Jerusalem Beach

by Iddo Gefen

  “It’s time we give up on the house,” she said one day. She said it was too hard on her that we barely saw each other. That as far as she was concerned, we could live in a tiny rental our entire life as long as we spent more time together.

  “I know how much you want that house.”

  “I don’t.” She pouted. “I’ve gotten along without it perfectly fine for thirty years.” She said that she was starting to think I loved the house I wanted to buy her more than I loved her.

  “Is this about that designer?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s because of him that you’re talking to me like this.”

  Debby said I was losing it. She wouldn’t speak to me anymore that night, and I started to stress out. I began to think she really had fallen for him. That she was about to leave me. I started to suspect she had somehow found out about my job, knew I was getting daily reports on her, and had to find a way to hide their affair. She went out, and I lay in bed and couldn’t fall asleep.

  I decided to follow her. The bus pulled up in front of her office window, and I saw her sitting in front of her computer, and one window over, him sitting in the other room. I stood behind the bus stop and spent the entire day looking at them. I was waiting to catch them together, to find proof. But nothing happened. Every now and then Debby walked into his room for a few minutes, but it looked like they were just talking, nothing more. They didn’t even have lunch together.

  It calmed me down, made me realize I had been overreacting, and that Debby was great. And that I really loved her, and had to make up for everything I’d put her through this past year. So the next morning I asked Bruno for the day off. He didn’t want to take my night shift, but eventually he agreed, said that nothing’s more important than love. I spent the entire day shopping for Debby’s favorite foods. Pasta and tomato sauce and salads and good cheeses. I bought only the best, so she’d know I’d always go all out for her. I got back to our apartment and spent the entire afternoon cooking. Then I set the most beautiful table I could, including a new IKEA tablecloth I had bought especially for the occasion and a bottle of wine we had been saving for a special moment. At seven in the evening I opened the door, sat down at the table, and waited for her.

  But Debby didn’t show.

  At nine, I called her twice, but she didn’t answer. I texted her a question mark. At ten thirty she texted back that she hadn’t seen my message because she was in the shower. I wrote “ok” and went to bed. She called a few times, but I put my phone on silent. Trying to think as little as possible, I soon fell asleep. In the middle of the night she woke me up. Stroked me for a while. I couldn’t look her in the eye. I didn’t want to know.

  “You want me to explain?”

  I said no. She gave me a kiss on the back of my neck and lay down beside me. At that moment, the thought that Debby would no longer be mine started to creep in. I imagined myself waking up alone in the world, without her big body next to mine.

  * * *

  When I woke up in the morning, Debby had already left for work. I stayed in all day and went to the office only in the evening. Bruno asked how it had gone, and I told him it couldn’t have gone better. Then I went to the lab, sat at the desk, and started building. It took me about half an hour to make her nightmare. I didn’t do much. Just stood her in front of the mirror. Naked. With all her flabby skin and spots I love. I stood her in front of the mirror and just showed her the truth. That I was the only one who’d love a big woman like her. That she wasn’t worth much on her own, wouldn’t actually be able to start a new life without me. I finished building the nightmare and swore to myself it was the last time. That after things settled down, and we went back to loving one another, everything would work itself out.

  4.

  THREE YEARS LATER, and Debby and I have a house. She designed it herself, including the sauna area, which was entirely her idea. Bruno sold me the business and retired. He calls every now and then, says he’s on some jeep tour in Iceland or Greece, loving every moment. Since taking over the business we’ve gotten a lot of new clients, because no one does nightmares like us. I already have eight employees. They’re not as good at building as I am, but good enough to keep our clients on board. I don’t pull night shifts anymore, so Debby and I always go to bed together. She holds me tight and I kiss her on the cheek. Every now and then I plant a nightmare in her. Just to make sure she doesn’t accidentally start thinking about leaving again. It’s okay, it really is, because I’m fairly certain she doesn’t even remember the nightmares anyway. My favorite part of the day is right before we fall asleep, when she hugs me so tight I can barely breathe. Sometimes I whisper in her ear that I can’t believe we actually have the life we’ve always wanted, and she smiles, and says that neither can she.

  101.3 FM

  1.

  SOME OLD MAN brought the radio set in a few days ago. Took him two minutes just to open the door. Benny went to help him out, carried the radio up to the counter. The old man slouched behind him, breathing heavily. Then he looked at Benny with his puffy eyes and said the radio had conked out.

  “What make is it?” I yelled through the storage room window.

  “Grundig 3059, wooden panel,” Benny replied.

  “Yowza, an antique. Need me to take a look?”

  “Nope, it’s a goner,” he said, and advised the man against repairing it. Said the spare parts alone would cost more than three new Sonys.

  “No, out of the question,” the man said. “Nechama wouldn’t stand for a new one.”

  I came out of the storage room and stood behind the counter.

  Benny smiled, told him he could help convince her. That he’d give them a good price.

  The man lowered his gaze.

  “She passed away. Two years ago.”

  Benny apologized and turned to face me.

  “Ever fix one of these?”

  “No, but I think I can.”

  Benny hesitated for a moment, then told the old man we’d give it our best shot. The man nodded, rearranged his scarf and green cap and left the shop.

  Benny shuffled into the storage room, placed the radio set on the table, and asked if I happened to catch last night’s game.

  “There was a soccer match?”

  “It’s like you’re living under a rock. The basketball game! Maccabi made it to the finals.”

  “Oh, right. Yeah, it’s awesome.”

  He smiled.

  “We can watch the finals together,” I said.

  “I’d love to, believe me,” he sighed. “But Yotam won’t let me. It’s his first finals.”

  “Of course, you’re right. I wish I had a kid to watch it with.”

  “What’s the rush to have kids? You have all the time in the world, you’re barely thirty.”

  “I’m thirty-four.”

  “Even better, trust me,” he said, and walked out of the room.

  * * *

  I stayed alone with the radio set. It was an early sixties model, old but in decent condition. It switched on but didn’t pick up any stations. I spent a few hours fiddling with it but couldn’t find the source of the malfunction. I changed the antenna and a few other parts, but nothing helped. It pissed me off because I hate wasting an entire shift on one device. Not that Benny would ever say anything. He really is a great boss. He knows talking to customers isn’t my thing, and he’s cool with me staying in the back room all day, fixing devices. He’s always telling me to feel free to set my own pace, that as far as he’s concerned, I can take all the time in the world, though, I’m not sure how sincere he’s being. After all, it’s not as if he has all that time to give me even if he wanted to. I know it sounds petty, but it bothers me when people say things they don’t actually mean. Personally, I prefer being as precise as possible. I use iPhone notes to keep a daily record of my expenses and how much time I spend in front of my computer. That’s how I know my daily repair average is eleven devices, and that it takes
me fourteen minutes and seven seconds to get from my house to the old strip mall. If it wasn’t for Nurit, it would take me thirteen and a half minutes. She works at the drugstore next to Benny’s shop and stops me each morning at the entrance to the strip mall, always finding something to criticize. My slumped posture, for instance, or that I don’t have enough hair to justify buying shampoo. I have the feeling she’s like that with everyone, but I have no way of knowing. Maybe she just can’t stand me.

  2.

  IT TOOK ME four days to fix the old man’s radio. I mean, I thought I had fixed it, but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure. It didn’t pick up Galei Tzahal or Reshet Bet, only stations I never listen to, like 93.1 and 108 FM. The quality wasn’t that great either; there was tons of static. I tinkered with it for two minutes and twenty seconds, until I finally stumbled on a station it picked up beautifully, 98.6 FM.

  * * *

  Four-hundred-and-thirty-plus-eighty-five-plus-six-hundred-and-fuck-wait-forgot-the-VAT-dammit-from-the-top-five-hundred-and-three-plus-one-hundred-no-no-it-makes-no-sense.

  The volume kept going up even though I wasn’t touching anything.

  Benny walked into the room, asking if I remembered how much the woman from yesterday had paid to fix her microwave.

  “Ninety-nine shekels and forty-five agorot.” The broadcaster’s words descended into a blaring garble.

  “I told you to charge her two hundred.”

  “When?”

  “Turn that off, turn it off a sec. Right before I went out for lunch. Don’t you remember I told you to charge her two hundred?”

  I tried to remember but couldn’t.

  Benny looked at the radio. “You were wrapped up with that, huh? Never mind, don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m sorry, Benny, I can pay the difference if you …”

  “It’s all good. Keep working on the radio, take all the time you need.”

  * * *

  I switched the radio back on. Picked up the same station. It was only after a few moments that I realized the voice was familiar.

  Five-hundred-and-three-plus-one-hundred-idiot-three-hundred-and-sixty-five-shekels-fuck-what-on-god’s-green-earth-okay-let’s-see-that-comes-out-to-just-over-

  I shot up in my chair, recoiling from the voice. I looked out the window into the shop. Benny was sitting at the cash register, counting receipts and scribbling in a notebook. He wasn’t talking. The radio kept broadcasting. I stared at him and imagined him speaking.

  One-hundred-and-fifty-plus-two-hundred-and-seventy-five-comes-out-to-why-is-this-not-adding-up?

  I leaped up so fast the chair fell backward. Benny turned to me and smiled.

  God-I-can’t-take-him-anymore-what-does-that-pain-in-the-neck-want-now?

  I turned down the radio and stepped out of the back room and into the shop.

  “Haven’t fixed it yet? Why don’t you go out for a bite? You’ve been working all day.”

  “No, thanks, just looking for a screwdriver.”

  Benny yanked open the drawer and handed me one. I returned to the back room and closed the door.

  * * *

  Screwdriver-my-ass-he’s-just-fucking-bored-wants-to-nag-okay-again-how-much-is-two-hundred-and-seventy-five-plus-

  * * *

  I turned off the radio, keeping my finger on the switch for another forty-six seconds. I didn’t want to hear any more. I fixed ten other devices. At closing time, I told Benny good night and rushed out, avoiding his gaze. I went home and got straight into bed, feeling like my body was off-kilter. My hands were shaking and I couldn’t steady them. Eventually I fell asleep. I woke up at seven in the morning and wrote down what I remembered of my dream. Or rather, my nightmare. I have about one per month, on average. I washed my face and left for work. When I arrived at the shop I immediately began running tests on the radio again. At nine forty the old man called, asking if we’d fixed it yet. I told him that we were still waiting for a spare part from Germany and it would take at least another week. He thanked me and hung up. Whenever a customer walked in, I began fiddling with the frequency. I couldn’t catch the stations of the first seven customers, but at 10:53 a tall bearded man walked in. I started playing with the frequency until I heard a brittle voice coming out of the radio. I cranked up the volume.

  * * *

  And-shortbread-cookies-what-am-I-supposed-to-pick-up-now?-The-printer-and-Rachel’s-meds-the-prescription-is-in-my-pocket-what-else?-Get-back-to-Yossi-about-the-apartment-tickets-to-Italy-yes-what-time-is-it-gosh-already-eleven-the-morning-flew-by.

  * * *

  I looked at all the devices I’d fixed. There was only one printer, small and black. I picked it up and approached the counter.

  “Yes, that’s the one,” he said, pointing at the printer. “You guys are the best.”

  “He’s the best,” Benny said, slapping me on the back. I nodded and returned to the back room. I stared at the radio and decided it was enough. I wasn’t going to turn it on again.

  At around five o’clock, Benny said he had a wedding to attend and left me alone in the shop until closing time. I stared at the customers coming and going, telling myself I wasn’t at all interested in what they thought. But at 6:23 an older woman walked in. She was looking for an iPhone case, standing there in a puffy down coat and red sunglasses, studying the case selection. I asked her if she needed any help. She lowered her sunglasses and gave me a once-over. It was clear she was looking at my receding hairline, probably thinking how ugly I was. I told her I was popping into the back room to fetch something. I walked in and tuned the radio to her station. I had to know.

  * * *

  The-black-case-isn’t-that-bad-fucking-Amos-going-and-breaking-up-a-family-after-twenty-years-throwing-it-all-away-and-for-what-actually-the-silver-case-is-nicer.

  * * *

  She walked up to the cash register as I came out of the back room. I gave her a twenty percent discount without even telling her.

  “Everything okay?” I asked softly.

  “Perfect, hon. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.”

  “Honey, why did you ask?” She looked at my hairline again. It pissed me off.

  “Because of Amo—” I wavered, falling silent.

  “You a friend of Amos’s?”

  I didn’t reply.

  “He already told everyone, huh?” She put her hand on her neck, fondling a colorful necklace. I bagged the silver case. She snatched it from my hand.

  “Tell your friend he’s a fucking loser,” she said and walked out of the shop. The noise from the radio gradually died down.

  * * *

  I stood rooted to the spot for a while. Then I called the old man to let him know the shipment from Germany had been delayed and it would take at least another month. He said a month was a long time, and I asked if he wanted me to cancel the order. He hesitated for a moment, and said no. That Nechama wouldn’t have wanted that. He hung up. I’m not sure whether I was pleased or disappointed.

  * * *

  The following day I let Benny know about the delay as well. He didn’t say a word, just thought he ought to replace me with his nephew who’d be out of trade school soon and willing to work for minimum wage. I went back to fixing other devices, but now I was averaging eight a day. I listened to the radio while working, keeping it low so Benny wouldn’t hear. Apart from tuning in on the customers, I also liked following Albert, the building super, who mainly hummed Arik Lavie songs, and Nurit’s station, 101.3 FM, which had the best signal. She had this funny quirk of reciting useless trivia about different countries. For example, in Canada there were more lakes than in all other countries combined, and the name “Spain” originally meant “land of the rabbits.” And every day at noon on the dot, she thought of things she wanted to eat, like pasta with cream and sweet potatoes, or tuna salad with olive oil and feta. I also liked that while in person she was quick with the hurtful remarks, alone in her head she was much more hesitant—afraid that her boss thought she was t
oo slow, or that her paycheck wouldn’t stretch to the end of the month. One morning I popped into the drugstore to pick up toothpaste. Nurit was at the cash register. She looked up and said, “Always buying off-brand, huh? Cheap-ass.” And I didn’t say a word, just went back into the shop and turned on the radio.

  * * *

  Two-soaps-for-ten-is-a-great-bargain-I’ll-buy-some-for-myself-too-bad-he’s-always-rushing-off-it’s-actually-nice-when-he-stops-by-oh-wait-last-month-it-was-three-for-ten.

  * * *

  My shoulders shot up. I made sure the door was closed and cranked up the radio. I listened to her station till the end of my shift; three more times she thought I was cute, and twice that it was a shame we didn’t know each other better.

  * * *

  The following day, we met at the entrance to the strip mall.

  “You’re jumpy today,” she said.

  “Maybe,” I replied, noticing the large beauty mark on her neck. I smiled. She smiled back. That day she had spent seven minutes and forty-six seconds thinking about me. Four times she had told herself that if I asked her out, she wouldn’t turn me down. I thought about it, and about how it had been exactly three years and four months since my last date.

  I walked into the drugstore to buy a pack of gum. Nurit was sitting at the cash register; she looked at the gum and said it tasted vile. I asked her if she wanted to go out with me. She considered me for a moment, and said no.

  I said okay, dropped my gaze to the floor, and went back to the shop. Shaking, I sat down on my chair in the back room. The radio was still playing her station.