Chapter 22

I stood at the rocky water's edge, looking down at the salt-tinged ring surrounding the lake. Avi floated on his back, coaxing me to get into the water. I stepped forward, chunks of salt stabbed into the soles of my feet. “Walk into the water until it reaches your knee caps. Then turn around and sit down.”

“Okay. Here I come.” I waded into the water. It felt oily against my skin. The salt water stung the small spot on my ankle that I nicked shaving. I should have listened to Avi’s warning, shaving was a bad idea.

According to the sign hanging behind the front desk, the current water temperature was ninety degrees. It felt a little cooler than a hot tub, but not much. When the water touched my lower thigh, I turned and sat down, ready to move my arms and kick my feet to stay afloat.

“Ahh.” Instead of sinking, my legs, with no effort on my part, floated up. “This is bizarre.”

“Relax and go with it.” He laughed, holding his arms behind his head as if preparing to do a sit up.

Within a second, I floated in a position akin to sitting on a lounge chair with no possibility of sinking. “How do I move?”

“Stick your hands in the water and paddle. But, don’t splash. Once your hands are wet, do not, and I repeat, do not, touch your eyes. The water will seriously burn the mucus membranes.”

“No splashing. Do not touch eyes. Got it.” I cupped my hands and paddled them against my sides. It took a few moments to get the hang of it, but once I did, moving became effortless. “Here I come!”

I parked myself next to him, leaned over, attempting to kiss his cheek, and tipped onto my hip. Avi grabbed me and saved me from rolling onto my stomach. “Whoa, you saved me.” I regrouped into a safe position as he held my hand.

“No, I didn’t. The worse thing that could have happened was you would be floating on your stomach instead of your back. Try it,” he said, rolling onto his stomach and keeping his face away from the water.

“I just roll sideways?”

“That’s all it takes.”

“Here goes.” I rolled and held my legs and arms in a position that reminded me of skydivers in the moments before opening their parachutes. “I did it! I don’t like it.” I rolled onto my back and steadied myself.

Ancient mountains rising from the desert floor of the Israeli and Jordanian sides of the Dead Sea encircled us. “The mountains feel like the sides of a pot, and I feel like a matzah ball bobbing in over salted soup.”

“Trust me, you don’t taste like one.” He squeezed my hand. Joy radiated from his eyes and his smile. “If you move here, we could pretend to be matzah balls anytime you wanted.”

“Don’t--you know it’s not an option. Please, let’s enjoy the time we have.”

He nodded, turned his head away, and dropped the subject.

We spent an hour or so in the water. A German speaking couple floated by us, but otherwise, we were alone. “I expected more people.”

“Mid-afternoon August--too hot for the masses. People prefer their air-conditioned hotel rooms or hanging out in the hotel lobby. The tourists hit the beach before noon and after five. And, now it’s time for us to get out of the water.”

I floated next to him until we neared the shallow edge. “How do I get out?”

“Lean forward and push your feet down. The water is only knee high.”

I followed his instructions and stood up. “That was easy.” I stepped onto the shore.

“Fun time.” He squatted down and dug up handfuls of black mud from the bottom of the shallow water. Globs of tar-like mud oozed between his fingers and over his hands. A devilish grin covered his face. “Come here.”

I shook my head.

“Wrong answer.” He stepped closer.

“What are you planning to do with that stuff?” I stepped backwards.

“What I came here to do, smear miracle mud all over that amazing body of yours.”

“Like hell, you will.” I took off running, hit a stone and squealed. He caught me and smeared a handful of mud all over my belly.

“Yuk! Yuk.” I jumped back, and he stepped forward, reaching out and smearing it all around my midsection, leaving black finger trails.

“My turn.” I trod carefully back to the shoreline and scooped up as much mud as I could hold and slapped it on his shoulders.

“Watch the hair. Mud and dreadlocks don’t mix.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one worrying about my hair?” I laughed and smeared the thick black goo over his stomach. After it was completely covered, I dug up more, coated his back, and drew a smiley face between his shoulder blades. “Now what?” I asked, rinsing my hands in the oily water.

“We stand here until it dries. Or until one of us can’t take the itchiness and runs up that hill, to that shower.” He stretched out his mud blackened arm and pointed at a shower head connected to a lone pipe sticking out of the ground.

“Avi.”

“Yes.”

“I’m itchy.”

His eyes glowed bright against his mud-smeared cheeks. “It hasn’t been a minute. Suck it up.”

“I don’t want to.” I looked down at my body. Never did a kid falling into a mud puddle look dirtier than I did. “This stuff can’t be good for skin. It’s gross.”

“There are over twenty minerals in this mud. Believe me, people fly from all over the world to wallow for hours in this stuff to cure skin diseases.”

“I don’t have any skin diseases.”

“I know. Your skin is lovely, but you’re a wimp!” He laughed and scooped me into his arms. “Kiss me.”

“Ew.”

He slammed his face against mine, kissing my lips and rubbing as much skin as possible against my face, smearing it even more.”

“Yuk.” I spat out mud. “I hate you.” I swiped at the mud now clinging to my eyelashes. “One more time and look out--muddy dreadlocks.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” His hand slid under my bathing suit bottom and rubbed mud all over my backside.

“Okay, no more.” I waved my hands in the air. “No muddy dreadlocks. I promise, just put me down.”

He gazed into my eyes. His face softened as he pulled a finger along my cheek. “I never want to put you down.”

My heart thumped against my chest. For a moment, I stopped lying to myself. I didn’t want him to put me down, and I absolutely didn’t want our time together to end. I touched my lips to his, briefly. “But you have to.”

***

When the mud began to crack, we stood together under the tiny shower head as hot water drizzled down. The mud ran down our bodies creating black rivers rushing to our feet. When the rivers ran clear, we dried ourselves and walked back to the hotel.

The sun dropped below the mountain tops to our west. We walked along the beach toward the hotel. The number of people floating in the sectioned off area near the hotel had increased. A few teenagers floated in the water, holding newspapers as their parents snapped photos from the shore. Avi’s fingers intertwined with mine as we walked in warm silence.

The wall color, the artwork, and the furnishing of the lobby generated a relaxing ambiance. The hotel guests melted into the atmosphere, reclining on the sofas, drinking coffee, and chatting in various languages.

As usual, heads turned, and conversation paused as Avi passed through the marble lobby. Neither of us acknowledged the stares and continued walking toward the elevator bank. Thankfully, as soon as he pressed the up button, the doors of the first elevator opened.

They closed slowly in front of us, and the elevator began its climb to our room on the fourteenth floor. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me deeply. I was sure that if we had the luxury of being together for fifty years, each time he kissed me, my body would still beg to meld into him and never let go. His lips trailed to my ears. “I love you.”

Inhale, exhale, and enjoy the moment. I pulled my head back. “I love you too.”

“Just not enough to stay.” The elevator doors opened. A group of senior citizens stood waiting to enter, saving me from the need to respond.

Inside the room, he pulled the curtains closed. “Shower and nap before dinner?” He untied my bikini top, letting it fall. Then he looped his fingers around the sides of my bottoms and slowly pulled them to the floor. “If you asked, I’d follow you to Pittsburgh.”

My heartbeat quickened. Before I could respond, he kissed me and lifted me into his arms. “Carnegie Mellon has been trying to recruit me for years,” he said, placing me in the center of the bed.

He laid down beside me and pulled his fingertip down the side of my body. “If moving to Pittsburgh is the only way we can be together. I’d gladly return to my old school.”

The tear factory kicked into overdrive. “You can’t leave here. Your family is like royalty in this country. Golda Meier’s great-great-grandson cannot become an ex-patriot.” I swiped at the tear running down my left cheek and swatted at the one escaping from my right eye.

He lifted my chin, raising my eyes level with his. “Love for Israel runs through my veins, and I never imagined living somewhere else, but if that is what it takes to be with you--I’ll move.”

“No, you can’t do that.” I rolled off the bed and rushed into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. In no time, he banged on the door.

“Are you using the bathroom or hiding?”

“Please, I need a few minutes.” Through the door, I heard his feet padding against the marble floor. I leaned back against the toilet tank. My heart raced. My mind screamed you have no right to happiness.

Breathe, breathe. I ripped off a piece of toilet paper and wiped my eyes. Time to tell the truth. I pulled a towel around me and opened the door. He rushed to me.

“Let me put some clothes on and then we can talk.”

“Why, we’ve had many conversations naked.” His arms engulfed me, and he nuzzled against my neck. “I love you naked.”

I tightened the towel around me and sat on the edge of the bed. He sat down next to me, pulled me close, and stroked my hair.

“I told you my brother died in a car accident. But what I didn’t tell you was I caused it. I killed my brother.”

He released me and turned my face to meet his gaze. “I don’t believe that, Julie. You told me his car went off the road and flipped over.”

I didn’t want to look at his beautiful face. I stood, walked to the window and stared at the Dead Sea. “The morning Lehman Brothers sent us all home, I packed up my desk and cried all the way to the subway. As I watched the tunnel walls, I panicked. Jack didn’t make enough to cover all the apartment expenses, and at that point, I didn’t know if I qualified for unemployment insurance. And even if I did, I didn’t know if it would pay enough to cover my share of the expenses. When I got to our apartment, I called him, hysterical. He tried to calm me down and assure me that we would find a way to pay the bills.”

I moved from the window to the desk in the corner and sat down. “But I shut out his words and continued to crunch numbers in my head, still unable to control the panic and sobbing.”

I stopped talking and tried to breathe through the crushing sensation inside my chest. By telling Avi this information, I was forcing myself to go to a place inside my brain that I feared, hated, and avoided. To get out of bed each day, I built a mental wall around this fact and locked the door. By speaking the truth out loud, I broke through that wall and entered my own living hell. “Jack must have called the airline right after he hung up, because he texted me from the Raleigh airport a few hours later and said he’d be home by seven o’clock.” I stopped talking and blew my nose on a wadded-up napkin that was sitting on the desk. “He wasn’t due home until the next day. If I hadn’t called him, crying, he would have stuck to his original schedule and would be alive today. Jack is dead because of me.”

“Did you ask him to come home early or change his flight plan?”

“No. But he wanted to come home for me.”

“How do you know? Maybe the meeting ended a day ahead of schedule. Maybe he didn’t feel well and wanted to go home. Maybe a million other reasons, but whatever the reason, you cannot hang on to this misguided guilt.”

I shook my head. “No, it was my crying. Jack could never stand to see me cry.”

“Come here.” He held open his arms, and I walked into them.

“This is why I can’t stay here, and you can’t come to Pittsburgh. In both cases, I’d be happy, which isn’t fair to Jack.”

“Julie, forget how he died. You can’t be fair or unfair to somebody who isn’t here.” He stroked the back of my head, his hand running the length of my hair, over and over.

I moved from his arms to the bed, closed my eyes, and curled into fetal position. “Nothing will ever make me believe I didn’t kill him. And nothing will ever make me believe he wants me to be happy. I need to go home and live up to my promise to visit his grave every day.”

“I’m a brother, and if this happened to me, I wouldn’t want my sisters to stop living.”

“But you’re not Jack.”

***

That evening we ate a quick, silent dinner in the hotel dining room and returned to our room. Avi watched television and stroked my back as I pretended to sleep.

“I know you’re not sleeping and just want silence. But I need to know whether to set the alarm for four-thirty. Do you still want to climb Masada tomorrow?”

I rolled over and sniffled. “Yes. I still want to.”

“Good. I promise to be quiet for the rest of the evening.”

I curled around him, getting as close as possible. The need to feel his skin overwhelmed me. As he held me, my body begged for all of him. He understood and satisfied my hunger.

As I drifted off to sleep, he lips skimmed my ear. “It wasn’t your fault.”