Chariots on the Highway

by Limor Moyal

  Why did she leave him?

  Left him!

  He took a deep breath and tried telling himself ‘Grow up! Get yourself together!’, but it wasn’t a moment of self-control, it was a moment of rage and pain and he embraced them.

  He was sure that he heard a howl, he was scared that it might’ve came from his own throat, a second before he burst into tears and let out all of the immense pain that had built up in him recently.

  It was about Flora, but it was also about Tom, and he cried. He put his head in his hands on the table and that was Gideon’s sign, “Dan, I'm sorry, I know this is hard, do you want me to stay? Do you want me to pick you up from Pituach on the way to the funeral? Do you want me to leave you alone?”

  Dan answered without raising his head off of the table. He didn’t want Gideon to see him and he didn’t want to see Gideon looking back. “It’s alright Gideon, I have things to do. I'll get there on my own, text me the address.”

  Gideon got up and collected himself, he felt heavier and older than usual.

  Pain apparently, had a physical weight.

  “I'll see you later, Dan, call me if you change your mind about a ride to the cemetery.”

  Revadim looked more like a Japanese garden than a cemetery. A green, inviting garden, layered with grass, and lush trees, under the shadows of which lay graves. There was even a river, with a little fountain and the sounds of water trickling, and a smell of nature and bloom and wet fresh earth.

  For a moment, Dan forgot he wasn’t in a luxurious spa, but in a place dedicated to the end of life.

  Maybe a cemetery really doesn’t have to be a dark, depressing place, he thought.

  From afar he could see people crowding together around a wide hole, under a lone Willow tree.

  The sorrowful feeling was replaced by social discomfort, he never liked these situations with strangers, especially not in times when he was vulnerable, exposed and aching.

  At least here, he didn’t have to fake joy, like in weddings or in Bar Mitzvahs. In funerals, he could maintain his usual gloomy self, which was basically his natural state.

  He found it ironic, how much weddings were worse than this place. Here there wasn’t any generic food and terrible music at ear-splitting volume, or people wearing too much color, too much perfume, faking smiles and happiness just to impress a bunch of strangers. Funerals were much better, he thought.

  He walked toward the gathering and the trickling sounds changed into Jazz sounds, Nina Simone was singing How it Feels to Be Free, and Dan smiled. Flora, only she would choose such an optimistic song on the day she chose to end her life.

  Gideon was already there, Galia too, Flora’s best friend who he recognized from his days in Ramat HaHayal. There were a dozen more faces there that he didn’t recognize. Quite the mixed crowd, as befit the colorful woman that Flora had been. Next to the wide hole stood a headstone that was made in advance and was waiting to be placed,

  Flora Green

  1946-2014

  Visited the Living World

  Enjoyed Every Moment

  The writing was embedded on red garnet in white letters, and around it were twelve pure white glass Begonias decorating the stone.

  Flora loved Begonias, “This flower symbolizes deep thought”, she’d once explained to Dan. The headstone was so beautiful and so Flora that Dan choked from longing.

  Nina Simone yelled ‘FREE’ and someone poured Bushmills whiskey into little plastic cups.

  Dan almost charged at the bottle, the liquid gold couldn’t have come at a better time.

  Two employees of Revadim carried a gurney towards them and Dan poured the whiskey down his throat at once. A paralyzing warmth washed over him and for a moment, it helped to quiet the anxiety. She was wearing a flowery dress, he knew because the edge of the dress was peeking under the white sheet that was covering her. They gently laid her at the bottom of the hole. Dan turned around, he couldn’t watch, but he was proud that Flora was following the Jewish tradition of being buried without a coffin or shroud. She was traveling into death the way she’d traveled through life, with natural grace.

  Afterwards, the two employees brought shovels and all the friends together helped with covering her up. Dan chugged another shot and started working, that part in particular he remembered well, from the day he buried his father. Gideon explained to the attendants that Flora asked for no speeches, not to talk about her and not to “Talk bullshit with tones of unnecessary superlatives.” She only asked that everyone drink whiskey and listen to music and say goodbye to her properly before it got dark. Everyone laughed and poured another cup and toasted her life and death.

  Dan didn’t laugh, but he did pour another cup, sipped from it, and missed her deeply.

  The sun began to set in the west, and the evening chill rushed the ceremony, one after another, the friends came over and said goodbye to her. Each in his own way, own language, out of his memories own and emotions.

  Gideon and Dan and one bottle of Bushmills stayed with Flora and shared the silence.

  They didn’t want to leave, not to talk, either. Each man on his own, they stood there and pondered. Gideon put on Nina Simone on the black CD player that was set near the Willow tree and poured himself another cup. He sat on a wooden bench not far from the grave, let out a sigh, probably the first one on this hard day, and wallowed into thoughts.

  Dan stood in front of the little wet soil bump on the ground, and thought of the last time he had seen Flora. On the night she asked him the five questions. Finally, he’d found the answers, he thought, but no one was left to share them with.

  “Who’s this solider?” asked Gideon, and Dan’s heart froze in its place, in the fragment of time between the seconds, before turning his head to see who the soldier was, he could have felt hope grabbing onto him, he didn’t want anything more than to turn his head to the left and discover that this soldier that Gideon saw would be the soldier he so deeply wants. The head turned automatically towards the coming figure, the image that revealed to him struck him and he just stopped and stared.

  He saw a tall, blond soldier, with a huge duffel bag on his back and an M-16 rifle, walking toward him. It was the most beautiful sight in the whole world, not only because it was a perfect soldier, backlit by an orange sunset. It was the most beautiful sight because it was who Dan wanted to see at that moment, that day, that hour, that minute, more than anything else.

  From the first moment he saw Tom coming toward him, everything that happened was an automatic response of his body, he didn’t fight it either. He didn’t have a drop of energy in him to fight the need, and he didn’t have anything to lose, he had already lost everything.

  He followed his instincts and ran to Tom like a mad man, and when Tom saw him running, he rushed towards him, ready to shelter him in his arms, ready to embrace him, ready to comfort and hold. He knew that Dan needed him.

  He’d come from up north as fast as he could, after Gideon notified him about Flora. He had to be there no matter what.

  Dan got to him and looked at him, broken and in need. Tom came closer and hugged him. Hugged him so tightly, and Dan hugged him tightly back and laid his head on Tom’s shoulder and breathed him in deeply, a smell of sweat and soldier and Tom.

  Perfection! He breathed it all in, and melted into what felt to him like home, and couldn’t let go. And then came the tears. He cried onto Tom's shoulder and wondered if he’d ever be able to stop.

  “Thank you for coming, Tom,” whispered Dan into his ear.

  “Of course I came, I wouldn’t let you go through this alone, even if I had to desert,” whispered back Tom and tightened the hug a little more.

  “Is that whiskey I'm smelling on you?” Tom said with a gentle grin.

  “‘Bushmills,” courtesy of Flora, she took care of booze and music, didn’t leave anything to the hands of fate,” answered Dan with a sudden pride for her.

  “She kicked fate in the balls with this trick she pulled !” said
Tom.

  “If fate had balls he wouldn’t have messed with Flora in the first place, Tom.

  I'm mad at her that she checked out without saying goodbye, but I'm also pretty proud of her, I have to admit,” Dan whispered still holding Tom tightly.

  “Me too,” whispered back Tom.

  A throat-clearing that sounded off near them made them loosen the tenacious grip between each other, but they both found it hard to do. They turned to find Gideon standing next to them, seeming a little embarrassed and confused. Dan realized this would require an explanation and a formal introduction.

  “Gideon, this is Tom” He looked at Tom and thought about how to introduce him to Gideon, it was a good time to take back the control from his instincts and start using better judgment, “Tom’s a close friend,” Tom looked at Dan for a moment, a little disappointed, “And he’s also my soldier,” Tom’s disappointment changed into a little smile, but the explanation only made Gideon more confused.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Tom. When I called to invite you I didn’t know how you knew Flora. But then when you asked me if I notified Dan yet, I understood you two are connected somehow…” he didn’t finish the sentence with a question mark but it was obvious that he wanted to understand.

  “Tom’s a lone soldier, I fostered him, and we’re very close,” Dan tried giving an explanation that would ease Gideon’s mind on one hand, and wouldn’t hurt Tom on the other. “He was lucky enough to get to know Flora, that’s why she probably asked you to invite him,” Dan hoped that that would end the inquiry.

  “She also left him her chess board and something inside it,” added Gideon.

  Tom smiled, “I'll miss her. I’m sorry I won’t get to enjoy her company for a little longer.”

  “I'll get going,” said Gideon, “there’s no Shiva. She asked not to sit over her and she doesn’t have any blood relatives to do it, so it doesn’t matter anyway. If you need anything Dan, don’t hesitate. Be in touch, and I'll try to drop off the things she left for you and Tom this week. And when you’re ready we’ll talk about transferring the ownership of the house and what you want to do afterwards.” Dan didn’t want to think about it now, or ever.

  He looked at the sky and thought about 'Shiva'. Flora’s denial of the tradition made perfect sense. Of course she wouldn’t want anyone sitting on the floor for seven days to honor her.

  She’d only want the people she loved to celebrate her memory by finding happiness. Dan knew that in his heart and it filled him with appreciation for the woman.

  He came back from his reverie and focused on Gideon. “Bye, Gideon, thank you for everything, we’ll be in touch,” Dan gave him a manly hug, with a few pats on the back, and felt how much the hug was different than the one he’d just shared with Tom.

  Dan and Tom stood and looked at Gideon getting further away.

  “Tom,” Dan couldn’t have look at him as he spoke, “I've missed you!”

  With an immense effort he looked up and saw deep-golden eyes staring back at him.

  “I've missed you too, Dan!” replied Tom, and his eyes said that there was more to it.

  “We need to talk, Tom.”

  “Are you sure we have anything to talk about? I came here today to be with you and help you say goodbye to Flora. We don’t need to do anything else right now,” Tom clarified.

  Dan got upset, he was tired of going round and round and they had both gone through enough sorrow and turmoil. He just wanted to go home. Home in every sense of the word.

  “Yes, I'm sure we have something to talk about!” stated Dan, “And it doesn’t have anything to do with Flora, it has to do with you and me. It has to do with this hurricane that came through my life ever since you came into it, and it has to do with what we do with its results!”

  Tom looked into the blue eyes, and saw frustration and fatigue. He came closer and hugged Dan and whispered in his ear, “So let’s go home.”

  17 The Victory of Gravitation

  The way from Revadim cemetery to Pituach went by in silence, not of the awkward kind, and not of the tense kind, but of the healing kind. Both men understood it was not the time for words.

  Tom plugged in his iPod and searched for a song. The Jeep was filled with caressing sounds, Dave Matthews was singing The Space Between Us, and Dan and Tom listened to the song that said everything.

  Dan knew that Tom let songs and music speak for him, when he couldn’t find the right words, and so he learned to listen to his soldier’s musical choices not only with his ears, but with his heart and mind as well.

  They got inside the house and Tom breathed the familiar and beloved scent, of what until recently had been his home with Dan. He hoped with all his heart that tomorrow morning, when he left to go back to the base, it wouldn’t be for the last time. He hoped that something had changed, he hoped that he wouldn’t have to, again, tell Dan goodbye and see-you-never, because this time, he knew, would be harder.

  The days that had passed ever since they split up, hadn’t blurred or faded his need and yearning for Dan, on the contrary. Now when he saw him again, and dove into his blue eyes, those sad, tired blue eyes, he wanted him even more, so much so that it had become physical pain.

  He wasn’t over Dan, he didn’t believe it was possible, either. He was glad that fate had given him a reason to meet Dan again.

  Despite the sad circumstances and the grief over Flora’s passing, deep in his heart, Tom thanked her for letting him hold and feel Dan again.

  Dan walked over to wash his hands in the kitchen sink, three times, and with a lot of soap. A habit embedded in him ever since he was a child. Every time when he and his father would come back from visiting his mom in the cemetery, they’d wash their hands thoroughly. As if to clean the death off of them before going back to life, maybe it was leftover Judaism.

  Tom went upstairs to his room, which wasn’t really his anymore. He was surprised to find out that nothing had changed since he’d left the last time. He didn’t feel comfortable taking off all of his equipment and relaxing, it wasn’t really his place anymore, but he needed to clean himself up. He followed his training automatically, as any Israeli would do, securing his M16 under the bed, before stripping down and heading for the shower.

  After Gideon had called him to give him the news about Flora, he was determined to make it to Tel-Aviv. He explained to Shai who it concerned and wrapped the story in a lot of drama, to ensure he’d let him leave. Shai didn’t have to agree, given that there was no family connection to the deceased, and especially given that the base was on high-alert. There were clear signs that they were going to get called into action soon, and it wasn’t the right time for unnecessary passes, but Tom knew he would make it to Tel-Aviv no matter who he had to step on in the way, or how many weeks of detention it might cost him afterwards.

  Tom wore a clean pair of sweat-pants he found in his closet. When he’d left so eagerly after the night at the bar, he’d only took what was in his room, but fortunately there were items in the laundry which Sveta had laundered and put back into his closet. He was glad to realize Dan hadn’t changed anything, that Dan hadn’t really let go. Everything was left the way it was before that horrible night that had awakened him from his dream. He still hoped to make that dream a reality, he could admit the hope to himself, he hoped to make the man he loved his, body and soul.

  He was afraid to go downstairs and face the truth, the facts, that surely hadn’t changed since he’d left. Not once had he toyed with the idea of trying to get things back to normal or to try and overcome his fierce attraction towards Dan. He wasn’t a drug addict, he was a strong person, and self-destruction was a hallmark of the weak.

  He wouldn’t do that to himself. Wrapped with a strong determination, he went downstairs, with that stubborn hope in his heart that maybe something had in fact changed.

  Dan wasn’t downstairs, the lights on the lower floor were off, other than the lights by the front door, that one they always left on when they w
ent to sleep.

  He looked towards the deck, but it was quite silent and dark outside as well. He went back upstairs and went towards Dan’s bedroom. The door was partly open and he peeked inside. The room was dark and the moonlight that penetrated through the window illuminated the walls with dancing blue shadows. Dan was lying awake in bed and was looking at Tom.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey to you,” replied Tom.

  “I was waiting for you to finish your shower, come on in, we need to talk.”

  Tom was confused, he didn’t understand whether to enter the bedroom or get inside the bed, and what it all meant exactly.

  “You found an interesting place to have our talk,” answered Tom with hesitation as he came near the bed.

  Dan clarified what he meant by pulling the covers back and moving aside to make room for Tom next to him.

  Tom managed to see that Dan was wearing a white T-Shirt and Breaking Bad pajama pants. He slid into bed, Dan covered him up and they laid far from each other, looking at one another.

  “Where did you get the Breaking Bad pajamas from?” asked Tom

  “A chemist that used to work with me gave them to me as a gift. Heisenberg did for chemists what Harry Potter did for magicians,” Dan answered, trying to break the ice. Tom smiled and looked at him while asking, “So why are we in bed?”

  “Because I'm tired, Tom, completely physically exhausted, from everything that’s happening in my life right now and this conversation will take the last of my energy. I'm preserving energy! Besides, it’ll be easier for me to hold you down if you try to escape when you’re next to me in bed,” answered Dan with a tired smile.