Love Conquers All

by Galia Albin

  *

  The morning paper was spread on the kitchen table, and Talia noticed Jonathan Ruskin’s picture on the front page. He must have bought another giant company or completed a merger. She hadn’t yet read the article when the phone rang.

  “Did you see Jonathan in the L.A Times?” Gloria sounded shaken to the core. “He’s been detained by the police, accused of manipulating stocks; he is under investigation for using insider information. What a disaster! And what a disgrace to the Jewish community...”

  “Gloria, slow down. You mustn’t rash to judge him. Where is he now?”

  "Read the paper. He's under house arrest, released on a fifty million dollar bond. He was indicted by a federal court in New York."

  "I'm going to call him right away..."

  "Talia, are you out of your mind? It's better not to interfere in such matters. If 1 were you, I'd keep my distance, lest some of the mud sticks to you too."

  "I know what I'm doing, Gloria, believe me..."

  "What do you want? This is not a good time to talk." Ingrid Riskin sounded aloof and cold, like a Nordic iceberg. Only when Talia assured her that it was important for Jonathan and for her family did she agree to call her husband to the phone.

  His voice sounded hurt and melancholy. "What made you call me, Talia? Did you read the paper? I'm a dead horse, do you understand, a dead horse."

  She had a searing sense of dѐĵā vu and seemed to be reliving a series of events that she would much rather have kept buried in her heart. "You said you were my friend, but you forgot that friendship is a two way street. I'm your friend, too. I want to help."

  "How can you help me?"

  "I have something to say to you, something important, perhaps critical. It may even save you, you know." She said it in a playful, slightly seductive tone; she did not want to sound too sentimental. "Will you agree to see me, Jonathan?"

  "Okay, you can come now. I'm not too busy since I've been put under house arrest. Besides, who can hold out against your Sabra persistence?"

  A dry sandstorm was blowing from the Nevada desert, and Talia wrapped herself in a light summer coat and tightened a silk scarf around her head. Jonathan himself opened the carved wooden door for her. She glanced about her, taking in the expensive, exquisite yet unassuming house. The enormous study, lined with books from floor to ceiling, smacked of seriousness and many years of financial success.

  His wife and children were nowhere to be seen. No telephones rang, and the silence that reigned in the house filled her with anxiety. It was like the house of a sick person, someone at death's door, where one walks around on tiptoe. This could not have happened back home, she thought. True, nobody knows better than me that people can be mean-spirited and vindictive; I have felt the pain of betrayal, but, on the other hand, we don't abandon people, we don't throw them to the dogs. Back home you are never completely alone. There are always friends who support you, who show you the meaning of true loyalty.

  Jonathan looked drawn and both physically and mentally broken. Again, Talia was overwhelmed by memories she wished she could erase from her mind. This was exactly how Yoni had looked when he locked himself in his study at their home in Tel Aviv. This is what he must have looked like during the last days of his life, when she was not at his side. She would never forgive herself for not being there with him, no matter what the reason, no matter that she couldn't possibly have known what had happened to him. Isn't that the meaning of true love, being with your loved one whenever and wherever he needs you?

  But Yoni is dead, and nothing can bring him back to life, she thought. Suddenly she had a wonderful idea. She felt as if she were being given an opportunity to correct and redeem the past, not the part that was irreparable, not the relentless pain and loss, but something inside her soul. By helping Jonathan, she might be able to find some peace for herself.

  "Jonathan, I would like to tell you a story about another Jonathan," she began, when they were seated in leather armchairs, facing each other across a glass top table next to a heavy mahogany bookcase. Talia glanced at the rows of books lining the walls, some of which were leather bound. There were books on economy and law, encyclopedias and art books. This is a man of learning, she thought approvingly.

  "It happened three years ago," she began, looking into his wretched eyes. "My husband, Yoni, was in the exact same position as you are today. His ascent had also been meteoric. His financial and social success was unprecedented in the history of our young state, but just as he rose, so he fell, with a terrible thud. I was not at his side during those fatal hours; nobody was at his side. Nobody knew that he had been detained by the police. His civil rights were blatantly violated and there was no regard for his human rights. After his death, the police told me that he had jumped to his death, but I know that he fell. That controversy won't bring him back to me. All I know is that he was lonely and scared, and his judgment was impaired. I can find no peace when I think of his terrible loneliness in those last moments of his life."

  Jonathan listened to her attentively and said nothing. Talia covered her eyes, not wishing him to see her tears. Despite the bitter taste in her mouth, she continued. "He left me a widow and his children orphans. Such pain knows no consolation, but the worst tragedy is knowing that his death was unnecessary, totally redundant!" Talia lowered her voice, which echoed in the empty room like a stifled cry. The man facing her waved his hand, signaling her to go on. "Well, after his death, it was discovered that his only transgression had been a minor one, something that he would have had to pay a fine for, no more. All the rest was trumped up accusations and denouncements by envious, vindictive, interested parties. But by then, of course, it was too late!"

  "So in Israel, too, among Jews, there are people who envy and hate?"

  "Of course. There are such people everywhere. But that is no reason to take your own life."

  He winced, his face turning pale, as if she had caught him red-handed.

  "I never believed in anti-Semitism. I always thought that people who blame their troubles on anti-Semitism are nothing but losers and defeatists. I always believed that this is a country of immigrants, a huge melting pot, where a complex bur unified entity was created. I thought this country cherished and respected all its citizens equally, having embraced so many nationalities and minorities and turned them into Americans... But when I stood before that judge, who was as cruel as Queen Isabela of Spain, I changed my mind... Everything seemed pointless. What chance do I have against such abysmal hate? I know what she was thinking: this small time accountant from Tucson, Arizona has already taken enough of what's ours, now he'll get what’s coming to him..."

  Talia nodded. The previous night she had rehearsed the things she was going to say to him, and now they fit right into their conversation. "You must fight, Jonathan! Fight for your life, for everything you have accomplished so far, whether this is anti-Semitism or not." She stopped momentarily and examined his face. "Your responsibility is first and foremost to your family. Don't do anything that might hurt your wife and children. I am! speaking to you on behalf of myself and my children. I was unable to save my Yoni, but perhaps I can give you some strength. You should see in me a living messenger from my dead husband, and I speak from the heart, from the heart of Jonathan to the heart of Jonathan."

  Jonathan Riskin's eyes filled with tears. He cleared his throat to hide the emotion. "You know, Talia," he said, "you did a good thing coming here. I was in deep despair, in an abyss. Maybe I would have pulled through, maybe not, but you helped me climb out. You helped me cross to the other side. I will never forget this."