Chapter 10

I read the first page and turned to the next. The novel pulled me in more than I expected. Avi was right. Michener was literary comfort food. I read the words about Israel and realized, throughout my life, the people around me spoke reverently of it and the miracle of its existence. Jack felt the draw and the connection, but I never did, maybe because I never wanted to...

***

Jack tossed T-shirts into his duffel bag. “It's a free trip! All you had to do was fill out some forms. When will you ever get the opportunity to take a free trip to Israel—or anywhere else, for that matter?”

I shrugged.

“Where’s your curiosity? Even if we wipe out the religious aspect, think of the history, the art, and the antiquities, and the...Hell, I could go on all day.”

“Sorry, but you know I’m not into the whole being-Jewish thing. And history is so boring.”

“Fine, but you’re going to miss ten days of wandering through museums, calculating the market value of the art. And imagine the joy you’d feel walking the streets of Jerusalem, estimating the real estate value of historical buildings.”

“You’ll have an amazing time without me. Bring home pictures--and develop them.” I smiled. “Besides, some of us poor college students have to work.”

“You could have told them you needed a later start-date.” He tossed socks and underwear into a bulging blue Pitt duffel bag. “The whole point of Birthright is to connect people like us to Israel. Do you realize it’s our only true safe-haven?”

I twisted my mouth and looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “Really, we should be hiding under our beds when the Mexicans and Canadians attack.”

“Don’t play stupid.”

“Jack, you’re going to have a fantastic time. I’m sure when you get home, I’ll hear about every detail. But I have no desire to see Israel.”

***

I read, chapter after chapter about the birth of the nation Avi called home.

Pounding on my door pulled my attention from the book and back to the real world. The pounding didn’t let up. I turned the knob, expecting to find a hostel employee standing on the other side. “What do you want?” I asked, swinging the door open.

“You,” Avi said flatly. “And I don’t know why you’re in there, and I’m out here.”

Every part of me wanted to throw my arms around him, except the part of my brain that controlled logical reasoning.

“You can’t read?”

“What did I lie about?”

“What didn’t you lie about? Nothing you told me was true.”

“That’s a generic statement. I need specifics.” His eyes bore into my face, challenging me.

“You told me that you’re a high school teacher.”

“I’m a teacher. I teach college students. I never said I taught high school. You asked me if I taught ‘younger kids or older kids.’ How should I know you assumed I taught high school?”

I gazed down at the floor and mentally replayed every conversation we’d had. And damn, I couldn’t recall hearing either of us use the word high school. “Your great-great-grandmother was Golda Meier!”

“Why would I talk about my great-great-grand-mother who I never met? You didn’t tell me about your great-great-grandmother.” He tilted his head sideways, weariness emanating from his eyes.

“Yes, David, but my great-great-grandmother wasn’t the freakin’ Prime Minister of Israel!” I shouted.

“Please don’t call me David. Even my mother doesn’t call me David. Can I come in, so this discussion isn’t broadcast to everyone in this hostel?”

“No, there’re no chairs in here. Just a bed.”

His eyes lit. “And the problem with that is?”

The problem existed because I didn’t trust my ability to keep my hands off him.

“I’ll sit on the floor.”

“Come in.” I slammed the door behind him. “You’re rich, your family is famous, and you date super models. You let me believe you’re a school teacher who lives a lonely life with his dog.”

“When we were in the jungle, I told you I’m an heir to a small fortune.” He looked around the room and sat on the floor, leaning his back against the wall farthest from the bed.

“I thought you were joking.” I sat on the bed, folding my knees to my chest.

“That’s on you. Look, I understand. Errors of omission are the same as lies. And, maybe I’m a little guilty of that, but honestly, I only lied to you twice.”

I twisted my mouth and raised my eyebrows.

“Our first day, on the beach. As we were walking, a group of girls passed and said, ‘Hi, Avi.’ I told you I knew them from Chabad. That was a lie. I’d never seen them before. Then another group passed, same thing. Those are my two big lies.”

“Why did you lie about something so stupid?”

He got up and sat down on the bed next to me. When he reached for my hand, I pulled it back.

“When I found you on the beach, I watched the expression on your face and didn’t see a flash of recognition,” he said. “After I told you my name, you looked at me like I was a nut case.”

“Get to the lying part.”

“You met a beach bum, but you let me sit down. Then you agreed to have dinner with me--Avi, just a guy you met on the beach. If I told you the truth about the girls who knew my name, you’d have expected an explanation.”

“Possibly,” I said, knowing full well he was right.

“Then you offered to pay for our dinners, and it hit me. You had no ulterior motive other than you wanted to be with me.”

“I’m sure the girls you dated were with you because you're sexy, smart, and funny. Not because you’re rich.”

“You’re beautiful, intelligent, and extremely naïve. Do you think the average girl would sit on the beach, drink cheap wine, and eat gummy bears with me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Wrong. Most of them expect five-star restaurants and expensive gifts. You feared me using you. I’ve feared that with every girl I ever met until you. And, frankly, I liked feeling wanted for just being me.”

“That’s the problem. You weren’t you. The you I read about on Google dates super models, not plain, unemployed bond traders. Listen, I’m okay with being a beach-side fling. Why you chose me, when you could have any girl, I don’t understand. But you did, and I knew exactly what I was doing when I invited you into my bed. But the lying makes me feel stupid and humiliated.”

Again, he reached for my hand. I didn’t pull it away, but I couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was selfish. I liked believing that you wanted me and not the stupid image the Internet projects. I do live a boring life with my dog. I haven’t dated anyone seriously in a couple of years. In fact, I haven’t gone out with anyone for months.”

“I don’t believe that. Your family is the social crème de la crème in Israel. I’m sure you spend a lot of time at dinners, parties, and charity galas.”

“I guess you could say I do.”

Now I turned and faced him. “A half a second ago you said the opposite.”

“I eat Shabbat dinner at my sister’s house every week. Last month, my nephew turned five and had an awesome party packed with other five-year-old kids. As for charity functions, it’s been a while for one of those. Israel isn’t as big on charity events as the United States.”

I dropped my head to my knees. “I really like the man I met on the beach, but why are you wasting your vacation with me?” The tears rolled over my knees and down my shins.

“I’ve had enough of this bullshit.” He grabbed my face and kissed me full force. “Did you feel that? That’s why I want you. From the moment I saw you, I wanted to jump on you like some caveman. You looked like a 1950s movie star with your hair falling in waves down your back and those huge green eyes. I spent hours combing that beach for you. And then it turned out that, in addition to being gorgeous, you’re smart, fun, and amazing in bed. What’s not to want?”

I bit my bottom lip. “I’m not a super model.”

“Then the modeling world is missing out on major talent.” He kissed me again, but I pulled away-sniffling.

“For the next eight days,” I asked, still sniffling. “Could you just be gummy-bear-and-cheap-wine Avi. Not the rich and famous Dr. David Avraham Gold?”

“I’m always gummy-bear Avi.” He pulled me into his arms and, once again, the bed was much too small.