by Amalie Coles
“I’m going to miss you a lot, but maybe it’s time for us to move on.” A tear rolled from his eye. I had never seen a man cry before, and the sight was a pitiful one.
“Please go and don’t come back again.”
He got up and walked out the door without saying anything further. I lay down reeling from all the pain, both physical and emotional.
***
“Becky, are you all right?” my mother asked next time my family saw me. “You look so pale!”
“Jason and I are separating,” I announced matter-of-factly. “He wants a divorce.”
“What? Is it what he told you when he was here?”
“It’s OK, Mom. It was mutual,” I lied. I didn’t want my parents or my sister to think badly about him.
“You went through the most traumatizing experience one could ever imagine. You had a surgery, for goodness’ sake. And he had a nerve to break your heart!” Erin seethed with rage.
“We had a big fight, after which we realized we both want different things from life.”
“What do you mean ‘you want different things?’” She was indignant.
“He wants a house and kids, and I want to become an archaeologist.”
“I see,” my mother said.
I half expected my parents to get angry by my announcement and to start rambling about how this trip was a terrible idea.
“Are you sure it’s what you want?” my father asked. “I mean, it was surely fun to play Indiana Jones and everything, but to give up your marriage—isn’t that too much?
“It was more than just fun, Dad. I love the scholarly world. It’s where I belong.”
“Well, if that’s what you want to do, there is no point in stopping you,” my mother said. I was surprised she was so calm. Wasn’t she realizing that from now on, her daughter would be spending every summer digging in the Middle East?
“Maybe next time, I’ll excavate in Cyprus to keep your worries at bay.”
“It doesn’t matter where you excavate, Becky. We all want you to be happy. I obviously wanted a grandchild, but it’s OK.”
I couldn’t bear this anymore. Why were my ambitions causing so much pain to everyone? After Jason announced he was leaving me, I decided to never have children. Firstly, I wouldn’t want to have a baby with someone else, especially with George. Secondly, I couldn’t imagine watching my child going through the same pain I was experiencing at the moment.
“Please don’t be angry with Jason,” I pleaded.
“We aren’t angry with him,” my mother said. Which I knew was a lie.
“Good night, everyone,” I said.
“Good night, love,” my mother and Erin said in unison.
Be strong, Becky, I commanded myself after everyone left. Time will heal all the wounds.
At least he was alive and well, and it was more than I could ask for. As long as I knew he was living somewhere in this world and was happy, I could learn to cope.
Chapter 27
When woke up, it was still dark outside. I was happy to discover that the collar and most of the tubes were gone. Having looked around, I found my laptop resting on a dresser. Next to it was my bag with all my belongings inside. Gathering all the strength that was left in my right hand, I turned to the dresser and picked up the laptop. I was dying to get in touch with the rest of the world.
First, I decided to check my Facebook. I found several friend requests and notifications about photos I was tagged in. One was a photo of me, George, Janice, and Madeline standing in front of the Ramon Crater. Another one was the photo of us at the Nimrod Fortress. I noticed that my inbox had at least one hundred unread letters.
Hi, Becky,
I’ve read your story in the news. I wish I were still in Jerusalem so that I could visit you. Unfortunately, I’m back to Toronto, and it looks like I didn’t get the job. Anyway, I hope you recover soon. Maybe we’ll catch up when you come back.
Dalia
I sighed with profound relief. Considering everything she knew, I didn’t want her to see me in my current condition. I typed a quick reply and went on to another letter.
Hi, Rebecca,
There are no words to describe how relieved I am that you survived the accident. I hope you recover fast.
George
I moved my cursor further down and saw a letter from Rachel begging for an apology.
Hi, Rebecca
I’m so sorry for being so mean to you during our dig. I was simply trying to get my life on track. I’ll never forgive myself for what I said to you at our reunion. I didn’t mean any of it. Seeing you in the news made me realize how stupid I’ve been. I won’t ask you to forgive me, for it was my fault you’ve gotten into an accident. If only I could take those words back! Please feel better.
Rachel
The letter was so sincere that it almost made me cry. Guilt was the worst feeling in the world, far worse than the feeling of hurt or betrayal. So I typed a reply.
Hi, Rachel,
Thank you for the letter. I’m just letting you know that I’m fine and I’m at a hospital. The accident wasn’t your fault at all. You were simply angry and blurted out those words. They have nothing to do with what happened to me. Let’s forget about everything that transpired between us.
Rebecca
A minute later, she wrote me back.
Hi, Rebecca,
I’m so happy you’re safe and sound! Please tell me you’re not disabled! I won’t be able to sleep until I get your reply.
Rachel
Although I still wasn’t sure if I would be able to walk again or use my left hand, I reassured her that, to my best knowledge, I wasn’t disabled. She, in turn, wished me a speedy recovery.
Having finished our conversation, I continued scrolling down. I saw letters from other dig members, including Janice, Madeline, Michelle, and Katie. I also got emails from Caitlin and Megan, who were horrified by my story but also relieved I had survived. I took time to respond to each of them, reassuring everyone I was all right. I finally got a chance to talk to Janice and Madeline and to reconcile with them.
My inbox also had letters from my soon-to-be ex-in-laws, former classmates, teachers, professors, and guys I had dated back at the university. The longer I kept scrolling down, the more letters I saw. There was no way I would be able to reply to everyone. So I decided to post a public thank you message on my page instead.
I also checked the Leon Levy Expedition page and found my photo with a brief story about me.
Rebecca O’Connor-Smith, one of our volunteers, has been injured in a car accident. She miraculously survived the crash and is currently at the Barzilai Hospital in Ashkelon. Please keep her and her family in your thoughts and prayers.
The posting was marked by two hundred likes. I found similar postings on the pages of the Biblical Archaeology Society and the Archaeological Institute of America. I took time to post on each page, thanking everyone for their love and support.
On the page of the Leon Levy Expedition, I also noticed a link to a newspaper article with my story. I followed it and was redirected to a page of the Jerusalem Post, where I discovered several articles with my photos, including a photo of myself at the dig and a horrifying photo of me in a smashed car.
Feeling weary of the news, I decided to move on to my Gmail account. It turned out that my mailbox was also full of new letters, many of which came from members of the Leon Levy Expedition and the Albright Institute. I saw letters from Jocelyn and Carol, both of whom were happy to learn about my survival. Everyone was wishing me well.
After going through a trail of emails, I found one from Dave, my supervisor. I was pretty sure it was a letter of termination, which I wouldn’t mind in the least.
Hi, Rebecca,
We all heard your story in the news, and we are all worried about you. I hope you recover soon and are able to come back to work. In the meantime, please be advised that Catherine, a new temp, will be filling in for you.
Sincerely,
/> Dave
I was really too tired to move my hand, let alone type. However, I had to answer this letter immediately, for my future depended on it.
Hi, Dave,
Thank you for your email. Please be advised that I won’t be returning to my job as a customer service assistant. Thank you for the opportunity to be a part of your team.
Sincerely,
Rebecca O’Connor
I took care to include the word “resignation” in my subject line. The moment I hit the “send” button, I felt profound relief. The birds started chirping outside, and soon the first rays of sun entered my room. The morning was here.
A man in his early sixties walked in. He was wearing a lab coat and had a stethoscope around his neck. “Hi, I am Dr. Greenberg, your surgeon,” he said. I was taken aback by his perfect English.
“Hi, I’m sure you know my name already.” I smiled.
“Wait, what are you doing?” He noticed the laptop resting on my knees. “You should’ve asked for help first!”
“I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?”
“You didn’t do any damage this time,” he replied after examining my bandage. “But please be careful with your left arm. It’s still healing. Let me take your computer.” I passed him the laptop using my right hand.
“Doctor, how bad is it?”
“Well, you were very lucky considering that you’d hit a sign pole and got too many cuts from the shattered glass.”
“What happened to my left arm?”
“One of the veins was lacerated by a huge piece of glass that got stuck inside it. We had to surgically remove the object.”
I gasped. My situation was far worse than I had imagined.
“Will I use my left arm again?” I asked in horror.
“The object came very close to a vital nerve.”
My stomach dropped. I was indeed disabled.
“But you were lucky the nerve went untouched.” I sighed with relief. “So, yes, you will be able to use your left arm after it heals. But I strongly advise you to avoid putting too much strain on it.”
“Thank you for telling me this!”
“The other issue is that you’ve lost a lot of blood, Rebecca. Luckily, we found someone with your blood type.”
“How long have I been here?” I asked, startled.
“You’ve been here for three days.”
“Wow!” I couldn’t believe how much time had passed already.
“If you take care of yourself well, we’ll let you go very soon. So please be careful from now on.”
“Can I walk, though?”
“Absolutely! We encourage our patients to resume normal life as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“No problem, Rebecca. You’re very strong woman indeed.”
“Thanks.” I laughed. I always considered myself a bit weak. Now I knew it wasn’t the case.
“By the way, you have visitors coming soon.”
“Who is it?”
“A psychological counsellor.”
“What?” Did Dr. Greenberg and the rest think I was mentally unstable?
“Everyone who has experienced trauma is strongly encouraged to get counselling.”
“But, Doctor, I do feel normal.” In truth, I was feeling far better than yesterday. I was still trying to digest the fact that Jason and I were no longer together, but at least I was slowly learning to accept the reality.
“Do you want to know who the other visitor will be?” Dr. Greenberg smiled.
“What?” Multiple visits were the last thing I needed at this moment.
“Yes, you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
“Who is it?”
“Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.”
“What? Ma pitom!” It was the first time since my recovery that I used any Hebrew.
“Ken! Ze amiti. At mefursememt bekol haaretz.” Was he actually telling me that I was becoming popular?
A few hours and a hearty breakfast later, the door opened. The doctor walked in together with a thirty-something-year-old woman.
“Rebecca, I’d like to introduce you to Dr. Ilana Woodbaum, who’ll be assessing your psychological condition,” Dr. Greenberg said before leaving the room.
“Hi,” I said timidly.
“So, shall we get started?” Dr. Woodbaum pulled up a small chair next to my bed.
“Sure,” I replied.
“This is how it will work,” she began. “I’ll ask you a few questions, and you’ll have to give me the most honest answers.”
“Go ahead.”
“How did you end up near Sderot?”
I wasn’t sure how this question was related to my psychological well-being, but I had to answer it regardless. I told her the story of my brief confrontation with Jason and how I ended up driving south that night.
“Maybe you should consider marital counselling,” she suggested. “I know several good counsellors who could help you resolve your issues.”
“Thank you, Doctor, but I don’t think it will be necessary. My husband and I decided to separate.”
“What? Is he leaving you during such a difficult time? What a pig!” Her comment made me angry. The last thing I wanted to hear was some stranger’s opinion on my soon-to-be ex-husband.
“It was mutual,” I said calmly.
“Are you sure?” She patted me on the hand as if to show her sympathy.
“Yes.”
She asked me a few more questions about the accident and the aftermath, and I gave her honest responses. We also had a brief chat about those three weeks that had preceded the incident, and she even managed to feign interest in my work in Ashkelon and at the Albright Institute. I considered telling her about my confusion about the lack of a proper career but decided against it. I already had my answer and didn’t need any advice in that area. In the end, my mental condition was deemed normal.
“You can still expect some panic attacks,” Dr. Woodbaum said. “They are perfectly normal. I can prescribe you some pills to deal with anxiety.”
“I won’t need them,” I affirmed.
“Are you sure? I’ll write the prescription regardless.” She fished a pen and a paper out of her purse.
“I’ll be leaving the country anyway.”
“Then you should mention it to your family doctor when you get home.”
We exchanged civil goodbyes, and then she left. I exhaled. All right, I was officially an emotionally unstable person. The situation couldn’t possibly get any worse.
After a few moments of quiet time, the door opened again, and I was dazzled by a myriad of cameras and microphones. Prime Minister Netanyahu walked in. I suppressed the urge to exclaim “ma pitom” and said “shalom” instead. He tried speaking to me in English, but I explained that Hebrew was fine with me. The journalists, who were a bit surprised by my knowledge of Hebrew, asked me a few questions about the story, and I answered all of them dutifully, omitting details about the fight with Jason.
“What do you think about the terrorist threat?” a young man in black-rimmed glasses asked me. He looked more like a student rather than a professional paparazzo.
I wasn’t sure how his question was related to anything, but I still gave him the most honest response. “I think it’s over exaggerated by the media,” I said. The rest of them looked at me as if I just fell from the moon. Perhaps I should’ve told them what they wanted to hear, which was, “Oh, it’s such a real danger,” and so on.
Maybe there was a time when I enjoyed some popularity among the Harvard team, but that was a long time ago. Now all I wanted was to be left alone in peace and quiet. Thirty minutes later, the paparazzi and the Prime Minister left, granting me my wish for solitude.
What was wrong with the world? I had simply gotten into a car accident, and now the story was in every single newspaper. Didn’t the Prime Minister and the paparazzi have more important things to do than to show up in my hospital room?
An hour lat
er, I decided to take a walk through the hospital corridor. Some recognized me and even waved in my direction. I saw Avi walking together with a middle-aged couple and boy who looked no older than nineteen.
“Hi, Rebecca!” he yelled jubilantly. “This is my brother, Shye, and my parents, Itay and Shula.”
“Naim meod.” I offered handshakes.
“Hey, bro! That’s her!” Shye exclaimed.
“Yes, it’s me, Rebecca from the news.”
“You’re that chick who needed a blood transfusion.”
“How do you know?” I was genuinely surprised he knew details of my surgery. Was I becoming that famous?
“’Cause he donated it.” Shye pointed at Avi.
“What? Ani beshock!” Ever since the doctor had told me about the mysterious donor, I was wondering who this person was. Not in a million years could I imagine that it was Avi.
“I asked you to keep it a secret!” Avi snapped.
“Sorry, I forgot.” The boy looked down guiltily. He was clearly not ready to face the challenges that life was already throwing at him. What was the local government thinking when sending kids like him to danger zones? I should’ve asked the Prime Minister this question when I still had the chance.
“Avi, can I have a word with you in private?”
“Sure, Becky. Where do you want to go?”
“Take me outside. I want some fresh air.”
“Beseder, mami.”
We walked silently, passing people in medical uniforms and hospital gowns along the way. Eventually, we managed to exit the building and were now standing outside.
“Why did you do this for me?” I asked at last. I knew I was supposed to feel grateful. Instead, I was feeling furious.
“Because I have the same blood type as you.” Avi shrugged.
“You didn’t have to do this. They would’ve found someone else.”
“They wouldn’t. Time was running out, Becky. You were extremely lucky to have me in the area.”