by Nora Sarel
“Yes, that sounds natural and convincing,” his grandma said to his surprise.
“Grandma I’m about to go in a month on a backpack trip, and that’s what I actually came to tell you.”
Grandma stood up, tightly embraced him, put her head on his shoulders and said, “travel safely.” Gadi who could not have predicted her reaction, was suddenly helpless when he realized he wouldn’t have to use his speech.
“What does Tamara have to say about this?” Grandma asked.
“Nothing. I think she would have wanted to come with us, but she can’t, she’s still studying. She helped us with planning the trip.”
“Us? Who are you going with?”
“With Omri and Ido. Idowill be discharged next week, and the day after Omri is discharged, we’ll be on the airplane.”
“And your parents, have you told them?”
“Dad took it easy, he was happy for me. We spoke about this trip a lot, even back when I was in high school.”
“And mom, did she cry?”
“Mom is struggling a bit, but she’ll come around. She knew this day would come, and between you and me, Grandma, I’m not going for ever, I’ll come back.”
“You know, it’s only natural. Every mother is scared of losing her child, let alone an adoptive mother.”
“I won’t be lost. She knows it deep down inside.”
“How long are you going for?”
“There’s no telling, we have open tickets for a year. If we have fun, we’ll stay longer, if not, we’ll come back.”
“And what about college?” his grandma asked, and Gadi replied patiently.
“I hope to start school in two years, it means I’ll be back around next July or August, because I’ll have to go through the university application process and GMAT. Don’t worry, Grandma, I’ll call every few days. We have cellphones, and internet everywhere, and I can text, too. It’ll be alright. Ok, granny?”
Gadi was ready to leave. He didn’t want to keep Tamara waiting.
However, Grandma Zipora asked him to stay a bit longer, “wait,” she said, “I have prepared something for you.”
Gadi followed her and saw her struggling to bend down as she opened the bottom drawer of the living room sideboard, She took out a brown envelope. He could guess what was inside it.
“My Gadi,” she said as she came closer, “you know you were named after my brother who was killed in the Sinai Campaign, and who was named after my grandfather, Gedaliah, who was killed in the Holocaust? You are the future of our family, you’re my only grandchild, take care of yourself, who knows if I’ll still be alive when you come back,” she said, and didn’t bother to wipe the glistening tearin the corner of her eye.
“Granny, don’t start. You’re strong and brave, and you’ll see that you’ll even have great-grandchildren.”
“Take the money I prepared for your trip.”
Gadi hesitated, “How did you prepare? How did you know I was going?”
“I put this money aside a long time ago. I knew that some day you’d go and need it. Who else would I give it to?”
“Thank you, granny,” Gadi hugged her.
“Tell me,” she whispered, “do you think you’ll meet her?”
Gadi fell silent for a moment and then replied, “I hope so.”
“Do you have details? Do you know where to look? Brazil is a huge country, remember we read in the encyclopedia?” she smiled at him softly.
“Of course I remember. Dad gave me all the necessary addresses and gave me all the certificates, don’t worry. I have to run, granny, Tamari is waiting for me.”
“And what will you tell her?” Grandma kept asking, as if she couldn’t hear him.
“Who?”
“Your biological mother.”
“I have so many scenarios in my head, I have no idea which one will happen. I believe that when I see her, I’ll know.”
“How will you decide?”
“What if I find out she’s been looking for me all these years,” Gadi chose his words carefully. “But you know what? Let’s leave that for tomorrow, now I’m on my army discharge vacation, and we’ll have many heart-to-hearts before I leave. Good night, Grandma.”
“Gadi, Gadi, Gadi…”
Gadi couldn’t hear Grandma Zipora calling him, he started his new white Volkswagen and drove to celebrate his army discharge with Tamara.
CHAPTER 4
Tamara was the smartest, most beautiful and desired girl in high school. After she was discharged from her army service she went on a short trip to South America. When she came back, she went to study medicine at the university of Jerusalem.
“Why Jerusalem of all places?” people would ask her.
“It’s far from home,” she would reply.
“What’s so bad at home, why run away?” some would ask and pry.
“Nor because it’s bad, I’m just better off alone. It’s called independence.”
When Gadi wanted to tease her or express fondness he would call her “Indy,” because she always wanted to be independent. Tamara preferred this nickname over those used by many others. She especially hated being called ‘Tammy.’
When the doorbell rang she immediately knew it was Gadi, opened the door wide, and stared at him.
“Don’t I get a hug?” he asked her.
Only then did she fall into his arms. They stood there for several moments.
Tamara especially came from Jerusalem to her parents’ home in Tel Aviv to be with Gadi on the day of his discharge. He knew she was missing busy school days and explanations which might be impossible to learn from textbooks.
“It’s okay, I’ll copy Ronit’s notes,” she said when he asked how she would make up for the lost material.
“I thought you might want to be with me today, so I made an effort and came, see?”
“Yes, of course I see, today I see e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g,” Gadi answered in a tone both sarcastic and serious.
They decided to spend the evening together and celebrate just the two of them.
“Let’s stay home. Come, sit next to me,” Gadi suggested.
“Here someone might disturb us, people will keep coming in asking us things,” Tamara rejected his offer.
“How about we sit in Rosemarie?” he offered again.
“Rosemarie is packed, we won’t be there alone. It’s the hottest place in town.”
“So, where should we go?” he asked.
“A small place opened recently in the new Tel Baruch area. It’s beautiful and intimate, no one knows it yet. And their food is great, much better than Rosemarie.”
“Great! How do you know your way so well? Studying in Jerusalem while partying in Tel Aviv? Should I be concerned?”
“I should be the one who is concerned. You’re going on a trip around the world and I’m staying here. Who knows who or what you’ll come back with?”
His white Volkswagen stopped not far from the restaurant. Tamara’s expensive leather boots tapped on the sidewalk, the scent of her Armani perfume followed her.
“A table for two. We prefer a corner one.” Gadi said as they entered the restaurant. The place was empty and somewhat dark. A low yellowish light lit the couple’s table.
The streets were deserted, too. “Is something on tonight? The Eurovision? Final Four?” Gadi broke the silence.
Tamara actually liked it. “No, nothing. No wars, no contests. Just a wintry day making people melancholic. That’s exactly what I wanted,” she whispered.
“What do you have besides meat?” Tamara asked as she had become a vegetarian since she started medical school. She finally decided, “Spinach ravioli with cream sauce,” she said to the waitress, “even though I decided to go on a diet,” she smiled at Gadi.
“You don’t need to lose weight for me,�
�� he smiled back at her and kept wondering what to order.
“He prefers sushi, can he have that?” Tamara decided for him “but first, we would like to have a ninety-eight Cabernet Sauvignon,” she added, as if she were an expert.
“Now you know your wines, too?” Gadi was surprised. However, she ignored him and as their glasses clinked, she explained, “When you’re in Brazil you won’t be drinking red wine, you’ll be hooked on Caipirinha.”
“What’s that?”
“An alcoholic drink made from lots of lemons, sugar, crushed ice and cachaça.”
“What is cachaça?” Gadi asked, “I’m from a different country, remember? I’m not familiar with all your ‘uptown’ words. I just came back from doing ambushes, chases and attacks, excuse me if I’m not in the same headspace as you, woman of the world.”
“Cachaçais an alcoholic beverage made from sugar cane. You’ll see machines everywhere in Brazil, where they squeeze the sugarcane. They put the juicy cane in one end and the juice comes out the other, until the cane is sucked dry.”
“Really,” he smiled at her, “what would I do without my ‘Indy’? Who else would teach me about the wonders of the world? Will I have sushi in Brazil?”
“Of course you will. The largest Japanese community outside of Japan is in Brazil. And except for Japanese food you’ll also have Brazilian food, such as feijao, coxinha, feijoada, churrasco and tons of tropical fruits. By the way, what we call passion fruit, they call maracuja, our papaya is their mamãoand instead of soda they drink guarana, it’s a really tasty drink.”
“I have a great girlfriend, a real genius,” Gadi smiled, “you know everything – wine, restaurants, guarana, what else don’t I know about you?”
“Gadi, before our food comes, I want to give you something,” Tamara interrupted him. She took out of her bag a small package wrapped in gold paper and handed it to him. Gadi carefully unraveled the tight knot, and slowly lifted the lid of the wooden box revealed to him. Between the ripples of the blue fabric cushioning the box, he found a fancy compass, like those placed next to fountain pens in luxury stores.
He looked at her and the compass.
“So that you find the right path in your life,” she said and smiled a meaningful smile.
“What? My path isn’t good enough?” Gadi complained, and a bit of anger seeped into his tone. He paused for a moment, and when she didn’t respond he tried becoming more positive. “You did well, Tamari, you always find the best and most symbolic presents” he complimented her with a loving and proud look, as he opened the card attached to the gift. However, then, to his surprise, she asked him to read it when he’s alone. Her drawn-like letters, those she sketched so well, probably spoke of her love for him, he tried to guess. Yet, as per her request, he put his curiosity aside, folded the yellow paper and placed it between them. Gadi smiled, as he recognized her yellow legal pad which she used for her notes at school. He imagined how during a boring lecture about research methods she had ripped out a page and wrote to him. He couldn’t have been happier knowing she dedicated these moments to him, that is why he didn’t tell her off for doing other things instead of studying.
“I also want to give you something,” Gadi said and put his book bound in brown leather on her yellow paper.
“What is that?” she asked.
“This is my present to you. Read it and you’ll understand,” he replied, “this book is very important to me. Maybe it will help you to know me better. We’ve never spoken about this seriously,” Gadi kept on, “but I know you’re also preoccupied with me being adopted. I know you would also like to know more about me, and my ‘biologicals.’ Not just out of curiosity, but also for our future children’s genes.”
“I can’t believe it. I hope this isn’t a proposal…”
“Not yet, but don’t worry, that will come too,” Gadi said and blushed. “This is the travel diary my dad kept and told my entire adoption story. You know that’s one of the reasons I’m going to Brazil, perhaps the main reason – to find my birth mother. I want to know why she gave me away, and to strangers, I want to know who I look like.”
“You call the parents who raised you ‘strangers’? It sounds as if you’re angry at them.”
“I’m not angry. But I’m smart enough to know that for a Brazilian Catholic woman, they were strangers. When she gave me away she didn’t know much about them. Not that she knows anything today. She never even tried to see me, and I want to find out why.”
“How do you know she didn’t look for you?”
“I know. My parents told me.”
“And to which parents are you referring now?”
“I only have one set of parents, and these are the ones who raised me and gave me the best they could. I love them, appreciate them, and it has nothing to do with the fact that I want to know where I came from. You know, when I was little and told I was adopted, whenever I heard someone was from Brazil I immediately thought it was my dad who came looking for me. Every person who was even slightly brown, I would ask if he was Brazilian, and when I would meet woman who looked at me or took an interest in me, I was sure she was related to me in some way.”
“And what makes you give me something so intimate? Maybe your dad wouldn’t agree?”
“He wrote this diary for me, and it’s not intimate, it documents my adoption. It’s true he might not want the whole world to read it because it exposes his and my mom’s emotions, but he gave it to me and now it’s mine.”
Gadi fell silent for a moment and then went on. “I’m going for a long time and I’m asking you wait for me. You know, love isn’t just an emotion, it also come from the mind. Maybe emotionally you love me and want us to be together, but logically, you don’t want to wait for such a long time, and you’re unsure about our relationship.”
Gadi stopped gushing and looked at Tamara, but she didn’t say a word and her face did not express any emotion.
Only after a long moment of silence, hanging between them like an invisible barrier, Tamara looked at him and said, “Look, Gadi, today we’re celebrating but I don’t know what the future may bring. If reading the diary means I’m committed to you, then I’m not interested.”
Gadi was astonished. “You don’t want what? To read it?” he asked.
“I really do, but I can’t commit to you the way you’re asking me to.”
“Did something happen, did I offend you? You’re acting very strangely today.”
“It’s just that you’re pressuring me, and I’m still unsure about how my life will unravel. Why does it even matter to you that I read it?”
“Because I think we are at a crossroads. I don’t want to pressure you, and still I want to know where we’re heading…”
“Alright, I’ll read it,” Tamara said, uncharacteristically compliant.
Gadi hesitated for a second but then held on to her answer and interpreted it as a declaration of love.
“If you read it, you’ll know what I already know about myself, which is a lot. First, I know which city I’m going to, I know the name of my biological mother and what she looked like then. I think she should be about thirty-seven or eight today. Earlier today I took the picture from the adoption diary and put it in my wallet.”
“Show me,” Tamara asked. “What does she look like?”
“I think she’s beautiful, I’ll show you the picture later. I know which shelter she was at, and how she was during the pregnancy. I hope they give me her address. I also know the name and address of the adoption agency, and even my great-grandma’s address. So, I have more than just a lead.”
They whispered to each other for a long time. All the lights in the restaurant were turned off and only the one hanging above their table still gave a dim light. The soft music in the background was no longer playing. And when the waitress saw they weren’t planning on leaving any time soon, she
approached them and told them unequivocally they were about to close.
“Your place or mine?” he asked before they left.
Tamara didn’t reply.
“Do you want to sleep over tonight?” he asked again.
As she stood by the table, she quickly shoved in to her bag the diary and the letter she wrote and casually said, “Okay.”
“Hey, that’s mine,” Gadi tried stopping her from taking the yellow paper.
“Don’t worry, I told you to read it when you’re by yourself. I’ll give it back when I leave in the morning.”
“It’s almost morning.”
“Yes, but we still have a few more hours together.”
In the distance a thin line of bright light shone. Soon the sun would rise.
CHAPTER 5
The next day Tamara announced she was postponing her return to Jerusalem.
“It’s Thursday today, we’re only studying four hours, and on Friday we don’t study at all, so I’m staying in Tel Aviv,” Tamara explained to her parents why she had changed her plans and why she came home so early.
The truth was she couldn’t pull herself away from the adoption diary.
Thursday, February 25th 1982
Earlier this morning we spoke to Dafne’s friend, Mika who told us it was cold in Tel Aviv. We were proud to tell her that here the weather was still warm. We walked around Curitiba, which is the capital of Paraná, one of Brazil’s 26 countries. Curitiba is a European city and has a lot of Europeans who decided to move to southern Brazil. There are mostly Italian, Polish and German immigrants. We visited a quarter called Little Italy, and a Polish village, where we ate borscht soup, a typical Polish dish. We were told that some of the Germans who immigrated to Brazil and settled in its south were former Nazis who escaped after WWII, so they wouldn’t be put on trial.
The city is beautiful and well-organized. People say it’s the greenest and most organized city in Brazil. The mayor is Jewish and the Brazilians love and respect him. Sebastião told us Lerner would soon run for goverandor. In the evening we came back exhausted to the hotel, wondering what the next day would bring. After all, we came here for a specific reason. Neither of us thought the process would be so vague, disorganized, and would take so long.