“I know. So am I. But if we try to force her to talk, she’ll only withdraw more. All we can do is wait for her to come to us.”
But Ima hardly ever left her bedroom. And when she did, she did not speak to her mother or her grandmother unless it was absolutely necessary. Even then, she said as little as possible.
One day, Ima came out of her room. She’d lined her eyes with thick black eyeliner and wore such heavy mascara that her lashes looked like giant black spiders against her pale face. She wore a short, tight, black skirt and a tight, black tee shirt without a bra. The nipples of her small breasts were almost completely visible through the fabric.
“Where did you get those clothes…and that makeup?” Katja could not contain herself. She had never seen Ima looking so much like an angry hoodlum.
“I’m going out,” Ima said.
“Where? Ima, please talk to me. Where are you going, and what’s going on? Are you going with Jennifer?”
“I’m going to the bowling alley and not with Jennifer.”
Katja shot a look at Zofia.
“So what’s at the bowling alley?” Zofia asked trying to sound calm. “You’re going to go bowling in such a skirt as this? You won’t be able to move.”
“I’m not going to bowl, Grandma.” Ima’s tone was sarcastic.
“So what else are you going to do at a bowling alley?” Katja asked.
“I won’t know until I get there.”
“I forbid you to go looking like that, and your tone with your grandmother is unacceptable. Please, Ima, sit down, and let’s try to talk about this,” Katja said.
“Bye, Mom. Bye, Gram.” Ima walked out the door, slamming it behind her.
Katja put her fist to her open mouth to stifle a scream. “Oh my God, Mama, did you see her? I thought things couldn’t get worse, but I think she’s getting worse. I am sick with worry. What are we going to do?”
“Nothing. Right now there is nothing we can do. If you go and follow her, she might run away from home. We can only wait.”
That was the beginning of Ima’s change from a shy, sweet, dreamy-eyed teenager, to a promiscuous, lost girl. Sometimes she stayed out all night. She went back to school, but she did not attend classes. The school counselor called Katja in for a meeting and told her that Ima was out of control. The counselor said that Ima was flunking out and getting a bad reputation. She’d lost most of her close friends, and the high school boys swarmed around the house like wild dogs sniffing out a female dog in heat.
Katja and Zofia were at their wits’ end. Without a father, there was no male support to lean on, and it was clear to see that Ima had lost all respect for herself. She had no permanent relationships. The boys came through like an assembly line. Jennifer had stopped calling and coming by. But worst of all, there was nothing Katja or Zofia could do to stop Ima’s descent down the path of self-degradation.
CHAPTER 85
Ima hated herself. She hated her body. If only one, just one of those boys she had sex with made her feel worthwhile after they had their way with her, she might have felt better about herself. But the only time she felt loved, the only time she felt beautiful was when she was in the arms of a lover. As soon as it was over, that terrible emptiness of abandonment set in again.
Worthless, that’s what she was, worthless to anyone, even to herself. She considered suicide at least once a day, but she could not get past the fear of death, of the unknown. That was what stopped her. The sexual act itself meant nothing to her. In fact, she derived no pleasure from sex. It was the closeness she craved and, for a little while she felt loved.
That horrible man had ruined her forever. He’d forced himself on her then told her that she was good for nothing else but sex. He’d beaten her until she couldn’t feel the pain anymore. Then after he’d finished with her, he threatened to kill her family if she ever told anyone what happened. In a single afternoon, Ima’s life had been shattered like a broken mirror, leaving her empty.
She began drinking alcohol to numb the pain. It was easy for her to get a bottle of whiskey. All she had to do was trade sexual favors with older men she met outside the liquor store, and they were quite willing to buy the alcohol for her.
Then one night, one of the men she met outside the liquor store offered her a pill. “Try it,” he said, smiling, “it will make you feel beautiful.”
Ima had become so reckless that she didn’t hesitate. She took the pill and washed it down with a gulp of whiskey. Within a few minutes, she felt so tired that she could not hold her eyes open. She fell into the most restful, peaceful, blissful sleep she’d ever known.
When she awakened two days later, she found herself in a run-down motel room with the maid pounding on the door. She had no idea how she’d gotten there or what happened while she was asleep. All she knew was that she was alone, naked, and sick to her stomach. When she got to her feet, she felt dizzy and vomited on the floor. The maid was still knocking. Ima’s headache was blinding.
“Okay, go away. I’ll be out of here in a few minutes,” she yelled to the maid. Even as she said the words, the throbbing in her head got worse.
She arrived home that afternoon to a panicked mother and grandmother. They were nagging at her. Where was she for two days? They were looking everywhere. They called the police again. Why was she doing this? She wished they would just leave her alone. She felt sick and just wanted to lie down. Her mother was crying again. So what else was new? She was always crying, always drowning in self-pity.
What the hell did her mother know about her suffering? She’d had a rich, adoring husband who gave her anything and everything she wanted. True, she’d lost him but then found her cause, and Katja’s devotion to the women in her foundation made Ima sick. It got on Ima’s nerves to see Katja always running around trying to do everything for everyone. Well, of course, that was before Ima was raped. Now Katja just sat at home weeping like the pathetic, clawing bitch that she was.
Ima wasn’t looking for a cause to rescue her, and there was no man she could claim as the love of her life. From her experiences with men, it grieved her to say that she didn’t believe she would ever find anyone capable of loving her.
***
The next two years brought Katja to her knees. Zofia became ill. It began with a lump in her breast, followed by a visit to the doctor and a sobering diagnosis. Surgery followed and then radiation therapy. Katja was with Zofia constantly, but Zofia was more worried about Ima than herself.
Even Zofia’s illness had not cured Ima’s internal rage. Instead, Ima began to exchange, on a regular basis, sexual favors for the pills she’d come to love, very addictive pills called Quaaludes.
Katja felt as if she’d aged a thousand years. She was losing the two people she loved the most in the world, her dear mother, and her baby girl. But in spite of the vomiting and inability to keep food down due to the radiation, Zofia never complained. She joked with Katja while she waited for her radiation sessions.
Katja kept a light attitude in the waiting room, sitting beside Zofia, who looked frail and old in her hospital gown. But as soon as her mother went in for therapy, Katja fell into tears. It seemed as if her life had fallen apart. Sometimes she thought of Helga, her birth mother. Sometimes she even wanted to write a letter to Helga to apologize for not understanding.
Zofia pulled through, but she was weak. For now, the doctor said the cancer was in remission. Katja hugged Zofia, but inside, she was riddled with fear. At any time, the cancer could return and claim her mother. Then she would be alone with her daughter who was out of her reach, a girl who had experienced something terrible then completely disconnected from her family.
Every morning Katja and Zofia took short walks. Katja watched as Zofia forced herself to eat, never complaining and always smiling. Dear God, that woman was strong, Katja thought.
***
Finally, Ima turned eighteen. All Israelis were obliged to serve in the IDF, and she was no exception. It was strange to Katja to t
hink that once, long ago, she would have dreaded this day. She would have felt lost to have her daughter go off to serve in the army for two years. Now because of all that Ima had become, Katja welcomed it. Ima would go for training. If anyone or anything could straighten that girl out, it would be the IDF.
Ima didn’t want to go, but there was no refusing. So with Katja’s help, Ima packed as she was told, and Katja drove her to the bus station. They waited together silently until the bus came. Then clumsily, Katja took Ima in her arms. “I love you, Ima. You be careful and safe…please. Maybe you’ll call or write to me?”
“Bye, Mom,” Ima said, her eyes blank, dark, and dead as she climbed the stairs and disappeared into the back of the long bus.
CHAPTER 86
How can I endure an entire month of this basic training? Ima thought as she was lying on her bunk after the first three days of it. The constant demands of exercise and participation were overwhelming. In fact, this very morning, she’d not been on time for roll call, so her commanding officer had punished her entire group. They were forced to do one hundred pushups and run two miles.
Everyone was angry with her, and she wished she could just get up and leave. There was no way out of this prison. She was convicted of being an Israeli and sentenced to hell. The room was dark. She could hear the steady breathing of all the other recruits, and she began to cry into her pillow.
Damn, if she only had a ’lude—just one pill. That would help. But where the hell could she get a Quaalude in this hell-hole? Her body shook. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get through the physical training. She needed a pill, just one. Since that day when her innocence had been stolen, she’d felt alone but never as alone as she felt here and now in the IDF. I’ll get those pills. I’ll find a way, no matter what I have to do.
CHAPTER 87
SGT Rivka Berkovitz was Ima’s squad leader, and she was meeting with her commanding officer, LT Dov, in his office.
“So how are the new recruits?”
“Most of them will be all right, but I do have one that I am worried about. It’s Ima Zaltstein. I think we should give her a dishonorable discharge. She’s got mental problems.”
“Ah,” LT Dov said, rubbing his chin, “so is that how we treat our fellow Israelis? A girl is damaged in her mind, so we just toss her away like a used tissue. Is that how we do it, Sergeant?”
“She’s a lot of work, and I’m not sure she will ever be up to standard.”
“Yes, there are some of our recruits that take more work than others. But getting her up to standard, Sergeant, is your job. If you think she needs mental help then see to it that she gets it. Work her hard, clean her up, and make her into a soldier, an Israeli soldier. That’s what we do, Sergeant. We don’t just throw our own people away.”
SGT Berkovitz nodded her head, but she had a frown on her pretty, sun-kissed face. “Yes, sir,” she said, anticipating the job ahead of her. This one would take extra time, but LT Dov was right. This was what she was there for, and she would do whatever was necessary to turn this girl into an Israeli soldier.
CHAPTER 88
The harder SGT Berkovitz was on Ima, the more Ima fought her. SGT Berkovitz put Ima into the hospital to detoxify her body from the drugs. Ima was like an animal. She screamed and fought, but SGT Berkovitz persisted. For three weeks, Ima lay on a cot, kicking, screaming, and begging for drugs until she fell asleep only to awaken in an hour or so crying and shaking.
One afternoon, Ima was so bad that she was hitting her head against the wall. The doctors called SGT Berkovitz and told her that they were forced to put Ima into a straightjacket.
I cannot give up on her, SGT Berkovitz thought. It would be a waste of a Jewish life, and I must not allow that to happen. Every night, SGT Berkovitz heard the young girl’s screams in her dreams. It would be so easy just to tell LT Dov that she couldn’t help Ima. But then every morning SGT Berkovitz tried again. She put her heart and soul into rehabilitating this lost girl. It was not as if she didn’t have enough to do training the other new recruits, but every day, SGT Berkovitz found time to go to the hospital and check on Ima.
When Ima was finally discharged from the hospital, she was weak and tired, but she was clean…detoxed. SGT Berkovitz knew that Ima needed to be watched very closely, or she would find a way to get her hands on drugs again. So SGT Berkovitz assigned one of the other recruits, Noam, to help take care of Ima. Noam was a short, but solid young man with thick muscles that stretched across his body and a thick mane of black hair that reminded SGT Berkovitz of a picture of a black lion that she’d seen once.
“Make sure she stays clean. Make sure that she eats, and if you have any trouble with her, let me know,” SGT Berkovitz instructed.
“I will,” Noam said.
“Report to me and keep me updated on her progress,” SGT Berkovitz said, glad to have someone else to help her with this problematic girl.
Noam had no patience. He yelled at Ima, to get out of bed. But Ima just laid there and sobbed. Noam would demand that she stop crying, but Ima would still lie there, weeping softly.
“Come on, Ima. Let’s get up and get moving.”
“Go to hell,” she said.
“Get up, now!” he commanded.
“Fuck you.” She turned over to face the wall.
It was a week later that Noam gave up. He could not work with this troubled girl and went to SGT Berkovitz, to tell her.
SGT Berkovitz was not surprised. Ima was unwilling to try to better herself, and that made it almost impossible to help her. So SGT Berkovitz, at her wit’s end, went back to LT Dov and asked him what to do about Ima’s situation.
LT Dov rubbed his chin with his hand as he looked across the desk at SGT Berkovitz. They’d had people like this before in the IDF. There were special squad leaders who were better trained to work with them. SGT Berkovitz had tried. She’d given it her best shot. That was all that LT Dov could expect. He took a deep breath. “I think we should send her to another squad. I know an officer who is very good with people with problems. It’s his specialty. I’ll contact him today. You prepare the papers.”
“Yes, sir,” SGT Berkovitz said, glad to be rid of Ima.
CHAPTER 89
Ima knew that there was no way out of the IDF. She would have to serve her two years, and if she continued to be uncooperative, they would keep her in boot camp even longer. It was terrible. Every day, someone was bothering her to exercise, yelling at her to pull herself together, when all she really longed for was a Quaalude and some peace. If she had a bottle of Quaaludes, she would have taken all of them and put an end to her miserable life.
Rivka told her that they were planning to transfer her to another squad as if that might make a difference. As far as Ima was concerned, it was just Noam and SGT Berkovitz’s way of getting rid of her, pawning her off on someone else. So who cares? she thought. What difference did it make? Rivka told her that the squad where she was being sent was for troubled people. Well, that might be good after all. If there were other people who took drugs, some of them might have connections and be able to smuggle some good stuff into the barracks.
CHAPTER 90
Staff Sergeant Ido Hadar sat at his desk and swatted a fly that was swarming around his ear. He had looked at the files twice that he’d been sent on Ima. He still held the papers in his hand and shook his head. There was more to this girl. Something had to have happened to her to make her so angry. It was just a matter of finding out what that was, and then he would be able to work with her.
Ima Zaltstein, he thought—my project for the next six months at least. She would be arriving in a few hours. LT Dov had sent a personal letter asking Ido to see what he could do to rehabilitate this one. Well, Ido had never lost one, at least not yet. He refused to surrender a single Israeli as a lost cause. Every person counted, and he was prepared to do whatever he had to do to save this girl. Not one Jewish life, not one could be lost. Israel is a small country, Ido thought, and she desperate
ly needs the support of every single one of her citizens.
Ido watched out the window of his office as Ima got out of the car that had brought her. Her hair had grown back and was hanging uncombed over her shoulders. She was as skinny as a corpse. And even from where he sat, he could see that Ima’s large eyes were surrounded by dark, bruised-looking skin. He knew it wasn’t from bruising, though. It was from lack of proper sleep and nutrition.
The guard who brought Ima knocked on Ido’s door.
“Come in,” Ido said.
“This is Private Ima Zaltstein.”
“Hello, Ima, have a seat,” Ido said. Then turning to the guard, he said, “You may go. I have her from here. Thank you.”
Ima, who felt she could see through men all the way to their disgusting souls, could not help but look at this tall, handsome Israeli with his strong, honest face and feel a twinge of attraction. I’m sure he’s just like all the others, just out for sex, and that’s all, she told herself. But somehow, his eyes conveyed a different message.
“Welcome, Ima. My name is SSG Hadar,” his voice was warm, comforting, and gentle.
She nodded her head and looked away from him. His eyes were too honest, and that scared her.
“I know you don’t want to be here. But I am here to help you, and I am going to help you.”
“If you want to help me, then just let me out of here. Or better yet, just give me a bottle of sleeping pills, and let me get out of this miserable world.”
He smiled. “Well, I have no plans of doing either of those things, but I am going to help you.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are. You’re another one who has my best interest at heart, right?”
She was bold. She should not talk to her squad leader that way. Ido wanted to correct her, but he knew that he had to reach her first and alienating her was not the way.
“Believe it or not, Ima, I do have your best interest at heart.”
To Be An Israeli: The Fourth Book in the All My Love, Detrick series Page 28