by Uzi Eilam
“I’ll wait, thanks,” Gideon replied, “but I’d love a glass of water.” Within seconds, a tall glass of cold water appeared. When he first moved to California, Gideon had been most surprised to discover that a glass of water contained more ice than water. He opened his briefcase and tried to pass the time going over papers, but it was hopeless. He couldn’t take his eyes off the door.
A floral sundress appeared in the doorway, and Gideon’s heart jumped. Smiling, Nurit came over and quite naturally allowed him to put his arms around her and give her a hug.
“It’s so good to see you!” they both said and burst out laughing.
“How was your week?” Gideon asked.
“Let’s cut out the small talk,” Nurit answered. “You said you had countless questions for me, so let’s get started?”
Without knowing why, Gideon suddenly felt daunted. “I prefer to start with your questions,” he said.
“Fine, then. Tell me how you feel,” After sighing, she continued, “At SRI?”
She was going to ask about Suzy, Gideon guessed, but she still didn’t dare to.
“I feel great there, and I have a close and good relationship with the director, Dr. Deutsch. He’s quite the erudite, but also a real human being and a good friend. And I met with the two research assistants he finally appointed to help me. They’re young but smart and hardworking. In general, I find the place challenging but nice. Pleasant.”
“Why did you decide to come back to California?”
“Mostly due to pressure from Suzy,” Gideon admitted, and Nurit noticed a slight complaint in his tone. “She claimed to be suffocating in Israel, and with the children grown-up, there was nothing to stop us from spending a few years doing research in a place that I knew from my doctoral studies. Her family lives here too, which contributed.”
“Are your kids all grown-up?”
“Yes. The eldest, Amitai, did his service in intelligence, in the technical unit, and he studied physics at university. He joined a startup company that developed software for transmitting huge quantities of data and is very successful. My daughter, Noam, is still doing her army duty. She’s serving as an officer in the paratroopers and is making her paratrooper father proud. Suzy didn’t mind leaving her in Israel.” This time, he couldn’t hide the pain. “Her need to come back to the place she considers home was stronger than any other emotion.”
“Is that what she wanted all those years she was with you in Israel?”
Gideon nodded.
“And what does she do?”
“She doesn’t work. She has her mother and a few friends who still live in the area, and they seem to be enough for her. Occasionally we go out with friends to a restaurant or a concert. Sometimes to the opera in San Francisco.”
“It sounds like you’re happy here. You have your institute, and she feels at home and likes it here.”
“As far as I’m concerned, it’s all right, nothing more,” Gideon clarified.
He still hasn’t asked about us, Nurit thought. But if he does, I won’t hide behind a screen of words. “Concerts in San Francisco? That’s wonderful!” she said, in a voice a little too cheerful. “And what about the flute? Do you still play?”
“And how I play!” Gideon’s eyes shone. “I’ll tell you in a moment… And what about you? I’ll never forget the variations of ‘Green Sleeves’ we used to play together—you on the piano, me on the flute.”
Nurit’s eyes grew damp, and Gideon said, “Nuri, why don’t we order something? We got slightly carried away with talking.”
He motioned to the waitress, who made her way to the table. Nurit ordered a long espresso, a croissant, and a glass of water. “Without ice,” she stressed. Gideon asked for a large café au lait and a Danish.
“You’re kidding, Gidi—another Danish? You haven’t changed a bit…” She put her hand on the table, right by his.
Nurit picked up where they’d left off. “Actually, I still play. I have a grand Steinway at home, and I like to tickle the keys when I’m alone. I haven’t forgotten ‘Green Sleeves,’ and believe it or not, I keep the different variation notes to practice from time to time—without you.”
“And Yudke? Does he play an instrument?”
“He claims that he can’t think with music. And in general, when it comes to music, I feel like I’m in the desert here.”
The waitress brought their orders to the table, and they stopped talking for a few moments, looking into each other’s eyes.
Nurit took a bite of her croissant and said, “Peet’s is the only place I know in the San Francisco Bay area that can bake as well as the French do,” she said, thinking of Francois’s criticism. “In the faculty cafeteria at Berkeley, they serve third-rate croissants.”
“To be honest,” Gideon said, “one of the things I can’t get enough of is the variety of good food here. Such choice! Remember how boring kibbutz food was? Same thing, week after week, ad nauseam…” He wrinkled his nose, and Nurit laughed, nodding in agreement.
She liked Gideon much more than she liked the Armenian, who she saw as a little strange, perhaps because of the past that they shared. “Tell me more about your playing.”
“I didn’t part with the flute for a moment, and it helps me through difficult times,” Gideon told her, and thought about how music had placated them when they got into one of their lovers’ quarrels.
“Not long after moving here, I joined the campus orchestra. It’s a symphony orchestra with about fifty musicians, most of whom are students at Stanford’s music academy. They welcomed me with open arms, since they were lacking another flutist,” he remarked soberly. “Only later did they realize that I was as good a musician as any of them, and I fit in socially too… But enough about me. It’s your turn now! How did you land up in Berkeley?”
“Don’t forget. I have loads more questions, and I’m not planning to skip a single one,” Nurit said with a smile. Where do I start? she asked herself. With a story about Berkeley? About what lies behind it?
“I had a good few years with Yudke. We were comfortable financially, and the kids received all the attention and education that money can buy. Yudke was always busy, and by the time the children grew up and were no longer tied to my apron strings, it didn’t bother me.”
“Do you love him?” Gideon asked, watching her closely.
“I respect him… Maybe I feel a little affection. In the past, I felt more, but it all faded away the more Yudke buried himself in his own interests, and we grew apart. I know it sounds trite, but he built a world for himself and didn’t stop for even a moment to show any interest in my needs. We have two great and talented kids. Dan and Michal. Dan followed in Yudke’s footsteps and studied physics at the Hebrew University. Michal has almost finished her army duty, serving as an officer in the air force.”
“So you came out here and left the two kids in Israel?” Gideon asked and thought about Noam.
“It was hard for me to leave them, but when Yudke suggested a two-year stay in Silicon Valley, I saw it as an opportunity to make a change in my life.”
“And did you find the change you were hoping for?”
“No. Not immediately. You know what it’s like to move to a new country… From our first week here, Yudke was already devoting all his time to work and left it up to me to arrange everything to do with the house.”
“And?”
“And the routine of being alone at home every day started to weigh on me. We rented the Steinway, and that helped, but not enough.”
“Your solution was to go back to college? And Berkeley? Why not Stanford?” Gideon wasn’t giving her an easy time.
Nurit, embarrassed, took a few moments to answer. “I wanted to get away. Attending Stanford meant staying here.”
“I see,” Gideon said. “And you spend all week there?”
“I rented
a small apartment in Berkeley, not far from the campus, and I’m happy there. There are both young and mature students in the doctoral program, and it’s challenging. I have only two more courses and a seminar to go before I can officially start working on my dissertation. I feel at home in Berkeley.” Then Nurit added, “Hey, do you ever get there? How about visiting me?”
“That’s a great idea,” Gideon said enthusiastically. “There are often conferences in Berkeley, and in San Francisco too sometimes. Researchers from our institute sometimes attend them—I’m sure we’ll find a time that suits us both.”
Nurit’s mobile phone rang suddenly, changing the intimate atmosphere. Gideon got up and walked a few steps away to give her some privacy and waited for her to finish the conversation.
The conversation turned out to be a long one, and Gideon returned to the table, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and whispered, “Sorry, I really have to get going. See you soon!” before he turned to leave.
9.
The entrance hall to the music department was full of the sounds of string and wind instruments. Even the more experienced musicians had to warm up to prepare. Gideon waited impatiently for Ryan, who for the first time would be participating in rehearsals with the orchestra. I hope I haven’t taken too big a risk, recommending him without first hearing him play, he thought anxiously.
Finally, Ryan rushed in, breathing heavily. His violin was in a shabby old case, and Gideon worried that the orchestra’s violinists may find fault with the violin itself if it wasn’t up to par.
“It’s so good to see you,” Ryan exclaimed happily, “and thanks for opening the door to the orchestra for me.”
If he only knew how much I had to use the name Goldman for that, Gideon thought. The Goldman family was active in the Friends of Music at Stanford and had stood at the top of the donors list for as long as Gideon had known them. Back in his student days, Suzy had pressured her parents to join the association, mainly to help Gideon join the music department’s activities as an external student.
“Let’s go in and introduce you to some of the musicians,” Gideon suggested.
The lead violinist, Dr. Anthony Murphy, was already seated, and Gideon led Ryan over to him.
“Tony, this is Ryan Davis, the violinist I told you about.” Gideon patted Ryan on the shoulder, trying to help him feel more comfortable. “Ryan, please meet Dr. Murphy. He’s a faculty member here, and he’s the orchestra’s lead player.”
“Welcome,” Tony said in a rich baritone voice. “We’ve heard a lot about you and your experience with NYU’s orchestra. We’ve been thinking of boosting the first violin group, and I hope you enjoy playing with us.”
“I hope I don’t disappoint you,” Ryan said with self-doubt that surprised Gideon.
“Tonight, we’ll be working on Claude Debussy’s ‘Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun,’ ” Tony continued calmly, “so how about sitting next to Linda in the third row. After rehearsal, you’ll get the notes of the entire program that we’ll be playing this season.”
“That’s a beautiful piece,” Ryan said, turning to Gideon. “If I remember well, it has wonderful solos for the flute.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Tony said. “Gideon has a challenging solo to play, and he does so perfectly.”
“Don’t exaggerate, Tony,” Gideon responded. “May I remind you that I’m still an amateur?”
Gideon took Ryan to meet a few other players, Linda first. She was a slender woman with a snub nose and a pile of blonde hair that she’d pulled back. She greeted Ryan brightly. “Gideon told me about you,” she said, “and we’re so happy you could join us. Elizabeth, the second oboe player, is responsible for the notes, and she’ll give you the roles for the first violin as soon as rehearsal’s over. Meanwhile, we’ll both play from my notes, if you don’t mind.”
“What does the annual program include?” Ryan asked Gideon nervously as they walked away. “I know Debussy’s ‘Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun’ only from listening to it. I hope I can get through reading it straight from the notes tonight.”
“You’ll be fine,” Gideon assured him. “And besides, the violins have an easier part. Not like the wind section. We each have a solo to perform.”
“We don’t exactly have it easy, us violinists,” Ryan explained. “One bad note is enough to put the entire orchestra off. What’s on the program?”
“We’ll play Mozart’s Symphony no. 41, Jupiter. It has an enchanting fugue for oboe and flute. We’re opening the concert season with Bach’s Orchestral Suite no. 2.”
“Nice! That’s a well-known work, and we played it at NYU,” Ryan said. “It also includes a flute solo, right?”
“Yes. You have a good memory,” Gideon said, beginning to appreciate his new friend’s knowledge. “Originally, that solo was written for a baroque flute and was quite challenging, technically. Today, since the baroque flute has been replaced with the modern flute, I can handle it without any particular difficulty.”
“So, in other words, they’ve selected works that give you a central role?”
“Yes,” Gideon admitted hesitantly. “We don’t have enough soloists in other instruments… But I want you to meet another two flutists—Kieran and Janet.”
Ryan held out a long-fingered hand to the two women. They shook it, charmed. “They both earned their master’s in music,” Gideon said as he accompanied Ryan to his spot, and Ryan replied in a whisper, “There are so many academics here who are no longer students. How are they connected to the orchestra?”
“They just enjoy playing with an ensemble. There are quite a few musicians just like you and me who work in other fields around here. You’ll have to devote some time at home to playing to maintain the right level for the orchestra. I play almost every day.”
“I’ll work hard,” Ryan promised.
Gideon noticed that they were about to start and hurried to his place at the back. Ryan stayed by Linda’s side, taking deep breaths of Romance by Ralph Lauren. An older man, slightly bent with thin gray hair and enormous glasses, walked into the hall.
“That’s Professor Cohen, one of the senior members of the music department. He’s a highly regarded conductor,” Linda whispered to Ryan. “He has an amazing track record as a violinist, musicologist, and teacher. You’ll soon see who he is and how captivating his conducting style is.”
Cohen raised his hands, and the orchestra began to play. In the beginning, Gideon glanced at Ryan every now and again but relaxed as soon as he saw him keeping up. Professor Cohen worked the violinists hard, asking them repeatedly to play the opening passage. He instructed the first violinists to change the direction of the bow stroke. Tony agreed with Cohen, and the orchestra began again.
Gideon knew the piece well and knew when his solos were: the first, after a dramatic section with four horns, and the second, after a touching solo by the two oboes. Gideon’s flute fluttered and swirled, bringing calm. His eye caught Ryan’s and they both smiled. The conductor knew how to use his baton and eyes to communicate the precise moment at which each soloist should come in with the appropriate power and style. It was a sweeping performance, and Gideon could see that Ryan was in another world.
“You played your solo wonderfully,” Ryan said after the rehearsal. “Claude Debussy would have enjoyed your interpretation.”
Gideon was flattered.
Ryan put a hand on his arm. “Is the cafeteria still open? Can I treat you to a cup of coffee?”
“I’d love a cup,” Gideon replied. “I’m parched after the rehearsal.” I have no reason to rush home, he thought. Suzy will probably be with one of her friends or reading a book in bed. And I’m not really in the mood for her parents. None of them will miss me.
“Well. How did you like playing with us?” Gideon asked after they sat down with their coffee. He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from Ryan.
&
nbsp; “It was amazing! And Elizabeth gave me the notes. I’ll find time to prepare for rehearsals, and I promise not to embarrass you.”
“Linda whispered to me at the end of the rehearsal that you’re really good, and to hear that from her is certainly a compliment. I really hope you’ll find the time to practice. Sometimes we need immense willpower to detach from work.”
“Yes, I wanted to ask you how you manage to practice with the load and responsibility of your research on your shoulders,” Ryan said. “Are your two assistants enough to help you cover every area necessary?”
“They’re marvelous, the two of them,” Gideon answered, “and I couldn’t ask Dr. Deutsch for anyone better. Clearly, if I had another two or three like them, I’d cover more areas that I’m postponing for the time being.”
“Can’t Dr. Deutsch help you out? There seems to be good chemistry between you two.”
“Gerald’s an extraordinary manager, but he’s not omnipotent. He’s got to divide the budget fairly. I can understand him.” Although Gideon made a point of hiding it, his tone was a little complaining.
“But you’re working on such interesting and important matters—it’s not that hard to find ways to increase the budget so you can expand and deepen the research,” Ryan responded reflectively. “Silicon Valley is a hive of activity, and these days, you can raise funds from unexpected sources… And, by the way, Gideon, did you think about what’ll happen after your contract with the institute is up? You know that when it ends you won’t be able to implement everything you wanted to in the field.”
This thought wasn’t new to Gideon. It crossed his mind almost daily, especially as the time of completion for the current part of the study was approaching. He’s right, but there’s no way he could help me. Gideon smiled and shook Ryan’s hand. “Well, these things won’t be resolved today…”
The two men parted, each carrying an instrument case. When he got in his car, Gideon was still thinking about what Ryan had said, and he knew his thoughts would be occupied for hours before he’d finally fall asleep.