“Have you showered?” she asks.
“Obviously,” Hanan replies, putting his bag beside Uri’s, the maid will probably unpack his too, later on.
“Have you eaten?” she continues questioning him.
He knits his eyebrows. “Lunch or dinner?”
“Both?” she answers with a question and a shred of hope in her voice.
“Didn’t you make anything?” he asks, surprised.
“I got back not long ago, and I have a ton of work.”
“Where were you?” he sits down on the sofa, and he too, slips his flipflops off.
“At a riding lesson.”
He chuckles. Even Uri turns around and looks at her in surprise, despite the show he’s already engrossed in.
She doesn’t respond, just wonders to herself if it really is that unbelievable. Either way, it doesn’t matter. She enjoyed it, and she intends on continuing. It’s not like anyone needs her at home. They all have their own lives. Uri will be going into the army soon and who knows what’ll happen then. Ben is busy with his matriculation exams and his girlfriend. And Hanan is self-absorbed, as he’s always been.
“Wouldn’t it be smarter to put your efforts into making dinner rather than into riding a bike?” Hanan asks. The mockery in his voice stings like dripping venom. She imagines her skin swelling and turning red.
“No,” she answers calmly. She’s not worried, as she told Koby twice today. He doesn’t seem to believe her. Not about dinner, in any case.
Ben returns to the living room and says that he’s starving.
“There’s no food,” Hanan informs him, “sorry. Your mother went bike riding today.”
Ben stares at her, uncomprehending. If she had the energy, she’d feel hurt.
She must finish this report.
“I’m ordering pizza, okay?” Ben informs them more than asks.
“Order two,” Hanan says, “half with onion for me.”
“I want corn and pineapple,” Uri says, lounging on the sofa. Only she says nothing, and no one thinks of asking her. Maybe they’ll leave her a slice. Or not. They’re certainly capable of not noticing that she didn’t eat. She’s only their mother, only Hanan’s wife. And also the servant who will soon wash their towels and wet bathing suits that are rotting in their bags in the meanwhile.
By the time the pizzas arrive, she’s almost finished the work she’s determined to get done. She’ll continue tomorrow. That’s what Saturdays are for.
The three men of her life are sitting on the sofa in the living room, hunched over the pizza boxes and chewing loudly. Ben even ordered a bottle of soda. They drink straight from the bottle. What do they need glasses for? They’re like animals. She looks at them, loving them and feeling hurt. She wonders whether to test them or to go over and take a slice before they finish it all. What are the odds of them passing the test? Close on zero.
Finally, she takes a thick slice from the box. The hot cheese stretches to an almost improbable height before detaching itself from the slice in the box. She takes a bite. It’s hot and comforting. Perfect for Friday dinner.
***
On Tuesday, she joins the evening riding group. She still lacks confidence, mainly because of the dark.
“We have flashlights,” Koby reassures her, “and the area is lit.”
She nods. She’s not really worried about the dark, she has other things to worry about.
She recognizes Avi, and another man, Erez. A woman by the name of Hadas is standing next to them, as is another woman whose name she doesn’t know. They’re five all in all. Six, together with Koby. Not many of them ride in the middle of the week, that’s what Koby says, and that’s fine. It’s an intimate group.
Where are we going?” she asks, and he points ahead, toward the Sacher Park. “Urban cycling,” he smiles, “we don’t always ride off-road, certainly not when it’s dark.” He asks if she wants to ride behind him again, like last time, and says that if it makes her uncomfortable, she can ride in the rear, with Erez. He always helps the newcomers.
She says that she prefers to be close to him and gets straight into ready position. He smiles and looks pleased. She didn’t mean it that way. It’s not a compliment, just the truth. Who’s Erez to her?
They set off, and her tense face muscles slowly relax. The heat of the day has just faded and a dry wind hits her in the face. It’s not a heat wave blowing in from the desert, but it’s not a pleasant breeze either. At the moment she’s prepared to compromise on any movement of air, hot or cold. The main thing is that the air moves, providing even slight relief from the heat of the day. She can see it still rising from the sun-soaked sidewalks.
She focuses on peddling, keeping her balance, breathing correctly, on inhaling air deep into her lungs and exhaling. Two stray street cats howl gratingly. She doesn’t let them violate the peace she so longs for. She’s with herself, and herself alone. Koby is in front of her, the others are behind. She has no idea who is directly behind her and she doesn’t really care.
She assumes that Hanan has arrived home and discovered that once again there is no food. Before she left, she made Ben and Uri toasted cheese sandwiches with sliced vegetables. Uri laughed and said he could have made himself something. She replied that she wants to pamper him until the last minute, so that when he’s in the army, he’ll miss what he has at home. He promised to miss home anyway, but he still kept a safe distance. God forbid they’d should hug each other.
Ben took three toasted sandwiches for himself and went back to his room without saying a word. The school year has just begun and the pressure of twelfth grade is already quite palpable. It’s not like she expected him to say thank you, but he could have perhaps said hello.
“What do we tell Dad?” Uri asks just as she’s leaving. She thinks for a moment and says, “Nothing. Don’t tell him anything.”
They’re invited to Hanan’s cousin to celebrate the Jewish New Year. She’s been debating whether to tell them that she’s ill and to just skip the whole sweetly-sick family ordeal. She finds it intolerable. If it were at least her family…but she doesn’t really have family, so they spend most of the holidays with Hanan’s. She knows that she should consider them her family too by now, but that’s not the way it is, and it’ll probably never be.
***
At the end of the meal, when everyone is busy clearing the table and washing the dishes, she goes outside. She removes her sandals and walks barefoot across the lawn. Benji, the family Canaan-cross-Labrador follows her. The grass is soft and tall and the old, familiar smell fills the air as she tramples across. She wishes she lived here, on the kibbutz, and that she could roam across the lawns at night, with or without a dog. There’s something in the freedom and serenity that appeals to her. She’s always been a child of nature. As far back as she can remember, she’s loved to climb trees, jump on rocks, run in the open air. Maybe that’s why she could always relate more to the boys. She never found a common language with the girls.
She moves along the dark lawn. The chirping of crickets accompanies her. There may be vipers, she thinks. It’s still hot and they are probably still active. But she’s not worried, certainly not about vipers in the grass.
Benji barks loudly and drops a stone beside her. “What boy, do you want me to throw it for you?” she asks.
He looks at her with his kind eyes. She picks up the saliva-coated stone and throws it as far as she can. Benji straightens up and leaps away like he’s running after prey. Moments later, he sits down with the stone in his mouth. She laughs. She hasn’t laughed in such a long time. She picks up the stone again. The saliva doesn’t deter her. She can always wash her hands. Benji is ready. She throws the stone and he’s off.
There is light streaming from almost of the windows. She can see into some of the homes, some of the people clearly, others as silhouettes. They’re all either sit
ting around the table or busy clearing the dishes.
She wonders if anyone in her family has noticed she’s gone. Sometimes she feels invisible. Maybe it’s all for the best, that way if anything happens to her, if she dies, no one will miss her. She wishes she could say that about her mother, but she misses her every day. She was so attached to her. Apparently, that’s how relationships between only children and divorced parents are. But she shouldn’t generalize, it’s dangerous. She usually avoids generalizations like the plague. She picks a blade of grass and crushes it between her fingers. The smell of summer camp and vacations fill the air, and she smiles. Images of her childhood appear before her eyes, of green lawns, bread rolls with chocolate spread and grape juice. Too bad she doesn’t have a joint here. She could really do with one. She rubs her thumb gently with her fingers, as if she’s rolling. She hasn’t smoked for ages, and hardly ever since she started watching her health, since she had the kids. But now and then she still allows herself a treat, in memory of other, more carefree times, when she would sit with the boys, rolling and smoking. Benji returns and pushes the stone toward her with his pointed nose.
I wonder if Dad celebrates the Jewish holidays at all, she thinks, or if he’s already completely assimilated somewhere out there in the Diaspora. She remembers the day her parents announced they were separating. She was ten, and she was playing when they called her. Then the silence came, and Dad left home. Six months later, he left Israel and moved to a place where he could fulfill his dreams. She saw him only a few times after that, during the summer vacation, when she flew alone to visit him in the land of unlimited possibility, and when he married an American by the name of Karen, and he asked her to come.
Surprisingly, the twins who followed shortly after were not born blond, but she’s sure they’re perfect in every other way.
She barely has contact with them anymore. His new family fills his life. He doesn’t need her, and at her age, she no longer needs him.
She rubs the hairs on her arms, which are standing on edge. It’s chilly, and she’s barefoot and in short sleeves. Maybe it’s time to go back.
She makes her way slowly through the grass, across the green lawn that smells like her childhood memories and like innocence. Benji is bouncing around her, pleased to have shared the unexpected walk. She gets back to find everyone eating cake and drinking tea, still seated at the table.
“Where were you?” Hanan asks. His voice sounds impatient.
She pulls up a chair and sits down with her family. Her feet are still bare. “What kind of cake is that?” she asks, ignoring Hanan’s pointless question.
“We have plum cake and chocolate cake,” Hanan’s cousin’s wife explains, cutting her two thick slices and serving them to her with a smile. At least someone is smiling at her, even if it’s out of politeness.
She eats both slices and remembers that she didn’t wash Benji’s saliva off. Who cares? What could possibly happen? She’s not worried. About almost anything.
***
The phone buzzes. She has a message from the group, about a trip on the morning of the holiday. Koby has chosen a magical trail through nature, in the Ben Shemen Forest, and he’s suggesting they take advantage of the perfect weather and come along. It’s a few hours’ ride, no more. Who’s interested?
“Me,” she writes.
“Barak and I will come,” a young woman called Adi writes. She rides with her partner. The others are busy…well, it is a holiday.
They meet in the dusty gravel parking lot at nine in the morning. It’s almost deserted, but the odd hikers have parked there too. She immediately finds Koby’s battered car and parks alongside it.
“Good morning,” he waves to her, “it’s great to see you!”
“The weather is perfect,” she says and takes her bike off the carrier.
He nods. “I was just about to make coffee. We must drink something before we ride. The weather demands it…”
“A cup of coffee really wouldn’t hurt me now,” she agrees.
He pours water from a bottle into a small finjan, then places it on a gas burner. “We’re going to have an almost private ride today,” he says, “just you, me, Barak and Adi.”
“Yes,” she says casually, “that’s great. I’m not mad about crowds.”
“I figured that out myself,” he laughs and adds Turkish coffee powder to the water. It smells wonderful.
She sniffs with pleasure.
He smiles and asks if she takes sugar.
“No way!” she cries out, “I like it black and bitter. Like a proud Arab.”
He roars with laughter and studies her fair, freckled face. “Anyone can see that you’re a born and bred Arab,” he says with a grin.
She laughs too. “Let’s not get into it,” she says, stretching her legs out and lying down on the rock, her hands supporting her head.
“You’re so weird,” he says and laughs, “I love it.”
She smiles and tries to process the words. She knows she’s weird. She was born weird, but this is without doubt the first time someone has told her he likes it. Her weirdness always tends to put people off. Hanan is also pretty weird, maybe that’s why they’re married. Birds of a feather. The odd couple. Luckily, Uri and Ben didn’t turn out weird.
“What do you mean, weird?” she asks suddenly, “I have no idea what that means.”
“It’s a compliment,” Koby says at once, handing her a cup of steaming coffee.
“I’m not looking for compliments,” she says right back, “I really am trying to understand what you mean.”
“You just seem different to me. Distinctive. The way you look, and you have interesting and refreshing views.”
“One would think we’ve already had a chance to talk,” she snorts.
“I catch on quick,” he winks, “and I could tell who you were the first time I saw you.”
“You don’t say?!” she giggles, going along with the game, “Then maybe you’re in the wrong profession!”
“I’m sure I could have been a good therapist,” he says, “but I chose to do what makes me feel good. And no, I haven’t been a riding instructor all my life. I actually used to be in high-tech.”
“High-tech?” she’s surprised, “Wow…that’s not at all what I expected…”
“Don’t I look like a techie to you?” he smiles.
“We’re getting into stereotypes,” she says, “I can’t stand stereotypes. Generalizations. Declarations that have no basis. Saying someone is weird is also problematic.”
“Not in your case,” he winks, “and I really didn’t mean to offend you. You’re great. I wish there were more women like you. Then I wouldn’t have to say you’re weird. You’d all be!”
“Be what?” she squints, not quite understanding.
“Be like…cool,” he says, “the kind of women who say what they think, don’t hide anything, don’t try to be clever, aren’t so tiresome…”
“Are you married?” she asks out of the blue.
He’s a little surprised. “Divorced,” he says.
“Oh,” she responds. “I take it you’ve had ghastly experiences with women who hide things, try to be clever and are tiresome.”
He laughs. “Tiresome, yes, but my ex wasn’t smart enough to hide anything or act clever…”
“Ouch!” she cries.
“It’s a long story,” he says immediately, “and I didn’t mean to put her down. I’ll tell you more sometime, if you want.”
She shrugs and nods at the same time. She’s not sure herself what she’s trying to convey. Just then, Adi and Barak arrive.
“So that’s how it works? You don’t wait for us with the coffee?” Barak asks, dragging his bike behind him.
“On the contrary,” Koby says, “everything is ready, we even poured for you. Come, people. Let’s drink up and set ou
t before the hoards arrive. Remember, it is a holiday today.”
Adi and Barak sit down and gulp down their coffee. She watches them, but her curious, thirsty gaze can’t stop turning to Koby.
***
She receives a message in the evening. She lowers her eyes from the computer screen and taps her phone. She’s not done yet with the damned report and tomorrow she’ll be back at work.
“Recovered from the trail?” she reads, and then she gets another. “We didn’t finish our talk. Feel like continuing it sometime? You intrigue me.”
She raises an eyebrow. Who does he think he is, exactly? “I’m married,” she writes coldly.
“My sympathies,” he writes and she can’t help laughing. Yes, sometimes she thinks that too.
“Coffee? Tomorrow?’ the words appear on the screen.
She sighs. Coffee? With Koby? And then again, why not? She finds him intriguing too, and she’s not doing anything wrong, just having a conversation with a friend. “Okay,” she writes, a little shocked at herself.
“My place?” he asks and she retorts, “You think?! At a café.”
He takes some time answering. Is she really that dumb? He doesn’t want coffee! She has to turn him down. Cancel the whole stupid idea.
“We could sit in a park,” she finally gets an answer. “I’ll bring a thermos. You bring cookies.”
She’s surprised. Maybe he doesn’t have money But nature suits her perfectly, she’s all in favor. She’s also not crazy about wasting money on dubious Colombian coffee that is put through some fancy machine that makes more noise than taste.
“Okay,” she writes, wondering if they have any chocolate wafers left at home. They arrange to meet in the early afternoon, after she finishes work. It should be cooler by four, after the heavy heat of the day has faded and they won’t feel the evening chill yet. The days are getting shorter, darkness is invading earlier and soon the clocks will be turned back to winter time. She suggests the huge park across the road from her office. He agrees. Sometimes, when she doesn’t feel like coming home, she goes for a walk there. She doesn’t tell anyone. If Hanan or the boys knew, they’d probably think there’s something wrong with her. And perhaps they’d be right.
Riding Lies Page 25