Light Years (11 page)

I let her talk flow around me. Why was she was telling me this?

“I was so depressed. I found my assigned room and I tried the door and it opened, even though it’s supposed to be locked.” She rested her head on her knees. “I didn’t think we were allowed into our rooms early. I looked inside. It was dark because the curtains were drawn. There was stuff all over the floor, like someone had started unpacking.” I started paying attention. “Then I saw you sleeping on the bed.” She laughed. “I felt like one of the bears returned home to find Goldilocks. Someone was sleeping in my room. And then you rolled over and mumbled something and I left.”

“I didn’t know you came in,” I said, getting under the covers, shivering slightly. “Weird.”

“I didn’t feel like meeting my new roommate yet. I was sure I’d get to move in first since I lived so nearby. I’d planned to get here at seven so I could stake my bed, my desk, my side of the room. I was just stunned, you know? How did this person get to move in so early? I kicked the wall. You know that dark scuff between our room and Tiffany’s? I did that.” She looked like she had just admitted to a heinous crime. “It’s funny to think about it now. I mean, everything worked out so well, and I like it here. But at the time it seemed just awful, like nothing was going to work out the way it should.”

I was quiet and my eyes felt heavy. I wasn’t sure what to say.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is just because something
doesn’t go the way you expected it to, it doesn’t mean it won’t work out in the end. Maybe even better than you thought.”

I curled on my side and hugged a pillow to my chest.

“I’m fine, Payton. I’m just really tired right now.”

“I know. I’m glad you went running with Chris, and I don’t want you to think I’m meddling.”

I smiled. “I don’t. I think you’re wonderful and sweet and I am really lucky that we’re roommates.”

She smiled brightly.

“I’m glad you said that,” she said, and my heart sank just a bit because I recognized that tone. “A friend of mine is in ROTC and one of his instructors is married to an Israeli woman. So if you wanted to get together, I can get you her number.”

“Oh.”

“What? I thought you’d like to meet another Israeli living in town. Was I wrong? I thought you were homesick.”

I was angry with myself for getting tied into knots at the thought of meeting another Israeli. I was annoyed with Payton for being considerate and thinking she could fix everything. But I held my tongue when I saw her face, hopeful, hesitant, and well-meaning. Instead of saying I wasn’t interested, I forced a smile and, with as much enthusiasm as I could fake, said I’d love to meet her.

By eleven, Payton had finished her reading and turned out her light. I lay in bed listening to her breathe until midnight. I
finally got out of bed, pulled on a cotton cardigan, slipped on my shoes, and crept out the door.

It was past midnight on a weeknight, and while the streets were not deserted, there was enough solitude for me to be able to walk in my boxers and not draw much attention. There was also enough silence for me to be able to think. The rain had stopped, but the roads were still wet and shiny under the streetlights. The trees dripped down on my head and shoulders.

Everyone said it wasn’t my fault. They still said it. But I knew different. It was the reason I couldn’t bring myself to go anywhere, to meet anyone those last four months. I couldn’t take the responsibility. There were three bombings before I left, and each time I just felt weak with relief because it wasn’t me. I had nothing to do with it. Not my fault.

But with Dov, it was.

A butterfly flaps its wings, the saying goes, and a storm breaks over the Caribbean … but what if you were that butterfly? Were you to blame?

I reached the top of Observatory Hill and sat on the steps of the deserted observatory. I shrugged in the darkness, fighting the urge to weep. He was gone. He was lost forever. Because of me. Because he loved me. How can love be worth that?

Where did that leave me?

Where was my home?

A part of me seriously thought about not going back to Israel. Would I rather stay here and be safe? Could I ever feel at home here? How could I not love Israel best? How could I ever
live there again? Payton’s sweet, naive idea that everything works out in the end was hopelessly not enough for me.

Even though I walked for another hour, avoiding the dripping trees and the metallic silver puddles, I found no answers. Finally I returned to my room, slipped into bed, and pretended to go to sleep.

“Come with me Friday night,” Aunt Hen said. “The mayor will be there, and Yair Lapid.” Lapid was a very cute journalist with his own talk show. “It’ll be fun.”

Dov had been swamped at work. He went to the West Bank for a series of meetings. I thought he would call about dancing again, but a week had already passed. I tried to get Daphna to tell me what Dov had said to Bar about Friday night, but she claimed to know nothing. She did say she thought he seemed interested.

“Sure, I’ll go,” I said, though I knew I wouldn’t have a good time. But it was better than staying at home watching the news. “What should I wear?”

Hen smiled. “We’ll go shopping.”

I smiled back. Shopping with Hen was a distinct and happy pleasure. I had never been offered a cappuccino in a store before. I had also never had the shop assistant pick out the clothes for me, not even giving me the chance to browse around and see what caught my eye. They all knew Hen by name and learned mine, so that by the second visit they greeted me too.

They thought I was her daughter. She didn’t correct them
and neither did I. I felt guilty for a moment, thinking of my mom, but decided we were all pretending here. They pretended they genuinely liked us. We pretended they had our best interests in mind when they suggested a particularly stunning dress. So I let Hen pretend I was her daughter; what difference did it make? I ignored the slight twinge that said maybe it was disloyal.

Before I came to Tel Aviv, I had a vague guess as to what Hen’s chic wardrobe cost, but once I went shopping with her, I realized how far off I was.

I began to understand her irritation when one of my young cousins smeared her cashmere-beaded top with their grubby little hands. I started noticing seams and hems and the flow of material. I began to recognize designers and could sometimes tell an imitation from the real thing. I wasn’t sure what good this would do me. As far as I could tell, I would never be able to afford such clothes.

My mother called and I told her about the party on Friday.

“I’ll meet Yair Lapid,” I said. “Want an autograph?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I was kidding. I would never do something so embarrassing.” Because Hen would kill me, but I didn’t say that.

“I don’t like this,” my mother said. I could hear the censure in her tone.

“What?”

“You’re developing this sort of sarcastic, condescending humor that I hate. Hen is trying to seduce you.” I wondered at
her choice of words. Seduce. “I don’t know if this is the best thing for you right now.”

“What do you mean? Hen is being great to me.”

“I know.”

“So what, you want her to be mean to me? To make me feel like this isn’t my home?”

“Forget I said anything.”

This was a classic tactic that never failed to annoy me.

“Fine. You shouldn’t have said anything. So let’s just forget it.”

A little while afterward, as I cut some tomatoes and cucumbers for my dinner, I realized that this was the first time I’d ever taken Hen’s side over my mother’s. Maybe that was my mother’s point. I scraped the vegetables into a bowl and shrugged in the empty kitchen. My mom was just jealous. I settled on the couch in front of the television, crossed my legs, and clicked on Yair Lapid’s program. I’ll meet him Friday, I thought with satisfaction. I ate my salad.

The party was at a seafood restaurant on the beach. It was all lit up and sparkling, and I wondered how much this party had cost. There was a huge buffet set up, loaded with food and jungle-sized flower arrangements. There were hunks of glistening meat on kebabs, golden puff pastries stuffed with ground meat and spices, endless bowls of summer salads, fruits, and baskets full of warm crusty bread. I filled a plate and chatted with Hen, but soon she saw someone across the room and hurried to speak with him about an upcoming case. Inevitably I found myself
with an empty plate, strolling aimlessly, trying to look like I had some business being there.

A five-piece band was playing mambos and tangos from one corner, surrounded by lush plants. They were cranking out a saucy beat, but no one was dancing and it seemed like a waste. The volume of the conversation was growing louder as more and more people arrived and loosened up with drinks. I lost track of Hen. There was a huge crowd around Yair Lapid that I wasn’t about to add myself to. Everyone fawned over him, laughing too loudly and adoringly. It seemed undignified. Even though Hen had told me that the mayor was coming, I didn’t know what he looked like. I tried to guess which one of the many men mingling was the mayor, but it was useless and not very entertaining.

I strolled out to the balcony, figuring I’d wait out the party inconspicuously. As always, I was the youngest person in the room by a good decade. Why did Hen ask me to come with her? Maybe because she didn’t have a date and you just couldn’t walk in alone. Once through the door, however, she didn’t need me. I was pretty miserable. I felt bad that I had been curt with my mom. She knew what her sister was like.

I was wearing a rust-colored halter top that I had borrowed from Hen. My hair, which Hen insisted I wear down, tickled the middle of my back and blew around my face in the ocean breeze. Hen bought me the pants I wore. Straight and black, they had a fringe of turquoise beads around the ankles that swayed when I walked. They were my payment for coming. Around my throat I wore a matching strand of tiny blue beads
which I bought at the same store, even though Hen had offered to pay for them. I took off the necklace and used it to tie back my hair. It wasn’t perfect, but the hair was out of the way. I leaned against the railing and listened to the waves crash.

It was cold out. But I was alone, and I preferred being cold and alone to being warm and fighting to blend in with the potted plants.

The balcony door opened. I kept my back turned, hoping whoever it was would leave seeing that someone was already out here. But instead, I heard footsteps approaching. I turned in exasperation, ready to ward off any attempt at conversation. Then I saw who it was and I froze.

“Hi, Maya.”

“Dov?” For a moment I was confused. Had Daphna told him where to find me? “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you.” He sounded amused. “Trying to escape death by boredom.”

I laughed, suddenly glad to be out here. He wore a cream-colored linen shirt, and it blew around him, making him look like a hero on the cover of a romance novel.

“But why?” I asked. “Who dragged you here?”

“My dad. He runs an advertising company. My mom couldn’t come tonight, so here I am. His date for the night, so to speak.”

“Sounds familiar.” He joined me at the railing. “I guess it’s against the rules to come to these things alone, huh?” We both faced out, looking at the ocean, resting our elbows on the black metal railing.

“Guess so,” he said.

“But then once you’re in the door, forget about it. They don’t need you anymore.” I sounded a lot more bitter than I intended.

“You came with your aunt?” We were standing close and I could almost feel the heat coming off him. It was hard to pay attention.

“Yeah,” I finally said. “She lured me here with a shopping trip and Yair Lapid.”

Dov laughed. “You’re easy. I get to use my dad’s jeep all Saturday. You’ve got to learn to drive a harder bargain.”

I kicked out a foot so he could see the beads around my ankles. “I’m happy with these, aren’t they adorable?”

He studied my leg and then looked at me.

“Precious,” he agreed. “Does that mean you won’t go for a walk on the beach? You might ruin the pants.”

What the hell, I thought.

“Easy come, easy go,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”

The next day, Dov picked me up in his father’s jeep to go off-roading in some abandoned fields he knew about. I didn’t know anyone else with a four-wheel-drive vehicle. Israel was mostly flat, parking was always tight, and gasoline was expensive. Everyone I knew had a small sedan. It seemed very exotic to be in a jeep, like we were on a safari. He picked me up in front of Hen’s high-rise, and Hen, who was out there with me, flirted with Dov.

“How’s your father?” she cooed, eyeing the jeep.

“He’s at work. My mother says she feels like a concubine, coming in second to his first wife, the office.”

“Faithful and sexy,” Hen, madly in love with her office, agreed. “What more can you want in life?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Your dad bought you a jeep?”

“Oh no,” Dov laughed easily, and I wanted to kick Hen. “He just lets me borrow it from time to time.”

“We’ve got to go,” I said. Hen was in my way and I couldn’t get to the passenger door without nudging her aside.

“You be careful,” she said, pulling on my braid like I was a child. “Take care of her,” she warned Dov.

“Always,” he said.

It took nearly an hour to get to where Dov wanted to go. I studied the rocky fields in front of us.

“You’ve done this before, right?” I asked as he edged the jeep off the paved road.

“Once or twice.” He gunned the engine. “Ready?” He didn’t wait for my answer. We were off. I grabbed the handhold above the door.

The jeep bucked and swerved, and Dov drove fast over the uneven ground.

I screamed every time we hit a ditch, the jeep tilting forward and to the side. I could feel the springs in my seat with each jolt. I was pretty sure I was coming home with whiplash.

“
Elohim!
” I screamed. “We’re going to flip!”

Dov roared with laughter, though he didn’t take his eyes off the road. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” He turned the wheel and we flew off in another direction.