Look for Me

by Edeet Ravel

  “Yes, I was there.”

  “Remember how the police and army agreed to stay away? A moment of sanity! They were actually able to see that if they just didn’t show up everything would go smoothly. Well, I was right up front, and I saw some of these very religious Muslim guys in their green robes waving their green flags and I admit I was a bit scared. I figured—fundamentalists, who knew what they were up to. Suddenly they all got very excited. They began pointing and shouting and I thought, Oh no, the police are here after all, shit. They were really agitated and I was sure violence was about to break out. And then I saw what they were pointing at. Birds! A whole flock of black birds, hundreds of birds in formation, sweeping across the white sky. I have a shot of that, of the birds and the guys in the robes pointing at the birds and getting all excited. Maybe they thought the birds were the souls of the boys who were killed. The picture came out really good, I’ll show it to you later. Maybe I’ll just bring that one to show Daniel.”

  “I wonder whether the army was worried that he’d crossed over.”

  “Worried about what? He didn’t know anything, apart from how to fold uniforms. But I still can’t believe that Ella knew. She let me suffer. She let me suffer all these years. I hate her.”

  “Maybe it hasn’t been years.”

  “Yes, it must have been, because she’s been reporting from there for years, and obviously she’d know about something like that. How could she be so cruel?”

  “Maybe it was really hard for her,” Rafi said. “Maybe she thought that if Daniel really didn’t want to see you, telling you his address wouldn’t do anyone any good.”

  “Don’t defend her. Anyhow, who cares. The main thing is that I’m going to see him!”

  “I hope it goes well, Dana.”

  “Yes. I’ll bring him back here. I’ll bring him back and we can start having a life again, both of us.”

  “He may not want to come back. Why not wait and see?”

  “I wonder how he feels, knowing I’ll be coming tomorrow?”

  “Probably even more nervous than you.”

  “I don’t know how I’ll survive until tomorrow. Yes, I do know. Can you stay? Can you stay with me, or do you have to be home?”

  “I can stay.”

  “I still love you.”

  “I know.”

  “But Daniel comes first.”

  “No one has to come first or second.”

  “Maybe not in the way people feel, but in what people do they have to make a choice.”

  “That’s true.”

  “I want to be with you until tomorrow. And then it will be over.”

  “Don’t plan everything, Dana. Life’s easier if you don’t make too many plans.”

  “You think it won’t work out between me and Daniel, but you’re wrong. You don’t know how close we were.”

  “I just think you need to take things a step at a time. It’s been eleven years. A lot has happened to Daniel since then. Try to imagine what his life has been like. He must have found a way to integrate into that society. He might be a different person now.”

  “No, he’s not different. His personality was too strong. And our societies aren’t that different! We have a lot in common.”

  “Whatever happens, I’ll stand by you.”

  “Thank you. Let’s go somewhere. I don’t want to stay here, I want to feel this is his place now.”

  “We can go to a hotel if you like.”

  “Yes, I’d like that. You know, Coby offered us a room.”

  He laughed. “Are you sure that’s not too far? We don’t want to get carried away.”

  “It doesn’t have to be another part of the country, just another place. Am I being selfish?”

  “No, it makes sense, Dana. I’m surprised you haven’t asked me to leave altogether.”

  “I’d like to, but I can’t.”

  “Dana, are you punishing Daniel?”

  “What do you mean? That I’m using you? Using you to get back at him for leaving me? Is that what you think?”

  “I’m asking.”

  “I’m not using you.” Tears rolled down my cheeks. “That’s the second time you’ve made me cry.”

  “I’m glad. You haven’t been crying enough since Daniel left.”

  “No, I didn’t cry, because I knew I’d see him. I knew we’d be together again. And I was right. Let’s go across the street and check in.”

  “Yes. Good old Coby.”

  “Nice room.”

  “Mm.”

  “That was very moving, the way the two of you said hello.”

  “Who?”

  “You and Coby.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The way you both looked at each other. As if you were incredibly happy to see one another.”

  “I guess we were close once. Coby was a sniper, though; so a lot of the time we had different assignments.”

  “I asked him about the lynching. He said he had no idea what I was talking about.”

  “Is that what he said?”

  “Yes.”

  “He was standing right next to me. He threw up. A lot of us felt like puking, but he actually did. Then he reported the two guys.”

  “Is he married?”

  “Yes, he has two daughters, he’s done well for himself.”

  “I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

  “I don’t mind. Maybe you’re trying to get your mind off other things. Or to talk about them in terms of my experiences.”

  “That’s an odd way of looking at it … I forgot to tell Volvo I won’t be looking in tonight. Oh well, he’ll manage.”

  “I wonder whether he was so aggressive before he lost his legs.”

  “I met someone who knew him from before—he said Volvo was one of the funniest and most upbeat people he knew. He always had a mind of his own, though. He left his family, became secular, not a lot of people do that. I think they told him that was why he lost his legs, that it was a punishment from God … Listen to us! This is what lovers talk about in this country! What a place to live!”

  “How about we banish the world for the next twenty hours?”

  “What did you tell Graciela?”

  “I told her you’d found Daniel. She was very happy for you.”

  “She’s really strange.”

  “She’s pimping for me. It makes her feel in control, she thinks she chose you. You’re a safe partner in her eyes, and this way she doesn’t feel as bad about not sleeping with me.”

  “You didn’t tell me that before.”

  “Besides, she really does like you, Dana. Is there anyone who doesn’t like you, by the way?”

  “Lots of people. My sergeant hated me with a passion. I ran into her a couple of years ago and she still hates me. And one of the journalists who interviewed me about Daniel said I was pathetic, neurotic, self-absorbed. She thought waiting for Daniel was self-indulgence of the first order, and also selfish of me. The woman at the photo shop can’t stand me—she’s always making snide remarks.”

  “Did you tell that interviewer to go to hell?”

  “No, she was right. She was right about me. Beatrice also thinks it’s self-indulgence, and she’s my friend.”

  “Are you and Beatrice close?”

  “Not really, though she sometimes stays the night. It’s nothing serious. It worked out for me too, it was my way of having sex without betraying Daniel.”

  “That sort of turns me on.”

  “It was nothing special. She’s not the romantic type. I’m not going to continue seeing her now, of course.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Who knows! Impossible to tell. She lost a son in ’89, if that’s a clue. But I think she had him very young, he was her eldest. She has a five-year-old, too. I thought we were banishing the outside world.”

  “Harder than it sounds.”

  “You understand people better than I do, Rafi.”

  “I don’t understand anyone.”r />
  “I love you.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love Daniel.”

  “So one gathers.”

  “You have a scar here, I didn’t notice before.”

  “Yes, a knife found its way to my thigh. I didn’t even feel it when it happened. Guy grabbed my rifle strap, stuck a knife in my leg. I wasn’t aware it was happening, I didn’t feel a thing. Someone pointed out to me afterward that I was bleeding.”

  “I guess it’s hopeless. We’ll never succeed in having the sort of conversation lovers have in Hollywood films. We’re doomed.”

  “We’re haunted.”

  “We’re possessed.”

  “We’re horny.”

  “We’re in love.”

  “We’re sexy.”

  “We’re fabulous.”

  “I love your body. I love your breasts.”

  “You’re handsome. Extremely handsome.”

  “Yes, everyone always said so. Especially my mother.”

  “Your eyes are black.”

  “Dark brown.”

  “They look black. I love your mouth. Are we doing better now?”

  “Much better.”

  “How come I don’t feel guilty, Rafi?”

  “Because you’re angry at Daniel.”

  “I’m not. I understand him. I feel bad for him.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m happy I’m here with you. Thank you for coming, thank you for staying with me until I go. Thank you for not minding that it’s the last time. You’re very nice to me, Rafi.”

  “I’m hoping it won’t be the last time. I want you to find Daniel, of course. But I hope we can go on being lovers.”

  “I’m not the type.”

  “I don’t think Daniel’s going to come back here, Dana.”

  “He will.”

  “He’s probably become attached to his home.”

  “This is his home.”

  “Well … I’m sure he’s missed you. I’m sure he still misses you.”

  “You must have women falling in love with you all the time. You’re so cute …”

  “Some women have come on to me, but whether it’s love … I have no idea.”

  “I hope I didn’t hurt Benny too much.”

  “Benny again! What’s Benny doing in this room? I’m ready to put up with Daniel, but that’s my limit.”

  “I forget you’re not my therapist. Rafi, what do you see in me? I can’t figure it out.”

  “I like your breasts.”

  “Seriously.”

  “Well, what do you like about yourself? The things you like are probably the things I like.”

  “I don’t like myself that much. I’m boring.”

  “Boring … is that what you think? What’s boring about you?”

  “I do the same things all the time.”

  “Yes, but they’re charming things, Dana. But I’m not going to tell you what I like about you, because it’s going to make you too vain. Especially since I am possibly on the verge of losing you forever and being heartbroken for the next few years.”

  “You’re just joking around.”

  “No, I’m not joking around. If you don’t see me anymore it’s going to hurt me. What do you think?”

  “I guess I find it hard to believe you’re really attached to me.”

  “You don’t want to believe it, Dana, because it’s inconvenient.”

  “I told you this would be a mess. And you said no. You said you believe in happy endings.”

  “If only life would cooperate.”

  “Let’s not talk anymore, Rafi. Words ruin things. Let’s just love each other.”

  “Fine with me.”

  “Do that thing you did last time.”

  “You mean this?”

  MONDAY

  I LEFT THE HOTEL ROOM BEFORE RAFI WOKE. I was glad he was sleeping; I didn’t want to say good-bye. I dressed quietly and left him a note, telling him I’d call him from the Coastal Strip to let him know I was all right, and asking him not to phone me. Then I went back to my flat and packed the dressing gown and the photograph of the men and the birds. I decided to take my toothbrush and a change of clothes as well, since I would be staying overnight. I assumed Daniel would need time to get organized, and that I’d stay with him until he was ready to come back.

  In the taxi to the train station my heart was pounding, and I was having difficulty breathing. The driver asked me whether I was feeling unwell.

  “I’m just excited,” I said. “I’m going to see my husband. I haven’t seen him in eleven years.” Telling a stranger something that was utterly meaningless for him, but of such immense significance to me, was a diversionary tactic. Or maybe I was trying to pull this event out of the realm of the supernatural to the surface of normal life, in order to give it weight and presence.

  “He’s been out of the country?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why so long?”

  “He got lost.”

  The driver laughed. “You’re funny,” he said. Then he sighed happily. “I’m laughing, I’m sitting here next to you. And I’m alive. You don’t appreciate life until you see death. Two hours ago I was sure it was the end for me …I haven’t come so close since the fucking war.”

  “Which war?”

  “Take your pick.”

  “What happened?”

  “I swore to myself I wouldn’t do drug pickups, but business is so lousy. I have to eat, I have to pay the rent. And drug pickups pay really well, one hundred fifty shekels for a twenty-minute ride, there and back. So I figured, what the hell. Without money you can’t stay alive anyhow. That’s what I said to myself, but it isn’t true. I’d rather be in debt and alive, I know that now. Two hours ago I had a gun pointed at my head, because by mistake I got a look at the dealer.”

  “Do you think it will last, this feeling of being happy to be alive?”

  He shrugged. “Probably not. I’d like to hang on to it, though. I really would.”

  When we arrived at the train station Ella was already there, waiting in her small blue car and talking on her mobile phone. She motioned me to come inside and with her free hand made room for me by moving junk from the passenger seat to the back. The car was like a large suitcase, stuffed with boxes, papers, food wrappers, batteries, a large flashlight, another mobile phone, a tape recorder, hats, socks, a rain jacket, a ratty cushion, blankets, and a bag of disposable diapers.

  I waited for Ella to finish her phone conversation. She was speaking in Arabic, with English words inserted here and there when she didn’t know the Arabic word. When she was through, she said, “Hi. Thanks for being on time. There’s an envelope in the glove compartment … that’s your permit. I need to stop somewhere for coffee. Coffee, and I also have to pee. What a night … don’t ask.”

  “You’ve been up all night?”

  “Yes.” She sighed, and pressed on the gas. She was a bit of a wild driver.

  We found a food stand and Ella got out to buy coffee and a bottle of water. Then we drove to the apartment building Daniel had given as his address, where the old couple lived now.

  “This is where I pick up his mail,” Ella said. “You can give him this month’s check.”

  “I can’t believe you never told me,” I said.

  “He asked me not to.”

  I stepped out of her car and stared at the building. It was a four-story apartment house, menacing, impenetrable, expelling breaths of invisible pain like smoke. Eleven years ago I had kept watch here. I had stationed myself across the street, on a rock, hidden by a row of dry, hostile bushes. I remembered thinking that this was what it was like to be a fugitive. You hid from the rest of civilization and you tried to look unobtrusive. I was afraid to move or sleep; I was afraid I’d miss Daniel’s secret messenger. I thought there was even a chance I would see Daniel himself, late at night; maybe he was the one leaving the notes on the door in disguised, alien handwriting. But in the end I had to sleep and I had to
eat. I tried to rent a flat in the building, or in the building facing Daniel’s, but nothing was available.

  We entered the familiar dark hallway. Ella used a key to open the mailbox and took out an envelope. “His allowance,” she said.

  “Did you leave those notes on the door?”

  “What notes?”

  “Gone to the supermarket, back in five minutes. I still have those notes, I tore them off the door and kept them.”

  “No, that wasn’t me. A widow lived here—I guess those were her notes. She put an ad in the paper, room for rent, and Daniel took it—that is, he paid the rent so he could collect mail here.”

  “But I knocked on the door, there was never anyone.”

  “She was a little paranoid.”

  “Who lives there now? That old couple, who are they?”

  “Her relatives, I think. She died, and they moved in.”

  “Does he still pay rent?”

  “No, not for a long time now. But I still pick up his mail here, no one minds.”

  I took the envelope from her and stared at the label. “Does he get other mail, too?”

  “Not really. His mother writes now and then.”

  “His mother!”

  “Yes, she figured out he was getting his mail. And she was right.”

  I ran out of the building, ran to the bushes in the back, and retched. Ella held my forehead, as if I were a little child.

  “Dana, are you with us?”

  Ella had pulled my hair back with her hands. I remembered going to my aunt, Belinda, because I thought I had lice. I was in high school, and I didn’t want anyone to know, so I went to Belinda, who was an obstetrician. She sat me down on her little round piano stool, next to the balcony, where the light was best. She lifted strands of hair, looked behind my ears, my neck, and suddenly I realized that she was playing with my hair, just playing with my hair entirely for her own pleasure.

  “Dana?”

  “I’m okay,” I said.

  “Have some water.” She handed me her bottled water and we walked back to the car.

  When we were on the highway, Ella said, “We’ll only have two checkpoints, if we’re lucky. The one at Selah shouldn’t be a problem—no one’s allowed out of the Coastal Strip, just about, so it’s pretty dead. But the checkpoints inside the strip are total pandemonium. It’s going to be a long wait once we’re inside.”