“Do you have any cake?” he asks, freely opening the fridge door. He looks different, less relaxed than usual.
She goes over to him and shuts the fridge door. “Leave the cake for now!” she says sharply, “Koby, what do we have to talk about?!” Her pulse is racing and she’s feeling dizzy. She sits down on one of the plain wooden chairs by the small kitchen table. As soon as she has a little more money, she’ll replace them with something more comfortable.
He pours her a glass of water and hands it to her, then drags a chair out and sits down beside her.
“Look,” he begins to squirm, “you know I’m always here for you…to help you set out on the brave, new path you’ve chosen, to listen to you…” He stops to monitor her reaction and then continues. “…but I think we should leave it at that.”
“What are you saying?” she’s not sure she understands what he means.
“I think that our relationship should be one of friendship only at this stage,” he says. His voice sounds cold and different.
She clasps her head, feeling dizzier than before. “What happened all of a sudden?” she asks. The ground is collapsing beneath her feet and she’s left hanging in the air, freefalling. In a moment she’ll crash, she knows she will.
“It’s just…not working anymore,” he says. “That’s how I feel, Anati,” he adds and leans toward her. “I like you very much, don’t get me wrong. You’re wonderful, and you went straight to my heart. And the way the children have connected, well, they’re almost like family to each other, and that’s no trivial matter in my eyes. It’s not something that happens every day…the connection between us all…it’s important to me to maintain it. I just want to set new boundaries—”
“I thought that boundaries were there to be crossed!” she interrupts, “Since when are you a person with boundaries, Koby?”
“Oh, come on,” he chuckles, “you’re just being a smartass. Don’t get caught up in a word. Everyone has their boundaries, even if they’re prone to change…”
“and who said you can set new boundaries?” she asks, “Do you think only you’re in charge of this relationship? Imagine that we were two neighboring countries and suddenly you set a new boundary? Do you think the other country would accept it so easily? That’s how wars break out!”
“But I don’t want to fight,” he says softly, extending his hand to her, “you know how much I value you. I want to preserve our relationship, not to end it. I want to be here by your side, but in a different way, to allow you to find your own space. You do know that we’ll never be a couple. At no stage did I deceive you, Anat. I only want the best for you.”
She exhales loudly. “Then let’s see if I understand you correctly,” she tries to put it into words, “you want everything but sex. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Exactly,” he seems relieved. He smiles and leans back on the chair.
“You’re such an idiot…” she mutters between her teeth.
He doesn’t react.
“Are you at least prepared to explain why?” she asks, “Where did this unexpected decision come from? And how come you reached this decision less than a month after I divorced Dror?!”
Koby holds his hands up in defense. “Don’t start with ‘I got divorced for you,’” he asks of her, “I told you long before that you have to do it for yourself, not for me.”
“That’s not what I said,” she narrows her eyes angrily, “I don’t regret the divorce. I just don’t understand what made you suddenly change your mind.”
He sighs and squirms. “Anati,” he says, “I don’t want to hurt you…”
“Well it’s too late,” she says, “and I demand an explanation.”
“It just doesn’t feel the same anymore,” he repeats.
“Are you no longer attracted to me?” she asks.
He pauses for a moment and then looks her straight in the eye and blurts out, “Yes. If you insist on hurting yourself and making me say what I’m trying so hard to avoid, then yes. That’s the reason. Are you happy? Now I really feel like shit.”
“That’s excellent!” she shouts, “You should feel like that!”
“I don’t want to lose you,” he says.
“It’s a package deal!” she roars, “It’s all or nothing. You can’t have half.”
It takes him time to respond. “And what about the children?” he asks, “How can you cut them off from each other, so completely and instantly? You know how much it’ll hurt them…”
“I don’t know,” she clutches her head, “the children can stay friends, if that’s what they want, or find themselves other friends. I can’t take care of that too right now, but what I do know is that if you don’t want me anymore, then I’m very sorry but you can’t enjoy all the fringe benefits!”
“Oh, come on Anat,” he says, “we’re friends. That’s not something that can be ended in a day.”
“Oh and how it can!” she says. “Just wait and see.”
“You’re being a real drama queen,” he says, “I don’t understand why we can’t stay good friends, just without getting into bed every time we meet.”
The tears are already filling and stinging her eyes. How can he do this to her? How dare he hurt her this way? He knows the hell she’s been through for the past few months. He knows exactly in what state she is. Cut off, hurt, uprooted.
“Koby,” she says coldly, “if you don’t understand, I guess you have a problem. I told you, it’s all or nothing. And if you choose nothing, then know that you’re also giving up my cooking, babysitting for Shaked, and all the shopping I do for you too. There’ll be no more cleaning or lice removal, and I won’t be taxiing your kids around from now on. You can forget about my freshly baked cakes. It all comes together! I’m a package deal.”
He sighs again and she surrenders to the tears, allowing them to flow down her cheeks in tiny warm streams.
“Please leave,” she says, her voice trembling. There’s no point in beating this to death.”
He must have made the decision beforehand and arrived prepared. She’s a total idiot. How did she let him hurt her this way? How much more can she take?!
Her hands are trembling when she opens the WhatsApp group. Some of the members, sitting on their bikes, smile at her from the profile picture.
“I’m leaving the group,” she types slowly, “You’ve been like a family to me. I’d love to keep in touch with each of you separately.”
Then she sends the message and leaves the group. She’s done. There will be no more riding lessons. She doesn’t need him and she doesn’t need them. She’s an excellent rider and she can do it alone, just like she could move alone, open a bank account alone, eat dinner alone. Alone. Alone. All the time alone, but that’s the choice she made.
She looks around the living room of her new, modest home. It’s all hers. She designed it, she bought everything, and she paid. A sense of pride washes over her and blends with her feeling of helplessness. A strange warmth rises in her stomach. She knows she’s capable of anything. She’s a real Wonder Woman. almost like Gal Gadot. But now and then, she’ll allow herself to be helpless and overwhelmed with sorrow. It’ll come, she knows it will. It’ll come in waves, and she’ll go over this conversation in her head thousands of times, she’ll wonder where she went wrong, what she did wrong, what made him leave and who is to blame.
Exhausted, she sits down on the floral sofa she chose all on her own. She curls up under a white fleece blanket and sinks into self-pity. About an hour later, she receives a phone call from Orly.
“You left the group?” she asks her in amazement.
“It’s a long story…” she says, her eyes filling with tears again. She hates them. They always appear at the wrong time.
“Are you okay?” Orly wants to know.
She doesn’t know if she’s okay and so she says noth
ing.
“Anat?” Orly asks.
She can hear a car honk on the other end of the line. From this she concludes that Orly is driving.
“Anat?” Orly asks again. her voice sounds worried.
“What?” she answers. She has nothing better to say.
“Do you want me to come over?” Orly sounds tense.
“You can…” she answers vaguely.
“I’m on my way,” Orly determines, “maybe it’s time we talked.”
Part Three - Orly
“Hello,” she says a little formally and shakes his hand, “Orly.” Not a muscle in her face moves. She doesn’t like to smile. Not everyone has to smile all the time.
He holds his hand out in return, “Koby,” he says. He has a strong, warm handshake. Two points to his credit. “Welcome,” he adds and then asks, “Have you ever ridden before?”
She nods, “Yes, a lot, as a child. But it’s been years since I’ve got on a bike…”
“And you felt like getting back into it?” he asks and smiles. He has a captivating smile, that’s for sure, with a row of straight white teeth and a hint of dimples. He doesn’t have particularly beautiful features, but his smile fills his face with light.
“Um…” she considers her answer, “the truth is, a friend gave me a bike and…I’ve lost my confidence a little. I don’t see myself simply getting on and riding…I heard about this group, so I thought I’d join and see how it goes.”
“Cool,” he says, “glad you came,” he laughs. She forces herself to smile. She has no patience for jokes. She never did, and in recent years it’s only become more extreme. This world isn’t funny enough for laughing. “Come, I’ll introduce you to the gang,” he offers, “they’re starting to arrive.”
“Never mind, it’s okay,” she stops him, “I prefer you to check the bike in the meanwhile, tell me if everything is in order.”
“Happy to,” he says and puts his hand on her bike, examines it and then tells her knowingly, “It’s in excellent shape.”
“It’s almost new,” she says, “but it’s been lying in my friend’s storeroom for three years. They just had a baby and they need the space, so they decided to give it to me.”
“Does the baby sleep in the storeroom?” he tries to joke, and she answers without a smile that the stroller sleeps in the storeroom.
“How you doing, Koby?” a large man shouts to him as he lowers his bike from the carrier. The parking lot is filling up slowly. The lesson will begin very soon.
Koby waves hello and returns his attention to her. “Well,” he says, “I want to explain a few basic things before we set out. Hop on. Let’s see how you assume the ready position.”
“I have no idea what that is,” she says serenely.
He laughs and teaches her. He touches her heels, positioning them and demonstrating.
“The purpose of the ready position is to create stability,” he explains. “Basically, it’s to find your position at the center of the bike. Push the pedals down with your heels at all times, okay? As if you’re gluing the bike to the ground…”
She nods, listening intently. It’s important to her to excel. She doesn’t like embarrassing mistakes.
Two women and a young man are standing nearby, their bikes by their side. They remind her of a group of people walking their dogs.
“Hands are always at the width of the handlebars,” Koby continues, “and keep your fingers on the brakes, your eyes ahead at all times. The trick is to keep looking for the midpoint, to find your equilibrium, balance…”
“That’s true about life too,” she says.
“Indeed,” he smiles, “life is like riding a bike.”
“No,” she corrects him, “riding a bike is like life.”
This time they both laugh and he continues, “Pay attention, when you’re pedaling, you sit. When you aren’t pedaling, that is, when you’re riding downhill—you stand. Your job is to maintain your stability in the middle of the bike, even when the bike is at an angle, going downhill or uphill. When you go downhill, move your butt back. When you’re climbing, your body weight shifts forward. You have to play with it all the time, and to look for the middle, get it?”
She nods again. Of course she gets it. It doesn’t sound so complicated, especially since she’s ridden in the past. Although many years have passed since, but everyone says that you don’t forget how to ride a bike. Today she has the opportunity to prove or disprove the saying.
“People,” Koby looks up at the eight members of the group who have organized their gear meanwhile and have now gathered around him, “Meet Orly. She’s joining us today. If everyone’s here, I think we can get going.” He turns to her, “Do you want to ride behind me?”
She nods.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be taking breaks,” he adds.
“I’m not worried,” she replies and they set off.
An hour and a half later, they return to the starting point. Her heart is pounding and her chest is burning with pain. She’s gasping for breath and wondering if the dizziness she’s experiencing has anything to do with her racing pulse.
“Are you alright?” a woman who looks about her age asks. She lifts her hand in the air and gives a thumbs up, but she still can’t speak. Koby comes over and asks her to drink.
“I’m fine,” she says, still panting, “I’m just not used to exerting myself so much.”
“Sit for a while,” Koby says with concern. He helps her to sit down on a smooth white rock and hands her a bottle of water. She gives in and sits down. She doesn’t have the strength to resist. She’s so pathetic, she can’t handle even an hour and a half, and with a break in the middle to boot, just for her!
“You’ll get used to it in no time,” he consoles her and puts his hand on her back, “it’s your first time. You have nothing to worry about…”
“I’ve already told you, I’m not worried,” she says between breaths, “not when it comes to riding a bike, in any case.”
“Hmmm…” he hums with a small smile, “maybe some time you’ll tell me what does worry you.”
She doesn’t answer, just gulps down the bottle of water he gave her.
“For next time,” he suggests, “get yourself a water bag. It’s the most convenient, certainly for long bike rides.”
“People, are we going anywhere?” the big man asks. His name, as it turns out, is Avi. She stares, examining him, not understanding the question.
“Let’s go to Enrique,” one of the women suggests and they nod in agreement.
“We’re going to a café,” Koby explains, “we often go out after riding on Fridays. It’s a great way to connect, and they’re a great bunch. Do you feel like joining us?”
“No, no,” she jumps to her feet, before he tries to convince her, “I must be going.”
Koby looks surprised, “Well at least let me hang your bike on the carrier for you.”
“No need,” she says immediately. What is she, three? “Thanks, Koby,” she shakes his hand, “it was very nice to meet you.”
“I hope to see you next Friday,” he says and gives a slight bow, finally getting a real smile out of her. “The group rides in the middle of the week, too. Give me a call and I’ll give you all the details.”
She nods and disappears before she has to talk to anyone else.
She finds home deserted and dark, and to her delight, also cool, despite the oppressive heat outside. She concludes that Hanan and the boys haven’t returned from the pool yet.
Wasting no time, she takes off her sweaty black sports tank top, pants and panties. She’s never felt any need to wear a bra. It’s uncomfortable and her breasts are small enough to need no support. She gets into the shower and lets the water wash away the layers of sweat and dust that accumulated during the ride. Then she washes her short hair and rinses herself o
ff. The shower rejuvenates her and when she steps out of the shower into the steamy bathroom, she feels a little more refreshed. She removes the towel and with large, circular motions, uses it to dry the steamed-up mirror. Now her image is clearer. She never wears makeup. She’s as natural as the day she was born.
She studies the delicate wrinkles that have been appearing recently on her forehead and in the corners of her eyes. She continues to her neck and touches it. It’s actually okay. Her slim body still looks like that of a young girl. From there she moves down along her chest and checks her tiny breasts. She massages them gently, searching for invisible lumps. She does this every time she showers. Sometimes she allows herself to skip a day. Even cancer, after all, can wait a day. She doesn’t find a lump. She puts deodorant on and gets dressed quickly. The ceremony is over.
When Hanan, Ben and Uri get home, she’s already absorbed in one of the reports she has to complete. She’s leaning over the computer and watching the stream of numbers on the screen. “Hi!” she calls out happily.
Ben walks over to her and she strokes his arm. No more than that, heaven forbid. They’re long past the hugging and kissing stage. Actually, they never really had one. She was always jealous of her friends and their daughters who were only too happy to cuddle. But when she really thinks about it, she’s also not that way inclined. Nor is Hanan, so why would the children turn out any different? She’s used to restraining herself, stopping, straightening her shoulders. Hanan is also the type to hold things in, even if sometimes it seems like he’s not, as if he is empty inside. And the boys—she has no idea what really goes on inside them. They are boys, after all. Closed up inside themselves and covered in bristles.
She can smell chlorine long after Ben disappears into his room.
“How was it?” she asks Uri, hoping for a scrap of information.
“Cool,” Uri says and kicks off his flipflops, puts down his pool bag and flops onto the sofa in the living room. She stares at him but says nothing, wondering when the servant will go into action.
Hanan is the last to enter, and he locks the door. “Hello,” he says, without smiling.
Riding Lies Page 24