CHAPTER FOUR
ECSTASY
A few months after the move to Eilat, my cousin Arye called me. “I need your help in two days,” he said. “I have a new opportunity for business in Eilat, but the gentlemen will not come unless I have forty people in the audience. You are going to be one of the forty.” “I have no interest in a new business, nor do I have the time,” I answered “Just come and help,” he pleaded. I was there to help set up the room. Thatʼs when I met Tom Chernoff. The meeting was a success, I thought to myself. Even though I heard nothing of what was said by Tom, I was intrigued by the man who stood in front of me. I just smiled at him and felt that he was talking to me only. After the meeting, Arye, his wife, Tom, Efi, and I went to the promenade to have a drink. After relaxing from business to a more casual and comfortable zone, Tom asked more private questions. I volunteered very little information back. How could I tell a complete stranger that my marriage was a disaster? We had such a good time that evening that we decided to get together for breakfast. Tom and Efi flew back to Tel Aviv. We parted with an exchange of phone numbers. The following day, Tom and I exchanged some emails regarding the business, as he needed help with translating documents. I enjoyed Tom's personality so it truly started as a working relationship. A few months into the business—and not to my cousinʼs liking—Tom and I became more than just business associates.
Yarden met Tom for the first time when he was 6 years old. He showed Tom his biceps. Then Tom showed Yarden his. Yarden was impressed. Their relationship was like a rollercoaster, as you will soon find out.
Shani met Tom for the first time when she was barely 4. We visited the Kibbutz together with Tom. She was not pleased with him. When we all sat in my friend Iris’ living room, Shani just walked over to Tom and hit him. Shani was not a violent or angry child. She had her 6th sense working and did not like what she was feeling. Etai, Iris’s son, was Yarden’s best friend. The four of us went to visit the cows and play on the cotton hill. Tom insisted he stay with Shani at Iris’ home. We were gone for several hours. On our return, we found Shani on Tom’s lap. Tom said to Shani, in English of course, “What did you learn to say?” A reminder that in Israel we speak Hebrew. The children’s movies however, were in English. I wanted them to be familiar with English as it is their paternal grandparents only language. Shani did not know English. Her reply to Tom’s question was “I am a good girl and I love my mommy”. It was the first sign that their love and bond to each other would grow stronger with time. That was definitely a good thing because shortly after that Tom and I decided we were meant to be together.
“I cannot do it,” I told Tom, when it felt like we were going to be involved romantically. “I did it before. It is not fair to my husband and the children. I may not be happy or satisfied, but I am a married woman.” A little frustrated, Tom respected me, and the situation. Trying to cool things between us, we made hours for work so that there would be more focus on that and less on us. This did not work at all—we could not be apart. I was married with two young children. Tom was also married. His wife stayed in the United States when he came to Israel with his business. We had to arrive at a solution. In-between was not an option for me: it was all or nothing. At that time, I went home after a visit to Tel Aviv and asked my husband to join me on the couch because I needed to talk to him. The kids were asleep, and I had lots on my mind and in my heart. “I want a divorce,” I said. “I am moving to the United States to be with Tom, and I am taking the kids with me.” “You must be on your period,” he replied. “I will talk to you in few days.” Most of our conversations did not go well. Why should this one be different? “I am not on my hormonal cycle now, and I am leaving you. I hope you understand.” I replied It was very hard to do. I never intended to get a divorce. I wanted the marriage to last forever and ever. But we had grown apart so much that it could never work. On the day of the divorce, I cried my eyes out. “Why are you crying?” he asked. “You wanted this.” “I am truly sorry. When we got married, I wanted it to be a fairy tale. But we canʼt build a bridge over the space between us and you know it.” I got on the bus back to Eilat to be with the kids, while he went to Tel Aviv to be with his friends. Most of my family and close friends did not approve of my actions. That includes Lydia. In fact, Lydia was so against it that she refused to accept it. Lydia cared for Yarden and Shani. Even as a mother, I still watched her son. On top of paying me for my babysitting services she would send gifts to Yarden and Shani. I was hurt, when she called me names that were not true. But she did not want to listen. I tried to reach her before I left Israel without success. I called her several times while in the US. Only once did I manage to talk to her. But it was polite and distant. Everyone thought my husband was the “perfect” guy, and Tom was the exact opposite, in their eyes. Tom was older, much older—when we met, he was sixty-nine years old, older than my mom but younger than my Dad (or so we thought until I found out when my Dad's birthday actually occurred). There were forty years between us. That was the only thing they could see. I was worried more about the kids than about Tom's age and wondered why no one bothered to ask if he was capable of taking care of two young ones and me. “Age means nothing if you are happy,” I said repeatedly. “You are crazy! You are going to be a young widow with two children in a strange country,” my sister Iris claimed. The only supportive family members were my sister Rachel in Haifa, my brother Arye, and my sister in law Lisa. Iris and my brother Arye both lived in the United States, in South Florida. I had made up my mind. The only person to stop me was Tom. He had no intention of doing so. I finally told them all to support me or to leave me alone. Iʼd made up my mind to be with Tom, and that, as they say, was that. “I am doing it. We want to be together. I am not a baby, and I am more than capable of taking care of my family if things go wrong. If I'm destined to be a young widow that had only a few good years of marriage, it is better than a lifetime of misery.” That was my last statement to my mom before we moved. I could not have been happier for us all. Not to give the wrong impression that it was easy. The divorce, family disputes, and the move to America were all very difficult and challenging. But this was the best thing I could do for me, and my children. Tom and I started from nothing. We had given everything we had to our exes, just so we would have no fights with them. Seventy years old and thirty years old, with five- and seven-year-old children, we were starting a new life in a new country. Our relationship was truly magical. It was the fairy tale of every girl’s dreams. We promised each other to not go to bed angry at night. We fulfilled that promise our entire love story. We were both very passionate, so when we argued the roof could blow off. But by night we came to understanding or agreement and always went to bed in each other’s arms.
Who knew that the fairy tale would become a reality 6000 miles to the west, in the United States of America
CHAPTER FIVE
TOM
In September 2001, I came to Florida without the children for a month. I needed to make sure that moving to a foreign country with children is the right move. Tom and I lived on his boat, 42 Hatteras in Fort Lauderdale. Our shared love of the water bonded us even more. Most days Tom worked from the boat. Those days involved a lot of touching, hugging and lovemaking. When Tom went to work I did research for the best schools, and areas where I would like to live and have Yarden and Shani educated. I walked on the dock, cleaned, cooked, baked and enjoyed the slow motion of the boat. Sometimes Tom would invite his friends over so I could see and meet the people with whom he is associating. It was important to me. I always thought about the children. I wanted to make sure it was a smart move. After the initial shock of my young age, it was still enjoyable. Tom always surrounded himself with much younger friends. He celebrated his 29th birthday for many years, until Yarden’s Bar-Mitzvah. After that it was hard for him to justify the age. Tom was an incredible Captain. He could maneuver the boat as if it were a kayak and not 42 feet long. It w
as always impressive how he would dock it with only a few inches to spare. I learned what to do on the boat incredibly fast. I loved it so much. We were talking about me taking classes and becoming captain as-well, so we could go for long cruises. Once we even tried to figure how to cruise to Israel. On the boat I learned about Port wine. One evening Tom and I cooked dinner together. I made garlic bread and chopped salad. He made the pasta sauce, and the cheese and fruit platter. The meal was delicious and went well with the wine that he chose. I did not know much about wine. After dinner we had the cheese and fruit platter with 1970 Port. We were full, so a small dessert glass was enough.
I do not like anyone in the kitchen when I cook. I know they mean to help, but it is always a bother for me. Cooking with Tom in the small galley and surviving it, indicated to me that we can do it anywhere else. The following day, I decided to prepare a special dinner and baked a rich dark chocolate cake. I was missing one ingredient, the red wine. I remembered the “red wine” from the previous night. After tasting it, yes, it was delicious. I poured a healthy glass for myself and decided to use it for the cake. Tom walked in and said “Our neighbors are jealous about all the cooking that you are doing”. Then he spotted my almost empty glass. I was tipsy. I do not do well with alcohol beyond 5 ounces. I was wearing only underwear and an apron. He turned me to him, held me close and said “do you have any idea how much money you just drank”? I stood on my toes and whispered in his ear “No, it's a little sweet, but it’s really good”. After that night I was not allowed to go near the Port bottles! Everything went extraordinarily well until September 11th. I was on the boat. I usually did not have on the TV. But that day for some reason I turned it on. I watched it with disbelief. The Twin Towers crumbled. Coming from Israel, I was unfortunately familiar with terrorist attacks. But the magnitude of this was unreal. I got to enjoy the old America for 11 days. After that, everyone had to adjust to new reality. Two days later, I visited my sister Iris at her workplace in Aventura Mall. An elderly lady walked in the shop and started to complain that a policeman checked her bag when she entered the mall. She went on and on until I could not listen to her any longer. “Back in Israel, our bags are checked every time we walk into a mall or public building. When the check is done, we say “thank you”, understanding it’s for our own safety. Instead of complaining, be happy you are going to be safe sitting here today”. That quieted her. It took me some time to understand the American people and their new reality. They are under terror attack. It was my reality from the first day of my life. The second two weeks on the boat were more reserved. First was September 11th, second was Yarden’s birthday on September 14th. I felt guilty not being with him. We made a decision to live in Coral Springs because of the schools and the proximity to my brother Arye, my sister in law Lisa, and their three children.
The decision to move to Florida signaled a monumental series of changes for Yarden and Shani. First it meant that their father and I would be divorced. It was obvious that was for the best as we continued to drift apart, unable to reconcile our differences. While the divorce was being finalized, along with the always unpleasant division of assets. We decided it would be a fresh start. It would be easier for the children to learn English rather than for Tom, at his advanced age, to learn Hebrew.
In December 2001, we all arrived to Coral Springs, Florida. Two children, one cat, and two suitcases, the rest to follow in a container. Since day one Tom was incredible with Yarden and Shani. He was patient and loving. We had no money but were determined to succeed. Our love and bond grew greater and stronger. We listened and respected each other’s thoughts. Tom’s ego would not let him disappoint the children or me. Every once in a while he would talk about his dear friend Arnold and stories from their past together.
Yarden moved to the United States without his father, his mother with another man in a foreign country. Shani stayed at home while we searched for preschool. But Yarden had to go to school, learn a new language, and catch up with second graders. I gave him as much support and attention as I could. One day he came home and said “my teacher told me that I need a pill to relax”. I went to school furious. What a stupid thing to say to a second grade student without consulting the parents. I walked into the principal’s office and demanded to talk to the teacher the same day. When the teacher walked in the office she knew why I was there. I asked for an explanation. She had none. Then she said “he does not know how to read”. I was not sure if I should laugh or cry. But she was Yarden’s teacher and he stuck with her the rest of the year. “Would you be able to read Chinese after two weeks in China?” I asked. “Do you really expect him to read after two weeks?” I was afraid to say things I would regret so I just said goodbye and left. Two months went by and I noticed Yarden reading signs. I asked him if he can read. He answered “yes”. “Does your teacher know it?” He answered “no”. I left the entire reading subject to rest. In third grade, Yarden’s very first reading book was Harry Potter. After that there was no stopping him. He loved to read and read a lot. On December 10th 2001, the cultural change began for Shani. Almost 5 years old when we landed in the USA, she needed to learn a new language, make new friends, and the toughest of all, not see her father. He followed 6 months later. It was a beautiful winter Friday in Coral Springs. The sun was in full glory, with fresh air. Yarden was at school and Shani was at home with me while we looked for kindergarten for her. I was preparing the house for Shabat. Chicken soup was on the stove cooking, salads made, and I was cleaning the house. I opened all the windows and front door for fresh air. Music was playing, Shani in her room drawing. Suddenly I heard a loud knock on the door and a deep voice saying “Is anyone home? We are coming in”. Casually, I walked to the front door to find two huge policemen with guns pointed forward. Shani followed me. The first thing I did was to tuck her behind me. I just looked at them and said “Will you put the guns away please? I have a little girl and I do not want her to get scared”. They did. After a short conversation with them I learned they thought someone was breaking in. They highly recommended that I do not do this again. Keep the windows locked, especially with a young girl at home . “You do not want anyone to abduct her” one of them said. “Welcome to America” I thought to my self and “Are you crazy? Go back home to Eilat”. I called Tom and told him what just happened with a voice that indicated my thoughts. Tom answered “Please don’t pack, I will come home early and we will talk about it” We found a preschool for Shani. She loved it. Joyce Brown, the teacher, was very accommodating. She could not believe how fast Shani was learning English. We lived in a nice neighborhood, Shani had new friends, did well in first grade and even received the student of the month. That is no small achievement for a new immigrant that just learned English. We had very little income. We were adjusting to a new life in America. But I thought, finally we can settle. I had a desk in a small office. Above the shelf I hung a photo of my dream home. I told my sister “This is going to be my home next year”. Knowing our financial situation, Iris laughed and said “keep dreaming”
Many moons ago, Tom lived in Canada and was very wealthy. He lost it all and moved to Florida. Tom began a new adventure in Brazil. He had gold and diamond mines. He lost that too. “Where is all the money he made?” one can ask, and rightly so. I learned that he was an incredible sales person. He could sell anything to anyone with his charisma, charm, and experience. “Fear of loss” he would say when he trained salespeople. “Do not sell the product, secure the fear.” But he was a lousy businessman. I learned to navigate him. Until we became more financially stable, Arye my brother wanted to help. He had a car dealership. He gave us a car until we could afford to buy one. I drove home with it and was very excited about being independent, not needing Tom to drive me everywhere. Soon after I parked I showed Tom how big the trunk is. It was much needed because we always went on picnics with the kids and boat trips. As grand as he was, he was a little clumsy. “Look how big the trunk is, I can sleep in it”
. I said, “Let’s see” he replied. I crawled inside. It was large! Tom obviously did not think twice and closed it. I am inside. He is outside. He says “where are the keys?” “In my pocket”, I reply. I hear him cursing and saying “you are going to die in the trunk. I am going to jail. What will happen to the kids? I am going to call 911.” I did not know what they would do to him if the authorities came so I shouted from the inside “will you please be quiet and let me think?” It was dark. But when I touched the frame from the inside, I felt a place that might have a gap. After checking as much as I could in the dark environment, I decided to go back to that potential gap. It turned to be toward the front. I squeezed my hand in there. Eventually it did go through. Tom saw my hand and guided me to the door opener. When I was out of the car, I just looked at him and said “You woe me,” and walked in to ice my hand.
Triumph Over Tears Page 6