Murder Under the Bridge

by Kate Raphael

  “I have a great idea,” Chloe said, thinking of a surefire way to impress. “Do you like Chinese food?”

  “I don’t go to West Jerusalem,” Tina said, but Chloe shook her head.

  “There’s this great place in East Jerusalem. But we need to call, because they close randomly. Let’s go upstairs, there’s no phone service down here.”

  There was no answer at Dallas Chinese Restaurant. Chloe could hardly contain her disappointment. It would have been perfect; she knew the owner, and it would have been empty, the better to seduce you with, my dear. While she was trying to think of a suitable alternative, her phone rang.

  “When do you want to come?” demanded Abu Tariq, the proprietor of Dallas.

  “Fifteen minutes,” Chloe told him.

  “Okay, I will save a table for you,” he said. Save a table? Any time she had ever been there, she and whoever she was with had been the only customers. She and Tina walked breezily out Damascus Gate and up Salah e-Din to AzZahra Street. Dallas was empty except for Abu Tariq and his two sons.

  “Hello, kiif halik,” he greeted her in his usual mixture of English and Arabic.

  “How are you all?” Chloe said in Arabic. “This is my friend, Tina.” While Abu Tariq greeted her friend, Chloe turned to his son, Tariq.

  “How is the university?” she asked him in English.

  “Fine, fine,” answered the blind boy, turning toward her voice. “Very much work.”

  She ordered her usual, eggplant with garlic sauce and vegetarian chow mein, and then took Tina into the kitchen to see the Chinese recipes on the wall. She explained that there used to be Chinese workers there before the Intifada, in the days when Jerusalem teemed with tourists, and adventurous young Israelis used to cross into East Jerusalem to eat dinner. She opened the cabinet where the chopsticks were hidden, and dug out pairs in dusty paper wrappings.

  When their food was served, Chloe picked up her chopsticks. She saw Tina hesitate. There were forks on the table and Tina half-reached for one, but Chloe could see she was embarrassed.

  “You don’t know chopsticks?” Chloe asked.

  “We don’t have them much in Australia.”

  “Here, hold them like this.” Chloe demonstrated the correct positioning of three fingers, but Tina couldn’t quite figure it out. “Let me help you,” Chloe said.

  She walked around the table and standing behind Tina, took her right hand and curled it properly around the chopsticks. For balance, she rested her left hand lightly on Tina’s shoulder, bending down so that her lips were very close to the small hairs at the nape of Tina’s neck. Her hair smelled vaguely lavendery. Once Tina had the hang of eating with the sticks, Chloe went back to her place. She couldn’t decide if she was moving too fast or not. Tina didn’t seem to object, but she also didn’t exactly encourage the physical contact.

  Chloe hoped that Tina wasn’t a stone femme, who wouldn’t take an ounce of initiative. She herself was hardly butch, and she was too insecure in romantic situations to want to be the sole aggressor. She told Tina about her afternoon, drawing it out into a wonderful adventure story. When she got to the part about Avi being arrested, she felt a twinge: she was out having a nice dinner with a beautiful woman, while he was probably sitting in some holding cell, or worse.

  “I can’t believe you had the nerve to run away,” Tina commented. “I don’t think I would’ve.”

  “Well, in the States I would never run away from the police, because it would make it worse. But here, the worst they can do is deport me, and deported is deported is deported.”

  “But aren’t they more likely to deport you if you run away?”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t even think the guys you run away from have much say in whether you get deported or not. They’re most likely to deport us because we saw something they didn’t want us to see.”

  “I’ll try to remember that, if I’m ever arrested.”

  “It might be different for you, though,” Chloe thought out loud. “Because they would consider you a Palestinian. Do you have a Palestinian ID card?”

  “No. Just my Australian passport. But it says where I was born.”

  Chloe suddenly felt not so heroic. Maybe it wasn’t her smarts that had saved her today, but just the fact that she was a white American. She wanted to change the subject.

  “So, what kind of counseling center is it that you’re working at?”

  “It’s for women and kids dealing with domestic violence.”

  “That’s great. I mean, not great that they’re dealing with it, but that there’s a place for them to get help.”

  “Yeah, it’s run by a really wonderful woman. She studied in the States.”

  “There are a lot of good DV counseling centers in the States, which is good because there’s a lot of DV.”

  “I think there’s a lot of that everywhere.”

  “Is that what you do at home too?”

  “Oh, no. I’m a physical education teacher.”

  Chloe nearly choked on her tea.

  “What’s so funny?” Tina looked hurt.

  “Nothing. It’s just …” She had been about to say “a stereotype,” but suddenly she caught herself. Tina had never actually said she was a lesbian. What if Chloe had read the situation all wrong?

  “Just what?”

  “I’m so hopeless at sports. I never thought I’d have dinner with someone who teaches them.”

  “Oh.” Tina’s expression said she wasn’t quite believing that explanation, but was willing to let it pass. “No one’s really hopeless at sports. You just had bad teachers.”

  “Well, I think I disagree about the hope, but you’re sure right about the teachers.”

  The street was still when they left the restaurant. This midweek night at the beginning of spring, they were the only ones out. It was a little creepy, Chloe thought. Tina must have thought so too. She craned her head this way and that.

  “I’d better find a cab,” she said. “I don’t want to wait for a service.”

  “What’s your hurry?” said Chloe. “Come to the Jerusalem Hotel for a nightcap.” Nightcap. An archaic word she’d never used before. But she didn’t know if Tina drank beer, so it seemed safer to leave it open.

  “I don’t know,” Tina said. “It’s getting really late. I’m afraid there won’t be transportation if I wait.”

  She hadn’t said she was too tired, or that she needed to get home.

  “Well, if you don’t mind taking a cab, it seems like there are always some around late.”

  “Yeah, but a lot of the drivers don’t like to go that far—and it can be really expensive.”

  “You could spend the night at the Hospice. There’s no one else in my room right now.”

  “How much is it?”

  “They give me a discount—they’ll probably let you stay tonight for free.” This wasn’t exactly true—she would pay them something for Tina. But better sweeten the deal now, and deal with logistics later.

  “Oh, right then. Why not?” Chloe almost swooned at the lovely sound of the words in Tina’s musical voice.

  “Wait,” she said, as Tina turned them around toward the foot of Nablus Road and the elegant Jerusalem Hotel. Usually Chloe loved to sit on their patio, which was cool even on hot summer nights, sipping Taybeh and listening to the intense political conversations happening around her in five or six languages. But she didn’t want to share Tina. “The J Hotel is probably really crowded. Why don’t we go back to the Hospice and have a coffee or a glass of wine on the terrace?”

  She held her breath as the other woman considered it. “Lovely,” she said at last and Chloe nearly danced them over the cobblestones, through the gate, and up the wide stone steps.

  Two glasses of wine and an hour and a half of what she hoped was scintillating conversation later, Chloe was at a loss again. She and Tina sat toe to toe, facing each other on two narrow cots in her subterranean dorm room. She couldn’t figure out how to bridge the few
inches between them. She had made all the moves so far, and Tina had certainly seemed willing enough, but Chloe didn’t have enough confidence to take the final plunge. There was nothing else to do, she decided, but go to sleep. She arched, stretching her arms wide.

  “I’m wiped,” she said, standing up. She turned a little away from Tina and pulled the filmy blouse over her head. While it covered her eyes, she felt hands over hers, tugging it the rest of the way. When she could see again, Tina’s lips were brushing hers, her silky curls teasing Chloe’s cheek. Their tongues lapped at each other, and at whatever exposed skin they could find. Tina’s found its way into Chloe’s ear, drawing a little yelp. They laughed and separated.

  Chloe plunged her hands into the back pockets of Tina’s jeans, bracing herself so her belly touched Tina’s where it poked out from under her tank top, revealing a little rhinestone-studded gold ring. For moments, they were lost in each other’s mouths, tongues jamming into the depths, as if they could find each other’s truest words there.

  “Let’s take off our clothes,” Tina suggested.

  Chloe had a flash of embarrassment. What would the other woman think about her jiggling curves, the heavy hair at the top of her thighs? She was no American Idol, and Tina was a goddess. But Tina could see what she was, and she obviously wanted her. She undid the button and zipper of Tina’s jeans and eased them down her sturdy brown legs. Tina stepped out of them. Chloe worked her hands into the flesh at the base of the other woman’s butt, stealing into her underwear, where the wetness was already spreading. Tina’s legs were trembling as Chloe lowered the panties and sank to her knees. Her tongue and finger worked in tandem, tweaking the clitoris and labia, while Tina’s hands kneaded Chloe’s curly mop, her nails digging into the scalp a little, reminding Chloe of the cat she had left in San Francisco.

  Tina guided them onto one of the beds. She sat on Chloe’s face, her hand thrusting in and out of Chloe’s cunt while Chloe continued to lick and lick and lick. Chloe felt so open she was afraid she would scream, and bring the sisters running to see what was wrong. It had been so long since she had really touched anyone, been touched. She felt each push into her echoing around her body like an electric current, resonating in the little nerves in her ears and behind her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She wanted their loving to go on and on, not to crescendo too quickly. She pulled back, and Tina’s hand slid out, covered with Chloe’s creaminess. Chloe licked a little of it off. She couldn’t remember ever doing that before, ever tasting herself. She licked Tina’s fingers, slowly, one by one.

  They lay face to face now, studying each other’s features, arms entwined. Chloe felt the tiny hairs on her back standing on end. She thought if she really tried, she would be able to read Tina’s mind. She brushed her cheek up and down the length of Tina’s face, feeling Tina’s smoothness against her own roughness, and knowing that the friction was fueling Tina’s passion. She covered Tina’s body with little kisses, from the tip of her nose to the joint of her ankles, enjoying the challenge of seeing if she could make each kiss a hair smaller than the last. “Don’t let this night be a dream,” she thought. “Don’t let me wake up and be alone.”

  She worked her way back up Tina’s body with her mouth, and when she reached her crotch she again buried her face deep in the salt warmth, feeling like a nursing baby who could not be satiated. Tina’s hand stroked Chloe’s clitoris, sending ripples so intense through her body that she bucked like someone struck by lightning. Then they were coming in rhythm, one heaving, the other pushing, over and over, rocking back and forth. Tina was starting to make too much noise. Chloe put a hand over her mouth and Tina chomped down on it; she would have a welt the next day, but it would only remind her how happy she had been in this moment, when they were melting together.

  Chapter 31

  When Chloe woke up she could tell it was late, even in the dim light afforded by the small window.

  “I’m hungry,” Tina announced.

  “I know the perfect place,” Chloe responded.

  “Another perfect place?” Tina asked. Chloe blushed and nodded.

  Showered and composed, they slipped into a booth at Amigo Emil’s. Abu Emil, the owner, threw his arms wide when he saw Chloe.

  “It has been so long,” he said, taking her hand in both of his. “And who is this lovely lady?”

  “My friend, Tina,” Chloe told him. He took Tina’s hand as he had hers, squeezing it. Unlike all its neighbors, Amigo Emil’s was not an established business trying to hang on through the lean years. Abu Emil, a retired banker, had returned from Jordan during this Intifada and decided to open a restaurant in the tourist-starved Old City. His food was exquisite, the tiled interior stunning, but he had not yet attracted a clientele. Though it was nearly lunch time, there was only one other person eating in the large dining room.

  Chloe and Tina slid into a booth, facing each other. Tina grasped Chloe’s hand under the table, opening the menu with her other hand. Chloe felt herself starting to melt. The touch brought the memory of the night and morning coursing through her body.

  “Ahem,” said the young Armenian waiter at her elbow.

  She blushed mightily. “Um, could I have a cheese omelet and cappuccino?” she said without a look at the menu. He wrote it on his pad and turned to Tina.

  “I guess I’ll have the same.” Tina hadn’t been reading her menu either, Chloe thought with satisfaction. A few minutes later, Abu Emil appeared with three cappuccinos on a tray. He slipped onto the leather bench next to her. Well, she told herself, if you wanted privacy, you shouldn’t go places where you know the owners. But it was not a bad gamble. Tina had new respect for her: Chloe was no ordinary tourist. Tina and Abu Emil traded family histories while they waited for the eggs.

  Chloe’s phone rang. She glanced at the number.

  “Thank God! It’s Avi,” she said and hit the answer button.

  “Where are you?” she asked, but there was no answer. “Shit!” she said, then shot a guilty look at Abu Emil. She needn’t have bothered; he was wrapped up in Tina. Neither of them even looked up when she walked out of the restaurant. Reception was scarce in the Old City, the cavernous thick walls frequently blocking the signal. She had to walk all the way to Jaffa Gate to call Avi back.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Not much,” he replied. “They took me to the detention center in Petah Tikva. They asked me stupid questions and played loud music all night so I couldn’t sleep. Then first thing this morning, they let me go.”

  “What did they ask you about?”

  “Fareed.”

  “What about Fareed?”

  “How I knew him… nothing much.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “The truth. What should I have told them?”

  “I don’t know… I wouldn’t have told them anything.”

  He did her the courtesy of not saying, You have no idea what you would tell the Israeli secret police under interrogation. Instead he said, “Well, I didn’t tell them anything they didn’t know.”

  “Did they ask anything about me?” she couldn’t resist asking.

  “No.”

  She wondered what to make of that. She had been sure it was her the SHABAK was after. Yet they hadn’t pursued her and hadn’t asked anything about her. If Avi was to be believed, that is.

  “Did you see Fareed?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Well, did you ask to see him?”

  “Of course I did.” His tone was hurt and annoyed, and she supposed hers would be too in his place.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “They said he isn’t there any more.”

  “Where is he?”

  “They didn’t know. Their job was to get the confession. Now that he’s confessed and is being charged, he’ll go to a regular prison.”

  Guilt flooded through her as his words registered. Fareed was sitting in prison for something he couldn’t have done, and no on
e even knew where he was. His family must be desperate with worry. And she had been luxuriating in restaurants and the wonders of Tina’s body.

  “Try and find out where he is,” she said. “I will too. If we find him, let’s go see him tomorrow.” She hung up quickly, before he could scuttle her plans.

  Tina was alone in the booth when she walked into the restaurant. The two plates of food were there, but she wasn’t eating, just staring into space. Chloe didn’t dare slide into the booth, or the lure of Tina and good food and coffee would suck her in.

  “I have to go to Azzawiya,” she said.

  Standing next to the table, she gulped a couple sips of cool coffee and several forkfuls of eggs. Then she fished in her jeans pocket for twenty shekels and left it on the table.

  “Wait,” Tina caught up with her near the door. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “I have to go home,” she said shortly. “Fareed’s not in the SHABAK interrogation center any more, and no one knows where he is.” She didn’t know that for sure, she realized. Just because Avi had been told that didn’t mean it was true. She could call Ahlam and see if she had heard anything. But if Fareed’s parents hadn’t heard that he was moved, it would make them worry more. She didn’t want to do that on the phone. She explained that to Tina. Tina was Palestinian, she would understand that when someone was in prison, romantic liaisons had to wait.

  “I’ll come with you,” Tina said.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know I don’t. I want to.”

  “But… don’t you have to work?”

  “No, I only work Monday and Tuesday.”

  Why didn’t she want Tina to come with her? Chloe asked herself. She wasn’t anxious to be separated from Tina. She wanted the chance to know her better, and she loved looking at her. She was afraid, she thought. Afraid people in the village would like Tina better than her, go to her with their problems instead of Chloe, because she was Palestinian and spoke good Arabic. And Tina would find out she was a big fake, that she couldn’t really do anything for the people in Azzawiya.