Chapter 16

It was disappointing to hear Avi say that the Tower of David had no connection with King David. The Ottomans built it on the ruins of the city fortifications built by Herod. No matter who built it, the Jerusalem stone whispered the stories of long gone men and women who dedicated themselves to protecting the walls of the city.

We climbed copious amounts of steps carved out of stone that led us under ancient archways to lookout spots along the walls. Inside the exhibit rooms, we wove our way through a large group of college students. “Birthright trip,” Avi said. “Looks like those kids are having a lot of fun.” He shook his head. “Too bad you missed the opportunity.”

Standing near a diorama of the First Temple under siege by the Assyrians, I spotted a lanky kid sporting a backward baseball cap. Black curls poked out from under it.

My heart hitched as I watched him smile and clasp the hand of a girl wearing an Israeli army uniform--gun slung over her shoulder.

During that moment, it dawned on me that Jerusalem was not just showing me her past, but revealing a part of my brother’s past that didn’t include me.

“What are you staring at?” Avi asked, interrupting my reverie.

“Over there, the boy wearing the backward baseball cap.”

“Reminds you of Jack, right?”

I nodded and watched the teenage couple as they walked across the room.

“The girl walks like my sister, Rivka, long stride. Let’s go into the courtyard and take a break.” He clasped my hand and led me outside into the fresh air of a stone balcony overlooking an archeological site that doubled as a courtyard.

We walked down the steps into a small area shaded by a species of tree I didn’t recognize. The rooms inside the museum were air conditioned, but outside, the August Jerusalem sun demonstrated its ability to bake the land and the people on it.

“Let’s sit here for a few minutes,” I said, inhaling the scent of flowers growing along the walking path.

“When we were little, my mother worked for the Israel Antiquities Authority. She spent a lot of time here when we were kids,” he said. “She’d bring the three of us with her and let us play in this courtyard. Aviva loved running up and down all the steps. Rivka was still very young. I’d stay with her. We’d sit on this bench, and I’d make up stories about the people who lived here during the Temple days. She liked my stories about little girls who received warnings from the wall sentries and had to run through the narrow streets warning the people of the danger outside the wall.” He smiled and appeared to gaze back in time. “I was only about eight years old, but I remember feeling very grown up when she hung on every detail of my stories.”

I pulled him close and kissed him, overwhelmed by a wave of love for an eight-year-old Avi that I’d never met.

The courtyard contained archeological digs, gardens, and an amphitheater. Avi explained that the theater provided seating for a show that combined music, lights, and virtual reality to tell the history of Jerusalem. He looked at me. “It plays every night. If you want, I’ll order tickets.”

“I’m in. Let’s go see it.”

We meandered around the courtyard and the rest of the museum for another hour. When we reached the exit, I looked at him. “Well, sexy tour guide, what’s next?”

“Snack time, of course. Follow me.” We didn’t have to walk far to find a souvenir shop selling Jerusalem T-shirts, key chains, and hookahs. But near the checkout counter, Avi located what he came for. He paid the clerk for two bottles of water and two bags of gummy bears. “Now we can walk the ramparts.” He opened the first bottle of water and handed it to me. “Gummy bears now or during the walk?”

I playfully pulled a bag from him and kissed his cheek. “Now.”

The entrance to the North side of the ramparts consisted of a barely noticeable passageway situated between an ancient stone street leading to the Christian Quarter and the Jaffa Gate.

Before we climbed the steps leading to the ramparts, I looked over at the Gate. Sitting in the shade provided by the giant stone wall, the old Arab man played backgammon with another robed man. The camel still looked bored.

The narrow path of the northern ramparts went as far as Lion’s Gate. As we walked the uneven stones, Avi pointed out the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. He described how Christians came from all over the world to walk the streets of the Christian Quarter where Jesus carried the cross.

When we reached the Moslem Quarter, I heard the muezzin summoning the Moslems to prayers by chanting an ancient call from the minarets scattered through their quarter.

“Look,” I said, pointing down at a group of uniformed children playing soccer.

“A school.” He pointed to the right. “And those are the homes where many of those kids live.”

I’d never really thought about people living in the Old City. In my mind, modern Israelis lived outside the walls. But, not far from the place I stood, a hajib clad woman hung out her laundry to dry or should I say roast in the breezeless, afternoon sun.

Our walk ended near the Lion’s Gate. “Time to turn around and go back,” he said.

On the return, we talked about various buildings outside the wall. He pointed out the King David Hotel, which was near his apartment building, the Jerusalem YMCA, and Hebrew University perched high on the mountain side. By the time we exited through Jaffa Gate, even my shoes needed a break.

“I think it’s time to go home,” he said, clasping my hand. “I don’t want you burning out on history overload.”

“No way, this has been the most fascinating day of my life. Who knew dead historical figures could be so interesting?"

We strolled through the residential part of the city and turned down a narrow street. “Shortcut,” he said.

“Stop,” I said, in front of a small bookstore with a picture window displaying hardback books in English. “Can we go in for a minute?”

He smiled. “Sure. I’ll introduce you to another one of my soccer buddies. He owns this place.”

The store smelled like every other used-book store I’d ever been in--musty and dusty, which was one of my top five favorite smells after Avi, the ocean, pizza, and coconut oil. I ambled over to a table displaying vintage former best sellers, opened each one, scanned the first few pages, and returned it to the table.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sliding his hand down the length of my hair.

“I collect signed books. Sometimes, I stumble across one in places like this.”

“Dig around as much as you want. I’m going to go find Adir and say hello.”

He pecked my cheek and walked down the first row of shelves. I continued scanning the books on the table. Not one contained an autograph, so I moved down the first row of shelves, stacked with English language paperbacks. The second row housed worn Hebrew paperbacks. I wandered into the last row, pleased to find more hardbacks. One by one, I pulled about a dozen from the shelf. The last book looked interesting, so I sat down on a wheeled stool and began reading.

“Julie.”

Avi stood in front of me with a blond guy, who looked more Scandinavian than Israeli. “This is Adir.”

I rose from the stool, concerned that he didn’t speak English. “Hi,” I said, extending my hand.

“Hello,” he said, dragging out the sound of the letter l, and turned to Avi. “You didn’t tell me she was gorgeous.” Adir slung his arm over my shoulders. “He’s a loser, dump him. All he cares about are books, computers, and that foul-smelling dog of his.”

Avi lifted Adir’s arm from my shoulders. “Dump me for who? You? I’d buy the first ticket to watch the show--your wife beating you to death for cheating on her.”

“A guy can dream. Anyway, nice to meet you, Julie.”

Like Avi, Adir spoke accent-free English. “Are you an American?” I asked.

“No, born and raised here in Jerusalem. But, my mother is an American, and she loved shipping me and my brother back to the States every summer. My grandparents loved sending us to camp for two weeks out of that month.”

“Oh.” I scratched my head and looked down, feeling like I’d learned too much information. “This is a great store. Does anyone ever trade in signed editions?” I said to change the subject away from family relationships.

“Occasionally, I’ll see one. But they usually don’t make it to the shelves. I offer them to my best customers first.” He turned and patted Avi on the back.

“You collect signed books, too?” I asked.

“I own a few.”

“Telephone, Adir,” a voice bellowed from the back of the store.

Adir turned his head toward the voice and shouted something in Hebrew. “Nice to meet you and stop by my house for coffee some evening. Nofit and the kids would love to see you. Bring Julie, leave Brutus at home.” He trotted down the aisle.

“During college, I worked at a used-book store in Oakland called Caliban. That’s where I bought my first signed edition,” I said.

He cocked his head sideways. “You worked at Caliban? I bought a few books there and spent hours combing through their shelves. I loved that shop.”

“I think it would be great to own a bookstore like this.” I scanned the store, taking one more sniff of the old-book-infused air.

“Really?”

“Yep, with a children’s department, where moms could drink coffee while the children attended story time.”

“Caliban was one of my favorite places in Pittsburgh,” he said, as we left the shop.

***

The minute I walked into the apartment, I kicked off my shoes, flopped onto his overstuffed sofa, and closed my eyes. “Forget running tonight. My feet are too tired.”

He plopped down on the other end and intertwined his legs with mine. “My feet are too tired to swim.”

I cocked my head and twisted my mouth. “What?”

“Kicking and feet flapping--hard work.”

“You’re crazy.” I shut my eyes. “Mmmm, maybe this is a good time for a nap?”

He snapped to life, picked me up, and tossed me over his shoulder.

“Hey!”

“I’m putting you down for a nap,” he said, crossing the threshold into the bedroom. “And I know how to make you even sleepier.”