A Life Worth Living

by Pnina Baim

  “It says he was in the army. I guess he’s an officer.” Shira brushed off the mention of the absent husband with a dismissive wave of her hand, and stared into the fire as if talking to the burning twigs. “Can you believe it? She fought him, and he stabbed her in the face, but still she was able to lock him out.”

  “It’s unbelievable. She locked him in the bathroom using her kid’s bed!” Gaby shook her head in bewildered admiration.

  “I know. Imagine, all her kids must have been freaking out, and she stayed so calm and did what she had to do.” Shira straightened up abruptly. “We gotta do something to honor this woman. What was her name?”

  Gaby looked down at the screen. “It just says Yael, I guess they don’t want to use her name to protect her anonymity.”

  “Yeah, most probably. Well, she deserves a party. Yael of… What town is it?”

  “Sdei Avraham,” provided Gaby.

  Shira stretched her arms out to the twinkly night sky. “Yael of Sdei Avraham, I know your soul can hear me,” she called out. “You are a true hero of the nation of Israel. This is for you.” Shira bent down and scrolled through Devorah Leah’s phone.

  “How appropriate,” she said with a satisfied look on her face when she found the song she was looking for. I Need a Hero by Bonnie Tyler started playing at full volume. She looked at the two girls, who were looking up at her with bemused expressions. “B’not, takumu!”

  The girls jumped up from their places, laughing.

  “Bo’u, nirkod!” Shira put out her hands and the girls clasped hands, running around the fire, singing and whooping at the top of their lungs in honor of Yael, from Moshav Sdei Avraham.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gaby sat across from Hillel in the cavernous dining room. The last time she saw him was over a month ago when he brought her to the bus station and they kissed secretly in a quiet corner of the terminal.

  Hillel looked happy, more confident. He had finally switched assignments and was no longer guarding the bus station. He now served in administrative duty in the armory division, handing out guns. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he was glad to get out of checking-bags-duty. Being a lone soldier and missing out on the protectzia that the army ran on, he had to take whatever assignments he got without having the luxury of asking a father or an older brother to call someone they knew to get him assigned somewhere else.

  But now, sitting comfortably with her adopted family at their place at the long lunch table, ignoring the fierce debated being waged between Chana and her husband, Ira, about the upcoming election, Gaby couldn’t get over how cute Hillel looked, proper military assignment or not. He was wearing a black knitted kippah, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up halfway, revealing his strong arms, and his face was freshly shaved. Shira and Devorah Leah were sitting with their adopted families, but they had all hung out before candle lighting. While the girls had made a game out of half-heartedly baking a cake for shabbos, Hillel had charmed them all by fixing a lamp they’d assumed was broken.

  Her supervisor at the gan, Noa, passed by with a platter of chicken. Gaby took two servings and felt perverse pleasure in saying thank you. Gaby knew it was just a formality, but for that one instant, it felt good to be the one to say thank you.

  “That’s my supervisor,” she told Hillel.

  “Really?” Hillel looked around curiously. “How does that work? Does everyone take a turn serving?”

  “Yeah. Everyone does it, no matter how rich you are. Isn’t that strange?”

  “No, it’s good. It’s like everyone is one big family.”

  “Is there anything you can complain about?”

  “I’m just easy to please,” Hillel said, smiling.

  Gaby smiled back, letting Hillel’s good nature wash over her. It was easy to be happy when she was sitting near him. Chana interrupted their little staring contest when she asked them, “So what do you two think?”

  “About what?” Gaby asked.

  “About Peres and the presidency.”

  Gaby looked skeptically at her. “Does it matter? Isn’t the presidency just a formality?”

  Chana raised her eyebrows, and Hillel kicked her under the table. “Peres is one of Israel’s greatest statesmen,” he interjected quickly. Chana nodded, pleased, and then launched into a passionate monologue about the legacy of Shimon Peres in the general direction of Hillel, who nodded politely at intervals every couple of minutes.

  Gaby looked away, a little embarrassed at her thoughtless comment. Chana had immigrated to Israel over fifteen years ago with her six young children. Although she looked mild enough, with her purple beret, a ready smile, and a kitchen filled with food that she was eager to feed Gaby with, she was fiercely political and passionate about her opinions.

  The well-lit room was filled with all the families from the kibbutz. Although it wasn’t required that they eat together, most people did. The ritual of eating together was one of the last customs of the original kibbutz lifestyle that modern kibbutzim still espoused, now that the children no longer lived together and each family had their own home. They also still practiced the custom of pooling their money. Officially, the kibbutz had a shared income, with stipends for all the members depending on the size of the family and other extraneous circumstances.

  Gaby still couldn’t figure out how that worked. If she was getting paid real money, there was no way she would just hand it over to those in charge.

  After dinner was over, and everyone sang the birkat hamazon together, Gaby waved goodbye to Devorah Leah and Shira.

  “See you later,” Shira said.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Devorah Leah added. The two girls laughed, and then skipped away, leaving Gaby and Hillel in the darkness.

  “Want to take a walk?” Hillel asked.

  “Sure.”

  He held out his hand to her and together they walked down the darkened paths, with only the moon and twinkling stars to give them light.

  They walked over to the pond, and Hillel sat down on a tree stump. Gaby settled herself on his lap and leaned her head against his shoulder.

  “That was a stupid thing to say,” she said.

  “Mmm?” Hillel murmured, nuzzling her neck.

  “About Peres. I should have been more respectful.”

  “I’m sure it’s okay,” Hillel said.

  “No, Chana was upset.”

  “She’ll get over it.”

  “I just don’t know why I don’t think before I talk. It’s really embarrassing.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” Hillel said reassuringly. “I’m sure it’s no big deal.”

  Gaby shrugged, still feeling unsettled.

  Hillel rubbed her back. “It’s gonna be okay. Don’t worry.”

  Gaby closed her eyes for a minute, thinking. Hillel was so laid-back, and she was bothered by everything. She wished she could borrow some of his tranquility. “Isn’t there anything you worry about?”

  Hillel laughed. “Sure. Tons of stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like dying,” he said in such a flippant tone that they both laughed.

  Then Gaby sat up and looked into his warm hazel eyes. “Seriously. Are you afraid of dying?”

  “Well, I’m afraid of dying and nobody caring,” Hillel said in a low voice.

  Gaby took hold of his face. “I care.”

  Hillel kissed her softly. “What do you worry about?”

  “I guess the same thing.”

  “Why? Because you live in Israel now?”

  “Um, I wasn’t thinking about that specifically, though that’s a good point. I was thinking more about… if I died, right now, it would be like I came and then I left, and I was never here. Poof. Gone with the wind.” Gaby flapped her arms in the air. “By my friend’s Rikky’s funeral, everyone was just so sad and heartbroken, because she was such a great girl and I was thinking, would people cry like that by my funeral?”

  “I’m sure a lot of people will cry by your funeral. I�
��m crying just thinking about it.”

  Gaby smirked and punched him in the shoulder. “You know, now that you mentioned it, you’re right. Living in Israel is more dangerous for my health.”

  “Nah, people die everywhere. I was just reading online the other day that America has the highest death rate of teenagers and young adults out of the twenty-eight richest countries. Israel didn’t even make the top ten. At least if you die here, you’ll be dying for a reason, instead of over a purse or a parking space.”

  “What? Who got killed over a parking space?” Gaby asked.

  “It happens.”

  Gaby raised an eyebrow, and Hillel shrugged. “It happened at least once. Anyway, my butt is killing me. Would you like to go check out my room?” Hillel said in a fake British accent, and Gaby laughed at his attempt to be suave.

  “Yeah, why not? Let’s go check out your room.” Gaby slid off Hillel and stood up. Hillel offered her his arm and they walked to the direction of his cabin, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists.

  They passed Chana’s home, a two-story golden-brown stucco house. A full winter garden was kept well-watered with an intricate drip irrigation system that her oldest son had rigged up, thanks to his expertise working in the agriculture sector of the kibbutz. Chana’s husband was a tax attorney, and she was a successful artist. In the real world, it would make sense that the family was well-off financially, but in the kibbutz shared-wealth economy, it didn’t make sense why they were granted a luxurious dwelling, while others dwelled in more humble cottages.

  A light was on over the porch, and Gaby saw Chana sitting on the upholstered porch swing, holding a small book to the light.

  “Hi,” Gaby called out as they approached.

  Chana put down the book and squinted in the dark.

  “It’s me, Gaby,” Gaby said. “And Hillel,” she added with a self-conscious giggle.

  “Hello, you two,” Chana said warmly, not commenting on the impropriety of the two of them being out alone so late.

  As Gaby got closer, she realized that Chana had been reading from a book of Tehillim. Chana was religious, but she wasn’t exactly what one would call devout. To be reciting psalms hours after everyone else already went to sleep was quite the act of piety. “Did you stay up just to say Tehillim?” Gaby asked in wonder.

  “I have three boys in the army,” Chana said frankly. “What else would I be doing?”

  Gaby blushed. Couldn’t she say anything right? Immediately Hillel stepped in again to save the day. “May your prayers be heard,” he said. “May your sons and all the children of Israel be protected.”

  “Amein,” Chana said reverentially, and with a good night wave, went back to her supplications.

  “See,” Gaby said as they walked away. “I always say the wrong thing!”

  “Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “How could you have known why she was saying Tehillim?”

  “Well, actually, I did know.” Gaby admitted. “She told me on Friday. One of her sons is in active duty, and the other two are doing their reserve duty at the same time.”

  “That must be stressful for her.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Gaby said, thinking of how Chana had enlisted her help to make care packages for her boys. They had baked dozens of cookies, probably enough for the whole brigade, and Chana had added magazines, lip balm, socks, and packages of gum to each cardboard box. Chana regaled Gaby with heroic stories and funny anecdotes of her sons’ experiences in the army as she packed each box with care and tenderness. It was obvious that while Chana was very proud of her sons, she was also very concerned about their safety.

  “Don’t think about it,” Hillel said, squeezing Gaby to him. “It’s shtu’yot.”

  Gaby smiled, allowing herself to forget about her latest faux pas. They reached the guesthouses, and there were other things on her mind. Hillel’s room was small and neat, with wood-panels on the walls and white tiles on the floor. The room was lit with just a low-wattage bulb over a desk. Gaby sat on the narrow single bed and watched while Hillel took off his kippah, unbuttoned his shirt and slipped off his tzizit, hanging them on the back of a chair. He unzipped his suit pants and folded it on the small wooden desk, leaving on just his white undershirt, gray boxers, and dog tags covered in a green fabric hanging on a thin silvery ball chain around his neck.

  “You still wear suit pants?” Gaby asked. There probably wasn’t one male in the entire kibbutz who wore a suit.

  Hillel looked at his pants. “I guess it’s a habit left over from living in the States.”

  “It’s nice that you dress up for shabbos.”

  “Why not?” Hillel slid into bed next to her and Gaby fell against him.

  “I shouldn’t do this,” she whispered.

  “I know,” he whispered back.

  “Guys always think you’re cheap when you hook up with them so easily.”

  “I don’t think you’re cheap,” Hillel said, brushing her hair back from her face.

  Gaby just looked at him, battling an inner fight that she wasn’t even sure she could articulate. Hillel kissed her gently, and she kissed him back.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I love you. I love everything about you,” he said.

  Gaby eyes widened. “You can’t love me. You just met me.”

  Instead of answering, he hugged her tight, and they fall asleep that way.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next day, Hillel woke up early to go to shul, leaving Gaby snoozing in his bed. “You want coffee or something from the dining room?” Hillel asked.

  “I’m fine. I want to stay here for a little bit longer. I’ll get something from my room soon.”

  “Okay.” He closed the door gently and Gaby fell back asleep.

  She woke up when Hillel returned. He left the door open, leaving the bright sun streaming in. Gaby snuggled deeper under the blanket, closing her eyes against the blue of the sky and the sharp green of the grass.

  Hillel sat down next to her on the bed and rubbed her shoulder. “You’re coming to lunch?”

  “Do I have to?”

  “You don’t have to, but people will talk if we don’t show up.”

  “Uch, fine.” Gaby pushed herself up, rubbing her eyes. She leaned against Hillel and rested her head for a minute against his shoulder. He held her that way, massaging her back, until she was ready to get up and slip on the knee-length black dress she had worn last night. She looked down at herself and told Hillel, “I have to go back to my room to change. Everyone will know I slept here last night if I show up in the same dress I wore to dinner.”

  Hillel nodded his agreement and Gaby held onto his arm, unable to fully wake up. Once she was outside, walking back through the winding paths to her house, the brisk air invigorated her and she took deep gulps of air, feeling the freshness fill her lungs.

  “The weather here is like California,” Hillel said.

  “I’ve never been to California, but the weather here is one thing I love. It’s so weird how Israel has such fluctuating temperatures. In Shiloh, it was pretty cold before I left.”

  “It was cold in Jerusalem without you.”

  “Baby, that’s so sweet of you to say,” Gaby said, slipping an arm around Hillel’s waist. They walked like that into the house, where Shira and Devorah Leah were sitting around in their pajamas, drinking coffee.

  “Hello, love birds!”

  “Shut up,” Gaby said, unsuccessfully trying to hide her grin. “Is there any hot water left for me?”

  “Yeah, in the kumkum.”

  “Hillel, you want some coffee?” she offered sweetly, trying unsuccessfully not to flaunt her boyfriend in front of the two admiring girls.

  “Should I make kiddush for us first?”

  Gaby smiled. She liked the idea of a man making kiddush for her. “Yeah, let me just wash up first.” She pulled out a white t-shirt and black skirt and quickly changed in the bathroom. When she came out, Hillel was si
tting on her bed, talking to the girls about their plans after they finished their service in sherut leumi.

  “Do you have grape juice or something?” Hillel asked Gaby when he saw her.

  “Grape juice… let’s see.” Gaby said and went to the kitchenette. Thank God he changed the subject. She had no idea what she wanted to do after the year was over. She searched around the fridge and cabinets. “I’m so sorry. We don’t. What about beer?”

  “I don’t drink beer, but I guess it will do. You’ll help me finish it?”

  “Sure,” the three girls answered in unison, and Hillel laughed.

  He poured the beer into a coffee mug and then recited the short prayer by heart. The girls answered amein loudly, and Hillel took a tiny sip. “Gross. Here, have some.”

  “Well, if you say it like that,” Gaby answered, but she drank a little from the cup and then grimaced. “Yuck. Beer first thing in the morning is not a good thing.” She passed it to Devorah Leah, who took a small sip, and then passed it to Shira, who finished the cup.

  “I’m gonna make us some coffee,” Gaby said to Hillel. “How do you take it?”

  “Half spoon sugar and a lot of milk.”

  “No way! That’s the same way I take it,” Gaby exclaimed.

  Hillel smiled broadly at Gaby. “That’s convenient.”

  “It’s really not that big of a deal,” Devorah Leah said.

  “Yes it is,” Gaby insisted. “It’s unusual for two people to drink coffee the same way.”

  “It’s not like having the same fingerprints,” Shira retorted.

  “Really? How do you take your coffee?” Gaby asked as she emptied the last of the hot water urn into two coffee mugs and carefully measured out a spoonful of coffee and a half a spoonful of sugar.

  “Like three times as much sugar as coffee,” Shira said.

  “That’s disgusting. I like it with equal sugar to coffee, like civilized people drink,” Devorah Leah said.