by Amalie Coles
***
Ironically, my sister met her true love on her way home from Tel Aviv. She later told me how she was roaming through the duty free at Ben Gurion and saw a handsome stranger approach her.
“Excuse me, do you know where the food court is?” he asked.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask my sister,” she replied jokingly. “She knows this place better than I do. I’m new here.”
I wasn’t around to help because our flight was booked for the next day. Instead, they asked one of the staff members for help.
“Where are you from?” he asked her later.
“I’m from Toronto.”
“Me too. I’m Paul, by the way.”
Coincidentally, the two ended up sitting together on the plane and talking for ten hours straight, discussing each other’s trips. It turned out that Paul was also from Oakville and was visiting his high school friend from Haifa. Erin, in turn, told him about my story and how we all ended up having an unplanned family vacation.
After the plane landed, Paul and Erin exchanged phone numbers and agreed to stay in touch. Back then, Erin was convinced she was done with dating. Never did my sister suspect she would end up taking a transcontinental flight with her future husband.
***
I put down the phone and walk towards the nursery room, where I eye Irene, our babysitter, playing with little Julia. She’s been such a wonderful company for our sixteen-month-old daughter.
“Thank you for all your help,” I say while handing her the last paycheck.
“Anytime,” she replies. “Let me know if you need any help in the future.”
“Most definitely!”
Tomorrow, Julia is starting her daycare. I feel nervous, excited, and dreadful, all at once. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe how fast children grow. Yesterday, she was a little baby cooing at me all the time. Today, she’s a curious toddler running and jumping around.
As soon as Irene leaves, I start getting my daughter ready for a walk. It takes a while to get her dressed and strapped into the stroller, for she is constantly restless. In the end, we are out, walking down the street and enjoying a nice September day.
As we stroll through tiny alleys, exploring old buildings, I see a familiar woman walk in our direction.
“Aunt Rachel!” Julia exclaims, kicking her arms and legs inside the stroller.
“Honey, do you want out?” I ask her.
Julia doesn’t reply but starts kicking harder. So I let her out of the stroller. She immediately runs towards the woman.
“Julia, Rebecca! I’m so happy to see you,” she exclaims.
“Hi, Rachel. How are you doing?”
“I’m great, thanks. Yourself?”
“Oh, I’m great too. Just met my supervisor this morning. Can’t wait for the program to start.”
“I’m on lunch right now. Want to grab a coffee?”
“Sure.”
It’s the same Rachel I lived with on the dig. Except that she’s no longer the same person she used to be, but neither am I. A month ago, we ran into each other at a coffee shop by accident and ended up getting two lattes together. I learned that she moved to the city this summer because she was offered a job at the University of Chicago Press. A few days later, she met Greg, who is currently her boyfriend. Rachel and I are best friends now. Whenever I need a break from the busy family life, I call her, and we go out for a short walk. We often laugh at our hostilities from the past.
Two years ago, Rachel was trying hard to fix something that was beyond any repair. Her relationship with George had been stalled for quite a while, but she kept hoping for another chance. Not unlike me, she was a recent graduate who had no idea about her future. She enrolled in the course with the Leon Levy Expedition in hopes of winning her ex-boyfriend back just to discover that he had already moved on. Rachel already apologized a hundred times for everything she had said to me during our reunion in Tel Aviv. I forgave her a long time ago, for she is the person who helps me stay sane.
I also ran into George one time when he was walking through the campus with his new girlfriend, Jessica. He spent this summer working at the Oriental Institute and is back at Wheaton College, finalizing his dissertation. I might have developed feelings for him during our stay in Israel. After all, we had so many adventures together that our short friendship started to resemble a summer romance. Yet those feelings weren’t strong enough to last. When I saw him the last time, he looked like a total stranger. What’s important is that he helped me to believe in myself, and I’ll always be grateful to him for that.
I still keep in touch with most of the people I met on the trip. I don’t talk to Janice and Madeline a lot, but I’ve forgiven them for their prank. I later learned that the reason they decided to play this nasty joke on me was because they were both feeling old and wanted to be irresponsible for the very last time. Well, I can understand the sentiment, because that’s how I often feel when I’m cleaning Julia’s high chair for the fifth time in a day.
Avi got married a year after I left and moved to California, where he currently teaches prehistoric archaeology. I sincerely hope he is happy wherever he is. Shye has just finished travelling the world and is now applying to various universities across Israel. Sigal didn’t win Kokhav Nolad. Neither did her new album become a huge success. However, I already know she will accomplish a lot in time. I still remember the drive and the passion she had on the night we all sat together and sang songs.
Dalia and I still talk via Skype and email, but our conversations are usually short and civil. We both take care not to mention the incident at the City of David. From what I know, she is seeing someone, but I have yet to meet him.
As Rachel and I sip our lattes and talk, Julia keeps tugging at my leg, saying, “Mama, mama, ma.” Like a typical toddler, she’s full of energy, always ready for some mischief. The moment I look away, she tries climbing up a stand with mugs and ground coffees.
“Julia! No!” I scream. “Sorry,” I later tell the café staff. They reassure me everything is all right.
“So, how was your first meeting?” Rachel asks me. “Did you decide what you’ll be focusing on?”
“I plan researching about the Philistine material culture from the Iron II. I’ll be using the evidence from the burial sites as the backup for my research.”
“You sound like my ex.” She laughs. “No wonder you two almost ended up together.”
“No, we wouldn’t have. We might be from the same field, but we are two different people.”
“Now I can’t even believe I used to think we had a future.” She sighs. “Sometimes, when I look back, I wish I’d focused more on enjoying myself during that trip. Instead, I spent those three weeks obsessing over him and wondering what he was doing.”
“Maybe you should come with me this summer,” I suggest. “We could go for a girls’ night out in Eilat.”
“Are you sure you won’t stray this time around?” she half jokes.
“No. My mind and my heart are in the right place.”
Just as I say these words, my phone buzzes. It’s a message from Jason, who is asking me about my day. Last week, he started a new job at an IT firm in the downtown Chicago. After being out of work for three months, we began worrying he would stay unemployed forever. However, things actually turned in our favor, and he’s now earning more than he did back in Toronto. It’s not that my husband’s salary matters to me. It has more to do with the feeling of achievement, and I can tell Jason is feeling like he has accomplished something by landing this job.
***
We had a lovely week in Tel Aviv. Even though he had to work remotely, we still had a lot of time for each other. During the days when he was busy, I would take my parents and Erin around the city and show them beaches, restaurants, and shops. In the evenings, my husband and I would take a short walk around Sderot Ben Gurion or drive to the Old City of Jaffa. We didn’t travel too much because I was still weak from the accident. However, as
the end of the vacation was approaching, we both agreed it would be lame to leave such an amazing country without having one last sightseeing trip. Thus, we decided to travel to the Galilee.
We drove around all the sites I had missed when I had chosen to move from Megiddo to the Albright Institute. We saw everything, from the Arbel Cliffs to Beit Shean and Capernaum. Some places we had visited before; others were completely new. Together we were happy and carefree, just like in the good, old days. Ever since our conversation at the hotel, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders and could enjoy my husband’s company again. So we laughed and joked and smeared each other’s faces with hummus and tahini.
At last, we were too tired and ready to return to the hotel. Just as we were about to drive back, I noticed a sign leading to Bethsaida, another ancient site. I absolutely had to see this place, for it was the site where a rare coin had been discovered earlier that summer. The finding was even featured on CNN! So I pleaded with Jason to make one last stop, and he reluctantly agreed.
We spent a few more hours exploring what used to be the Biblical town of Geshur, where King David had allegedly married Maacah. The site was later renamed Julias after Roman Empress Julia. As we were trekking down the ancient path and exploring the Iron Age defence wall, the bit hilani complex, and the Greco-Roman pillars, the atmosphere felt magical, especially with the sunset flaming on the horizon. I still have the photo of us in front a large cactus tree that adorns the entrance to the site resting on my desk.
By the time we finished sightseeing, it was too late to drive to Tel Aviv, so we agreed to stay somewhere closer. The first hotel we found was a hotel at the kibbutz Ginosar, a cozy little village by the Sea of Galilee. I believe it was the night I became pregnant with my daughter, whom we decided to name after that beautiful ancient town.
I truly thought I would never want a child after everything I’d gone through. Later, I realized that life is all about taking chances, and bringing another human being into this world is one of them. There are always a million things that can possibly go wrong, and all you can really do is hope for the best.
Following our return to Toronto, I quit my copywriting program and enrolled in classes on French and German to prepare myself for a Ph.D. I must admit that with morning sickness and swollen ankles, taking courses wasn’t easy. One time, I fell asleep during a test. When the examiner came over to check on me, I had to excuse myself to the bathroom, where I spent the next fifteen minutes hugging a toilet. Many people didn’t believe I would make it to a grad school with a baby in tow. To tell the truth, I sometimes didn’t believe it either.
All I did the next year was managed through sleepless nights, endless feedings, and countless diaper changes. Sometimes, I barely even had time to shower or eat. Nevertheless, it was the most amazing year of our lives. The first smile, the first crawl, and ultimately the first walk brought so much joy to us that we would gladly do it all over again. Someday, we might.
When Julia turned six months, I started sending applications to graduate schools across Canada and the United States. I obviously used my experience from the Albright Institute and Ashkelon as part of the application, and everyone I worked with was more than happy to provide me with references. The day I learned about my acceptance to the University of Chicago was also the day my daughter stood up for the first time, so it was double excitement.
I still don’t know whether I got accepted to such a competitive program due to my then-popularity or my hard work. Nor do I know if I’ll ever succeed in academia. I plan to specialize in the archaeology of Syria-Palestine, which is a very narrow field with few job prospects.
My program will require me to gain more fieldwork experience, which means I’ll be gone for most of the summers. After Erin’s wedding, I’m heading to Ashdod Yam to work for two weeks as an area supervisor. It will also be the time when my parents will travel to Canada’s Rockies to fulfil my mother’s life-long dream. I feel a bit guilty about leaving my daughter, who’ll be travelling with them, for so long. However, I remind myself that someday, she’ll grow up to develop her own dreams, and I can only be a better parent by following mine.
***
After a brief chat with Rachel, I return to our apartment, where I make a meal for Julia. She plays with her toys until I call her for lunchtime. Recently, she started talking in small sentences, delighting us along the way.
“I love Mommy!” she exclaims, putting her little hands around my neck.
“Love you, too, my little pumpkin.” I kiss her on the forehead.
After a long, messy meal, she is exhausted and ready for her afternoon nap. I wash her face, dress her in sleepwear, and gently tuck her in bed. As soon as she is asleep, I retreat to my desk and go over my files. This year, I’ll be a teaching assistant for an introductory undergraduate course on ancient Near East. As I go through the list of students’ names, my jaw drops. Zeinab Assaf is in my class!
I knew that she had moved to the States for studies, but not in a million years could I imagine that our paths would cross again. Although I had never made it to Nablus, we’ve been talking regularly on social media. In the process, I’ve learned that we have a lot in common, and it’s not just the music we enjoy. We are two small-town girls with big dreams. Zeinab wants to work for the UNESCO, while I hope to become a tenured professor. Well, we both have a lot of obstacles along the way, but we’ll surely overcome them. I hope that someday, we’ll be able to celebrate our successes by climbing Mt. Gerizim and touring Jericho.
In the meantime, I look at the books I have just bought for my courses. Those are the books written by the top scholars in my field—Israel Finkelstein, James Charlesworth, Amihai Mazar, Gabriel Barkay—you name it. Among the books rests Encyclopaedia of the Ancient Civilizations I had gotten as a Christmas gift when I was a little girl. As soon as I open it, I am flooded with happy memories from Oakville mixed with memories of Ashkelon and the Albright Institute. As I flip through its pages, I realize that my long-awaited journey is about to begin.
About the Author
Amalie Coles graduated from the University of Toronto with M.A. in Near Eastern Civilizations and B.A. in History. Prior to embarking on her writing journey, she worked in a variety of industries, including marketing, publishing, and educational administration. She currently freelances from home, providing editing and indexing services, while raising a family. An avid archaeology enthusiast, Amalie loves writing contemporary romance with a twist of adventure. She lives in Toronto, Canada, with her husband and a daughter. She can be reached at [email protected].