Confession of an Abandoned Wife - Box Set (Books 1-3)

by Hartstein, Michal

  Hila looked at Manny again and smiled at him. I quickly introduced Manny. "Hila… Dr. Menachem Michaeli," I said, gesturing toward Manny.

  Manny reached out and shook Hila’s hand. I was full of envy because he’d touched her and not me.

  "Hila Krauss," she said with another smile. "Are you a doctor?" she asked with amazement.

  "Yes." Manny forced a smile and pulled his hand back.

  "How long have you been working with doctors?" Hila asked as she turned to me again.

  "I work with anyone who needs a lawyer."

  "It’s nice that you have time to eat lunch at restaurants," Hila said, trying to sting me.

  "My office is across the street," I replied, refusing to let her win. I came to myself and started to look Hila over. She held two shopping bags. I remembered that Hila actually had less reason to be there than I did. "What are you doing here?" I asked in a surprised tone.

  "I just finished a light lunch with my mother," she said, almost as if she was apologizing for the fact that she was not busy cleaning her kitchen cabinets..

  "I see you've had a day of pampering," I said, staring at her bags.

  "Yes," she replied, as if caught in the act. "I deserve to be pampered once in a while." She was actually apologizing for enjoying herself. The woman was literally the head of the Polish Association of Israel.

  "Of course," I replied. Our waitress arrived with our dishes and Hila was quick to say goodbye and leave. She had to get to Even Yehuda on time to collect her three offspring and take them home.

  "Who is that inquisitor?" Manny asked with a laugh the second she was out of sight.

  "That was Hila, Oren’s wife. Itay was in high school with both of them and, unfortunately for him, I prevented us from forming a cozy foursome."

  "Why?"

  I rolled my eyes. "Because I love Hila so much it just wouldn’t work."

  "Why don’t you like her?" Manny asked me with a smile. "She seems to be a charming woman."

  "I really hope you're kidding."

  "Of course I'm kidding." He couldn’t resist stroking my hand. "That woman seems painfully bitter."

  I smiled. I was delighted that this charming man had such an amazing ability to read people.

  "You can be sure that if she knew what was really going on here, she wouldn't waste a minute in running to tell Oren and Itay what she saw."

  "And why shouldn’t she just tell them that she saw you eating lunch in the company of charming doctor?" Manny’s self-compliment made me laugh.

  "She might say something, but I doubt it. I have a feeling she’s so filled with guilt about buying lunch for herself with her mother in a local restaurant instead of cleaning her kitchen cupboards and ironing her husband's underwear, she’d rather take that secret to the grave."

  Manny laughed out loud and then whispered, "You’re so sexy when you’re cynical."

  We finished eating our lunch and Manny looked at me with a sad face.

  "What’s wrong, my love?" I asked and went back to stroking him with my foot under the table.

  "The thought that I have to go back to work now and then I won’t see you for a week kills me." We weren’t going to be able to meet on Saturday.

  "I'm losing my mind too." I had tears in my eyes. I was about to part with him and spend almost a week without being able to hug and kiss him.

  "How I’d love to be with you for a few days straight."

  "Me too," I said sadly.

  "Is there any way we could go away for a weekend?"

  "Actually, yes," I answered, and immediately Manny perked up.

  "Really?"

  "Yes, really," I answered with a smile. "But there's a big catch."

  "What could be bad about a weekend with you?"

  "It won’t be just me."

  "What do you mean? You’d bring your family?" He said, looking disappointed.

  I smiled. "No. Don’t worry. Itay and the girls won’t be there, but the question is, are you ready to spend a whole weekend with me and a few dozen belly dancers?"

  Manny smiled. "What are you talking about?"

  "In a little over a month, in late January, there’s a belly dancing festival in Eilat. I wanted to sign up, but didn’t want to go alone. Itay wouldn’t hear of it and none of the girls in my department wanted to come with me."

  Manny smiled. "So I’ll come with you."

  "You’ll die of boredom."

  "Do I have to participate in the festival?"

  "No, absolutely not!"

  "So I’ll join you, but only if you'll put on a show."

  "What sort of show? I'm far from being a professional."

  "So give me a private show."

  I smiled. "You’ll have a front row seat."

  "I'm counting on it."

  When I got to the office, I called him. "The festival’s on the weekend of January 22nd to 24th," I said, and prayed that he had no plans already for that weekend.

  "That works for me," he replied. "What hotel?"

  "We can make reservations for the Golden Tulip Hotel or maybe the Royal Tulip."

  "No other hotels on the festival list?"

  "No."

  "Can we stay in a different hotel?"

  "Yes, but I’m not sure it’s worth it."

  "Don’t worry about the worthiness. The hotel’s on me."

  "So I should just sign up for the workshops?"

  "Yes," he replied. "I'll take care of the rest."

  I hung up and agonized over the longing I felt for a man who knew how to treat me with love and indulgence. I couldn’t remember a single time Itay had initiated or invited me on a vacation or outing.

  During the weekend, Shira, my elder daughter, celebrated her seventh birthday. I couldn’t meet with Manny because of it. We weren’t religious people, and, to my family’s dismay, not too traditional either, but Shira was born on December 13, 2001. That date in 2001 fell exactly on Hanukkah. What happened was that, even though we didn’t celebrate any Hebrew dates, in Shira’s case we celebrated two birthdays, Gregorian and Hebrew dates. For the Gregorian one, we usually celebrated the birthday with friends, and for the Hebrew birthday we celebrated with my mother, which was necessary because of the Kosher meal. We lit candles and celebrated with Shira. She was obviously happy with the arrangement.

  On Saturday, at ten in the morning, Itay and I were busy arranging the table and inflating balloons. We’d booked a small hall in the children’s community play room and a clown who’d done a good job the year before. The party hadn’t started yet, and I was already sweating like a marathon runner. Shira and Yarden were over the moon, dressed like two little fairies, sweet and infinitely graceful. Every once in a while, I sneaked a look at them. It was the comfort I got in return for missing my Saturday meeting with Manny.

  Within minutes, the room began to fill with children and parents,and I put on the best fake smile I could muster for the sake of the event. All these parents… all this hypocrisy and feigned coquetry just mademe sick. Maybe I am cheating on my husband, I thought, but everyone here is lying in some way. I didn’t believe anyone's smile and quietly tried to figure out who was cheating and who was faithful.

  Fashionably late, "because we live in Even Yehuda," Oren, Hila and the kids showed up. Birthdays are some of the rare events when we all met.

  "It’s either we don’t meet at all or we meet twice a week!" I said, giving them a fake smile.

  Hila gave me an embarrassed smile, and Oren asked what I was talking about.

  "I forgot to tell you," Hila said, sounding apologetic. "I met Sharon in Tel Aviv this week."

  "What were you doing in Tel Aviv?" Oren sounded surprised.

  "I went shopping with my mom on Tuesday, remember?"

  "You went shopping on Tuesday with your mother?" It was clear that Oren was starting to get bored with this conversation, and Hila rushed to end it.

  "Yes, silly," she answered in an infantile and annoying way. "When do you think I bought you the
blue shirt?"

  I smiled to myself. It was clear that she wouldn’t tell Oren she’d seen me lunching with Manny, and I was happy to find out that, while out on a ‘day of fun,’ supposedly for herself, she wasn’t able to indulge herself, but was busy shopping for Oren.

  After the party, we went to have lunch at a restaurant. We arrived home at dusk, totally exhausted. Shira was over the moon and insisted, despite her fatigue, on opening all her presents. I threw out all the wrapping paper and arranged all the gifts on the table in the dining area. I knew that Ahuva would sort them all out the next day.

  The girls fell asleep the second they laid their heads on the pillow, and Itay fell asleep in front of the TV. I was exhausted, but my longing for Manny was just killing me. The day before, apart from a brief conversation, I didn’t even get to talk to Manny properly because of all the preparations for the birthday. I had to hear him.

  "Sharry," he said in a loving voice. "I’ve been going mad with longing."

  "Me too," I said, tears in my eyes. I sat curled up on our balcony with a cell phone because I didn’t want to wake Itay. I felt so miserable. I had tears in my eyes, and I began to sniffle.

  "Why are you crying, my love? You’re creating a hole in my heart."

  "I miss you so much."

  "Me too." I could hear he was crying too.

  We were silent for a moment, digesting our own grief, and then he asked, "How was the birthday?"

  "Exhausting."

  "And Shira enjoyed it?"

  "She was over the moon."

  "I bought her a gift."

  "Are you kidding?"

  "No. I asked Yael to buy something for a friend’s daughter, and she brought it round this morning."

  "You're not normal."

  "Why not? How can I not buy something for the birthday of the daughter of the woman I love so much?"

  I reveled for a few seconds in his declaration of love. We had both declared our love for each other after a few meetings, but it was still so new and exciting.

  "What should I tell my girl? Everything I tell her, she'll tell Itay."

  "So don’t tell her anything… say the gift’s from you." Manny had no limits. He was always giving without any expectation of getting something in return.

  "You're an amazing man," I whispered.

  "Oh, before I forget," he said excitedly, and I almost jumped, "I booked our flights and a hotel for January 22nd."

  "Which hotel?"

  "Dan Hotel."

  "Wow! That’s a great hotel!"

  "I booked flights for Thursday morning and Saturday afternoon, is that alright?"

  "Excellent!" What fun it is when everything’s arranged for you. "Will you at least let me pay for the flight?"

  "I've explained to you already, you have to repay me with a private show."

  "I’ve already begun to practice." I blushed all over.

  "So I'll see you on Monday."

  "I'm barely breathing, Manny. The anticipation’s driving me crazy."

  The expectation really was unbearable. Almost every little thing reminded me of the magical weekend we’d set up, a non-stop weekend of belly dancing and Manny. Itay was happy that I found ‘company’ to go with me to the festival. I explained to him that she’d pay for everything and I'd give her cash. I wouldn’t have to explain the fact that I didn’t, in fact, pay anything for the festival, except registration for the classes and workshops.

  On Hanukkah, we celebrated Shira’s Hebrew birthday with my mother for a few hours,and I couldn’t stop thinking of Eilat. The food was, as usual, excellent. My mother always knew how to organize a fancy and rich buffet. Orit madeamazing donuts, and I so enjoyed seeing Sagit and Moriyah, my tiny nieces. The atmosphere was really festive and pleasant, and Shira was beaming as usual.

  All this preoccupation with Shira’s birthday and waiting for the Eilat festival sealed me off from everything that happened around me. The fact that I was able to go to work every day amazed me. I was so impatient, I could have burst.

  I was so disconnected that on Saturday, December 27, 2008, when Operation Cast Lead[2] began in Gaza, I was shocked. I probably was a ‘Tel-Aviv-head-in-the-sand’ sort of person, and the truth was I'm not proud of it, but that was reality. It wasn’t that I hadn’t heard that dozens of rockets were being fired every day at Israel's southern communities. The truth was that I really, really, hurt for them, but I was busy in my own narrow world.

  When the fighting started, I got a bad feeling, because I immediately thought about myself. I knew Itay would be called in on duty. And I was afraid that would ruin my weekend. It’s a horrible, but honest confession.

  I cried in the bathroom so much that weekend. I heard about the operation just a few minutes before I left Manny, and immediately told him that I had a feeling our weekend in Eilat would have to be canceled. He tried to comfort me by pointing out that maybe Itay wouldn’t be called in, and even if he was, we’d find another time, but nothing helped. I was melancholic. Even if he wasn’t called in, I was afraid that the operation would turn into an all-out war, and the festival would be canceled.

  I amazed myself. I cared less about the fate of the country than about my magical weekend with Manny not getting canceled.

  Saturday passed, Sunday came and Itay didn’t receive a No. 8 warrant[3]. Every little ring of the phone made me jump. I felt sure that, at any moment, army liaison would give Itay a call.

  But no warrant arrived.

  A week passed.

  Two weeks passed.

  And I started to believe that, maybe, this time, he wouldn’t be needed.

  But during times of conflict, Itay always got called up in the end.

  CHAPTER 15

  Itay and I had drifted apart over the years, but all those problems and troubles paled in comparison when you got a No. 8 warrant. I met Itay when I was his liaison officer during his first reserve duty, so, in fact, you could say that in almost every year of our relationship, he was called up for reserve duties. Unfortunately, this can’t be said about most men due for reserve duty in Israel. My father told me that in the Yom Kippur War[4], men who didn’t do their reserves hid at home in shame. These days, no one hid. Maybe they didn’t boast about it, but they certainly weren’t ashamed.

  Because Itay did his reserve duty every year, I was already used to it. But nothing prepared you for a No. 8 warrant. First of all, there was no warning. But worse still, it wasn’t an exercise or training mission. This was the real thing. This was war. And my anxiety for the safety of my soldier would not let me go.

  No matter how far Itay and I had drifted apart, he was still my husband and the father of my children. I was worried, very worried, even.

  I didn’t really miss him. Any romantic sentiment I felt for him had almost completely dissolved. I was so in love with Manny, but I was worried about him.

  First of all, I was afraid Itay would get hurt. After the 2006 Lebanon War,[5] in which Itay had also gotten a No. 8 warrant, I knew that, although he was a reservist, he was in the thick of the fighting, and that knowledge scared me. But more than being worried for Itay, I took pity on my children. I was so afraid that they’d lose their father at such a young age. I admit the thought came to me that it could be the most ‘respectable’ solution to my situation with Manny. I would be the widow of a distinguished soldier, and Manny would be my second, comforting husband. But Itay was a good and loving father, and I couldn’t imagine my girls having to live without him.

  Itay received his warrant on Saturday, January 10, 2009, and a week later, the operation was over and so was my fear.

  On Sunday, after the operation had concluded, I talked to Itay on the phone. It turned out my anxiety had been for nothing. This time, he was nowhere near the fighting; he’d been drafted as a helper and as a substitute for regular soldiers.

  "So when are you being released?"

  "Probably in two days."

  "Why not now?"

  "Because it’ll take
the forces time to get out completely from the Gaza Strip."

  "And the operation’s over for sure?" I was afraid for a moment that maybe it was just a cease-fire.

  "I don’t know."

  My heart missed a beat.

  "As far as I understand it, this is probably final."

  I went back to breathing.

  "So you'll be here by the end of the week?"

  "Yeah, probably. Why do you ask?"

  "There’s the belly dancing festival in Eilat."

  "They didn’t cancel it?"

  "There was concern that it might be canceled, but apparently, because the operation’s over, the festival will take place this weekend after all."

  "Excellent!" Itay answered me cheerfully.

  "You really want me to go?" I was surprised by Itay’s response.

  "Yes, you deserve it," he answered, and a sharp knife of guilt pierced my heart.

  Itay asked after the girls, asked me to kiss them and hug them tight on his behalf and hung up.

  It was one of the few moments since I had begun my affair with Manny that I found it really hard, and I wondered for a moment if it was worth ruining everything for him.

  Eventually, Itay was released on Thursday. I was still worried that my trip to Eilat would be canceled. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. On Sunday, he promised me that he’d be released within a day or two and in the end, he got back only after I'd boarded the plane. I was angry at the army and upset with Itay. I thought to myself as I took my seat, everyone in this country’s ditching their reserve duty. Itay’s the only sucker willing enough to answer the call to duty, doing the dirty work for everyone else, and now I’m paying the price!

  How many times had I begged him to try to break free from reserve duty like everyone else? It didn’t help. I tried to explain to him that if only a minority did reserve duty, it meant they were actually volunteers, and this wasn’t really a national duty. In the end, only after Itay assured me that he’d be home on Thursday for certain, and even if he was late, Ahuva could stay with the girls until he got in, did I relax a little.

  When I was at the airport, waiting for my flight, he called to tell me that he was on his way home and that he’d even get there early enough to pick up the girls from kindergarten and school instead of Ahuva.