A Life Worth Living

by Pnina Baim

  “What’s this place called?” Gaby asked.

  “Kikar Tzion,” Saar said.

  “Or Shuk haFreakim,” cackled Shira.

  Saar led the way into an entrance of one of the bars. They went down a couple of steps that led into a small courtyard. Tables set with board games were scattered around. Groups of Israelis gathered around the tables, playing backgammon and smoking heavily.

  “We’ll be right back,” Shira called out to Gaby.

  Gaby nodded, watching Chen and Shira stumble away into a dark corner, giggling.

  “So.” Saar walked over to a table and sat down heavily, resting his head on his arm.

  Gaby sat down on a cane chair. She sat sideways, leaning against the stone wall so she could watch the other patrons. There was something about the Israeli men, with their tight European-style clothing and slick, gelled hair that made them all seem faintly gay, despite the girls they were with. Saar, on the other hand, was dressed in a relaxed outfit of loose jeans and a soft gray polo shirt. He did not seem gay at all.

  Saar looked up and noticed her watching him. “You wanna tell me what’s up or are you gonna ignore me the whole night?” Saar nudged Gaby’s bare arm.

  Gaby made a face. “You’ll laugh at me.”

  “No, I won’t. I promise.” Saar sat up, suddenly animated, his green eyes wide in an exaggerated solicitous expression.

  “Remember I told you about my… um… boyfriend?” Saar nodded. “Well, he wasn’t really my boyfriend, just this guy that I used to hang out with a lot. And he didn’t contact me at all since I came to Israel, and I was wondering what was going on with him, so I checked his Facebook page, and he had de-friended me.”

  Saar looked at her, his eyebrows creased. “I don’t get it.”

  Gaby bit her lip and said in a low voice, “It means he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

  “Oh.” Then, a minute later, Saar added, “It’s his loss.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” She could just imagine Benny crying bitterly, while being consoled by another sweetheart.

  “Harefuah ba’ah lifnei hamakah,” he said.

  “Mmm?”

  “God sends the cure before the punishment.” Saar gave her a wink and sat up. He leaned his head against the wall, mirroring her position.

  Gaby laughed. “Wow. So I guess you’re my cure?”

  “I could be.”

  Gaby laughed again and shook her head, but inside, that hard ball of rejection eased a little.

  Shira and Chen came back holding onto each other, their faces flushed.

  “What’s this? You didn’t order drinks yet?” Shira asked. “Saar, go sit next to Gaby. I want to sit on this side.”

  Saar got up and went over to Gaby’s side of the table, while Shira collapsed into his vacated chair. Chen sat down next to Shira, practically on top of her. “Meltzar!” he called out to the waiter. Gaby stared down at her pedicure, hiding a smile, and ignored Saar, who sat down noisily next to her. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him. Let him work for it a little.

  Chapter Six

  Gaby woke up slowly, feeling the scratchy sheets twist underneath her. She opened her eyes and looked around. She was in a small, dark room, lying on a mattress on the floor. Some boxes and a broken dresser were pushed against a wall, and ugly yellow sheets covered the windows.

  She got up and pulled back the make-shift curtains to look outside. The sun was just rising, the weak rays breaking through the dark clouds. She bent down to Saar, who was lying bare-chested on the mattress, to check his watch. The red digits beeped 5:15.

  They had come here last night after the bar, and although Gaby had promised herself she wouldn’t spend the night, here she was. She didn’t even know whose apartment this was; Saar had told her he lived in a place called Beit She’an, somewhere up north.

  “Hey.” Gaby nudged Saar’s chest with her knee.

  “Mmph,” Saar grunted.

  “I have to get back home. Can you take me?”

  Saar shook his head, his eyes still closed. “I need to go back to my base.”

  “Well, can you take me before you go?”

  Saar didn’t respond.

  Gaby sucked her teeth and breathed in deeply through her nose. He had plenty of time for her last night. Suddenly, when she needed a favor, he was no longer available. Not that he looked busy, lying there like a dead log. What was wrong with her? Couldn’t she pick someone that was actually half-nice to her? She just fell for anyone who smiled at her, thinking he was going to be the love of her life, but in the tepid morning light, Saar looked like nothing more than yet another mistake in a series of mistakes.

  But there was no time to reflect; she needed to get back to Shiloh before her mother figured out she was missing. There was no need for her mother to get into a fit about how irresponsible Gaby was.

  She found her turtleneck and flip-flops and left the room. In the dilapidated kitchen, she drank a cup of water from the tap, grimacing at the bitter taste. When she opened the dirty fridge just out of curiosity, there wasn’t anything inside, not even milk. Gaby walked into the dark hallway, wondering if she should find Shira and see if she wanted to go home with her. The other bedroom’s door was shut tight, and Gaby walked away, not willing to find out what was behind the door.

  She checked her pockets. All she had was a twenty-shekel bill, worth about five dollars. That definitely wasn’t enough for a cab ride to Shiloh. She’d have to find another way back.

  Hesitantly, she opened the front door. The outside hallway was dim. Noticing a light switch on the wall a few feet away, she pressed it. Light filled the hallway; relieved, Gaby quickly ran down the steps, her flip-flops in her hand, and made it to the entrance of the building just as the light switched off.

  Outside, the streets were empty except for a few men walking purposefully with tallis bags held underneath their arms, and a couple of stores beginning to open. Gaby walked over to a bus stop and looked up at the yellow sign. A long list of numbers and destinations in Hebrew were posted on the sign.

  “Ain autobusim achshav,” a man walking past her paused to say.

  “Oh… um… matay hem matchilim?” Gaby asked, struggling in her limited Hebrew to figure out how to ask when the buses would start running.

  “B’shesh.”

  Six! Gaby started panicking. What would she do until six o’clock? She’d never get home before her mother woke up if she didn’t even leave Jerusalem for another half hour.

  Giving up on her Hebrew, she switched to English, trying to talk slowly so this gentle man in his black suit and white shirt would understand her. “How do I get back to Shiloh?”

  “Shiloh?” The man raised his eyebrows. “Hayishuv?”

  Gaby nodded. The man pointed down a long hill. “Go straight until Central Bus Station. Big blue building.” He motioned with his hands, indicating exactly how big the building was. “You take bus there. At six, they start.”

  He seemed so kind and knowledgeable in his solemn manner that she wanted to confess what stupid thing she did the night before and beg for an absolution. But that would be way too weird, so all she said was, “Todah. Todah rabah. ”

  He nodded in acknowledgement and Gaby began walking toward the Central Bus Station. By the time she got to the building, she was hot and sweaty, and the huge clock displayed on the facade of the blue glass building read 6:15.

  She joined the line of people waiting to get inside. Chayalim with guns hanging on their backs showed their IDs to the guards and dragged duffle bags through a side entrance. Civilians waited on a separate line, and one by one, each person opened their bags for the soldiers posted at the entrance and walked through the metal detectors, collecting their belongings afterwards. Without any bag, Gaby walked quickly through the detector after the soldier beckoned her inside.

  The bus terminal was bright and airy, the smell of baked goods and coffee filling the air. Escalators led her to the third floor, where tellers
sat behind windows, selling tickets. Electric signs above the windows flashed different destinations in Hebrew. Gaby studied the signs and tried to decipher them. Giving up, she went to an available window and said, “Ani tz'richah kartis l’Shiloh.”

  The teller, an overweight woman dressed in a blue uniform and with skin so dark she looked African, answered her in English. “Thirty shekel to Shiloh.”

  Gaby bit her lip. She only had twenty shekels. She stepped away from the window and sat down on a nearby bench to think. She didn’t have a cell phone and couldn’t remember the phone number of her house to call her mother for help. How typical. Just one bad thing happening after another.

  She watched the crowds of people moving back and forth, going to their buses. This wasn’t Grand Central Station, but it was pretty busy for a Sunday morning. By eight, her stomach was growling and the only solution she could come up with was to beg the attendant to sell her the ticket for less money. Her mother was definitely awake by now, but it was probable that she had just gone to work without noticing Gaby’s absence.

  Gaby took a drink from a nearby water fountain to revive herself a little and looked toward the ticket window. The booth was empty. Maybe the woman had taken a coffee break or something. God, she could really use a coffee. Gaby sat back on the bench, determined to ask the teller for help as soon as the woman returned.

  “Are you lost?”

  It was the soldier from the entrance. He stood next to her, a concerned expression on his face. He had taken off his red beret and shoved it into a strap on his shoulder, revealing a black knitted kippah.

  “Is it that obvious?” Gaby asked.

  “Well, you’ve been sitting here for a while.” His accent was pure New York.

  “I’m not lost, it’s just...” Gaby twisted her lips, wondering if she should spill all her problems. Without any other recourse, she continued. “I don’t have enough money to get home. My family just made aliyah, and I don’t have a cell phone, and I can’t remember my home number, so…” Gaby paused, not sure how to tell this perfect stranger that she needed money because she had foolishly trusted that the people who brought her to the city would take her home.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “Shiloh.”

  “I’ll be right back.” The soldier strode over to a window and spoke to the teller. A few minutes later, he came back. Sitting down at the edge of the bench, he slid a ticket over to her. “Here you go.”

  Gaby’s mouth opened, completely stunned. “What? No, I can’t accept that. That’s too much.” Who just buys someone a ticket? He was either incredibly generous or incredibly creepy.

  “Yes, you can. How else are you going to get home?”

  Unfortunately, he was right. She had no other way to get home other than to accept this inexplicable kindness from a total stranger. “Okay, well…” Gaby searched inside her jean pocket. “At least take the money that I have.”

  “And leave you without any money? Come on.” The soldier nudged the ticket with long tapered fingers. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t have to pay for buses, so doing it one time isn’t a big deal.”

  Gaby took the ticket with an embarrassed smile. Everywhere she went, people had to help her. “Thank you so much. You are literally saving my life.”

  He smiled and stood up to leave.

  “Wait!” Gaby called out. “What’s your name?”

  He turned back. “Hillel.”

  “I’m Gaby.”

  “Na’im me’od.”

  “Na’im me’od,” Gaby repeated, smiling. “So how come you don’t have to pay for buses?

  “It’s a benefit that soldiers get.”

  “That’s cool. Do you like being in the army?”

  “There’s some good, some bad.” He shrugged. “Come on, I’ll show you where your bus is.” He started walking toward the staircase to the second floor and Gaby followed.

  “But what about… you know… you’re religious.”

  “I know.” Hillel laughed. “There are a lot of religious people in the army. Most of them go to a hesder program. That’s like half yeshivah, half army.”

  “I know,” Gaby interrupted. “They have one in Shiloh. Are you in that kind of program?”

  “Nah, I already did yeshivah. I’m called a chayal boded, a lone soldier, someone who immigrated by himself without his family.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I love Israel,” he said simply. “When I came here for my year in yeshivah, I just felt like staying.”

  Gaby squinted up at Hillel to see if he was joking, but he looked serious. “So where do you live?”

  “I have an apartment in Jerusalem that I share with a few friends.”

  “That sounds like fun,” said Gaby, trying to imagine it. Having your own apartment without anybody bothering you seemed like a little slice of heaven.

  “It’s okay,” he said.

  “Well, what about religious girls? Can they go to the army?”

  “Yeah, if they want. I have one religious girl on my base. She was issued an army skirt. But most religious girls don’t choose army service like Tamar did. They usually do sherut leumi. That’s community service instead of the army.”

  Gaby nodded, mulling over the information. “What about chareidim? They don’t go to the army, right?”

  “There’s Nachal Chareidi. That’s a unit for really religious guys. There are no girls on the base, and they have learning and davening and stuff…” he trailed off. “I’m not so familiar with it.” He looked through the glass windows where buses were parked. “I think your bus is leaving soon.”

  “Oh, right. Okay.” Gaby stood up, not wanting to leave Hillel without… something. He seemed so nice, so easy to talk too. Plus, he bought her a ticket. Didn’t she owe him?

  “It’s that exit.” Hillel pointed to an exit, where a coach bus idled. People were already boarding.

  “I guess I’ll go now,” Gaby said.

  “Have a good one.” Hillel waved and walked off.

  That’s it? He wasn’t going to ask for her number? Feeling slightly disgruntled, Gaby got on the bus, handing her ticket to the bus driver.

  The bus looked a little different from the other ones waiting in the lot and for a moment, Gaby wasn’t sure why. Then it occurred to her. The windows of the bus were covered with a thick, plastic-like material. This was a bullet-proof bus.

  Gaby sank into a seat in the back and pressed her knees up on the seat in front of her. A bullet-proof bus meant that there was a chance that the bus might get hit by bullets. She was traveling through areas where people might shoot at them. This was an actual war zone, like in Iraq. She was living in a war zone. Who volunteers to live in a war zone? And the craziest part was that her mother wouldn’t let her sign up for the army so she could actually have a chance to defend herself.

  Thoughts about her mother brought to mind the looming confrontation waiting at home. Gaby rolled her eyes at her reflection in the window. Hopefully her mother was at work; at least Gaby could get some sleep before her mother gave her another lecture on how she was wasting her potential and giving everything away for free.

  She reached behind her head to massage her neck and realized with an annoyed pang that she had left her red beaded necklace in Saar’s friend’s apartment. All the good feelings she got from her interaction with Hillel drained, and she kicked the seat in front of her in frustration. She really liked that necklace. The chances of her ever seeing it again were as good as her seeing Saar again, which, knowing her odds, wasn’t likely.

  It was silly to be so upset over a cheap necklace that she bought on the street, but she was. She kicked the seat again, but that only hurt her flip-flop-clad foot, so she stopped.

  The bus left the terminal and started driving out of Jerusalem and into the rocky roads of the Shomron. Gaby leaned her head against the window and, trying not to think about how easy she had been last night, watched the scenery. Instead of the rollin
g hills and blue sky, she saw images of cold drinks swirling before her. She was so thirsty. The second she got home, she’d make herself an iced coffee.

  Regrettably, when Gaby opened the door, her brain banging in her head, she saw her mother, hunched over the kitchen table, with Henny and another woman. Instead of a nice coffee, she was going to have to deal with her mother – and in front of other people, too.

  “There she is!” Henny said, looking relieved. “See, I knew she was okay!”

  Mrs. Kupfer looked up. Her eyes were red, and she was wearing a tattered pink bathrobe over her nightgown. “Where were you?” she asked accusingly. “I was up the whole night, worrying about you.”

  Gaby shrugged. “I’m sorry. I was just out with some friends.” She felt bad enough about last night; leave it to her mother to make her feel worse.

  “Friends? While you were out with some friends, I was worried sick! This is Israel! When you disappeared last night, I thought you got kidnapped. Instead, you’re busy dealing with some teenage angst.”

  Henny put her hand on Mrs. Kupfer’s arm and made soothing noises.

  Instantly, Gaby felt that familiar frustration with her mother. How obtuse could she be? She was flipping out over what could have happened instead of noticing what actually happened. Didn’t she realize that Gaby was home now, safe and sound, but she had obviously spent the night somewhere, with someone. Why didn’t her mother notice that?

  Forcing herself to be calm in front of the other women, Gaby went over to the kettle and turned on the gas, trying to ignore her mother’s misdirected concern. “Maybe you should get me a cell phone.”

  “No, what I need to do is give you some structure. You are going to seminary. Henny’s sister-in-law is the house mother for Bnos Yerushalayim, and she spoke to the principal and that’s where you’re going.”