backdrop of the sun, now took the shape of an athletic looking guy in tiny swim briefs that showed off his abs and just barely contained his unmentionables, (“That’s a dated word, unmentionables,” she thought).

  “Sorry, I really didn’t mean to bother you,” said the silhouette, “I just saw you lying there with that book on your face and thought something might have happened to you, and there’s no one else on this beach so I thought I’d come check and…”

  “OK, OK, I get it,” she tried to put a stop to his avalanche of words. “And thanks for your concern.”

  “You’re welcome,” said the figure, then turned and ran towards the waves crashing in and rushing out from the shore in whirlpools of bubbly ocean foam. A quick jump, and his body, which she followed with her gaze as she leaned back on her elbows, disappeared into the white froth.

  She emitted a little sigh, checking her wristwatch. Only thirty minutes remained of her lunch break. Rising up to a sitting position on the towel, her body clad in a skimpy bikini, breasts struggling to break free from the tight bra, she examined the results of the past hour’s tanning session. Her eyes traveled from her feet to her calves to her thighs (“Not bad for a thirty two year old”). She wiggled into a pair of black trousers and a white blouse, stood up, and brushed the sand off her feet before putting on a pair of low heeled shoes and a tailored jacket that completed her lawyer look, removing all traces of the half-naked woman who had been basking in the sun a mere minute ago.

  She bent down to grab her book, “Memories of a Revisionist” appeared in bold on the book cover as a shadow over Ze’ev Jabotinsky’s round glasses and gaunt face. Folding her towel in a quick, assertive step, she headed to the yellow BMW parked on the dirt road that led to her secret beach hideout.

  She slid into the car, took one last glance at the beach through the rearview mirror (“See ya later”), started the engine and was on her way, leaving a cloud of dust in her wake. She blended into the river of cars streaming along the road which separated the quiet tranquility of her beach from the hectic pace of life. She shifted into fourth gear, pumping more fuel to the engine which purred in delight, and made her way to the block of office buildings on the close horizon.

  The following day was busy and tiring, starting with the alarm clock stuck blinking on midnight after a power outage in the middle of the night (“Shit!”). Following a quick shower, she reached into the closet and grabbed the first blouse on the rack without much thought (“No, no, I have that meeting away from the office today, I need something more appropriate!”). She took off the bright colored blouse, tossed it on the bed and quickly grabbed a white one. Adding a touch of makeup (“I have to remember to book an appointment at the salon to get my hair and eyebrows done”), she buttoned her blouse and was on her way out.

  The door had barely closed behind her and she was already running down the stairs, slipping on her black jacket, She tripped and nearly fell at the bottom of the stairs, the yellow car seemed to smile at her as she pressed the remote control key, turning off the alarm, a whiff of suntan oil still lingering inside.

  She loved the sound of the tires screeching as she pulled out of the driveway (“I’m such an idiot, I’ll end up running someone over one of these days”). For a second she almost drove straight to the office before remembering she had that meeting, an urgent visit with a troubled client outside the city (“They can be such a nuisance sometimes”) which meant she wouldn’t be able to slip away for her daily hour of sunbathing.

  The book and towel were left, abandoned, on the back seat of her car.

  She hit the answering machine and checked the day’s messages. “You have twelve new messages.” Most were from the office or from her mother, reminding her about their lunch together the next day.

  Shuli sent her a singing ‘Happy Birthday’ (“Oh my gosh, my sis is the best! I forgot it was my birthday tomorrow, that’s just what I need right now with this mood I’m in”). On the way she had spotted the giant, neon sign of that new supermarket and remembered she hadn’t eaten anything all day. They were supposed to have awesome sushi at that market. . Coming in from the dark it took a second for her eyes to adjust to the bright lights. She walked straight to the sushi counter, passing the deli smelling of cheeses and sausages, and spotted a vast array of plastic trays filled with freshly made sushi. She picked four roles of nigiri, four of sashimi and four of hosomaki (“That’s way too much”), and munched two pieces right at the Russian cashier’s till.(“Mmmm, so good”). She grabbed a bottle of Asahi (“I love this beer”), swiped her credit card, and returned to her car. She threaded through the huge parking lot, then nearly ran a red light as her mind was still on that morning’s meeting.

  Her parking lot was already full this time of night. She dragged herself to the elevator and leaned against the wall (“I am absolutely beat”), sneaking another bite of sushi from the tray on her way up.

  She turned on the light in the hall, walked across to the computer on the desk (“It’s about time I kick this thing out of the living room”), and checked her emails – two new messages – both from Reuben (“That man is relentless”). She deleted both straight away without even reading them. Only later that night, after finishing what little sushi survived the drive home and seconds before closing her eyes, she thought to herself, “Goddamnit, I need to get my hour of sun tomorrow no matter what.” She fell asleep and was surprised by a flicker of an image of that man from the beach, leaping into the frothy waves.

  The next day she arrived at the office bright and early. Wrapped up in drafting a response regarding the lawsuit from the previous day’s meeting, she suddenly heard: “Good morning Ms. Erez. Happy Birthday!” She remembered to hit save on her laptop before a bouquet of flowers followed by her mother entered the room. “Noomik, honey, you haven’t returned my calls. Did you forget it was your birthday?”

  She rose, walked around the desk, and approached her mother, engulfed in the scent of her heavy perfume (“How many times have I told her I hate this perfume.”) She despised her birthdays, that feeling that yet another year has gone by wit
h nothing really changing.

  “Noomik, sweetie, look at your office (“Here she goes again”). Why is Reuben’s office bigger than yours? And why do you have an espresso machine in your office? It’s not good for you, drinking so much coffee.” Once her mother got started it was impossible to get her to stop. She spotted Yael the secretary smiling at her sympathetically over her mother’s shoulder. “Yael, if anyone asks I’ll be back later.”

  She dragged her mother to the elevator so as not to give her the chance to go through every room in the office, making remarks. They got into her car. She started the engine and drove towards the Ramat Aviv mall. Her mom leaned back in the seat, making constant little comments like, “Watch out, don’t go so fast. Oh my, you nearly ran that man over. Why is the radio so loud? Are you eating enough? (“And the inevitable”) When will you give me grandchildren already? I don’t have much longer left.” She parked the car in the mall’s underground lot.. “Noomik, after we eat I have to buy you that dress.” Chinese food with her mom was always the experience. “Noomik, why do you eat those bugs? Have some rice, it’s fattening, it’s good for you! Do you really have to get the pork? Your dad wouldn’t like that.” Shopping with her mother was no less taxing. “Naomi, be patient, remember, that’s part of the price you have to pay for having a mother”. It wasn’t until 11 o’clock at night, after a series of no-longer-fake yawns, that she said, “Mom, I’m super tired and I have a really crazy day tomorrow.” “Alright, alright, you never have any time for me,” said her mother before letting her go. “I think I’ll stay at the mall a bit longer, I’ll take a taxi back. It’s ok, I’m used to taking care of myself.”

  She got to the car (“That’s it, I’m done, I can’t go back to the office”). “Yael.” “Yes, I know. Your mother wore you out and you’re not coming back.” She started the car and emerged onto the street, tires screeching. “You’re the best. Don’t know what I’d do without you. Goodnight.”

  Two stoplights and she was home., A skip up the stairs amounted to the only bit of exercise that day. A quick shower, and a look at herself in the mirror before heading to bed reminded her that this tan did not exactly have permanent residence on her body. Deciding that she wouldn’t miss her tanning session the next day, she climbed into bed pleased with herself and fell asleep naked, sinking into the soft pillow, her skin trembling against the slippery satin sheet.

  The following morning’s meeting dragged on forever. “That won’t do him any good,” she thought and nodded to the client trying his best to hypnotize her with his eyes, overlooking his bald head, advancing age, and big belly. (“Thirty minutes from now I’m at the beach”) The client had not yet left her office and she was already at the elevator. “I’m sorry, I’m late for my next meeting,” she offered the surprised and sweaty man an apologetic smile and left him sitting with his espresso still untouched.

  The elevator assumed a deliberately sluggish pace, stopping at every floor, collecting swanky looking lawyers on their way to lunch at fancy restaurants or to a quickie with the mistress. “You can actually see the anticipated quick fuck in their eyes,” she thought, following the lazily-changing floor numbers.

  Car. Alarm. Ignition. Street. Dirt road. Beach. She scoured the beach from the end of the road as she parked. It was empty. She let out a sigh of relief, pushed back the driver’s seat so that she’d have more space, removing her clothes in a display of impressive acrobatics, revealing her naked body for a few seconds before putting on her bathing suit. Towel, oh she nearly forgot Jabotinsky, went back to the car, grabbed the book from the back seat where it had rested unopened since her last visit to the beach, and walked to her usual spot. What drew her to that corner of sand was it’s remoteness and privacy. In fact, she never met anyone else there, except for that Argentinian guy from last time. (“Argentinian? How exactly did I decide he was from Argentina? He could be from Chile or Columbia. Whatever.”)

  She pushed those thoughts out of her mind. Her private stretch of sand was hidden behind a length of thorny bushes. A little path, recognizable only by the crushed vegetation on either side, connected between her sandy hideout and the parking spot up on the sandstone ridge. The shrubs were tall enough that she could sunbathe topless for a flawless tan without any strap marks. She loved the touch of sun on her breasts and the slight chill the wind gave her, making her nipples perk up sassily in the ocean breeze. How she loved that glorious feeling of nudity.

  She carefully laid out her towel, placed her book next to it, grabbed her tube of suntan oil (“Time to get a new one”) and started applying it to her naked skin in circular motions. Her eyes shut as she reached her bare breasts, lathering herself in a slow, round movement, allowing the oil to soak in. Suddenly she had the distinct feeling someone else was there. She covered her breasts in a quick motion and turned swiftly to one side, but saw no one. (“What’s with the paranoia? No one ever comes here”) but still, she decided to put her top back on and simply let the shoulder straps fall to the side. She leaned back on the towel, rolled over to lie on her stomach and reached for her book. She found the little folded page corners funny. There were so many of them, she clearly read only two or three pages at a time.

  She immersed herself in her reading, her eyelids becoming heavier and heavier, and as always found herself slipping into a deep, pleasant slumber.

  “Excuse me, Miss, are you alright? Miss, miss?” She was startled awake by the touch of a hand, instantly getting a splitting headache that struck her temples forcefully.

  “What are you doing?!” she yelled at the figure that towered over, touching her shoulder. The blurry figure took a few quick steps back, tumbled over a bush falling right into its thorns. Her eyes still couldn’t adjust to the searing sun and she reached for her sunglasses, put them on, and recognized the strapping man lying in the thorny bush.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she blurted out with a smile at the sight of him, prone on the prickly bush, an expression of shock on his face. “My apologies,” she couldn’t hide her laugh. “You’re that guy who was here the last time, right? You were worried about me then too.”

  “Yes, yes,” his voice trembled with surprise and the sharp pain from the thorns. “That’s me. I just saw you with your face inside your book like that, it didn’t even look like you were breathing, so I got scared.” He folded up his body, took a limber skip and gingerly hopped to his feet. “How come you never read that book? Looks like all you do is fall asleep underneath it,” he said with a smile, revealing a set of perfect teeth, two bright, white stripes in his tan face. (“Wish I had teeth like that”) a little tremor went down her spine as she remembered the sound of the drill at Dr. Uria, her dentist.

  She smiled gingerly, straightened her bra straps and reached out her hand to shake his. “I’m Naomi,” she said. “Nice to meet you, I’m Moshe,” he smiled in embarrassment. The skin of his palm felt rough and his grip was firm.

  “Please, sit down, don’t be shy,” she said. He sat down beside her on the edge of the towel, trying to keep his distance. “So, I take it you like coming to this deserted part of the beach too,” she went on. “That’s right,” he said with his thick accent and rolling ‘R’. “I discovered it ages ago. At first there was no one here and I felt like I’m some kind of explorer, finding this patch of the beach that’s right in the heart of the city, and as they say in the books, on which no white man has yet set foot.”

  Her smile widened (“That is so strange. I couldn’t have picked better words to describe what I felt exactly”).

  “The last time I met you was the first time I ever saw anyone else here. To tell you the truth, I really thought it was some dead body washed up on shore, heaven forbid.”

  Her gaze lingered on his body and for a second her eyes lingered on his bulging swimsuit. She realized what she was doing and quickly looked up to his eyes, bright green against the deep blush that creeped across his face. (“Sorry”) “Oh, sorr
y,” she said out loud, “me too”. He looked puzzled. “I mean, I thought so too, that this was the last stretch of beach not to be overrun with barbecues and paddle ball. It’s nice to meet someone who feels the same.”

  Their eyes met for a brief moment (“Look at those deep, green eyes of his”) and moved away, each one of them staring at a different spot, he at the nearby shrubbery and she at the far horizon. She checked her watch, “Oh wow, I’m late for a meeting,” she got up, shot a quick “goodbye” over her shoulder, then added a “see you later”. She could feel his eyes on her back following her. She got to the car, shook the sand off her body with a few slaps of the towel, and ducked inside the car to retrieve a pile of clothes. “Would you mind turning?” she called out to him without looking in his direction. A bit startled, he promptly looked away. In a split second she was out of the bathing suit and into her formal work clothes, her eyes still on him to make sure he didn’t turn to look at her. “Ok, thanks. Bye.”

  He was amazed to see this tanned girl transformed unexpectedly into an elegant business woman. Before starting her car she stuck her head out the window, turned to him, and waved goodbye.

  “Tomorrow?” she heard him dare a suggestion. She smiled but gave no answer. She started the car, stepping on the gas pedal too hard, causing the wheels to swivel in place and throw sandstone bits all over the path. Startled, she took her foot off the pedal, turned for another look as if to sear his image on her memory, and glided from the sandstone road into rushing traffic on the main thoroughfare leading to the office towers that dotted the skyline.

  He followed her car with his eyes and when he could no longer see it, he dropped his gaze to the ground and spotted a red Castro bag next to the book she had read (“Had fallen asleep under”). He bent down, picked up the open book, shut it and looked at the slim figure with round glasses. “Jabotinsky,” he read. He placed the book in his backpack which was stuffed with dirty clothes, bent down and checked the red shopping bag. Two wrapped sandwiches greeted him with the strong scent of avocado. He unwrapped one, stuck the sandwich in his mouth and in a quick stride turned to walk south along the shoreline. Feeling quite cheerful, he took another bite of sandwich, kicking at some empty beer cans that must have washed onto shore from the kitchen of some ship on its way to faraway lands.