Jerusalem Stone

by Susan Sofayov

  “He’s sweet,” I said to Avi.

  “I wouldn’t care if he were meaner than a wild boar. He makes an amazing Margherita pizza.” As Avi finished his sentence, the young Israeli waitress approached the table. Her cheeks appeared flushed as she chewed on her bottom lip. Her hands appeared to shake a bit as Avi spoke to her in Hebrew. The only words I understood were the Hebrew words for red wine, “yayin adom” and Heineken, which is the same in all languages.

  “The waitress sure looked nervous. Are we scary looking?”

  “No, maybe it’s her first day. I hope you don’t mind, I ordered a large pizza and salads.”

  “Works for me.” I pushed the menu aside and gaze into his eyes. For a few minutes, I half listened as he described something about the dough rising better if a certain type of yeast is used and how New York City water is perfect for pizza dough.

  “You’re awfully quiet. Hungry or thinking?” he asked.

  “A little of both.” I fidgeted with the fork. “I wish I wasn’t booked on this tour tomorrow. I’d cancel it, but Shai said it’s a great tour, and I’d hate to lose all the money.”

  “Go, you’ll love it. I told you, the lake is worth the price.”

  His eyes shone in the dim light of the restaurant. I tried to understand how I could look at them from across the table and feel like I’ve known him forever, but when we stood, face-to-face, my brain waves frazzled, and my body wanted to devour him.

  “Can I take this desire not to go as an indication that you’ve grown slightly attached to me?”

  “No,” I smirked. “I just hate packing.”

  He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “You’re right. The stress of packing an entire backpack for an overnight trip is debilitating.”

  “You know, you’re a smart ass.”

  “Then tell the truth.” He moved forward, closing the space between his face and mine. “You’ve grown a little attached.”

  “Yes, I’ve grown a little attached. I come back on Monday evening, and you fly out Tuesday morning and...”

  “And, what?”

  I bit my bottom lip as the waitress placed our drinks on the table.

  “And what?” He lifted the beer to his mouth but stopped before drinking it. “I’m waiting for an answer.”

  And, it would be the last time I ever saw him. What could I say? I’ll miss you. I don’t want whatever it is we’re doing to end. The thought of never kissing you again makes me physically ill. The only response I managed to give him was a shrug.

  “I’ll be at the hostel waiting for you on Monday evening. We’ll just have to make the most of the time we have.”

  I nodded, ashamed that my eyes, once again, teared up. He reached for my hand. “It’ll be okay, Julie.”

  After the pizza, we walked the beach for a couple of hours, never running out of topics for conversation. We moved from the beach to a small side street and walked into the quietest bar we could find. Avi waved over the bartender and ordered our drinks in Thai.

  A few moments later, the bartender set the beer and the wine cooler in front of Avi, ignoring me completely. “Guess I didn’t make a good impression on him,” I said, reaching for the bottle. Before I could clasp it, Avi caught my hand and lifted it to his lips. The smile on my face couldn’t come close to revealing the sweetness I felt inside.

  “So, tell me, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a crazy place like Thailand?”

  I sipped the wine cooler and then set it back on the teak wood bar. “It’s such a long story.”

  He leaned against the back of the bar stool. “They have lots of beer and wine coolers, and I have time and money. So, tell me the story.”

  I rolled the damp bottle between my palms. “One morning Lehman Brothers collapsed, rendering me unemployed. That same afternoon, my brother was killed in a car accident. I moved back home and couldn’t bear to wake up every morning to the pain in my father’s eyes. So, I made the decision to run away from my life.”

  He reached for my hand. “That doesn’t tell me how you ended up in a Thai bar, drinking wine coolers with an Israeli guy.”

  “The company where Jack worked provided him with a life insurance policy. He named me as the beneficiary. It wasn’t a huge amount of money, but enough to keep me afloat while I hunted for a new job. But as you know, the whole banking industry collapsed. Many people with decades of more experience than me struggled to find jobs that no longer seemed to exist.” I took a swig from the bottle. “Forgive me in advance if my tear ducts start watering. I lost all control over them that day and haven’t regained it yet.”

  He leaned over and kissed me sweetly. “Your tear ducts earned the right to turn on at any time.”

  “I found a part-time job in a small book store. It became my escape from an apartment where Jack’s face haunted me from around every corner.” I stopped for a moment and inhaled. “Between the insurance, unemployment, and the book store, I managed to stay afloat in New York for a year and a half. Then I flew back to Pittsburgh to live with my father until I found a real job.”

  “Okay, I know you’re starting a job on September first, but you still didn’t tell me why you’re here, in Thailand.”

  “The day I was scheduled to fly home, there was a two-hour flight delay. At the airport, a newlywed couple sat down across from me. They were leafing through a travel book. I could see some of the pictures. From their conversation, I gathered they were on their way to Thailand for their honeymoon.”

  He waved to the bartender for another beer and wine cooler.

  “A picture of Patong Beach hung on the wall of Jack’s room,” I continued. “A few years before he died he went on a Birthright trip and fell in love with the Israeli soldier assigned to guard their group. Jack claimed she was the most beautiful girl he ever saw, and they were made for each other. He dreamed of travelling to Thailand with her, preferably on a honeymoon. When I boarded the plane, I opened the inflight magazine to an article about Thailand. The picture beside the article was almost the exact same shot of Patong that hung on Jack’s wall. I did something I never did before. I ripped the picture from the magazine and stuffed it into my bag.”

  His gaze fixed on my face. Part of me wanted to stop talking, but another part longed to tell the story. “My mom died six years ago. Most of my father died with her. Jack’s death pushed him into a black abyss. Next to my mother, Jack was his everything. They did the whole sports thing together. He even named him after his favorite golfer, Jack Nicholas. Every morning I’d look into my father’s eyes and read his thoughts. It would have been better if he lost me--not Jack. He could survive without me, not without Jack.” I swiped at my tears with the back of my hand as Avi leaned over and wrapped his arms around me.

  “I don’t believe that.”

  I shrugged. “Jack was his pride and best friend.” I twirled the sweating bottle in my hands. “Well, after I received the job offer with the extended start date, I knew I couldn’t bear looking into my father’s eyes every morning and every evening. I convinced myself that Jack would be happy if I spent some of the insurance money on an adventure instead of on boring rent and utilities. One morning, after my dad left for work, I clicked on Travelocity and booked a ticket.” I lifted my arms and flipped my hands outward. “Hence, I’m sitting here with you, depressing the hell out of this evening.”

  “No, you’re not. I just wish I could take away your pain.” He pulled me close. “I told you, we’re bashert--totally meant to be together.”

  “That’s what Jack called his Israeli girlfriend--his bashert. And I feel awful that I cannot remember the girl’s name.”

  The bartender took away our bottles and told us to leave. He wanted to close and go home, practically pushed us out the door. We walked hand-in-hand toward the hostel, our non-stop conversation diminished to silence.

  He led me to my reading bench in front of the hostel. We sat down, and he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. High off his scent, I ran
my finger along his perfectly positioned cheekbones before placing my palms on the plains of his cheeks. The moment he slid his hand under my shirt and up my back, every part of my body screamed with desire.

  “I guess it’s time for me to go,” he whispered in my ear.

  I knew exactly what I wanted. I pulled back and gazed into the eyes I’d become completely addicted to. “I don’t have coffee, beer, or wine in my room, so I can’t invite you in for a drink,” I said softly, stroking his cheek. “But, I do have a bed. If you’re interested, I’m inviting you into that.”

  “Let’s go.” He grabbed my hand, sprang from the bench, and pulled me along faster than my feet could move.

  ***

  The alarm on my watch beeped, shocking me out of the deepest sleep. I opened my eyes and found I was alone in my bed and in the room--no Avi. My body still tingled from the night before. My fantasies paled next to the reality of being with him. I stretched my arms, pointed my toes and smiled.

  His clothes that littered the floor when we fell asleep were missing. I figured he went to the bathroom and watched the door for five minutes, anxious for his return.

  Last night, he fell asleep before me. I stared at his beautiful face as his breath became slow and rhythmic, positive he would be next to me when I woke up. I pulled on my shorts and T-shirt and walked into the communal bathroom. The only person inside was a tall blonde girl hunched over the low sink, brushing her teeth. Maybe he snuck out to get coffee. The girl moved from the sink. I stepped forward, pulled my toothbrush from my bag, squeezed out some tooth paste, and smiled. Yes, coffee, I felt confident that he would come back holding two steaming cups.

  When I returned to my room, it was still empty. I sat cross-legged on the bed, still positive he’d return. The numbers on my watch moved forward. After a half hour, I knew he wasn’t coming back--no goodbye, no kisses, no note, and no plan for getting together when I returned. My heart cracked in my chest, unable to comprehend that I misjudged him so badly.

  Dejection pinned my body to the bed, but the sun’s rays, speckling the gray tiled floor with light reminded me that the van picking me up for my jungle trip would arrive in less than an hour. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and collapsed forward, crushing my forehead against my knees. How could I let myself be used?

  The alarm on my watch started to buzz. “Shut the hell up!” I grabbed it, shut off the damn alarm, and threw it onto the bed. I came to Thailand with a mission and let him distract me. How stupid. I remembered all of Jack’s “men are pigs” speeches. But most of all, I remembered one of his last lectures. It was about a guy I’d been dating for eight months...

  ***

  “Jules,” Jack said, pouring coffee into his oversized mug. “Kevin eats dinner here at least twice a week. He goes to bed with you, but never wakes up here. I hate to tell you this, but he’s not that into you. If he really liked you, he’d be drinking coffee with you in the morning.”

  I pulled my bagel from the toaster and smeared it with peanut butter. “Of course, he doesn’t stay. If he stayed, he’d have to wake up at four a.m., rush home, shower, dress, and hope to make it to work on time.”

  “Your lame explanation could be cured if he packed a bag in the morning, carried it to work, and brought it with him for dinner. Stop making up excuses for the loser.”

  “Shut up--he’s a nice guy. I like him.”

  “For someone so smart, sometimes you’re really blind.” Jack shook his head. “I’m telling you, if he really liked you, you’d have to push him out of bed, and if you got out, he’d pull you back in.” Jack set the cup on our small kitchen table and sat down. “Dump him, Jules, you can do so much better. Any guy who doesn’t spend the night is avoiding something, and, most likely, it’s a commitment. Besides, the jerk isn’t even Jewish.”

  I ignored his speech, but a month after we lost our jobs, Kevin moved home to Kentucky, after informing me that he wasn’t into the relationship enough to take me with him.

  ***

  I gathered together my shower supplies and sulked to the bathroom, which, fortunately, was empty. As the water poured down on my head, tears streamed down my cheeks. How did I not see through Avi? He talked, but never revealed any details about his life. Now, I understood his game, leave no trail of information. What did he think I would do, stalk him back to Israel? Stupid me. I shut off the water, toweled dry, and got dressed.

  Back in the room, I stuffed my belongings into my backpack, locked the door, and scowled all the way to the lobby. A Russian speaking couple now occupied the sofa that Avi sat on while he waited for me to shower the morning after our first date. A group of rowdy backpackers, including the blond girl from the bathroom, sat on the lobby steps, fidgeting and laughing. I dropped my backpack to the floor and collapsed into an over-stuffed chair. The van was due at seven thirty, a ten-minute wait.

  Within minutes, a white shuttle pulled into the governor’s drive. The clipboard wielding driver entered the open-air lobby and began shouting names. The backpackers followed him. The Russian man approached the driver who shook his head and pointed to his watch. The Russian man returned to his companion, wearing a look of disappointment. He knew nothing about disappointment. Do not cry. Do not cry. Damn tears formed anyway. If I hadn’t slept with him, I could have just said goodbye and left Thailand with a few pleasant memories.

  Outside, the sun dangled in a cloudless sky. It was early enough in the day that the heat didn’t feel oppressive--another perfect day in this tropical paradise. A truck carrying a load of workers to a job site stopped at the red light in front of the hostel. Reggae music blared from their radio. My heart beat like a metronome, rhythmic, and flat. Where were the gray, rainy Pittsburgh skies when you needed them?

  Fifteen minutes later, another van pulled up. This driver rushed into the lobby, shouting my name. I slung my backpack over my shoulder, raised my hand. “Right here.”

  He placed a small check mark in front of my name and tucked the clipboard under his arm. “Hurry, we’re behind schedule.”

  As I approached the van, I could see through the windows that it was already full. I’d have to share a seat. Please don’t let me get stuck next to someone who wants to talk. My misery did not crave company.

  The driver opened the door, and I climbed the steps. The first two rows were full. My eyes widened. My heart started pounding. What the hell? Avi sat in the back row, leaning against the window, grinning like a little boy opening a Hanukkah present, his blue eyes flashing.

  “Do you want the window or the aisle?” he asked, as I maneuvered toward him.

  “What the hell?” I repeated.

  “Sorry for not saying goodbye, but you looked so pretty and so peaceful I couldn’t wake you. I can’t believe I fell asleep. I sprinted home, and you know how I feel about running. How do you do it? Anyway, good morning.” He pulled me into the seat and kissed me.

  “What the hell?”

  “Remember on Friday, we went to Chabad before our shopping trip?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When you told me that you were booked on this trip, I knew what I had to do. I went upstairs and called Shai. He leaves early on Friday. I needed to catch him before he left the office. Luckily, he still had your complete itinerary in his system and booked me on the exact same trip. Only I didn’t anticipate last night. So, we’re staying in the jungle tonight, but in separate cabins. I think we can work around that.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “And miss seeing that look on your face.” He shook his head. “No way.” He skimmed his finger down my cheek and over my lips.

  “What if something happened between Friday afternoon and today, and you didn’t want to see me?” I asked.

  “That wasn’t happening.”

  “What if I didn’t want to see you?”

  “I wasn’t going to let that happen. Bashert, remember.” He squeezed my hand, lifted it, and placed it against his heart.

  My head s
till spun, upset he left me and shocked that he was here. I half listened as he talked about the trip and the lake. Even though the circumstances were different, Jack’s warning about men who do not spend the night still echoed in my ears.

  About a half hour into the trip the driver pulled into a gas station. “Let’s get some coffee,” Avi said, slinging my backpack over one shoulder and his backpack over the other.

  He climbed down the van steps first, turned, and reached out his hand to help me. “You’ve been really quiet for the last half hour,” he said as we walked to the small convenience store. “Is everything okay? Have I mentioned how wonderful last night was? All of it, not just the sex part.”

  I stopped walking and gazed at his face. His freakin’ perfect face. “You didn’t tell me about this. When I woke up, you weren’t next to me. There wasn’t even a note, and it hurt me.”

  The look on his face was one I didn’t recognize. He looped his arm around my waist and pulled me close. “Why? Please, please tell me you didn’t think that I ditched out on you.”

  My heart pounded against my ribs because that was exactly what I thought. “Having a twin brother gave me a direct view into the minds of men. Jack felt it was his responsibility to lecture me on the ways to tell if a guy liked me or was just using me. Lesson number one was always the same. If he doesn’t spend the night or want you to spend the night, no matter what the excuse--say goodbye.”

  Avi shook his head. “That’s bullshit. I ran out to get my stuff so I could be with you. Had I known I was getting that amazing invitation, I would have schlepped this.” He reached over his shoulder and smacked the backpack hanging from it. “Around with me all night, all week, for that matter. Why do you doubt me? I have no wife or girlfriend. I’m not using you for sex, and if I’m using you for anything at all, it’s because hanging out with you makes me happy and, more than anything, I like being happy.”