Jerusalem Stone

by Susan Sofayov

  “No one called him sexy before those damn dreadlocks.” Aviva shook her head, mouth twisted in disgust. “When he had wild Einstein hair, no one gave a damn. Personally, I keep praying he’ll grow out of his dreadlock period and look like a grown-up.”

  Avi made a face at her. The kind brothers and sisters use to communicate, politely, things like, screw you or shut the hell up.

  I reached over and tugged on a lock. “I like them.”

  Aviva smiled. Daniel returned and placed my chair next to Avi.

  Avi leaned back, tossed his arm over my shoulders, and grinned. “She’s more important than you.” He looked directly at his sister.

  I elbowed him in the side. “Don’t you dare say that to your sister! Apologize.”

  Aviva and Daniel stared at me, wide eyed, saying nothing.

  “Relax, Julie. It was a joke. She knows how much I love her and, believe me, she’s said a lot worse to me over the years.”

  “Excuse me a minute.” I stood and looked around, unable to remember the way to the bathroom.

  Aviva pointed. “Down the hall and to the left.”

  I sat down on the lidded toilet and collapsed forward, ashamed of my outburst and not understanding where it even came from. Jack and I cut on each other all the time. It wasn’t like I didn’t understand the dynamics of brother-sister relationships.

  I sat there until my heart stopped pounding and my breathing became less stained. Apology time.

  When I returned to the kitchen, the conversation had switched back to Hebrew. Everyone went silent when I pulled out my chair to sit down. “I’m sorry.”

  “No big deal,” Daniel replied. “So sorry to hear about your brother.”

  “Thanks.” I lifted my wine glass and took a big swig, wishing I could suck down the entire contents of the glass without looking like a lush.

  “I’ll get it,” Aviva said, as the doorbell chimed. “Aunt Esther and Uncle Shimon have arrived.” She opened her arms using a dramatic flourish. “Just to let you know, she’s pretty close to being totally deaf, and he talks non-stop. Neither speaks English.”

  I smiled and nodded. “Got it. I won’t have to shout because there will be no opportunity to talk.”

  Daniel nodded. “Excellent assessment. Excuse me for a minute.” He rose from the chair. “I need to open another bottle of wine.”

  Daniel turned away from us and walked toward the dining room, Avi pulled me close, triggering a few inappropriate-for-Shabbat-dinner feelings. “Avi.” I pulled away, but this didn’t stop him. His lips moved to my neck and kissed their way to my ear.

  “Ofir could walk in. You shouldn’t be doing this now.”

  Instead of stopping, he kissed my favorite spot, and I let out a sigh.

  “I love you,” he whispered in my ear.

  “Look who’s here,” Aviva announced in a voice level intended for Aunt Esther to hear. She introduced me to the couple, using an English-Hebrew hybrid language.

  “Shabbat Shalom,” I said to Uncle Shimon, who turned away and launched into rapid fire Hebrew at Avi. Aunt Esther picked up my hand and stroked it. Smiling, she turned and said something to Aviva.

  “Aunt Esther says you’re very pretty,” Aviva translated as Ofir tugged at her arm.

  “I’m hungry,” the little guy whined at his mother. “When are we going to start kiddush?”

  “In a few minutes, motik. Bring Leah into the dining room and help me get her into the high chair.”

  He skipped off toward the family room.

  Aunt Esther continued rubbing my hand and chattering. I smiled at her and used my eyes to plead with Aviva--Help me. She got the message and said something to her aunt.

  “I told her that I needed you to help me carry plates to the dining room. This is your opportunity to escape. Grab those two platters and bring them to me. Then dig in the drawer on your left for serving spoons.”

  I nodded, grateful to escape the frustrating feeling of not being able to communicate, and followed her instructions.

  “Let’s start,” Aviva announced in English and Hebrew.

  The conversation switched between both languages during the evening, but Hebrew dominated. Avi sat next to me and squeezed my knee more than a few times. But, sitting in that room and understanding next to nothing, left me feeling lonely and stupid. It didn’t bother me in Thailand that everyone around me spoke Thai. The Hebrew spoken at the Chabad House didn’t bother me either, but I wanted to participate in this conversation, not feel like an outsider.

  “Julie, help me serve that delicious-looking cake you made,” Aviva asked.

  “Sure.” I trailed behind her to the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry about all the Hebrew tonight. We don’t mean to ignore you. It’s just what comes naturally to us when we speak with each other.”

  “It’s okay. Do you have a knife to cut this?”

  “Sure, first drawer next to the stove. You know, I’ve never seen my brother like this before. He called from Thailand to tell us he was bringing you home. I hadn’t heard that much excitement in his voice since we were kids.”

  A blush crept up my neck. How to respond? I smiled and pulled on the drawer handle. “It’s nice being here and meeting you.”

  “How do you like Israel so far?”

  Exhale, safer territory. “Love it! First of all, I never imagined this city to be so gorgeous. No one ever told me about Jerusalem stone. I could spend an entire day sitting on Avi’s balcony watching the sun reflect off the stone while inhaling the scents from the restaurants and apartments.”

  “Maybe you’ll stay more than ten days?” she asked, gathering tea cups. “Ten days isn’t really long enough to get to know a place.”

  “I have to go back to Pittsburgh. I’m starting a new job on September first.”

  “That’s too bad. We’d have loved to include you in our High Holiday celebrations. They fall early in September this year. It’s a wonderful time of year here.”

  “I’m sorry it’s an experience that I’ll miss.”

  She picked up the tray. “Let’s go serve cake.”

  Ofir sat on my lap and dribbled chocolate on my knees. I loved it and managed to slip him a quick kiss on the cheek.

  He chatted about school, Legos, and Brutus, who had been banished to the bedroom for the evening. Brutus terrified Aunt Esther.

  Fingers of sadness clamped down on my heart. I’d never be an aunt. Yet another thing Jack’s death deprived me of. Moments later, Aviva announced “bedtime.”

  Ofir insisted that I put him to bed and yanked at my shirt until I rose from the chair. I waited as he kissed everyone goodnight. He held my hand as we walked to his bedroom. “Julie, you should marry my Uncle Avi. My Ima says he smiles all the time when you’re around, and I want cousins. All the kids in my class have cousins. I have one cousin in America, and she’s a girl.”

  “So, you already have a cousin,” I replied.

  “I guess so.” He huffed like an adorable exasperated five-year-old. I wished I could bring him home as a souvenir.

  “But you can marry him and have a boy. Girls are boring. Leah spends most of the day sucking her thumb.”

  “Very soon, you’ll have a brother.”

  “That doesn’t count. I want another cousin, and I think you’d make a good aunt.”

  Holy hell. My thoughts choked in my throat, and I felt the blood rush to my face. Remember--he’s just a child and has no idea what he’s saying.

  “So, will you marry him?”

  I scooped him into my arms, set him on the bed, and pulled off his shoes, socks, and shirt. “It’s very late, and I’m very tired. Marriage is a serious subject, so we can talk about this when neither of us is sleepy.”

  “I’m not sleepy. Ima thinks I’m a baby and sends me to bed too early. I could stay awake until twelve o’clock if she let me.”

  “Right now, it’s bed time, and you need to show me where to find your pajamas.”

  “Only if you mar
ry my uncle.” He pulled a pair of Toy Story pajamas from the bottom drawer of his dresser and put them on.

  He crawled into bed. I tucked him in and kissed his cheek. “Lila tov, Ofir.”

  “Lila tov, Julie.”

  I flicked the light off, closed the door behind me, and leaned against the hallway wall. My heart pounded against my chest, and I didn’t know why. He was a child. His words meant nothing, but part of me wondered if he came up with this idea or did he hear someone talking? No, I shook my head. It originated in childhood imagination.

  But, for the first time, for the briefest moment, I wondered what being Avi’s wife would be like--to go to bed holding him every night and feeling his child move inside my belly.

  Snap out of it, Julie. I shook my head--no fantasizing. Home was Pittsburgh with my father and Jack’s grave. My heart reminded me of what I already knew--it was time for me to honor the promise I made to my brother. It was time for me to go home.

  I walked back into an empty dining room but heard voices emanating from the living room. Aunt Esther stood near the sofa, with her purse linked over her arm. With both hands, she clutched Avi’s elbow. Behind them, Aviva held her uncle’s arm because, after the first step, it was obvious that Uncle Shimon had consumed a bit too much wine. The brother and sister escorted their aged relatives to the elevator. Aviva kissed them both as the elevator doors opened. Daniel and I stood in the doorway, waving.

  Avi came back into the apartment and looped his arm around my waist. “Let’s go home.”

  The look in his eyes offered a complete explanation of what he wanted to do at home. “Shouldn’t you help them get home? Neither is in any condition to drive.”

  “I’m in no condition to drive. Aviva called for a cab while you put Ofir to bed. So, don’t worry.” He slid his hand up the back of my shirt and leaned into my ear. “We really, really need to get out of here.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s say thank-you and goodnight to Daniel and your sister.”

  “No.”

  “You did drink too much.” I smiled and kissed his cheek.

  Aviva stood next to the sink, loading dishes into the dishwasher. “How can I help you?” I asked.

  She stopped and wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, you could roll up the table cloth and shake it off the balcony, or you could take my rather drunk brother home.”

  “I can do both.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled. “I told him not to drink the wine after drinking whiskey with Dan. FYI, my little brother can’t drink.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  I walked out of the kitchen. Avi and Dan sat on opposite ends of the couch. Dan’s eyelids drooped, as if it took all his remaining energy to hold them open. Avi, as usual, was talking.

  He stopped when he saw me. “Ready?”

  “Almost. Give me two minutes.”

  He looked at his watch. “One, two, three...”

  I quickly gathered up the cloth, opened the balcony door, and walked outside. The air swiped balmy against my face. The image in the distance seduced me. The roofs of Old City buildings glistened in the glow of street lights. Flood lights lined the perimeter of the Old City outer walls, reflecting white against the night. “If I forget thee, O, Jerusalem...” Something deep within me connected to the Psalm and to the city. That same pull drew me to the beautiful man waiting for me in the living room with a strength I couldn’t comprehend or deny.

  As I shook the tablecloth, the challah crumbs fluttered in the air, glistening like snowflakes as the moonlight reflected off them.

  “You’re moving too slow,” Avi whispered seductively in my ear before kissing my neck. “And you’re fully dressed.”

  “Sorry, it’s so beautiful out here.” I leaned back against his chest, enjoying the moment with his arms wrapped around my waist. “This has to be the most beautiful city in the world.”

  “It became even more beautiful when you arrived.” His hands roved under my shirt, sending thrills through my body.

  I spun and kissed him. “Let’s go back to your place.”

  We found Aviva dozing on the sofa leaning against her snoring husband. I roused her gently and thanked her for the lovely meal and evening.

  She heaved herself from the sofa and wrapped me in a hug. “My pleasure,” she whispered in my ear, releasing me and giving her brother a quick peck on the cheek. “You know the way out,” she said. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Your sister wears pregnancy very well. She looks adorable.” I pushed the elevator down button.

  “You’d look adorable pregnant too. In fact, that’s what I should do.”

  I looked at him. His eyes glazed with whiskey and wine stared back with glimmer I didn’t recognize.

  “Maybe, if I get you pregnant, you’ll stay with me forever.”

  “You’re really drunk,” I said, trying not to laugh.

  “You think I’m being funny?” he said as the elevator doors opened. “Even if you didn’t stay, it would be my baby, so you would be stuck with me in your life forever.”

  I kissed his cheek.

  “You’re not saying anything.” He tripped slightly as he tried to hold the door open for me. “Can I get you pregnant tonight?”

  The laughter exploded from me. “No, Avi. You cannot get me pregnant tonight.”

  He looked at me through the specks of the Caribbean Sea that functioned as his eyes. “Then how can I get you to stay?”

  “It’s time to put you to bed. You drank more than I thought.”

  “I’m working on a plan to keep you here.” He stumbled off the curb.

  “Really?” I said, thinking Avi and whiskey don’t work.

  “But let’s go home and have sex all night, even if you don’t want a baby.”

  “Works for me, but let’s see if you can stay awake.” I flipped a couple of dreads, that had escaped from the rubber band, out of his face. As I did it, love overwhelmed every thought in my head and feeling in my body. I wrapped my arms around him and rested my head against his chest. If time wanted to be kind, it would have stopped, letting me live in that moment for eternity. “Avi, I love you.”

  He kissed me, deep and sensual. “Jules, let’s go home and go to bed.”

  No one other than Jack ever called me Jules.

  Chapter 20

  I woke early as Avi continued snoring. The clock read six a.m., and my legs wanted to run. This was the longest period I’d ever gone without running. I looked out the window. The sun still lingered below the horizon. The streetlights remained lit, and the sidewalk appeared empty. I slunk out of bed and pulled my running clothes from the drawer Avi gave me to use during my stay. Considering how little I took to Thailand, one drawer and a bit of closet space was more than enough.

  The key dangled on the hook by the front door, within minutes, I was stretching in the street. The early morning Jerusalem air didn’t boil as it did by lunch time. I trotted up Shlomo Ha Melekh Street. The store windows were dark and the street empty of cars. Shabbat and the early morning hour combined to make Jerusalem feel tired and lazy. As if it also needed Shabbat to rest from the chaos of the weekday. I caught my stride, and the world melted away, allowing me to drift to the place in my mind I only access when I run, where thoughts come and go like wisps of smoke.

  When I reached the intersection with Jaffa Road, I turned left and dodged a few feral cats sleeping on the sidewalk. As I pounded down the street, the muezzin chanted the ancient melody calling the Muslim residents to prayer.

  Jaffa Road was the only long stretch I could run and still find my way back to Avi’s apartment. The streets of this city were far from a Manhattan style street grid, but I knew that Aviva lived on King George Street, which intersected with Jaffa Road. If I got lost, I was sure I could find her building.

  As I ran, the neighborhood began to wake. Above the store fronts, balconied apartments with flower boxes and open windows emitted the sounds of crying babies and people talking. Jaffa Road was
a car-free pedestrian mall. On Shabbat, even the light rail train didn’t run. I veered off the sidewalk and ran down the middle of the uneven stone street, sensing the history that oozed from the buildings. Histories that I wouldn’t be here long enough to learn.

  The stone apartment buildings glistened as the sun crept higher above the horizon. A slight breeze, carrying a sweet scent, intermingled with the pungent aroma of cumin escaping from the kitchen windows. A few years ago, Jack walked these streets, inhaled the scents, and heard the sounds that made Jerusalem unique. Jack, if you hear me, go ahead and say I told you so, because Jerusalem is special. My feet feel at home on its streets, and my lungs crave the air. Your dream to return to this place makes complete sense. I miss you.

  It was true. In Thailand, I felt like a tourist. Every place I visited was interesting, beautiful, or confusing. But, never could I see myself or wish to be integrated into the culture. But Jerusalem felt right. I missed Jack, but the entire atmosphere of the city made me feel like a haze that clouded my vision lifted, letting me see the light of the world.

  Avi’s building was only a few yards in front of me. I slowed to walk, throwing my face back, feeling the warmth of the sun and imprinting it in my memory.

  ***

  Avi breathed rhythmically as I tiptoed past the bed and into the shower. As the hot water streamed down my back, I ran my finger along the cream marble wall. Cold walls and hot water. For some reason, this triggered tears, but I shook them off quickly and washed my hair.

  He slept in the same position, on his side with his arm tossed over his head. A few locks of hair flopped over his cheek. The rest spread out across the pillow. I sat down beside him and ran my finger along his strong jaw bone. Time, place, circumstances--if only they had been different.

  He moved his head slightly. I kissed his cheek, tossed the towel to the floor and crawled in next to him, spooning myself against his chest. He moaned slightly and wrapped his arms around my waist.

  In two weeks, I would be at the bank, sitting at the bond desk, sweating out points and maturities. The entire prospect depressed me. It would be so nice to run a small bookstore, with a children’s department, and a coffee shop.