Fields of Exile

by Nora Gold

  Judith feels not only flattered by this, but also like someone tall and strong. Not small, frightened, or helpless anymore. She is an adult standing five-foot-six, not a child half that height. She can fight back, appropriately and with dignity. She can assert herself on behalf of Israel, referring to universal rights and principles. Of course! she thinks. Of course I’ll talk to Greg. How silly of me not to have thought of it myself. And how unfair to have doubted him for the past ten days, without giving him a chance to explain himself. To not give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “That’s a great idea,” she says to Suzy. “Thank you.”

  “No need to thank me, Judith. But I’m glad you’re going to follow up on this.” Suzy’s eyes are so earnest there can be no doubt about her sincerity. “It’s a very important thing,” she says. Then she glances at her watch. “Six-thirty. Twenty more minutes till we have to go upstairs. Would you like another coffee before we leave?”

  Judith shakes her head. “No, thanks. But you go ahead.” While she waits, she thinks that their conversation so far has been all about her. It needs a reverse in direction, it needs some reciprocity. So when Suzy returns — looking very professional in her white silk shirt with little navy blue squares all over it and a matching navy blue blazer with a brooch — Judith asks her about her family. Suzy smiles, but Judith sees sadness flash for an instant into and out of her eyes.

  “Oh,” Suzy says with what looks like bravery, “the usual chaos.”

  Judith nods. Suzy taught them last week that if you ask a client a question and don’t get a real answer, you should ask a second, follow-up question to show you’re sincerely interested. So now she asks Suzy how Natalie is and tries using all the other listening skills she’s learned from Suzy. She wants to show her she is genuinely interested, and not just a taker, but a giver, too. Natalie isn’t doing that well, Suzy says. She has a new teacher this year who neither likes nor understands her, so Natalie is very frustrated, and when she’s frustrated, she tantrums a lot and doesn’t sleep at night. Which means that neither does Suzy.

  Judith is sympathetic. “What about the rest of the family?” she asks.

  Suzy gives a short snort of a laugh. “Systems Theory 101,” she says. The other kids are not sleeping well either, especially their youngest, Todd, who recently started acting out at school. And Dennis gets annoyed at being awakened all the time — he needs to be mentally sharp for work, he says. So sometimes Suzy is so desperate to get Natalie back to sleep in the middle of the night, she brings Natalie into their bed. But Natalie kicks in her sleep, and after a while Dennis goes and sleeps on the couch. Suzy sighs. “It’s hard trading everyone off. Wait till you have kids.” Then she adds hastily, “Of course, hopefully yours won’t have special challenges …”

  Now it is Judith’s turn for a moment of sadness, like the return of a boomerang that she herself threw. Will she ever have kids? Will she ever even get married? But she pushes this away and tries to focus only on Suzy, as a good interviewer would. “It is very hard,” she says, looking at Suzy empathically. “I know from working with kids like Natalie in Israel how difficult it is for the parents, always trying to balance everything and everybody. I don’t think most people grasp what it’s like parenting a child like this.”

  A flare goes off in Suzy’s eyes, a flash of gold. “No, they don’t,” she says, “and people can be so judgmental.”

  Judith feels like she’s back in Israel, working as the social worker at the Beit Aharon kindergarten for children with developmental challenges. There, a statement like this would have led her supervisor, Shifra, to suggest Judith ask for an example, to clarify what specifically is bothering this person. So now, as if reciting lines from an old but familiar script, she asks, “Which people do you mean exactly? Neighbours? Friends? Family?”

  “Everyone. Even Dennis’s parents. They’re so worried whenever we’re there, in case Natalie breaks something or stains their precious couch or carpet. All they care about is their stupid furniture. Sometimes I almost feel like setting Natalie up — like telling her, ‘We’re going to Gramma and Grandpa’s now, honey, and while we’re there, why don’t you go take some of these nice very ripe strawberries and schmear them all over their new white couch?”

  Judith squints at Suzy for a second. Then they’re laughing — laughing, laughing, laughing — and when they’re done, Suzy wipes her eyes. Then they look at each other and burst out laughing again. Eventually, their laughter spends itself. They gaze affectionately at one another, and Judith feels herself sinking into Suzy’s brown eyes, falling into them. To make this stop, she asks, “What about Dennis? Does he feel the same way?”

  Suzy shrugs. “Well, no — they’re his parents, after all. But it’s not only that — even in general it’s different for him. You know how it is with men: they have their work. They leave the house early in the morning and come home late at night. Don’t get me wrong — Dennis is a great guy. But — what can I say? — he’s a guy.”

  Judith laughs and rolls her eyes. “I know what you mean.”

  “I know you do. Which is why I can say that to you. Speaking of which, how’s Bobby?”

  Again Judith feels a stab of sadness. How’s Bobby? She looks into Suzy’s kind but discerning eyes. “He’s okay,” she says. “But sort of like Dennis. He’s a great guy, but he’s a guy.”

  Suzy nods appreciatively. But now Judith feels guilty to have spoken this way about Bobby, and she tries to explain. “He is great. But I don’t know.” She pauses. “Lately we’re not getting along.”

  “In what way, Judith?” Suzy asks gently.

  She looks into Suzy’s eyes, and again, there’s that feeling of falling, of losing control. Then, starting with just four innocuous words, “Like yesterday at breakfast,” she tells Suzy everything. In a torrent of words she didn’t mean to spill out, she tells her not only about yesterday’s argument, but also more generally how Bobby doesn’t share her ideals or her politics — meaning he doesn’t love Israel or hate oppression — so, even though they love each other, they don’t, essentially, have anything in common. So it’s clear to her now that they’re going to break up. She is going back to Israel, and he won’t consider moving there, and anyway she probably needs an altogether different sort of man. Suzy listens with her brown eyes warm and entirely focused on Judith, as if she were the only person in the world. And there is something extraordinary, something almost hypnotic, about being listened to this way, so Judith just wants to go on talking, and talking, and talking, even though another part of her knows she should stop. Because she feels vulnerable opening up like this. And also disloyal: she knows she is betraying Bobby. But somehow she can’t stop herself. It’s as if her centre of gravity has shifted, and now Suzy feels closer to her and more important than Bobby. With Bobby, everything she thinks or feels gets challenged or argued with: every conversation is a battle to be won. Whereas Suzy accepts all her thoughts and feelings, like in her weekly logs. It’s such a relief to be able to talk like this.

  Finally the hydrant runs dry and she comes to an abrupt stop. “I’m sorry,” she says sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to go on like this.”

  Suzy touches her on the arm. A light, soft touch. “Don’t be silly,” she says. “I asked because I’m interested. If we can’t talk about our problems with the people who care about us, then who can we talk to?”

  The people who care about us. Suzy cares about her. This is Suzy’s most open acknowledgment yet of the special relationship between them.

  “Whatever happens between you and Bobby,” Suzy adds, “remember, Judith, you still have me and all your friends here at this school. I know you have very close friends in Israel. But you’re not alone here in Canada.”

  “Thank you,” says Judith, feeling very moved.

  Suzy glances at her watch. “It’s five to seven!” she says. “We’d better go.”

  They quickly clear their table and hurry to the elevator. Waiting for it, Judith recalls
the joke about two Israelis in the Zionist Federation building. Yoram is waiting for the elevator. When it arrives, the door opens and the man inside it asks him in Hebrew if he is going down: “Yordim?”

  “Of course not!” Yoram replies indignantly. “We’re only here for the year.” This joke is a play on the verb meaning “to go down” or “descend,” and its related noun. This verb also means to permanently leave Israel, understood as a form of spiritual descent tinged with the shame of abandoning the Holy Land. Yordim are the Israelis who have done this. Israelis living abroad are so guilt-ridden about having left Israel that even an exchange about an elevator can be taken as an attack on their spiritual and ideological adequacy. Judith has always loved this joke, primarily because she knows it will never be about her.

  The elevator doors open and they get in. Judith considers telling Suzy the elevator joke, but decides it’s too complicated. They ride to the sixth floor and walk down the long hallway, to the click-click-clicking of Suzy’s heels. Judith notices she and Suzy are in perfect step with each other. And for a while she’s aware of nothing else except the musky, sweet smell of Suzy’s perfume.

  There are only two people in the meeting room. By way of explanation, Janice points out the window. It started snowing heavily while Judith and Suzy were at supper underground. Brenda says everyone will be late: the traffic is terrible, and at the university gates there’s a huge lineup of cars trying to get onto the campus. Judith stands by the window, looking down at the cars in the parking lot. Hers, like all the others, is covered with a light dusting of powdery snow. White like the morphine powder she’s seen in pictures (her father took morphine pills for pain near the end). As if this drug is spilled over everything tonight. She feels a bit drugged, too, watching the white floating powder land on all the cars and the ground and the trees, everywhere, sharply white against the darkness. In some places, especially near the lamps, the snow on the cars sparkles like rhinestones. Like tiny explosions of light, she thinks. Or tiny bombs of hope. She stays there watching, until Lola touches her shoulder and says, “We’re starting.”

  Judith sits where she put her purse to mark her place. Though there was no need for that: everyone’s sitting in the same place as last time, as though they’ve come to a theatre with personally reserved seats. It’s already 7:25 p.m., but Suzy welcomes everyone with her usual relaxed charm, setting a light, pleasant tone. The first of the two items on the agenda is “Planning for Anti-oppression Day,” and “1A” is finalizing the keynote speaker. Chris reports that since the last meeting two weeks ago, he and Janice have been in touch with Michael Brier and he’s agreed to be their keynote.

  “Great!” says Suzy, and people nod and smile. Judith nods, too, hoping she looks as pleased as everyone else — or anyway neutral, since she still has no idea who Michael Brier is.

  “For such a reasonable fee, too,” says Chris, “considering his international reputation.” Apparently Brier agreed to come for SWAC’s usual $300 honorarium, a steal for someone of his celebrity. But he’s willing to do it, he told Chris yesterday, because Dunhill’s Students’ Union has, over the past two years, become renowned for its courageous public stands against oppression. Chris says this proudly, and Judith recalls he’s the school’s rep to the union.

  Suzy thanks Chris and Janice, and the meeting continues. The agenda contains five additional Anti-oppression Day items, and the committee discusses every aspect of Anti-oppression Day in mind-deadening detail: the publicity strategy, lunch arrangements, composition of the mid-morning panel, parking vouchers, who will do the introductions and thank-yous. What stupid trivia, she thinks. Parking vouchers, lunch menus — is this what an anti-oppression committee should be spending its time on? But then she sighs resignedly. She knows that dealing with this trivia is necessary: fighting the evil in the world must be done one banal detail at a time. The meeting proceeds tediously, prosaically, and she drifts in and out of the discussions, gazing out the window at the gracefully falling snow, feeling almost like she’s a snowflake, twirling down slowly in a spiral dance, curling, swirling its way down from the sky. The snow is hypnotizing. It seems extraordinary to her, and enchanting, after all those snowless years in Israel.

  The committee finishes planning Anti-oppression Day, and now there’s only one other topic for tonight: the formation of SWAC’s two subcommittees. Brenda will chair Teacher Evaluation and Carl, Admissions Outreach. Everyone around the table volunteers for one of them, and Judith, as pre-arranged with Suzy, joins Teacher Evaluation. Suzy suggests that each subcommittee report back to SWAC at every second meeting, and people assent.

  “Good,” says Suzy. She glances at her watch. Judith admires it: a dazzling gold oval studded with emeralds all around its face. It must have been a gift from Dennis. Maybe for an anniversary. Suzy smiles. “We started late because of the snow, and we’ve finished eight minutes early! What an efficient group! Now we can go home — or anyway, try to in this crazy weather. It looks like a blizzard’s brewing. Unless there’s other business?”

  People shake their heads, looking anxiously out the window. The snow is swirling faster than before. Judith is worried. It might take two, even three, hours to get home. If she can get there at all. She can picture herself stranded in the middle of the highway.

  “I have something,” says Chris.

  “Yes?”

  “The title of Brier’s talk,” Chris says. “Lola and I need this very soon. We can’t start on publicity without a title, and Brier offered us three topics he’s willing to speak on.”

  “We do have some time left,” says Suzy. “We can take a minute for this, if it’s okay with everyone.”

  It’s not okay with Judith. She badly wants to get home. The others don’t look happy either. But Janice and Lola, who both live in Dunhill, agree, and Chris proceeds.

  “Here’s the three titles: ‘The New Anti-globalization Movement: Solidarity, Democracy, and Citizens’ Rights in South America.’ ‘Anti-oppression and Equity Around the Globe.’ And ‘Zionist Imperialism and Oppression in the Middle East.’”

  Judith feels her stomach drop, as if she’s in an elevator that has fallen too fast. Instinctively she glances at Suzy, but her face shows nothing. A perfect poker face.

  “I like the last one best,” says James. Judith feels nauseated. “It’s very timely and topical, and I expect it’ll bring out the most people. Which is what we’re after, isn’t it? The other two topics we’ve heard quite a lot about lately. There was that guy who was here two weeks ago — what was his name?”

  “Claude Rossignol.” These are the first words Hetty has spoken at this meeting.

  “That’s right,” says James. “But the Middle East — very relevant.”

  “What about the rest of you?” Suzy asks evenly. Her eyes for just a second slide sideways toward Judith. She understands, thinks Judith, and immediately feels a bit safer and less afraid. Suzy will manage this.

  “I agree with James,” says Chris. “This was the topic that leaped out at me. And Janice, too.” He looks at Janice and she nods.

  Suzy looks around the table brightly. Like a robin, an eager, ever-hopeful, fragile-boned robin. “Anyone else? Any other comments?” Suzy asks. She looks around the table at each person in turn, ending with Judith.

  Judith wants to speak, but can’t. It’s back again, that same paralysis that filled her in Greg’s class, starting in the pit of her stomach and freezing everything inside her, up to and including her mouth. As if cement had been poured inside her, turning her into stone. I must say something, she thinks. Speak now, before the moment passes. There’s silence, and Suzy is looking at her expectantly. She trusts Suzy. She will speak to her. But only to her. To Suzy alone, she says, “I like the second title.”

  “What?” asks Carl. “Could you speak louder?”

  She turns toward Carl, and pushes her voice past the knot in her throat. “I prefer the second title,” she says more loudly. Everyone around the table is lookin
g at her, and she sees that she needs to say something more. But what? All she can think of is what she feels but can’t say, which is: “Leave us alone. Why is it always Israel, Israel, Israel? Go pick on somebody else for a change.” Then she hears herself say, “It’s a very interesting topic, anti-oppression and global equity. Much more than the others. It’s also really important.” She stops. With Chris and Janice glowering at her from the other side of the table, this is the best she can do. She knows she hasn’t spoken well, she hasn’t presented much of an argument. But at least she’s said something.

  Hetty says, “I agree with Judith.” Judith looks at her, surprised. “The first title is not suitable,” Hetty continues, “because it doesn’t have enough of a focus on anti-oppression, and I don’t want the third one, because — unlike James — I feel we’ve heard a lot about the Middle East lately. Personally I’d very much like to hear what Brier has to say about the second topic: the anti-globalization movement and its relationship to other social rights movements around the world. This sounds fascinating and is very relevant to social work.”

  She knows how to play the game, thinks Judith admiringly. She’s smarter than I am. She gave reasons, she used her mind. I don’t have a mind right now.

  Hetty, sitting at the foot of the table, is looking straight ahead of her. Judith tries to catch her eye to thank her, but Hetty refuses to be caught, holding on stubbornly to her independence, her neutrality.

  Suzy looks pale and strained. “Two against two,” she says with a tense little laugh. “And only three minutes left till it’s 8:30 and our meeting ends, or else we’re all going to get stranded and have to sleep here tonight. I suggest we table this decision till our next meeting when we have more time.”