Hatchet

by Israel Levy

  “Naomi, Naomi, are you there?” the voice emanating from the telephone shook her from her reveries.

  “Yes, Reuben. What’s up?”

  “Can I come in for a minute?”

  Before she answered, her office door swung open and Reuben filled the room as usual with his six foot-four figure. He wore a pair of form fitting Gabardine trousers, a branded Polo shirt, and a colorful tie embossed with looney toons. She could never understand how such a successful lawyer could meet clients with a hideous tie like that, but you had to hand it to him, he certainly did look good. He shut the door behind him and came up to her in a few long strides.

  “What’s up, Naomi?” he gave her a hug and tried to kiss her on the lips but met her right cheek as she turned her head. “Oh, ok. What is actually up with you, Naomi?” he again asked, the question making her feel uncomfortable. “I’ve been trying to reach you for three nights now. Check your answering machine, I really hate that thing. You haven’t responded to my emails, either. Is there something going on that I don’t know about?”

  “No, nothing. It’s just been a crazy week. I’ve been working the Farhi vs. Stern case plus Mr. Leibowitz dumped another case on me, one that Dana couldn’t bring to closing argument and we’re due in court tomorrow and can’t postpone it.”

  He looked into her eyes, not quite certain that, up on a witness stand, he’d be willing to swear under oath that she was indeed telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, but chose not to push any further.

  “Ok, I get it, no prob. Listen, Leibowitz asked me to go over some last details on this frickin case with you, so if you don’t mind, I have a few questions,” he tossed a pile of folders on her desk.

  The sun began to set over the sea and the room grew darker. They were both immersed in hashing out the points he had marked on the documents. Every once in a while one of them would get up and grab another thick book from the cramped shelves. He switched on the desk lamps and their pupils constricted for a moment in response to the light, then dilated once again as they tried to focus on the busy page.

  “Yes?” she replied to the knock on the door. Yael’s head popped in.

  “Don’t you people have a home to go to? Maybe you want me to order you a pizza?”

  Naomi then remembered that she’d eaten nothing all day. She tried to recall why she hadn’t eaten her sandwiches at lunchtime and a smile came to her face as she thought about the beach. Then the penny dropped (“Shit, I left my book and the shopping bag with the sandwiches”).

  “What was that?” said Reuben.

  “No, no, nothing. Yes, Yael, please order us a large pizza, and some chicken wings, and a side of corn on the cob and…” her eyes met the bewildered look on Reuben’s face. “What?” she asked. “Nothing, I guess you’re just really, really hungry,” he replied.

  She smiled and handed Yael her visa card.

  “Naomi, I’m gonna go. Don’t forget to tip the delivery guy and turn off the lights when you leave. Bye!”

  There was a buzz at the door. “Reuben, I think that’s the pizza delivery,” she blurted, typing away at her laptop. He went to the main office door and came back with the food.

  “He almost left, thought the office was closed. I really didn’t notice everyone had gone.”

  “It’s eleven p.m., of course they’ve gone.”

  The pizza, spicy chicken wings and buttery corn appeased their hunger. They washed it all down with cola and went on with their work, their faces sporting traces of tomato sauce.

  The cleaning lady, Tatiana, was the first to arrive at the office every morning to prepare it for the new day before everyone else appeared. She was surprised to find the front door open and entered the elegant, wood clad lobby with some trepidation. Naomi’s door was slightly ajar and as she pushed it open she uttered a small cry, seeing a man and woman lying still, he on the soft carpet by the foot of the desk and she on top of the cabinet next to the window, their faces still smeared with red and the room littered with pizza boxes and thick legal books.

  She apprehensively tiptoed towards them and gently touched Naomi’s shoulder. “Miss Naomi, Miss Naomi, are you ok?”

  “What? What happened?” she was startled awake and jumped up to a sitting position (“Why do people keep thinking something’s happened to me?”). “We’re fine, Tatiana. We just stayed up late working and fell asleep.” Reuben heard them talking and was stirring as well, shaking his right arm to get the blood flow going.

  “Ouch, my arm fell asleep. Shit, what time is it?” he asked, checking his Breitling wristwatch, a present from Leibowitz after the big win in the publicist’s suit against the famous local newspaper. “Oh no. We need to be in court in three hours. Come on, Naomi, better head home for a quick shower and get back here as fast as we can.”

  She picked up the heavy folders, stuffed them in her briefcase and ran to the elevator, followed by the clerks’ questioning looks (“I can’t be bothered to explain right now, let them think what they want”). Once inside the elevator she noticed she didn’t have her keys on her and let go a juicy curse. The thought of going back upstairs and enduring their judgmental stares was not at all enticing.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I forgot my keys, and I really, really don’t feel like going back.”

  “I have an idea,” said Reuben, and suggested she come with him to his place. Some of her clothes were still there. “Leave it,” he said in response to her somewhat surprised look. “You can shower at my place, use the clean clothes you left there, and we’ll just go straight to court from there, together.”

  She did not answer right away. It felt strange going back to that house after two months, as if nothing had happened. Then again, she really did not want to go back up to the office, and showing up late to court was not an option.

  “Ok, but no funny business.”

  Reuben gave her a sort of smile she did not like (“Oh, what the hell, what could possibly happen? A quick shower and we’ll be out”).

  Reuben’s yellow Audi GT stood out in the parking lot (“He just had to get a car the exact same color as mine”), and she noticed he had been allotted his own private parking spot (“I need to talk to Leibowitz about that”). They entered the car. It had been a long while since she’d sat in those comfortable leather seats and now her body, sore from sleeping on the office cabinet, eased back, and her and eyes slowly closed.

  It took her a minute to realize that the rooster clucking was actually coming from her phone. She stuck her hand deep inside her bag, pushing aside lipsticks, letters, and an emergency tampon, and finally reached the cellphone that was still clucking (“I need to change that crazy ringtone”).

  “Noomik, honey, what’s new?” that was the last thing she needed, with her head already pounding as it was.

  “Mom, I’m in a real hurry, I’ll talk to you later,” she hung up without waiting for a response and turned off her phone (“If my mother only knew I was headed to Reuben’s she’d kill me”) and fell back asleep. She was woken by the beeping sound of the parking remote. She grabbed her briefcase and followed Reuben up the four familiar steps to the front door of the elegant villa.

  “I’ll make some coffee, you go ahead and use the shower first. Your clothes are in the left hand closet in the bedroom.” As soon as she entered the room and set foot on the familiar hardwood floor, the sensors activated the sound system and a soothing jazz riff enveloped the room and dim lights were turned on, generating a relaxing atmosphere. She went to the closet and saw her underwear neatly folded, and couldn’t help but think it was weird how Reuben had folded her panties and bra. Next to them were her white blouse, black trousers and black jacket.

  She took out the clothes and placed them on the bed. Dividing the ensuite bathroom from the rest of the bedroom was an opaque glass wall. She undressed, tossed her clothes on the
rail, and opened the glass shower door. Here too sensors turned on the lights. Her skin trembled at the touch of the cold water which soon grew warm and she allowed it to wash over her, leaning against the wall with both hands. She did not use a sponge and instead lathered the soap with her hands, covering every inch of her body, sliding over her breasts and down to her stomach, giving in to the pleasure that began to possess her.

  Naomi was so absorbed by the feeling that she didn’t notice the shower door open. All of a sudden a second pair of hands was sliding over her body. For a moment she considered resisting, but her body quivered and she decided to acquiesce. She could feel him behind her, and the image that suddenly flashed before her closed eyes was that of Moshe’s strong body. She trembled as his hand slipped across her buttocks and in between her legs, opening a path inside her. He pressed his body against hers and she could feel him entering her slowly, sensing the warmth of his member. Naomi began swaying her body against Reuben and their two naked forms, lathered in soap under the warm water, moved as one, her chest and neck beginning to turn red. She could feel him pounding inside her, again and again, sensing the impending contractions and his member moving faster and faster, “Ah..ah...ah”, she felt the waves of orgasm washing over her, mixing with his semen inside her (“Oh god, this feels good. Good thing I’m still on the pill”). She felt the weight of his body against her back. Wiggling free, she pushed him out of the shower to wash herself clean. She grabbed the shower head, turned the dial to ‘power massage’ mode and directed it between her legs to remove all traces of him. She stepped out of the shower and saw him leaning against the marble sink top, breathing heavily, his image reflected in that mirror the covered half the wall.

  “Naomi, I…” she placed one finger on her lips, gesturing him to be quiet, wrapped her hair in turban with a soft, white towel, slipped into the white bathrobe that was hanging on the rail by the shower, and moved to the bedroom.

  When he followed her out she was already in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, staring out the window into the garden, nibbling on a croissant she had heated for her herself.

  He turned on the espresso machine, made a cup for himself, pulled up a chair and sat across from her. He tried to talk to her but she kept shushing him (“I need some peace and quiet, shush, just some quiet”).

  They spent the ride to court in silence, and she savored that relaxation (“after a month with no sex it was about time my body relaxed a bit”).

  The wind blowing through the open windows dried her hair and she was surprised by how indifferent she was to the fact that she had just had sex with Reuben, after kicking him to the curb two months before.

  A smile came across her face as she remembered the beach fantasy. Reuben spied the expression and smiled as well, thinking he had her once again. After their court hearing Naomi insisted on staying behind for an espresso with the plaintiff, and sent Reuben back to the office by himself.

  When she closed her office door behind her that night she ran into him again.

  “Want to meet up?” he asked with a cocky smile which was quickly wiped off his face when she said “Reuben, I need you to hear me when I say this. What happened this morning was a one-time thing, nothing more. We both needed it, it happened and that’s that. It was enjoyable, I’ll give you that, but it doesn’t change anything.” She walked towards the elevator, leaving him gaping in bewilderment by the front desk (“Shit, she just fucked me”).

  Naomi tried to reach her sister on her cellphone but had no signal in the underground parking lot. She started her car and drove off, nearly hitting Reuben’s GT as he exited his private spot (“He probably ran down the stairs”). As soon as she was out on street level she dialed her phone.

  “Shuli, hey, want to catch up?”

  It’d been a while since she’d seen her sister. Ever since Shuli’s divorce and move to Kfar Shmaryahu they couldn’t seem to find an opportunity to meet. Now she reached her just as the kids were all in bed. The older one promised to look after the little one.

  “The Victoria in one hour, alright?” that was their favorite pub.

  “Ok.” Naomi decided not to go by her place (“I have to grab something to eat before we meet, I don’t feel like eating at the pub”) and instead stopped at a shawarma stand.

  “Hi. One Pita and a bottle of orange juice, to go please.”

  “Hello, lady. The usual? With all the toppings?”

  Every once in a while, when she was short on time (When was she ever not short on time?) she’d stop here for a quick meal, standing as far away from the stand as possible so as not to let the smell of meat and falafel seep into her clothes.

  She grabbed her food, returned to the car, tilted her seat back slightly, slipped in her Arik Einstein CD and bit into the shawarma, stopping for a sip of orange juice every couple of bites, trying all the while not to stain her clothes with shawarma grease.

  At the Victoria she was greeted by the sounds of jazz. She took off her tailored jacket, untucked the blouse from her pants and let down her hair (“Just to feel a little different from my work self”). She tried to spot her sister through the clouds of cigarette smoke. Bursts of laughter emanated from this table and that.

  “Still waiting on those fries!” “Shrimps are almost ready!” “Who ordered the Carlsberg?” “Where’s that cheese platter?!” The shouting competed with the loud music. A familiar face waved at her, blowing her a kiss, and she saw that it was Shuli, sitting at the bar, talking to some girl dressed in black and wearing platform shoes so high you’d need a ladder to climb down from them.

  “Hi, Eldad,” she turned to the bartender who grabbed a glass and said “Hi, Naomi. One Guinness, as usual, coming right up.”

  Shuli heard Naomi’s voice and turned to face her, holding a glass of Carlsberg in one hand, smiling that big smile of hers with those deep, irresistible, blue eyes. A bear hug.

  “I have no idea how you can stomach that bitter Guinness. You remember Frieda’s daughter, from the Projects?” she asked, pulling her towards the bar and gesturing to the young girl she had been sitting with. Naomi smiled as if in recognition (“I have no idea who this is”). “How are you, um…”

  “Orit.”

  “Oh, right, sure. How’ve you been Orit? How’s your mom?”

  An angry stare and surprisingly forceful kick in the shin from Shuli made it clear she had made a mistake. Orit’s eyes grew misty. “Mom passed away a year ago.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. What are you up to these days?” she tried to steer the conversation in a different direction and get her foot out of her mouth.

  “I did my degree in media design and now I’m working at an advertising agency.”

  “Nice. What’s the name of the firm? I know a lot of people in that line of work.” Orit said she worked for Sivan & Moran media, and Naomi remembered they were clients of her firm. Reuben did all their legal work and she remembered him telling her only recently that they were in a real mess, trying to sort out a complicated damages suit on the basis of professional culpability.

  “Good for you,” Naomi said and pulled Shuli to a side table, apologizing but saying she had to talk to her about something in private.

  “Seriously, Noomik, how can a lawyer like you with such phenomenal memory skills be so stupid?”

  “Not stupid, it’s just that my memory skills are selective so that I don’t waste space on details that aren’t important.”

  “Ok, ok, whatever you say.”

  Shuli grabbed another Carlsberg and Naomi’s Guinness from Eldad, the bartender, and sat down next to her.

  “Come on, spill.”

  Naomi began by telling her about the day with their mother. Shuli felt terrible. “Oh my gosh, Noomik, I forgot to get you a present. I’m such an idiot.”

  “Don’t worry about it. A, the greeting you sent was more than enough and B, you know how I feel abo
ut birthdays.”

  “So you had to spend the entire day with Mom? You poor thing.”

  “Never mind, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. Listen,” she began to tell her about the guy she met at the beach. “I just can’t seem to get him out of my mind. Even earlier today, and don’t freak out, but I had a one-off quickie with Reuben.”

  “Reuben!!” Shuli practically screamed, drowning out all other conversations in the pub. For a second, all eyes in the room were on her, before everyone returned to their own business. Shuli’s face turned red. “Are you out of your mind? After everything you’ve been through with him?”

  “I told you, it was no big deal, and to tell you the truth, I had a really good time. This time I actually took advantage of him. But that’s not the point. The point is, I wouldn’t have been able to fuck him at all unless I’d fantasized. And who did I fantasize about?”

  “Moshe?”

  “Right. And it’s sort of driving me crazy.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Shuli couldn’t understand. “If you like him so much just get in touch with him.”

  That’s when Naomi explained she didn’t actually know anything about him. She had no idea where he lived or what he did for a living. She realized she was struggling to overcome the loud music, which by now had switched from jazz to throbbing trance. The DJ manipulated flickering lights that bothered her eyes, the cigarette smoke began to change odors, and the sweetness in the air was way too pleasant to be legal (“The last thing I need right now is the police raiding the place”). People all around her began to dance, mostly by themselves. A few people made eye contact and moved closer together (“The number of times I hooked up with someone in this sort of situation…”) but she was in a different mindset altogether.