Riding Lies

by Eshkar Erblich-Brifman

  Uri gives her the list of equipment and asks her to take care of it. Sure, she says, don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll buy you everything you don’t have. She opens the folded page and goes through the list. A shudder runs down her spine. How tangible it is suddenly. Sports instructor pants. What is that? Oh, yes, she knows, just sweatpants, of course. Underwear. He has plenty.

  White or khaki T-shirts. Maybe she’ll buy him a few more just to be safe, white, of course, so he can also wear them when he’s home. Black or gray military socks. She’ll buy a few pairs, something really warm. Poor baby, having to do boot camp in winter.

  Sneakers he has, of course. Hanan bought him a brand-new pair when they sent him to Berlin for work.

  A beanie and a fleece neck warmer. She’s not sure what he has. She has to check.

  Flip flops for the shower. He has. Towel. Fine.

  A medium-sized backpack. Should she buy a new one? It’s a waste of money, isn’t it? First, she’ll check what they have at home. They must have something. What does he take on annual school trips? She can’t remember. She thinks that Ben has taken over that backpack, the gray one…

  Padlocks. Yes, that she’ll have to buy, they definitely don’t have any at home. She circles the word with a blue pen and suddenly remembers that when she was in boot camp, one of the girls in her tent lost the key and for the week before going home for the weekend, she had to find a way into her backpack. She helped her, of course. They had a regular ritual every evening. One would hold the zipper and pull it with all her strength, with the lock pressing into her, and the other would poke and slide her skinny hand into the bag to pull out a shirt, deodorant, or even a toothbrush. She smiles. The unmerry days of boot camp. What did she know then about life? Nothing. And what does she know today? Nothing and a half. Do they have a toiletry bag? They must have something, she’s not sure in what condition. And the small bottles of shampoo and soap, and shaving cream and deodorant. Should she pick up body lotion too? He’ll probably get mad at her if she packs hand cream or Vaseline for his lips. She giggles. He’d probably say she’s embarrassing him, that it’s not manly.

  Are they allowed to bring razor blades, or will they immediately think he’s a terrorist who wants to massacre the entire battalion? She needs to find out. Wait a minute, it’s mentioned: Do not bring razor blades. The army will supply Mach 3 razors. Good. Oh, toilet paper and wipes! She circles them. Although she’s been repressing all thought of the upcoming induction day, although she’s been trying to ignore it in the hope that it’ll ignore her right back, she knows that she has to face facts and go shopping.

  At night he writes her a message: “I’m trying a new trail tomorrow. Feel like coming?”

  She does. Sure she does. She answers immediately that if they can go in the afternoon, she’ll join him happily.

  They decide to meet at four o’clock in the white, dusty parking lot. When she arrives, he’s there waiting, and she’s a little relieved. They’re alone in the huge parking lot, and the fear of a serial rapist or a terrorist with a knife quickly dissipates.

  “I missed you,” he runs his fingers softly across her cheek and then removes them. Her heart leaps out of her chest. What the hell?

  “Shall we go,” he asks, “or do you want coffee first?”

  “We’ll leave the coffee for the end,” she says, “so it doesn’t get dark before we’re done, or start raining.”

  “You’re right,” he says as he pulls his riding gloves on.

  “Have you ever got stuck in the middle of a trail?” she asks.

  “Of course,” he answers, “but the dark’s not all that bad, the bikes have lights. The real bummer is getting lost…especially in places without GPS reception.”

  She hums as she puts on her helmet.

  “But getting lost is part of it too,” he adds. “It’s comes with the profession and has to be taken into account.”

  “Are you paid extra for the risk?” she jokes and he replies that he got that only in the army.

  Her eyes widen and she asks what for.

  “Drop it,” he says, “that’s a story for another time. Let’s go.”

  She nods and they get going. He’s leading. It’s a single track, too narrow for two. Maybe further on the trail will be wider and she can ride alongside him.

  The trail is hard and full of bumps, and soon they’re at a drop that looks terrifying. She brakes and gets off the bike. He goes down the drop without batting an eyelid and waits for her at the end. She arrives a moment later on foot, her bike by her side.

  “Do you think that it’s suitable for the group?”

  She thinks about it. She shrugs and answers, “Worst case scenario, they get off their bikes…”

  They ride on. The wind is whistling in her ears. Too bad they can’t talk like this. He’s so near yet so far away. She feels beads of sweat forming on her face, in her armpits and groin, on the palms of her hands and on her feet, and she thinks about the coffee he promised her afterward.

  He makes the coffee while she looks for somewhere to sit. She finds a white rock that looks dry enough and she sits down with her legs spread, trying to dry off. She thinks of taking off her coat. It’s winter, and it’s cold, but she’s so sweaty. He kneels over the finjan, turns off the gas and pours the steaming coffee into two cups. Then he hands her one and looks into her green eyes. Not green, exactly, more like green-brown. She never could define the color.

  She takes the cup from him, touching his fingers lightly, and sets it down beside her, on the ground. Then she rises slightly and sits up, places her hands tenderly on his cheeks, clasps them and brings him closer. She brings her lips to his and gives him a short, soft kiss. A flutter. He doesn’t seem surprised.

  She takes a breath and kisses him again, longer this time. He opens his mouth, and she allows him to penetrate hers with his tongue, gently, surprisingly slowly. The moment feels like it’ll last forever. In the end she lets go, slowly removes her hands and moves away.

  “Wow…what was that for?” he whispers and strokes her cheek.

  “For my decision to try new things, just before I die.”

  He smiles and picks up his cup. The coffee has cooled down. He takes a small sip. She does the same. And they sit there in silence. What else is there to say?

  ***

  “I’ve been thinking about you constantly,” he writes, and her phone buzzes. It’s eleven at night. Hanan is snoring away beside her. Only she can’t sleep, because of one single kiss. She opens WhatsApp and reads the message. In an instant, her heart is flooded with warmth, even though she knows that he’s not thinking only about her.

  Quickly she types, “Me too,” and deletes the words before she can send them and puts her phone down beside her. She has to get some sleep. Tomorrow she has two reports to complete.

  Moments later she gets another message. She sighs and turns her on phone again. “Aren’t you?”

  She smiles. What a kid he is, really! “Goodnight,” she types and clicks send. Cold and prickly, as always.

  “When am I seeing you?” he writes.

  She has no answer. She knows exactly what’ll happen if they meet again. She’ll be at the group ride on Friday, she writes eventually. She looks at Hanan lying on his back, his chest steadily rising and falling, without worry in the world. She may die, or cheat, and he’ll still sleep like a baby.

  ***

  On Friday afternoon, she arrives at the parking lot where Koby arranged to meet up with the group. He has a single planned, a flow trail, but the paths are still covered in mud, so they should take extra care.

  This time, she surpassed herself and bought a cake. She even remembered to bring a knife. Koby claims she’s a loner. Different and weird, never staying for coffee afterward. Today she’ll stay. She’ll prove to him that she can be like everyone else if she wants to be. There’s no way
out, since she bought a cake.

  Her eyes notice a new, chubby woman who clearly can’t find her place. She’s oozing lack of confidence. She feels for her and goes over.

  “Orly,” she holds out her hand warmly.

  “Anat,” the woman replies and they shake hands.

  Koby personally checks each person, telling them a little about the trail and adding a joke about emergency room doctors on Friday afternoons. She misses the beginning.

  As always, Erez is asked to keep an eye on the new guest, Anat, and the two of them move to the back of the line.

  The trail is smooth and the weather nice. The wind caresses her face, and although she’s focused on the trail, she allows her thoughts to wander. Or’s induction is approaching. The kiss. Hanan. Her mother. And that damn gene hanging over her life.

  ***

  She’s frozen to the spot, standing next to Ben and Hanan. Uri is a short distance from them, talking eagerly to a boy his age. They were in the same year at school, but they’ve never spoken before. Maybe now they’ll be sharing a room, who knows. The new bag she bought for him is lying beside him. It looks like it may burst at the seams.

  She fights back the tears, but her eyes are shimmering. This is so shitty. Why do children have to do army service? She would give her arms, her legs, right here and now, let them take whatever them want, just leave Uri at home. Maybe she should donate a kidney, It would be more useful than an arm or a leg. But no one is interested in a kidney right now, and the line of boys, young men, really, is getting longer. Some of them look like they’re in shock. They’re all accompanied by their families She reads the sign for the hundredth time: Recruitment Office. No, it hasn’t changed. She isn’t dreaming. Her baby is going to the army and soon they’ll give him a gun That’s how it works in Israel: They recruit babies for the IDF. They allow them to guard the homeland and die for it, too. Maybe Trumpeldor thought it was a good way to die, but why does nobody ask her?

  An army clerk military uniform enters the room. She looks ten years old at the most. She reads out the names and hands out bus numbers. Uri is on bus number four. Four is good, right? She feels pressure in her throat, like a tight spring. Soon they’ll have to say goodbye. Does he have everything? She tries to recall: his draft order, ID card, money, phone, hold on—a watch—did he take his watch? She steals a quick glance at his left arm. Yes, the watch is there. She exhales.

  Hanan asks Ben and Uri to embrace. He wants to take pictures. They both roll their eyes, but agree.

  “Take a picture with Mom too,” he orders Uri, who puts his arm around her shoulders and smiles. Her heart is flooded with warmth and unruly tears start to pour from the corners of her eyes.

  The ten-year-old clerk asks everyone to finish saying goodbye and to board the buses. She grabs Uri, stands on tiptoe and hugs him tightly. When did he grow so tall? When did that happen?

  “Take care of yourself,” she whispers and jumps a little so she can reach his prickly cheek. She hopes he’s shaved well enough. If not, he’ll get into trouble.

  “Don’t worry,” he tells her and smiles. He doesn’t look concerned. She’s not meant to be concerned either, since she never does worry, but maybe today she can allow herself a touch of concern. Maybe today it’s permitted.

  Hanan also hugs him, but gives him a men’s hug, slapping his shoulder so hard that Uri wavers for a moment. She chuckles. Men are so ridiculous.

  “Call when you can,” she tells him, “or at least send a message that everything’s all right.

  “It will be, Mom,” he says confidently and throws his bag, which weighs about as much as he does, over his shoulder.

  Despite all her attempts to contain herself, her face is covered in tears. They walk over to the bus with him, savoring every last moment. He puts his bag in the hold, waves to them and is swallowed up. One of a million. They continue to wave until the driver starts the engine and drives away, and all that remains is a sooty trail of black smoke.

  ***

  The rain starts again in the afternoon. She can’t concentrate on anything. Maybe she should have taken a day off. And what would she have done then, stayed home and banged her head against the wall? She might have gone riding. It’s the only thing that soothes her these crazy days. That, and being with Koby. She can still taste their kiss. They haven’t met since, only messaged. And that’s easier. There is no need to meet his eye. No need to cope.

  She looks out the window and all she can see is mist. You’d think it was winter. And where is her Uri now? What is he doing? Is he getting wet? Is someone looking after him?

  She sighs and rubs her forehead wearily. She has too many thoughts, too many concerns. She’s going to explode soon. For a moment, she stares at the screen, watching the words flickering. She’s got no strength left. Maybe she’ll invite him to have lunch. Maybe talking to him for a while will calm her. After all, he was also in the army, and not just that, he was in some top-secret commando unit. He promised to tell her more some time. He was a fighter. He faced death, watched children dying, and friends. Maybe that’s how he became the person he is today, she thinks. Could her Uri become like him? Like what? She can’t even define it. Emotionless? Is he emotionless? She’s not sure. But he certainly has a strange way about him, or maybe just a different way of dealing with life. Perhaps his attempts to squeeze the most out of life is a result of what he went through when he was young. He stared death in the face, and maybe that’s when he adopted his favorite saying: You only live once. Maybe it’s his way of coping with shell shock. She tries to analyze him, to guess what makes him tick, what she finds so attractive.

  She picks up her phone.

  “Lunch?” she types quickly.

  He answers quickly. “Actually, I have other plans, but let me see if I can change them.”

  She snorts. He’s playing hard to get, it’s so obvious. Still, she wonders who the other woman is. You only live once, after all, and it must be a woman.

  She waits, trying again to concentrate on the screen. It’s so boring. What a terrible profession she chose. Actually, her mother chose it, not her. She urged her to learn “something that you can be practical later.”

  “I cancelled,” she gets a message, “I’m all yours.”

  She smiles, pleased.

  ***

  The next day she gets a message. Could it be Uri? Her heart misses a beat. Last night he wrote that everything is fine but he doesn’t have time to talk. She didn’t hear from him this morning. But now, in the middle of the day? She doubts it.

  Her eyes move from the terrible report she’s been working on for over a week and dart to her vibrating phone. “What are you doing after work?”

  What is she doing after work? She sighs and with shaking fingers, writes: “Seeing you?”

  A second after she sends the message, she regrets it. What is she doing? How has he managed to fill her head with all his crap?

  While having lunch yesterday, they avoided talking about the elephant in the room. And what was there to say about it, that sweet, soft, sensual elephant that has swept them away? It was still just an elephant. And in any case, she was too emotional because of Uri and all she was looking for was a sympathetic ear. And he’s good at listening. And at giving advice. And at meeting her eye in understanding, with a look that melts her in an instant.

  Everything will be all right, he reassured her. Everyone in Israel gets through it. Whoever chooses to live in this country has to cope with complex decisions, and sending a child to the battlefield is incredibly difficult, but it’s also unavoidable. He knows. He went through it himself, and it forced him to grow up all at once. He saw things he’ll never forget. And yes, his Elad will be starting his army duty soon. He has no idea how he’ll cope with it, but he guesses just like they all do. And no, being in the same boat as others is of no comfort at all, but it does give us the strength
to deal with it. We have each other’s backs, we’re all in this together, united. We have an existential war on our hands over our place in the world, and that is our everyday reality. He asks if she knows the song “Like Flowers Among the Rocks.”

  She nods. It’s a beautiful song, by Ariel Horowitz.

  “Listen to the words one day,” he tells her and she promises to do so. In the evening, before going to bed, she looks for it on YouTube and bursts into tears.

  ***

  At four in the afternoon, she parks her small old car by his house and remembers parking here not very long ago, and arguing with him about happiness. She walks hesitantly up the stairs, telling herself that she can still change her mind. But instead, she knocks on the door.

  He opens the door wearing black boxer shorts and nothing else.

  She starts to laugh uncontrollably, half surprised, half embarrassed. “Do you always receive your guests like that?” she asks and he says yes, that’s how he walks around at home. Always.

  “Even when your children are home?” she questions him and he says sometimes.

  “Coffee?” he offers and she asks for tea, even though she doesn’t feel like either. She leans back on the counter while he fills the electric kettle with water. For a moment she feels like a little girl, watching one of her parents cooking in the kitchen.

  “What kind of tea do you want?” he asks and takes two cardboard boxes of tea from the cabinet. Green tea with jasmine and English breakfast tea.

  She puts a tentative hand on the back of his. “I don’t feel like tea,” she whispers.

  He returns the tea to the cabinet and puts his hand around her nape. “I know,” he whispers back and lifts her onto the counter. She swallows. He presses his body to hers and kisses her on the lips. His breath is warm and steady. She licks her lips and tentatively parts them. And then he kisses her, at first softly, caressingly, and then harder, stronger, almost painful. She is swept up with dizzying speed. Her heart is racing wildly and her whole body is beating with arousal. She can feel him between her legs, hard and erect, touching her through her clothes. Her panties are damp, she’s wetter than she’s ever been.