A Remarkable Kindness

by Diana Bletter

  “Aviva!”

  She twirled around, shaking and lost, her heart pounding, and found Guy Sasson, whom she’d known since he was a little boy. He was standing by the shop, a geometric tattoo circling his right arm, his surfer shorts hanging off his hips, the mane of floppy dark curls he’d had throughout high school now shorn short. Was he a few years older than Benny? A few years younger? Aviva couldn’t remember. “Oh, hi, Guy. How are you?”

  “Any day that I’m here and not in the army is a great day,” Guy said, his honey-brown eyes taking in the beach.

  “Which unit are you in?”

  “I could tell you . . .” He turned his square chin to her, smiled.

  “But then you’d have to kill me, right? You guys need to come up with fresh material—they used that line in my day.”

  “Then you know what it’s like. I’m home for a few days and then I leave for a few days.”

  “You mean you disappear for a few days.”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “I guess you could say anything.” Aviva winked. “Anyway, now that you’re here, let me ask you something. I’ve been planning on buying Yoni a surfboard for his birthday, but I don’t know which one. I sold Benny’s surfboard . . .” She hadn’t wanted Yoni to use it because she thought it was bad karma. Terrible karma.

  “I know I said this at his funeral, but I loved Benny,” Guy told her earnestly. “We all did. Doesn’t everybody tell you that?”

  “Yes, but I still like to hear it.” Aviva faltered, wiping away some sea salt from under her eye. Or was it a tear?

  “So, you want to buy a surfboard for Yoni?” Guy asked. “That’s easy. He’s been stopping by every time he’s back from the army to look at this one.” Guy stepped toward the row of boards and pulled one out. “It’s all set—leash and everything.”

  “It looks good, but I don’t have my wallet with me.” Aviva glanced down at her towel and goggles.

  “I’m sure Shuky trusts you.”

  “The problem is I don’t trust him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because whenever I buy a mango Popsicle here, it tastes like it’s been melted and refrozen a dozen times.”

  Guy smiled at that.

  “And can you teach me how to surf?”

  “You really want to learn?”

  “I didn’t know I did until just now.” She could hear the sound of the sea in her ears. “Isn’t that strange?”

  “It’s not strange at all. Hey, did you know that there are some places in Costa Rica where the waves run perpendicular to the beach? You can surf and surf and keep traveling down the beach.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “That’s good then. Aren’t you supposed to learn something new each day?” Guy passed her the surfboard. “Take this for Yoni when he comes home next, and I’ll call when there are good waves.”

  “Promise you won’t laugh when I make a fool of myself?” She started to walk away.

  “Promise,” he called after her.

  Aviva reached home and hid the surfboard in the back of the shed. Rafi’s shed. She stared at his wooden tool chest, the drawers still labeled with his left-handed scribble, and at a blue rubber bin filled with basketballs. She knew she should have already given them away—they didn’t do anyone good just lying there, deflating by the minute—but she hadn’t. She stared at a can of paint. Sadness rattled against her like a subway train. After it passed, she took a shower and lay down on the living room couch. Her phone rang but she didn’t pick it up. It stopped. Silence pounded the room and then it rang again, insistent. It was Guy.

  “Don’t tell me you’re calling because Shuky is worried I won’t pay for the surfboard,” Aviva said. “I’ll come over now.”

  “He said it isn’t a problem. I just wanted to let you know that it looks like there will be good waves tomorrow morning.”

  “Who knows what will be tomorrow morning?”

  Guy didn’t respond. “The wind is coming in from the east. Can you get to the beach by six thirty?”

  Aviva glanced at the photographs on the shelves that took her through the course of her life. The boys playing in the sandbox. Rafi with his arm around Benny’s shoulder at his bar mitzvah. The whole family on a camping trip. Raz doing a handstand, a goofy smile on his upside-down face. In the photos, they were all smiling. In photographs, Aviva thought, you were supposed to say “Cheese!” and smile at your future self, who would one day look back and ask, How could you not have guessed? How could you not have known?

  “Aviva?” Guy asked. “You still there?”

  “I’m still here.” Aviva sighed. “Tomorrow at six thirty.”

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Aviva rose early and waited by the surf shop. The sun was coming up from behind the hills and the moon was sinking into the sea. Pale orange light rustled across the water. The waves were breaking in clean white curls. Surfers were already out, strewn like gulls beyond the breakers. She glanced at her watch. It was after seven o’clock. She let out a breath, picked up her beach towel, and walked across the sand, still night-cool under her bare feet. Scanning the beach once more for Guy, feeling that something wasn’t quite right, she heard the pulsing vibrations of a helicopter approaching from the north, its blades slicing the air. She knew why Guy had not shown up: he’d been called away on a mission. She swallowed hard, her fingers trembling, and then waded into the sea. Diving under the water, she swam among the silvery fish, holding her breath as long as she could, praying for Guy’s safety to a God she wasn’t sure she believed in, a God who, she already knew, hadn’t been able to keep safe the people she loved.

  “I HOPE YOU didn’t wait for me,” Guy told Aviva when he called her the following Friday morning.

  “It didn’t take me long to figure it out.” Aviva sat at her kitchen table, drinking her first cup of coffee. The sun shone through the white lace curtains, making a paisley pattern on the table.

  “Do you want to surf now?”

  “My rule is that if something doesn’t happen, it means it wasn’t meant to happen.”

  “Maybe it was meant to happen in a different way,” Guy said. “I’m here at the beach and the waves are perfect.”

  Aviva took a sip of coffee. The sounds of the sea rose and fell through the phone. She was aware that the day would start with or without her. Aware that she didn’t want to become one of those lonely widows marking the days on her calendar in a silent kitchen. “The waves aren’t too big?”

  “No. Just right for learning.”

  “Let me finish my coffee and I’ll be there.”

  Aviva changed into a shirred coral one-piece bathing suit and took one of Rafi’s T-shirts that she still kept neatly folded in his dresser. Then she found a pair of Yoni’s surf shorts in his bedroom—they had once belonged to Benny—and put them on, rolling down the waistband three times so they stayed securely on her hips. She made her way toward the beach.

  “You couldn’t have ordered better waves than this,” Guy said, waiting by the surf shop. “You’re ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Let’s do some warm-ups first.” Guy clasped his hands above his head and stretched.

  Aviva turned toward a curly-haired guy doing Tai Chi by the shore. She shook her head no.

  Guy nodded and took a surfboard from the rack, dropped it on the sand, and lay on top of it. “Okay, try this. Lie down, count to three, and then jump right up into a crouching position like this.”

  “I never exercise in public.” Aviva remembered her old Company contact, Kagan, admonishing her not to draw attention to herself. It was one of his most important rules: Act invisible!

  “I see I can’t argue with you.” Guy crossed his fit arms across his chest.

  “You can argue with me, but you won’t win.”

  He smiled. “When you stand sideways, does it feel more comfortable with your right or left foot in front of you?”

  Aviva shuffled her
feet around. “Right.”

  “Goofy. Me, too. Strap the leash on your left leg.” Guy passed her the surfboard. “It’s your back leg when you’ll stand up.”

  “If I stand up.” Aviva fastened the Velcro strap around her ankle, tucking the board under her arm. She and Guy walked across the sand and kept walking until they were waist-high in the sea.

  “Now hop on and paddle.” Guy held the board for her.

  Aviva hesitated.

  “You can do this—nobody’s watching.”

  Aviva hoisted herself awkwardly onto the board, lay down on her belly, and paddled while Guy swam next to her. She had always been a strong swimmer, but it was difficult to balance on the board, hold up her head, and stroke her arms through the water. After a while, just as she was starting to feel more confident, a huge wave—more like a massive concrete wall—rose in front of her.

  “Duck under!” Guy called, but before Aviva could even react, the wave crashed down hard and she gripped the sides of the surfboard, clutching it tightly until the thunderous water passed.

  “I don’t know which plague would be the worst,” Aviva sputtered when she came up. “Frogs, lice, or that wave.”

  “Sorry about that,” said Guy jauntily. “That wave came from out of nowhere! I should have warned you.”

  “And it’s already a bad hair day,” Aviva joked, pushing away the strands of hair that had swept over her face.

  “Let’s keep going, okay?”

  Aviva glanced at the waves heading toward them and shook her head.

  “Come on, you’ll be fine.” He was still smiling as he helped her reposition herself on the board and set out again. “There’s a rhythm to the waves. They come in sets, like music. There will be a set of six or seven waves, and the last wave is usually the biggest and the best. The sea will be calm again, and then there’ll be another set.”

  She knew she did not want to go back to her deserted kitchen, so she held on to the board, slapping it against one wave and then the next, and soon they reached the far side of the swells. The sea rolled gently, humbly. She looked back to the shore with a certain satisfaction that she’d made it this far.

  “When I see a good wave, I’ll tell you and then you’re going to start paddling really hard to stay in front of it. Keep your toes curled so you’re ready to stand. When you feel the wave start to break, stand up as fast as you can.”

  A soft swell of water rolled toward them and Guy gave the board a push and shouted, “Yallah, go!”

  Aviva paddled, her body tense, her back arched, her arms stroking, but the wave slipped away. The next one glided past her. And the one after that.

  “Once you feel a tug, let it take you,” Guy coached.

  Aviva nodded, but she had stopped listening. She stared out at the endless bowl of sky and the indifferent sea. She was chasing after something she’d never have again.

  “Let me see you do it.” Aviva unfastened the leash around her ankle and passed the board to Guy. He climbed on the board, sat up, and scanned the sea. A wave was cresting toward them, looking like a mound of fresh dirt on a grave, Aviva thought bleakly. Guy lay down on the board, paddled away, and the rolling water rose so high that all she could see was the back of his strong neck and shoulders before he dipped down to the other side of the wave.

  Aviva treaded water, waiting for him. She looked at the endless sea. She rolled onto her back, floating, and stared up at the dome of blue.

  “That was fun,” Guy said when he reappeared.

  “You make it look so simple.”

  “Just trust the wave.”

  “I don’t trust anything.”

  “I know it’s scary, but trust the wave to carry you.”

  “Or pull me under.”

  “Here’s something that will help you.” Guy gazed at her the way Rabbi Lapid did when he wanted to impart an important message. “I remember when I was surfing with Benny, he told me that he always pretended that he was part of the wave. Not separate. He just stuck with the wave.” Guy undid the leash of the surfboard and passed it back to her.

  They held on to the board together. She fastened the strap back on her ankle, allowing herself to look into Guy’s tawny brown eyes, lit up like sea glass.

  “Ready now?” he asked.

  She nodded. She was ready. She was ready to try something her son had loved. Ready to feel his presence and not just his absence.

  She climbed back on the board, letting a few waves go by to get her bearings. Then she saw it. The wave meant for her.

  “Now!” yelled Guy, pushing the surfboard toward shore.

  Aviva paddled and paddled like ca-razy, as her sister would have said. The wave roared to life, rising behind her like a mountain. She used every muscle she didn’t know she had to heave herself up, and for one solitary moment she was standing on top of the sea, which rumbled and rolled below her, a wondrous white carpet. Then the wave caught up with her, flipped her over, and whooshed her into its violent churning, and the earth turned upside down and inside out.

  Aviva whirled and whirled in the darkness, the wave lobbing her this way and that. She couldn’t shout for help because she couldn’t open her mouth, and there was nobody who could hear her, anyway. She remembered the time she had gone into the sea with Raz and Benny, when they were about eight and ten, and a wave, a large, intimidating, menacing wave, came barreling toward them.

  “It’s going to feel like you’re inside a washing machine!” Aviva had shouted, trying to make it fun. She held on to Raz because he was younger and she let Benny go. The wave surged and sucked them into its void, spinning and spinning, and when it was all over, it spat them out and they finally came up for air. Aviva had joked, “That was tohu v’bohu!” The chaos and utter confusion before creation.

  Raz said, “Mom, why did you hold on to me?”

  And Benny said, “Mom, why did you let me go?”

  “Aviva!” Guy called. “At b’seder?” Are you okay?

  She was in the light again. She gasped for breath, her whole body shivering, bullied. “I—I thought the wave would never let me go,” she stammered, reeling in the surfboard still attached to her leg.

  “You did great.” Guy smiled. “Do you want to go back out?”

  “That crazy, I’m not.” She pushed her wet, tangled hair off her face. She felt dizzy, as though her head was still turning, and she could taste all that salt in her mouth.

  “Next time, you’ll do even better.”

  Aviva took another gulp of air. “One time was enough, thank you very much.” She climbed back on the board. “How much do I owe you for the lesson?”

  “You don’t have to pay me for this.”

  “But I want to give you something. How about dinner on a Friday night? When Yoni is home from the army, and Rachel will come, too, then you can tell them how you witnessed me standing on the surfboard.”

  “Sababa,” Guy replied. “Whenever you want to invite me is great.”

  Back on shore, powdery sea salt trailed down her arms and legs. “Sorry if I wasn’t so good.” Aviva took off the leash and handed Guy the surfboard.

  “You did better than a lot of people I’ve tried to teach.”

  “Thanks again.” She reentered the brightness of the morning, taking large steps in the sand so that her feet landed in the footprints that Benny might have made as he left the sea early that Sunday morning. After he’d gone surfing, before he’d returned to the army.

  That last time.

  When he never came back.

  16

  October 12, 2005

  Rachel

  Svetlana,” Rachel said, scrubbing her last pot in the hotel kitchen on a lovely fall afternoon “this pot is so big I should probably climb in and scrub it.”

  “A girl in my army unit did that.” Svetlana was standing at the stove, frying onions.

  “No way.” Rachel wiped onion tears from her eyes.

  “Yes vay. Naama was so little! She had a hard time cleanin
g the bottom of the pot, so she climbed in and washed it from the inside out.”

  “In her army boots?”

  “In her army boots.”

  “That’s funny.”

  “Hysterical.” Svetlana’s hair was no longer dyed platinum blond but was now jet black, reminding Rachel of Morticia on The Addams Family.

  “I can’t believe I’ve spent the whole day stirring chicken soup with a spoon as big as an oar. If there’s a flood, I could find a canoe and use it to paddle us away.” Rachel pulled the spoon out of the pot and mimicked paddling through the air, trying to entertain Svetlana.

  “Take us far away.” Svetlana wiped her damp face in the crook of her saggy arm.

  “Who can even eat chicken soup in this heat?” Rachel squeezed the foamy sponge in her fist.

  “Yoram says that he wants to give his guests a lot of food before they fast on Yom Kippur. So, we turn up the air conditioning and let them eat their soup.”

  “I don’t think they’d want chicken soup with feathers in it.”

  “Nu, how many times do I have to tell you?” Svetlana said crankily. “I check all chickens and there are no feathers!”

  “Just saying. Maybe I’ll become a vegetarian like my parents, anyway.” Rachel placed the huge, clean pot on the aluminum dish rack. “I’m out of here.” She peeled off her latex gloves and tossed them into the garbage can. “Your shift is almost over. Cheer up, Svetlana!”

  “Do svidanya.” Svetlana did not look up.

  Rachel walked through the kitchen, but instead of going home, she went out the back door, where Ali Haddad was standing on the step, supervising several guys unloading boxes from a truck. Writing numbers on a yellow pad, he had his cell phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear. “Yallah, Yoram, bye!”