Jerusalem Stone

by Susan Sofayov

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Okay--Okay.” His smile returned, and he pushed his index finger against my nose. “You need to do better than that. ‘Sorry for doubting you, Avi,’ would work. Or ‘you make me happy, too.’ Or try saying this, ‘Forgive me for assuming such horrible things about you.’ Hell, I’ll even take a simple old fashioned, ‘I’m sorry,’ but ‘okay’ doesn’t cut it. Try again.”

  I held back the snicker tickling my nose. “Avi.” I stroked the side of his cheek and leaned in until my lips barely skimmed his ear. “I am so, so sorry I doubted your intentions. If you can forgive me, I promise this evening, when we check into those jungle huts, to thoroughly make it up to you.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  My lips stayed on his ear, licking and nipping. “But if you don’t stop being such a drama queen, I’ll feed you to the first monkey I see!”

  “Monkeys don’t eat meat.”

  “I’ll tape a banana to your back. Now sheket and kiss me.”

  ***

  It didn’t take long to realize that the information Avi provided on the sites outside the van window surpassed the generic information provided by the tour guide assigned to our shuttle. After about a half hour, the Dutch family in the front row and the French couple behind them, sat swiveled in their seats, straining to hear what Avi was murmuring to me.

  “Why are there cups attached to all those trees?” I asked Mr. Flora and Fauna Guru.

  “That tall skinny tree is a rubber tree.”

  “Like the kid song.” I leaned into him snickering. “Just what makes that little ole ant think he can move that rubber tree plant,” I sang, probably a bit too loud, because the Dutch toddler started clapping.

  “That’s it!” Avi replied.

  “You know that song?”

  “No, but I’ve finally found your flaw. You can’t sing.” He held his hands over his ears. “Please, stop.”

  I playfully punched him in the arm. “I didn’t need you to tell me that. Okay, keep talking about the rubber tree.”

  He launched into an explanation of how the tree bark was slashed, opening a trail for the latex to seep into the small metal cup attached to the tree.

  “Excuse me,” the French man interrupted. “Is it true the trees only produce rubber for seven years?”

  “Actually,” Avi replied, dragging out the word. “It takes seven years of growth before the rubber can be harvested. Typically, a tree produces for twenty-four years. At that point, the amount of latex diminishes. The tree is cut down and replaced with a new one, which, as I said, will begin producing after seven years.”

  “Interesting. Thank you.” The Frenchman turned to his wife and said something in French.

  “Not exactly,” Avi interrupted, eavesdropping on their conversation.

  He launched into what I assumed was an explanation in French, correcting whatever the man said.

  I sat captivated by the ease in which he switched languages. And, the smile on the wife’s face gave the impression that Avi was also charming in French.

  “Wow,” I said when he finished.

  He shrugged. “If I learn something or know something, I can’t control myself--I have to share it with someone else.”

  I kissed his cheek. “And it’s such an adorable quality, especially since you pull it off sounding...What’s the word I’m looking?”

  “Pompous? Arrogant?”

  “No, you sound like a teacher. A really sexy, science teacher.”

  “I’ll take that.” He tossed his arm over my shoulder and pointed out the window. “Rice paddies. You don’t see those in Pittsburgh.”

  The drive to Khoa Sok National Park took over two hours, during which, he kept up a running commentary on everything we passed. Everyone struggled to find window space when Avi spotted two wild elephants standing in a stream. The driver turned the van around, pulled over, and we all poured out for a spur-of-the-moment photo shoot with two unsuspecting elephants.

  After lunch at a small roadside restaurant, which thank goodness had a few vegetarian choices, we arrived at the Cheow Lan Lake, which a few days prior Avi had referred to as breathtaking. I never paid attention to the color of the lakes and rivers in Pennsylvania. They all appeared dark, cold, and foreboding. I’d walked along the Monongahela and Allegheny rivers many times and never felt an urge to dive in. But the lake in front of us mesmerized me. The water wasn’t made from hydrogen and oxygen. Liquefied emeralds filled this lake.

  “Attention,” the guide shouted.

  I pulled my gaze from the lake and watched him usher the Dutch and French families onto an ancient looking longboat, with three rows of seats. Avi translated when the boat pilot told our guide that the boat couldn’t hold two more people. The guide called to another pilot and shouted something in Thai. Moments later, Avi and I deposited our backpacks onto the floor of our own private longboat. The pilot signaled for us to sit on coarse wooden benches situated under a weather-worn burlap tarp that stretched between four metal poles attached to the sides of the boat. This makeshift canopy provided minimal protection from a tropical sun whose rays could deliver either a blazing sunburn or skin cancer. Before taking my seat, I leaned over the side and skimmed the water--clear, green, and warm.

  “Want to jump in?” Avi asked.

  “It’s beautiful, but lakes creep me out. Who knows what’s living in there?”

  “Fish.”

  “Duh.” I rolled my eyes while trying to position my backside onto a spot that lacked splinters.

  “There’s nothing in there that’s any worse than what’s swimming around in the ocean.”

  “Ocean fish are prettier, and could you please stand up for a minute.” I pulled my towel out of my backpack and spread it over the bench. “You can sit back down now.”

  “You’re calling lake fish ugly? I take umbrage for all the fresh water fish that can’t defend themselves,” he said.

  “I grew up in Western Pennsylvania with a grandfather who loved to fish. Sometimes he’d take me with him to one of his favorite spots along the Allegheny River. At the end of the day, I’d watch him fillet the fish and believe me when I say this, not one species resembled Dori or Nemo.”

  “In Israel, we have one river, two lakes, and a lot of ocean. You can’t exactly swim in the Dead Sea. My sisters and I used to beg my parents to take us to the Sea of Galilee because it was cooler than the beach.”

  “No way, the beach is better.” I stretched to the left to look over the side of the boat. The water sparkled gemlike.

  “That’s it,” he announced. “We’re swimming in this lake before this day is over, even if I have to toss you overboard.”

  The pilot started the motor. We inched away from the dock. Within moments, he hit the gas, sending the boat speeding forward, and kicking up a spray of water that felt cool when it hit my skin.

  Surrounding the lake, layers and layers of rock formed sheer mountain walls that tapered to spiky peaks. Some peaked so high that clouds covered the summits. Others crested at lower elevations and were covered with trees and brush. Avi reached into his backpack and pulled out a pair of binoculars. “This place is known for monkeys and birds.” He pointed toward some trees lining the shore and handed them to me. “Monkeys.”

  I watched one swing from tree to tree before shifting my gaze higher, scanning for more. Between the green leaves, I spotted a vivid yellow beak attached to a large black bird and shuddered--a hornbill. Two of them sat in the tree, one on a low branch and another much higher up, eating something I couldn’t make out. It only took a moment for the knot to form in my throat. I handed the binoculars back to Avi and hoped he wouldn’t notice the tears pooling in my eyes.

  He scanned the horizon and within seconds, spotted the birds. “Wow.” He pointed, without removing the binoculars from his eyes. “Hornbills. Two of them. Take a look.”

  He handed me the binoculars, and I shook my head. “I saw them. You watch them.”

  �
��They’re so cool, here, take another look.” Again, he tried to give me the binoculars.

  I shook my head and turned to face the other side of the lake.

  “Julie, what’s wrong?” He placed his arm around my waist. “You don’t like hornbills?”

  “No, I mean, yes, I do like hornbills.”

  “Okay, once again, I’m missing something here because your eyes look really wet and I don’t think it’s the spray from the boat.”

  I dropped my head onto his shoulder. “This is going to sound so stupid. When Jack and I were little kids, he'd beg my mom to take us to the National Aviary in Pittsburgh. When my mom finished paying for the tickets, he’d bounce on his toes, begging her to take him to an exhibit that housed a hornbill with a prosthetic beak. Jack adored that bird. He’d sit on the floor, in front of the glass enclosure and talk to it like it was his best friend. I don’t know if the bird had a name, but Jack dubbed him Chester.”

  “I remember that bird,” he said, wrapping both arms around me.

  “You’ve been to the Aviary in Pittsburgh?”

  “Yeah, a few times. My mom has a thing for birds. Every time she and my dad visited me at college, we went to the Aviary. That was the strangest looking bird I’d ever seen. Everyone stopped to stare at it. It was my mom’s favorite too. I wonder if it’s still alive.”

  I shrugged, not saying what I was thinking--I would prefer the bird be dead and my brother be alive.

  He stuffed the binoculars into the bag. We propped our legs over the bench in front of us and relaxed, relishing the sunshine seeping through the holes in the ragged canopy, the sparkling water, and the view surrounding us. For the next fifteen minutes, neither of us said much. I tried not to think about Jack and how he would have adored this place. Instead, I focused on the beauty around me--Avi’s arms.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to ask,” he said.

  “What?”

  “How can you be in this place.” He lifted his arms, gesturing wide. “With these majestic cliffs, the blue sky, the emerald water, and not believe there’s a God?”

  His description was spot on. Everything around us appeared to have been created by a magnificent artist whose media of choice was rock and life. I looked around hoping to see God, but all I saw was layers of limestone worn by the weather and varieties of life that evolved through genetic mutation. Talk about irony, the science teacher saw God, and I saw science.

  I ran my hand over his face and looked deep into his eyes. “It’s beautiful that you feel God here. I envy that. Maybe someday, I’ll find him in places like this, but right now--” I shook my head.

  “That’s too bad,” he said, then turned and yelled something in Thai, loud enough for the pilot to hear. The pilot nodded and cut the engine.

  “Well, my dear. If you can’t find him in this boat, let’s try underwater. He scooped me into his arms and tossed me overboard.

  “Avi,” I screamed as I flew and could hear him laughing in the boat.

  “I’m right behind you,” he said as I hit the water.

  I surfaced and found him bobbing in the warm water. His face radiated joy as he swam toward me. “Did you find him?”

  “No, you jerk.” I jumped on his shoulders, pushing him under the water.

  A moment later, I squealed. Underwater, Avi went exploring--his hands roaming over my entire body. Maybe he could bribe Mr. Thai Longboat Captain to look the other way.

  ***

  When the sun hovered barely above the mountains, we arrived at our campsite. This type of camping bore no resemblance to our family camping trips, where my father struggled for hours to set up tents on the lumpy ground of some Pennsylvania State Park.

  Tropical plants and flowers lined the uneven flagstone walking path that led to our cabin. I lingered behind our guide, Aroon. He and Avi chatted in Thai. I studied wooden-plank platforms supported by stilts built from tree trunks. We passed three platforms before Aroon stopped walking and pointed up. “These are your cabins.” He began the ascent up the wooden plank steps. We trailed behind. I stopped for a moment and tried to absorb the view, deciding that Earth is truly magical. In the distance, thick jungle carpeted the sides of mist capped mountains. The scent in the air mixed the sweetness of the flowers with an earthy smell that emanated from the black dirt covering the ground.

  The cabins were a hybrid of a tent and a thatched hut. Thanks to our favorite travel agent Shai’s finagling ability, Avi and I were assigned to cabins on the same platform. Aroon unzipped the front flap and escorted us into cabin number one, not what I expected. This was not a typical tent, more like one out of Harry Potter. A double bed with a snow-white down comforter stretched out from the right wall.

  An antique mahogany chest of drawers occupied the back-left corner, and a desk with a matching chair stretched along the wall opposite the bed. A small television rested on the desk, along with a dormitory-sized coffee maker.

  Aroon walked to the back of the room and unzipped the far wall, leading us into a thatched bathroom accessorized with a granite countertop and contemporary stainless-steel fixtures. As Aroon demonstrated how to work the hot water, I felt Avi’s breath in my ear.

  “Nice shower--fits two comfortably.”

  “Shush,” I said, playfully slapping his backside.

  “Shall we move to your cabin, Mr. Avi?” Aroon asked when we returned to the outside deck.

  “Don’t worry about it. I can show myself around. Go take care of your other guests.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll see you at dinner, seven o’clock in the dining room.”

  “Thank you Aroon,” I said, bowing slightly with my hands together in front of my heart.

  Avi unzipped the flap of his tent, walked inside, and started laughing. I couldn’t see around him.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked, stepping over the doorframe and climbing in behind him. Then I saw it. “What the hell?”

  Rose petals coated the entire bed and two white towels folded in the shape of swans sat in the middle, arranged so their necks formed a heart.

  “Shai,” he said, between snickers. “He’s crazy--probably told the hotel that the reservation was for newlyweds.”

  “Really.” I lifted my eyebrow and crossed my arms in front of my chest. “You had nothing to do with this?”

  “Julie.” He unwound my arms, wrapped them around his waist, and peered into my eyes. “Are you insinuating that I came on this trip and asked for rose petals to seduce you?” His fingers opened the button of my shorts and eased down the zipper. “And, even if I did, it’s a moot point now, since this morning, if I recall correctly, you said ‘I promise this evening, when we check into those jungle huts, to thoroughly make it up to you.’”

  Before I could answer, he lifted me into his arms and placed me on the rose petals.

  Chapter 7

  “Avi,” I whispered into his ear. “Wake up. We need to shower and get dressed, it’s six thirty. Dinner’s at seven, remember?” I spooned myself against him.

  “I’m not hungry.” He rolled over and kissed my neck. “You smell better and taste better. Besides, neither of us really likes Thai food.”

  “True, but I’m starving. We can eat plain rice and fruit.”

  “Can’t we just stay here, in this soft bed and continue doing what we were doing a half hour ago?”

  I stroked his cheek and tugged on a dreadlock. “We can eat and then do that all night, but if I don’t get some food in me, you’re not going to want to be near me.”

  He pulled me into a hug and tossed his leg over mine. “Fine, we’ll eat, but I want my protest recorded, so that, when you complain about the food, I can say I told you so.”

  ***

  The other members of our tour group gorged on chicken pad Thai and a beef stir-fry whose smell alone made my stomach rumble. Even so, neither of us wanted to eat non-kosher meat. As our new friends gobbled it down with gusto, we feasted on a dinner comprised of plain white rice, a tasteless cabbage dish,
and fruit.

  “I have a surprise for you in the tent,” Avi whispered.

  My eyebrows lifted.

  “You’ll see. Let’s go.” He clasped my hand, pulling me up from the table. We wished everyone a goodnight and trekked back to our cabin. “I was wondering,” he said, hesitating between the words “was” and “wondering.” “I’m only in Bangkok for two days. Instead of flying back to Phuket, I could meet you in Koh Samui. Would you be interested in putting up with me for another eight days?”

  My eyes widened, and my heart jumped up and down. “Really?”

  “If you want me.”

  I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. “Of course, I want you. But, won’t it cost a fortune to change the ticket?”

  “No, this is Thailand. And, I thought we could call Shai, cancel your reservation at that hostel, and book us into a real hotel. I can’t spend eight nights in a single bed.”

  “Shai can apply what I paid for the hostel to the hotel. We can split it--half and half.”

  “You really need to stop worrying about money.”

  I stroked his cheek, enjoying the tingle that rushed through me every time I looked into his eyes. “Of course, I worry about money. I’m on a budget, and if teachers in Israel make what teachers in America do, you’re not rich either.” I kissed his cheek.

  “Julie, I’m an heir to a small fortune. Drop the money talk.”

  “Oh really, an heir,” I replied sarcastically, pushing up the tip of my nose with my index finger.

  He shook his head, smirked, and continued escorting me back to the cabin. We reached the entrance to our deluxe jungle tree house, and he placed his arm in front of my waist, blocking my way inside. “You have to wait outside for a few minutes.” He maneuvered me toward the only chair on the deck. “Sit down, relax, and enjoy the moon. If a lion attacks, scream. I promise to run out and save you.”

  Before I could respond, he crossed the threshold, zipped the door closed from the inside, and began singing.