by Uzi Eilam
10.
Nurit couldn’t stop thinking about Gideon or of the possibility of seeing him again soon in Berkeley. He’s still a good boy, she noted. She’d always been the initiator in their relationship, and even when they’d made love, she’d take the lead. If she wished to, she could easily make him her lover.
She wasn’t sure if and why she wanted to do that. Was she truly attracted to him, or did she simply have the need to settle an old account?
She felt a twinge of pain in her heart from the memories of how the crisis had begun—when she had discovered that she was pregnant. She couldn’t forget her humiliating attempt to convince Gideon to get married. For the first time since they’d been a couple, he stood his ground and refused to go along with what she asked for. Nurit didn’t tell him about the pregnancy. The last thing she wanted was for that to be the only reason he agreed to marry her. Gideon didn’t know, and he didn’t understand the intense emotions that overwhelmed her. He was shocked by the wild scene that she made when they split up. If I’d told him about my situation, would it have changed our relationship? And, in any case, how would we have managed while he was still a student?
As usual at that time of day, the house was empty. Nurit’s thoughts were flooded by memories of the abortion that she’d never told anyone about. To calm herself, she picked up the variation notes to “Green Sleeves.” She followed the flutist’s part and could feel Gideon’s presence right beside her. She heard his voice again, felt the touch of his hand and the taste of the kiss he gave her when he left the café.
The sound of a key turning in the door startled Nurit. Yudke had come home earlier than usual. He poured himself a tall glass of bourbon with ice and groaned as he sat down in the armchair facing the television.
“What’s up, Yudke? You seem troubled.”
“Since when are you interested in what I do?” he asked bluntly.
“That again? I’ve always been interested, but you don’t tell me anything.”
“Since you’re so interested—no, there’s nothing troubling me. I’m just tired.” He took a sip of bourbon. “And you? I suppose you’ve got nothing to tell me either. The same blabbering on about modern philosophy and the history of liberation movements they teach you at Berkeley.”
“Actually, I do have something to tell you,” Nurit said argumentatively. “Do you remember Gideon, my first boyfriend? Well, I ran into him at Town and Country. We had coffee at Peet’s.”
“Gideon? Is he here on a visit?”
“He’s been here almost a year. He’s a researcher at SRI, and he’s married to an American woman. They live in Menlo Park.”
Yudke didn’t respond. Instead, he focused on taking sips of his drink. What is he thinking? Nurit asked herself. Is he jealous or just tired?
“You look tired or troubled, Yudke. Tell me what’s happening,” she said gently, trying to encourage him. “Trouble at work?”
“The company’s fine, Nurit,” Yudke answered as he poured himself another shot. “We’re going through a good period, but we’re also under pressure from clients to progress. They’re powerful and influential, and we can’t let them down in any way.”
Yudke’s candor and willingness to share were unusual, and Nurit quickly grabbed the straw he seemed to be offering. “Can you meet your obligations?”
“Basically, yes. But we’re in a difficult field…”
“What field, exactly? Or is it classified?”
“Not really classified,” Yudke replied. “We got the main concept from a group of youngsters who served in the IDF’s technical units. They came up with an original idea to broaden communication channels and formed a startup,” he explained with rare patience. “As is often the case with projects of this kind, they ran out of funds halfway, and if it hadn’t been for our company and the funds we provided, they would have had to shut down.”
“And what does that have to do with New Horizons?” Nurit asked.
Yudke was surprised by her focused questioning. “What’s with you? Do you want to start working for us?”
“I’m merely interested.”
“It’s quite a long story, and you’re not all that into technical details.”
“Can’t you explain it to me without going into technological descriptions?” Nurit didn’t give in. “Focus on the human aspect, on what’s happening with you.”
“Fine.” He sighed lightly. “But don’t forget that you asked for it.”
“I promise to listen.”
“Broadening the capacity of existing communications networks, which are being overloaded at a crazy pace, is of great concern to many companies. We liked the sound of their idea because we saw it as a simple and effective solution that was still unknown. We established a partnership with the group’s startup and injected money into the company that returned the color to their cheeks. After another year of development, we made an exit of tens of millions of dollars. New Horizons decided to acquire us. In the sales contract, we undertook to stay on and continue working on increasing the capabilities by doing further development. The nice thing is that, in the end, it all comes down to a compact smart card that can channel bursts of communication using special scheduling modes.”
“I’m glad we moved here,” Nurit said, keeping the conversation going. “I remember well the day you told me that they insisted you move here for the engineering development stage of the product,” she continued, full of admiration. “So basically, you’re the main cog?”
“It’s a bit more complicated,” Yudke explained, “because meanwhile the defense establishments in Israel and the United States discovered that the communications solution had potential for use in the modern battlefield. The Israeli Ministry of Defense and the Pentagon came to an agreement to develop it jointly, here in California and in Israel. The American effort is different from the Israeli effort, and we’re here because we’re an affiliate of the American company.” Yudke looked at Nurit, hoping that she was done questioning him.
“So that’s the reason you’re so secretive!” Nurit continued tirelessly.
“I don’t determine the rules of the game in these matters. I explained, there’s an agreement between the American Department of Defense and the Israeli Ministry of Defense who were impressed by the potential of our solution for communication systems,” he continued patiently, “and that’s why they’re sensitive, and it’s our duty to maintain confidentiality.”
Nurit was certain that security confidentiality wasn’t the only reason for Yudke’s tight-lipped behavior, but she could tell that the conversation was over when she saw him glance at the television screen and pour himself yet another drink.
11.
Gideon sat in his office deep in thought as he scrolled through the text of a lecture he’d been asked to give. A loud knock at the door shook him. “Come in,” he called out.
It was Dr. Deutsch, unexpected as usual. “Morning, Gideon,” he said as he folded himself into the seat. “You do recall that the conference in San Francisco is starting tomorrow?”
“Of course, Gerald!” Gideon said. “You just caught me adding the final touches to the presentation. I’m sure I’ll be done by the afternoon, and then I’ll send it to you to have a look.”
Gideon knew how important it was to Dr. Deutsch to be well represented at the annual conference of the BMDO—the Ballistic Missile Defense Organization. It was common knowledge at the institute that Deutsch had been a senior BMDO department head at the Pentagon before becoming the company’s director. Deutsch was one of the initiators of the international conferences that aimed to enlist support for missile defense and to include other countries in the United States’ global policy.
“I know that whatever you come up with, it’ll be good,” Deutsch said in a tone that sounded more like a demand. With a few quick strides, he was out the door and gone. Gideon went back to work, trying
to reword a few passages he wasn’t happy with. He was pleased to have the opportunity to lecture at the conference, and he looked forward to meeting colleagues who worked for other research institutes. He knew that a large group of Israelis from the defense industries would be participating, and he hoped to meet some old acquaintances there. But all that, he remembered, paled in comparison with the promise of meeting Nurit.
When he arrived home late at the end of the day, he found Suzy reading in bed. “I’m going to a three-day conference in San Francisco tomorrow,” he told her. He hadn’t told her about it earlier, and he dared not ask himself why.
“Oh, yes?” Suzy replied with a yawn. “What’s it this time?”
“The annual missile defense conference,” he replied, “and I’m lecturing there on behalf of the institute.”
“Good luck,” she replied sleepily and went back to reading her book.
Gideon wasn’t relaxed. He wasn’t sure if he was nervous about the conference or about seeing Nurit. His conscience had already begun to torment him for intentions he had yet to act on. He thought of the ironic definition of conscience he’d heard once: a mechanism that does not prevent a person from sinning but doesn’t allow for enjoyment…
***
The old Chevy gurgled soothingly up the highway. Traffic wasn’t heavy so early in the morning, and Gideon was at the long bay bridge in no time. The clatter of the car’s tires on the bridge matched the rhythm of his heartbeat…and of Nurit’s name, which he found himself chanting, “Nurit, Nurit, Nurit.”
The entrance to the conference hall was jam-packed. Gideon made his way to the registration booths and was awarded a red name tag bearing the SRI logo. The color of the badge indicated that he belonged to the lecturers’ crowd.
After hanging the tag around his neck, Gideon rushed to call Nurit. One ring was enough for her to answer. “Gideon? Are you here?” she said in a singsong voice.
“I just arrived. Are you okay? I really missed you,” he said, unable to stop himself.
“I’m fine, Gidi,” she said, showing more restraint. “What time will you be here?”
“I’m giving a lecture for the institute. I’m a little stressed over it. I hope it goes well,” Gideon answered.
“I trust your perfectionism, but I’m sending you a good-luck kiss anyway.”
Even when she’s warm, something still holds her back, Gideon noticed. He wanted to send her a kiss in return, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Instead, he just said, “Thanks.” Still, the word kiss made all the tension disappear.
“So when will you be here? We talked about having a quiet dinner at my place—you’ll be here, right?”
“You bet,” he answered. “I’ll skip the dinner the conference offers us.”
***
The first speaker would be the living legend Professor Edward Teller. Gideon was eager to hear what the Hungarian Jewish scientist and the father of the hydrogen bomb had to say. Teller the Hawk was a known staunch supporter of the missile defense initiative Star Wars, and he felt right at home at these conferences.
A tall man in a brown robe appeared from the wings, carrying a stick as tall as himself. He moved slowly to the center of the stage, looking to Gideon like Moses or, at the very least, his brother Aaron. Teller, his face furrowed and topped with thick eyebrows untouched by old age, surprised the crowd with his booming voice. He opened by encouraging the participants to continue working tirelessly to develop missile defense systems.
“See what a small country like Israel can do when it finds itself in existential danger,” he roared. “The United States and Europe are currently not protected enough, and it is your responsibility…”
At the end of his short lecture, the hall remained silent for a long few seconds before the audience broke out in applause.
Gideon was fourth, an honorable position just two speakers after Teller. He decided to add a few sentences in response to Teller’s lecture, and he noticed Deutsch smiling encouragingly from the front row of dignitaries. As he spoke, he could feel Teller’s words boosting and emboldening him, and his lecture received long and loud applause. At the end of the morning session, Deutsch patted him on the shoulder and shook his hand warmly.
“That was an impressive and convincing lecture you gave,” he said happily. “Come eat lunch with me in the lecturers’ dining room. I want you to meet Professor Teller.”
“Thanks, Gerald,” Gideon responded. “Do you really think it was that good? I still can’t think calmly.”
“It was excellent!” Deutsch reassured him. “And now, come with me. They’ve saved us places at Teller’s table. He’s heard about you before, and now he wants to talk to you. He’ll have plenty of questions for you, and from what I know of him, you won’t escape without receiving his advice.”
Deutsch was right. The elderly scientist boomed out an impressive knowledge of Gideon’s past and had only good things to say of Israel’s research and development achievements. He asked pointed and profound questions about the lecture matter, leaving Gideon feeling like Teller had sat in his office at the institute peering over his shoulder as he struggled to construct the model he was working on. Deutsch hardly participated in the discussion, allowing Gideon to enjoy Teller’s undivided attention.
“Israel is a small country, geographically speaking,” Teller said in his heavy Hungarian accent, “and that’s why the direction you take in developing this system will be critical to your ability to defend yourselves. We in the United States had better follow suit,” he concluded, leaving Gideon openmouthed.
The afternoon sessions were interesting, but for Gideon, the events were all dwarfed by the two highlights of the day: Teller’s lecture in the morning and lunch with Teller. Sometimes his mind wandered, and he found himself missing sentences and even whole passages of lectures. He couldn’t stop thinking of Nurit all afternoon and wanted the lectures and cocktails to be over so he could slip out.
A few hours later, his GPS guided him and his old Chevy through the dark night to Nurit’s place.
***
The entrance hall was dark, and only a dim light came through the windows. Nurit opened the door and fell into his arms as her eyes slowly closed. Their lips met and her tongue searched for his. She pressed her body against him, and Gideon placed both his hands on her small and firm behind and pressed her close. Panting, they stayed there, glued together as one.
“You’re finally here,” Nurit whispered hoarsely and began undressing him.
“You haven’t changed at all,” Gideon whispered. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Gideon’s shirt flew to the end of the room, followed by his pants. The elegant pantsuit Nurit was wearing received the same treatment from Gideon. Her velvety white skin, firm breasts, and belly curving down to her perfectly trimmed triangle all made him even harder. The bed wasn’t far, and they fell on it, stroking and groping, kissing and licking in a frenzy. Nurit hadn’t forgotten how to get Gideon’s blood flowing, and he felt himself carried off to a warm, glowing heaven. Nurit’s neck invited kisses, and Gideon didn’t hold back as he slid down her body, his mouth lingering on her erect nipples, silky stomach, and finally—resting at the tip of the dark triangle.
“Yes, Gidi,” Nurit groaned. “Don’t stop.” And she raised her hips, his kisses sending her into a frenzy. She thrashed about, groaning, screaming—and finally she was still, silent.
After a few minutes, she ordered Gideon, “Lie quietly on your back.”
Gideon obeyed. She still knows exactly what to do to me, and luckily so, he thought.
Nurit lay down on Gideon, and he felt himself enter her, slowly but powerfully. Her body caught him and wrapped him in smooth warmth, and they began to move as one, higher and higher, until their joint release.
Breathing heavily, they lay side by side, her head on his shoulder, and then, almost simultane
ously, they said, “That’s what I was waiting for,” and burst out laughing. They were calm enough to begin rediscovering each other’s bodies with slow strokes and kisses. Gideon noticed that Nurit was more experienced in lovemaking. He couldn’t help comparing her to reserved Suzy. He was enthralled by Nurit’s sensitivity and ability to guess what he liked, what excited him. They lay on their backs, talking about the past and about their hopes for the future, about their achievements and failures. Gideon found himself opening up to his old love and talking freely, when only a few weeks ago he wasn’t even aware she was living so close to him. He told her about the model he was researching and about the limited group that he worked with. He praised Deutsch. “He’s my mentor. He gave me the opportunity to work at the institute and,” he smiled, “to meet you.”
“Weren’t we planning an intimate dinner?” Nurit smiled as she wrapped herself in a floral silk robe. “Come, throw something comfortable on.” She pulled out a man’s robe from somewhere.
“Thanks, Nuri,” Gideon said and wondered who else had wrapped himself in that robe.
Nurit disappeared into the kitchen and returned carrying a tray with a bottle of chilled Sancerre, two glasses that had been chilling in the freezer, a carved wooden bowl laden with Iranian caviar alongside a bowl of sour cream and a wooden plate of dry crackers. “I have a full fridge,” Nurit said, “but let’s start with champagne.”
Gideon opened the bottle, which began to bubble as soon as the cork flew to the ceiling. The combination of caviar, champagne, and sour cream was perfect. Gideon tried not to dive in and devour everything on the tray.
Nurit’s fridge really was packed with delicacies. She took out plate after plate of different dishes.
“We probably shouldn’t overdo it so late at night,” Nurit said. “And remember, you have to be at your best tomorrow.”
“It’s more than I could dream of,” Gideon said as he hugged her gently, “and the night has only just begun…”