Fracture Point

by T. D. Mandowsky

  This was the beginning of the last episode of Jonod al-Takhrir. The only ones still standing in this whole mess were Corporal Seffi Keinan and Yihya Sidawi. Sidawi had no reason to give up his valuable asset. Seffi’s life depended on Sidawi’s, and Sidawi’s life depended on Seffi’s. I looked at Sidawi’s face. I wanted to shoot him, to burn his image and watch it slowly decay. But he just stared back, and even though the picture was printed, there was a personal spark in his eyes, as if my suffering is his pleasure.

  I wonder what Liza would do?

  It was 5:30. I ordered an espresso and checked email on my phone. I wrote an email to the newspaper because the editorial on the conflict really annoyed me. I wrote to the editor that the article was ethnocentric crap throughout. Donna taught me what “ethnocentric” meant, but I erased that fact from my mind right away.

  It was 6:00.

  The waitress asked me if I wanted anything else and I ordered the chicken salad. When she turned and started walking away, I called her back and said I wanted Thousand Island dressing on it, and she said that it came with Thousand Island dressing anyway, so I said all right.

  6:10.

  I reread the last message from her to make sure we were meeting today at 7:00. That was what it said.

  6:15.

  Damn it. Time goes by so slowly.

  I put my earphones in because I thought of that Eminem song. I couldn’t remember the name of the movie he made, but it was very good. I played the theme song from the soundtrack and listened to the beginning of it. When I got to the middle, I started it over again. I heard the first half again and took out my notebook, flipping to the back of it. Next to the drawing of the centaur, I wrote down the lyrics, and told myself: I have only one shot, I won’t let it slip.

  Chapter 47

  Tel Aviv is so peaceful.

  What I’d thought was a siren turned out to be a motorcycle accelerating on the Ayalon Highway. The barista called through the restaurant’s speaker to the next customer, who would come to pick up his order, and at first it sounded to me just like the emergency PA system at headquarters. Lucky thing I’d arrived two hours early. It took me a while to get used to the idea that everything was all right, and after an hour of sitting alone, I even noticed the birds chirping.

  I saw her in the distance. I recognized her posture and her shining straight hair, and a stupid smile smeared on my face.

  “Hi,” I called as I got up and went over to her. She pressed herself against my chest, like she had once before, but for less time than I remembered.

  “What’s this hair?” She felt free to run her hand through my growing hair and smiled at me. It was the same shiny smile, but her eyes didn’t become Asian-thin like those times when she smiled in Baku.

  “What would you like to drink?” I asked after a seemingly long time. I don’t know how long − maybe five seconds − but it felt like an eternity.

  “Cappuccino,” she said simply, and I felt my heart beating like it was fueled with coffee.

  I went up to the counter, despite the waitress, and asked for a cappuccino and an espresso. The cashier told me to sit down and wait for the waitress, so that is what I did.

  “What’s the matter?” Liza asked.

  “We needed to wait for the waitress,” I said

  “Oh, okay.”

  “How are you? How’s school going?” I asked, trying to break the ice.

  She said, “It’s going pretty well. Just finished my first exams, and I have a presentation to submit in two days that I have to finish by tomorrow.”

  I looked out the glass window at the empty street. It was dark, and there were very few students leaving campus. There were so many things I needed to tell her, so few I wanted to say to her, and I hardly managed to get any words out of my mouth.

  “Do you want to sit outside?” she asked. I wanted to tell her that she read my mind, but then she said, “so I can smoke.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  I threw my wallet, my keys, and phone on the metal table and dragged the chair. I only noticed how much noise I was making when she gently put down her bag and sat down elegantly like she was the national champion of sitting on chairs.

  We talked about Baku. She said that Zaor was still driving her crazy with messages a month after she had been back. Then she asked me how I was after the incident. I said I was fine, and she looked at me and said, “Try again, but now with the real answer.”

  “There’s really not much to tell,” I persisted.

  “How did he come out of it alive?”

  There was a gag order on the details of the incident, but this is Liza, she’s an ISA employee, and we’re going to be together anyway; of course I can tell her.

  “I didn’t kill him because he was no longer a threat.”

  “And what’s going to happen to him?”

  “Legally, he didn’t kill Leroy,” I said. “He just injured Ben Shabbat from finances, and I was lightly hurt. The court will probably give him the maximum sentence, but it’s not a life sentence. Anyway, he’ll probably get out in some prisoner exchange deal.”

  “So he came here, slaughtered us, and he’ll go home without paying the price,” she said in frustration.

  “He lost some teeth, if it’s any consolation,” I told her, “and as I saw him in court last week, and, well, he won’t be competing in the Olympics anytime soon.”

  Liza made a face, but I don’t know what she meant by it. Maybe it was too much for her. Maybe she’s feeling my pain and feeling sorry for me. Shit, I don’t know what that face means.

  “What about you?” she said, suddenly changing the subject. “How’s it going with your girlfriend?”

  She said it amusingly, trying to lighten the atmosphere up a bit. I saw what she was trying to do.

  “We broke up a month ago,” I said, even though we broke up a week ago. “It didn’t work out.”

  I wasn’t expecting her to get up and dance, but I was definitely hoping for some response. I was watching every little twitch in her face to indicate some initial subconscious response.

  “Really?” she said. Not a muscle in her face moved. It was the most indifferent “really” I had ever heard.

  I really wanted us to talk about happy things, for her to smile with her dimples the way she did in Baku. I wanted her to be a bright light in my dark life. I wanted us to laugh together and to see her eyes become tiny slits the way they did.

  All I got from her was a cold-as-metal “really,” as she put out her second cigarette in the metal ashtray on the metal table.

  “Okay,” Liza said and looked at her phone. “Let’s talk in a month or two. I might have a nice girl to introduce you to.”

  What? Someone to introduce to me?

  “Sure, um,” I said, trying to smile but my cheeks were heavier than they’ve ever been. “Yeah, no problem.”

  After we paid the bill, I walked her to her dormitory.

  “You’re acting a bit strange today,” she said when we were about to reach the glass door.

  “Yes, I know,” I said, and took a deep breath. I looked at the roof of the dormitory. These buildings are tall.

  “Why is that?” she asked, and I decide to put an end to my misery. This is my last chance, and I won’t have another one.

  “Listen,” I said and stopped. She stopped, too, and turned to me. I took in all the air I could.

  “I was really looking forward to seeing you.” I couldn’t look her in the eye, so I looked at the glass door behind her and saw the reflection of a loose, pathetic man.

  Liza didn’t answer. She stood there as always in her firm, athletic stance.

  “There was something there between us, Liza. I know you felt it too.”

  She looked at me like I was an animal who was run over by a truck.

  “And all the flirt
ing afterward. Come on, Liza. Why are you looking at me like that? I thought it was serious between us, and you know very well why.”

  I grabbed her arm, but not firmly. Desperately. She didn’t pull back.

  “Liza,” I said, trying to catch her eye, but she avoided it. I slid my hand down to her hand.

  “Itay,” she said, “you broke up with your girlfriend because you wanted me?”

  “What difference does it make? The past is irrelevant. Look at me,” I begged.

  She took a step back and let go of my hand.

  “Itay. Answer me.”

  I didn’t know what to say because I wasn’t sure what the answer was. My hands were empty. I wanted to hold her, to stop her from leaving, to hug her, so she would stay with me.

  “What difference does it make? It’s over.”

  “Listen Itay, I appreciate your honesty, but . . .” she stopped for a moment and finally looked at me.

  A shiny, watery layer covered her eyes, like a blue lagoon calling me to dive into them.

  “I’m really sorry,” she said quietly. If I thought she might be feeling sorry for me before, now I was absolutely sure. “I’m so sorry that I did this to you. I had a good time with you, of course I did, but this . . .” She paused, and her next words were chosen carefully. “Apparently, this shouldn’t have happened.”

  I didn’t say, “Look at how far I’ve come for you.”

  I didn’t say, “I left everything I had because I thought you would be mine.”

  I also didn’t say that I thought I would have beautiful kids like her, with honey-brown colored skin and bright, amused smiles.

  “I thought I could be happy with you, that you would help me overcome my weakness, fix me.”

  I didn’t say that either.

  “We don’t even know each other very well, Itay. You shouldn’t have done that,” was what she said.

  I felt the hatred rising up inside me.

  “Not for me,” she said and pointed at herself with her gentle hands and smiled. Just for a split second, a scared smile.

  I didn’t tell her to give it a second thought.

  I didn’t suggest that we discuss it over another cup of coffee.

  I didn’t say that we should go up to her apartment and see if this was just a dream? if only with you I can be healthy and giving, rather than injured and broken?

  I didn’t tell her any of that, but I wanted to.

  Liza took a step backward.

  “I really don’t . . . I don’t know what to say.” She stated the obvious. “Maybe it was one-time magic because, you know, we were abroad. Maybe you saw me as a character I wasn’t. I don’t know what to say.”

  What a bitch! She can go to hell. I said, “Okay,” and turned and left. When she called after me, I walked faster. When she shouted, “Itay, wait a minute,” I started running and hit a bicyclist by accident who told me that I was an idiot.

  “I sure am,” I mumbled and kept running and running. He’s absolutely right. I crossed the Rokeach bridge and almost walked into another bicycle as I was looking down at the cars speeding by.

  I’m such an idiot.

  It started to rain, so I ran faster. It was the last rain of the year. By the time I reached the train station parking lot, I was soaked with rain and sweat.

  Such an idiot.

  Chapter 48

  Sometimes when I’m in the shower, I stand under the water and talk to myself. Not like a crazy person − I mainly practice convincing arguments and rhetoric in all kinds of disagreements I have had or might have.

  It was a very cold night. Under the hot water I kept practicing how I was going to tell Amit that I was leaving. I had tried it before and failed, but I felt that today was the day.

  The shower was full of steam. I could hardly see the walls. I had a broken-up conversation with myself until I saw Donna’s pink razor staring at me. My thoughts went from my bald boss to Donna, who is probably buying new razors at the supermarket. On the other hand, why would she buy it if she has no one to shave for? She will probably be buying 3% milk for the morning coffee that she’ll drink alone.

  An hour later I was sitting facing Amit. He said, “Okay, Evron, what is it?” I wondered if he really didn’t know why we were there.

  “Have you lost weight?” he asked me.

  “Don’t know,” I told him.

  “Well, maybe it’s this hair that you grew there, making you seem slimmer,” he said and stroked the beard he didn’t have.

  “I’m not extending my contract,” I said.

  “What contract? Your work contract?” Amit pretended to be amazed.

  “I don’t know of any other contract,” I said, although I was well acquainted with the contract of the shop I bought and sold in Afula.

  “Why would you leave? Dr. Amrani just approved your return to the field. Do you have anything else to do?” he said.

  “Yes. I want to go into real estate, to start . . . to start dealing . . .” I stuttered.

  “That’s a tough field,” Amit looked at me, not affected by my words. “I’m not sure it’s for you.”

  I swallowed and took a deep breath. I wanted to say that days with handlers, hours of observing them operate agents, and an endless number of interrogations showed me that people are motivated by feelings, desires, revenge, jealousy. I wanted to tell him that real estate is all about people. One who can identify people’s emotions and motives, using the right manipulation, would make a good intelligence worker, as well as an excellent realtor. I wanted to tell him that I made one deal and it brought me more money than the three years in the unit, combined.

  That was what I wanted to say. But all I said was, “All right. I guess I’ll try anyway.”

  Amit made a face and said, “Okay.”

  “What’s going on with you these days? You have a girlfriend, right?” he asked.

  “Actually, we just broke up.”

  “All right. You’re still young,” he said. This information didn’t rock my world.

  He wished me luck, shook my hand with the palm of a watermelon seller, and apologized that he had to answer the phone.

  When I walked by the exit of the facility, I saw Bitton and Zander, the new guy talking.

  “Loved your beard,” Bitton pulled my beard amusingly. “Are you trying to copy mine?”

  He was the only one I told.

  “It’s final,” I said, feeling uncomfortable.

  “Look at him, leaving us,” he said to the new guard while pointing at me. He looked at me and asked why I was leaving. I thought of telling him that it was because my best friend got killed on my watch, that since then I don’t want new friends because everything is temporary. I wanted to tell him that he’s about to see and learn stuff he’ll never learn anywhere else. I wanted to tell him that he had better duplicate his soul so it doesn’t get cracked or tainted. But the truth is that I didn’t have the energy, so I said that every good thing comes to an end, and I left.

  Donna and I broke up as fast as the speed of light, and Liza dumped me like a tissue. Even Leroy left without saying good-bye. Why would I make an effort to be nice to this guy? All this crap has no meaning either way.

  “Evron!” I heard Amit shout after me. He had a bulletproof vest on each shoulder and two M-16 guns knocking against each other, giving the big boss the perfect look of a galloping tank.

  “Hurry! There’s intel on Seffi Keinan’s whereabouts and SWAT’s on its way. Put on the equipment now. We’re heading out.”

  Chapter 49

  The RPM indicator was all the way up on the dashboard of the huge jeep as it sped through the roads of Judea.

  “This is about to end. Tell her that it’s almost over.” Amit placed his thick fingers on his eyes, hoping to get some rest, or maybe he just didn’t feel like showing empathy
for the fact that Billal had been staying in a hotel for the last month.

  “I hope we get rid of Sidawi today,” Billal, who had not said a word about work until now, muttered. He had been talking about the Hapoel Be’er Sheva soccer team and food, as if he took part in an operation to release a soldier from three years’ captivity every other day.

  “I just hope they don’t kill the boy,” Amit said.

  “I don’t care about him, as long as they let me off this case,” Billal said with uncharacteristic drowsiness.

  “Don’t you want a promotion?” Amit asked him.

  “The other guy will be promoted. Everyone knows it,” he said.

  “Who?”

  “Fa-jar,” Billal said his name slowly like it was a curse. “Captain Fajar.”

  “Even now that your intelligence brought the soldier?” Amit asked, but Billal dismissed him and said, “Hold on. We don’t have the boy yet.”

  We joined the SWAT police unit. I had never seen a unit operate so quickly. Usually it takes at least half an hour just to get their equipment ready at the entrance to the village, but SWAT had prepared their equipment back at the base. The commander leading the force waved to Billal behind the reinforced window and sped into the village. The convoy moved quickly on the road, maintaining order and exact distances between each other.

  The first vehicles hit the brakes outside the house, two blocks from Shahid Square.

  The cops ran towards the house in exemplary order, as if they had been practicing this exclusively for two weeks. They were armed and armor-protected from head to toe. Even their eyes were hidden behind dark combat glasses.

  “Wait! Wait!” Billal shouted, and against all regulations he jumped out of the jeep, running behind the cops. It was easy to identify him since he was the only one wearing military pants and a white T-shirt with the logo of a supermarket.