“What was that all about?” I asked when he finally passed through the arched scanner.
“Nothing, regular questions. I think they pull people randomly to ask more extensive questions. I’m sure he was just following procedures.”
We walked across the plaza, passing men in black hats, scurrying to find a spot at the Wall. I glanced down at the women’s side and remembered what it felt like to write the note on that small piece of paper and stuff it into the cracks. I slowed my stride for a moment, Please, please, hear my prayer.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just wondering how those guys can breathe in those wool coats and fur hats.”
He shrugged. “I want to say a quick prayer. You can wait here for a few minutes or check in with the modesty-police and go to the women’s side.”
My gaze started at the base of the Wall where the women prayed and climbed rock by rock until it reached a scrub bush blooming out of the cracks in the Wall. How could it possibly grow without soil and with very little water? “I’ll venture down,” I said.
He squeezed my hand and smiled before walking away. I didn’t expect him to be so upbeat on the day before I left.
Today, my long skirt and blouse passed the modesty inspection. I found a book of Tehillim on the prayer book table and knew exactly which psalms I wanted to read.
A spot opened between a uniformed school girl and an older orthodox woman, wearing a bobbed sheitel. She smiled, and I smiled back.
I touched the stone briefly before flipping through the pages to find Psalm 137.
By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat, we also wept when we remembered Zion
on willows in its midst we hung our harps
For there our captors asked us for word of song and our tormentors
[asked of us] mirth, “Sing for us of the song of Zion.”
How shall we sing the song of Zion on foreign soil?
If I forget you, O Jerusalem, my right hand forget [its skill]/
May my tongue cling to my palate, if I do not remember you,
if I do not bring up Jerusalem at the beginning of my joy...
I continued reading, already mourning for the city I was about to leave forever. Emotions pulsed through me--sadness over leaving Israel; pain when I imagined myself at the airport, kissing Avi for the last time; and apprehension over what I was going to see in my father’s eyes when I walked into the house. What racked my heart the most was the memory of the anguish I felt when I learned about Jack’s death.
I closed the book, leaned forward, and kissed the stone. Please grant my prayer. Help me find you and Jack.
“Sorry for taking so long,” I said when we met up in the courtyard.
“I wasn’t waiting long.” He reached for my hand. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Chapter 27
Effusive Avi of the morning returned from his trip to the Wall transformed into pensive Avi. We crossed the courtyard toward the same entrance we came in through.
“Didn’t we exit through the security gate near the men’s side the last time we were here?” I asked.
“Yes, but we need to go back through this gate to get to where we’re going.”
I shrugged. “Okay.”
We walked in silence until we reached a plain wooden door on a small street. From his pocket, he pulled an Israeli flag keychain with two keys dangling from it. He slid the key into the lock and turned it. The door opened to a narrow staircase. “Follow me.”
He led me up two flights of steps, unlocked another door, and pushed it open. “This is my parent’s house. It’s where I grew up.” He flipped on the light switch.
My eyes adjusted to the light and I gasped. Avi lived in an apartment that represented modern Israel, contemporary fixtures, artistic lighting mixed with the rock of the land. This living room tossed you back into ancient times. I looked up at the high dome ceilings and then to Middle-Eastern styled archways. On the left side of the room sat two sofas upholstered in patterned gold, blue, and maroon silk. A marble coffee table, set with an antique Middle-Eastern tea service, rested on an oriental rug. The sofa and table grouping faced an arched stone fireplace. Diaphanous silk curtains matching the sofa upholstery draped two large windows. A back lit glass case containing antiquities stood between the two windows. “Holy shit,” I said. “This is where you grew up?”
He nodded and pulled me across the room, through an archway, and into the kitchen. “Slow down, I want to look around,” I said.
“You can look later.” He unlocked a sliding glass door that led to a balcony. “What I want you to see is outside.” I trailed behind him, twisting my neck trying to absorb the elegance of the kitchen.
When I stepped onto the balcony, I understood exactly what he wanted me to see. “Can I sit down?” I asked, dumbstruck over the panoramic view of the Western Wall and the Dome of the Rock spread out in front of us.
The balcony, he played on as a child, was only meters away from the most sacred site in Judaism. I had no words. I just looked at him.
He pulled a chair out from under an elaborate wrought iron table.
“This balcony is my favorite spot in the world. This apartment is more than my home, it sits on the land that connects us with our ancestors who struggled and persevered to maintain the laws and the way of life Hashem bequeathed us.”
I gazed into his eyes, questioning him.
The color drained from his face. For the first time since we met, he looked nervous. “I’ve been begging you to stay, asking you to give up a job.” With his right hand, he dug in his pocket. “I want you to understand, I’m not asking you to stay for an extra six weeks or six months.” He pulled a small white velvet pouch from his pocket, dropped to the ground on one knee.
My hands flew to my mouth. Oh, God! My heart fought against my ribs, begging to explode from my chest.
He opened the bag and turned it upside down, into his cupped palm. “I wanted to ask the most important question of my life on the most holy land on the Earth.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks, as my hand covered my mouth.
He lifted my left hand and slipped the most stunning ring ever created onto my finger. “Julie Wasserman, will you marry me?”
I struggled to see it through the tears and wiped my eyes on the back of my right hand. When my vision cleared, I gazed at an emerald cut diamond framed by tiny ruby baguettes. “They’re Thai rubies, aren’t they?”
He nodded. “I made sure. No Burmese.”
The thudding in my chest continued. My heart beat the words “yes, yes.” But, my brain reminded me of my pledge by pounding out the words Jack, Jack, Jack, drowning out the yes filling my heart.
Avi gazed at me, anticipation covering his face. His beautiful eyes implored me to say yes.
I gazed back, placing both hands flat against his cheeks, “I love you so much.” I pulled his lips to mine and kissed him. When I broke the kiss, his eyes remained locked on mine, anticipating an answer.
“But I can’t marry you.” I stared at the ground. “If the circumstances were different and Jack was alive. I would say yes and drag you to the closest rabbi, right now. But if I stay with you, I’ll be abandoning him. I made a pledge.”
“No, you won’t be. He’s gone. He’s not angry at you. As a brother, I know, he’d want you to live. If not for yourself, for him.”
I slowly slid the ring from my finger and placed it in his hand. “Since I arrived in Israel, I’ve searched for God, Jack, and forgiveness.” I shook my head. “Instead, I found true love, which makes me feel more miserable because I don’t deserve this happiness or you.”
“God and Jack are here with you. Can’t you see it in the fact that we found each other? We’re bashert. An article in a magazine reminded you that Jack wanted to go on a honeymoon to Thailand with some Israeli girl you never met. Then a couple sits down across from you in an airport and plans their Thailand hone
ymoon. How can you not believe that Jack didn’t have his hand in our meeting? As for God, who do you think sent you into that first Chabad House and led you to Shai’s desk? Then led you to the second Chabad House in Patong Beach? What made me comb that hot beach for three hours looking for you? It’s not like I didn’t see other girls during that three hours. The only reason you can’t see the hand of God is you don’t want to.”
***
The interminable walk back to his apartment ended with him going to his office and me crying on the balcony. I knew it was wrong to come to Israel. We should have said goodbye in Bangkok. Now, every memory of our time together would be coated in pain.
The sounds of car horns and air brakes pounded against my skull. More than anything, I needed silence. I closed the balcony door behind me and sat down at the kitchen table, remembering the first meal we cooked together in the kitchen. Tears continued streaming down my face, as I yanked tissues from the box on the counter. The same tissue box he handed me on my first night in Israel. Why do I always recall sadness and pain? What’s wrong with me? I want to remember him running to the bedroom, thrilled to beat me. When I see his face in my mind’s eye, I want to relive that first day on the beach and his hair spit. I don’t want to remember the pain. I’ve had enough pain for a lifetime. Jack, beautiful memories of you pack my mind, even though pain crunches my chest like a vise when I think about you. My heart is crushed over saying goodbye to Avi. I need to leave with beautiful memories of him, and right now they’re all tainted. Please forgive me, but I need to be happy for twenty-four more hours.
I walked into Avi’s office and stood beside his chair. “Follow me.” I pulled him by his hand to the bedroom and began unbuttoning his shirt. “I can’t marry you. But I love you beyond words.”
He gazed into my eyes, not speaking, not moving, not protesting--silence. I unsnapped his jeans and pulled down the zipper. “We have twenty-four hours. I want to fly out of Israel with one perfect memory--you inside me, gazing into my eyes. Do you think you can help create that memory?”
He nodded and lifted my shirt over my head. “Yes.”
“Good.”
***
Afterward, I curled into his arms, breathing in his scent, imprinting the texture of his skin on my heart. Love mixed with sadness wrapped around us. We didn’t speak. There was nothing left to say.
Someone banging on the door disturbed our melancholy. Avi rolled out of bed, pulled on his jeans, and looked at the clock. “Shit. We forgot about Rivka. She’s here to run with you. Do you want me to tell her to go home or do you still want to run?”
“I think I need to run.”
Chapter 28
Avi and Rivka were sitting on the sofa, talking. When I emerged from the bedroom, both stood up.
“Hi,” said the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. Her blue eyes flashed as she wrapped me in a hug, exactly as her sister did. “Are you ready to run?”
Rivka’s face was the female version of Avi’s. Same bone structure, yet finer, feminine. Black mascara coated her eyelashes, making the blue color pop even more. Her lips and cheeks matched his. Side by side, they appeared to be twins.
“Sure.” I looked at Avi. Sadness dimmed his eyes, but he managed to smile as she and I walked to the door.
“Have fun,” he said, in a hollow-sounding voice.
“It’s almost three o’clock. Why don’t you go play soccer?” I tried to generate a smile, but even my facial muscles couldn’t fight off depression.
He shrugged. “Maybe, or maybe I’ll stay home and do some work.”
“Of course, you’ll stay home and work.” She shifted her gaze from his face to mine. “Julie, that’s all he ever does. He’s such a bore. Let’s go.”
She said something else in Hebrew and closed the apartment door behind us. “I like to run in the park. The streets are too chaotic, especially on a Friday afternoon. We could jump on the bus or take a cab. You pick.”
“Either is fine with me.”
“Cab. Again, afternoon, buses are packed with sweaty, smelly people.”
We walked the short distance to the King David Hotel, and she hailed a cab. The driver weaved through the traffic, causing my stomach to lurch a few times. I tugged on my seatbelt more than once to confirm security.
His erratic driving kept my eyes focused on the road in front of us. The Israeli music blaring from the dashboard radio made talking difficult. Rivka and I didn’t say much during the cab ride.
Fifteen minutes later we stretched between stone pillars flanking the entrance of a lovely park. “I’ve been out of the family communication loop. I don’t know much about you other than your name is Julie. You’re from the United States, and my sister and nephew think you’re great.” She stretched sideways with her arms over her head. Her deep brown pony tail flopped from side-to-side.
I bent over into a downward facing dog position, lifting and dropping my heels. “Not much interesting.” I returned to an upright position and imitated her arm stretch. “This run is going to feel great.” I hoped my sadness would remain at bay until after the run. “I’ve only run once since I got here. I’m used to doing it at least four times a week. Keeps me sane.”
“I hear you on that. If I didn’t run, the world would be a much more dangerous place,” she replied.
We both laughed and kicked off into a nice trot.
The flowers lining the path smelled fresh and lovely. I noticed small black rubber tubing linking plant to plant. “What’s with all the rubber tubes connecting the plants?”
“Irrigation. We don’t get much rain in this country. If we didn’t have a system for delivering water to everything, grass, trees, flowers, shrubs, we’d be living on a giant rock heap.”
“Not a problem where I come from. I think it may be the rain capital of the planet.”
“Where are you from?” she asked, picking up the pace, just a bit.
“Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.”
We trotted along in silence for a few minutes. The air entering my lungs expanded my chest, and my leg muscles felt grateful to be cut loose. My body thrived on running.
“Funny, the Gold family seems to be attracted to people from Pittsburgh.”
I glanced over at her. “What do you mean?” I could see her biting her bottom lip as she inhaled and exhaled through her nose.
“I was in love with a guy from Pittsburgh.” Her voice strained a bit. “But I try not to think about him. He dumped me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She was visibly upset just thinking about this guy. I kept quiet.
“How do you like the park do far?” she asked, changing the subject.
“It’s beautiful, and the hills aren’t too bad. Until now, I didn’t realize how much I missed seeing grass. When I lived in Manhattan, there wasn’t much grass there either, but we had Central Park.”
“You said you were from Pittsburgh.”
“Born and raised. And, I graduated from Carnegie Mellon, like your brother. But after graduation, I took a job at Lehman Brothers, and well, everyone knows that ended badly. So, I moved back to Pittsburgh. I’m starting a new job on September first.”
“He lived in Manhattan when he dumped me. I was so heart broken, I cried every day for six months. We talked about getting married someday and going to Thailand. I really loved him.”
After she said “Thailand,” a small wave of nausea flooded my stomach.
She slowed down and sniffled. “I have no idea why I’m telling you about him. I never tell anyone about him. Besides, the jerk didn’t even have the decency to tell me why it was over.”
“That’s awful. Not even an email?”
“Nope, nothing. One day we were in love and the next--nothing. Wouldn’t return my messages, ignored my emails.”
The path ahead of us forked. She veered to the right, and I followed.
“We only spent ten days together. He was on a Birthright trip. I was in the army and got assigned to gu
ard his group.”
My heart rate quickened, and it had nothing to with the run. “And I thought I fell in love fast.”
“Yeah, but the minute I saw his eyes, I knew he was the one. I’ve never seen before or since eyes even close to the color of his. They were green, but not a bright green or soft green. I teased him that they were the same green as after-dinner mints. You know those chalky tasting ones that restaurants in the United States give away?”
The air choked in my lungs, and I stopped. My heartbeat pounded through every part of my body. It couldn’t be. There was no way in hell.
She stopped next to me, breathing heavy. “Are you okay?”
Breathe. Say it. Breathe. Say it. “His name was Jack.”
Her eyes widened, and her brows lifted. Shocked consumed her face.
“Am I right?”
She nodded.
I gazed into her eyes. The same ones Jack described as the color of hug. “His name was Jack Wasserman, and he didn’t dump you. He died.”
She cocked her head, and her eyes appeared to be two question marks.
“He was my brother.”
She collapsed down onto the cement sidewalk. I sat down next to her, both of us crying. My mind flashed back to the sandbox in our backyard on a sunny afternoon many years ago...
***
“Jack, when we grow up, we’re going to marry a brother and sister--twins, just like us. Then we can live in side-by-side houses and have cookouts in the backyard. Our kids will be able to play together every day.”
“I’m not getting married. I’m going to be a baseball player.”
“Don’t be stupid. Everyone gets married. Even baseball players.”
“Getting married is stupid and for girls.”
***
I clasped her hand as the memories rushed back. “He didn’t call you Rivka. He called you Rikki, and he wanted to marry you more than anything else. He saved every dime he could get his hands on so he could fly to Israel to see you. He told me you stayed in the army an extra year and then went straight to college. That’s why you couldn’t come to the United States.”
Jerusalem Stone Page 21