Chapter 25

We arrived at the small apartment he owned on Dizengoff Street in the early evening and unloaded. “Hungry?” he asked.

“A little.” I leaned out the window, staring at the traffic jam four stories below us. “Isn’t it a little late for rush hour?”

“Rush hour in Tel Aviv never ends.” We walked down Dizengoff Street until we found a quiet restaurant--it was a long walk. “We can hit the beach tomorrow or walk around the old port of Jaffa,” he said, picking at the chicken in his plate.

“You pick. Both sound great to me.”

“Then let’s do both. Beach in the morning. We can visit the Shuk HaCarmel in the afternoon, and hit Jaffa in the early evening.”

“Is it like the shuk in Jerusalem?”

“The Jerusalem shuk is the best. This one is okay, a bit more touristy.”

***

We walked down Dizengoff Street, hung a left on Gordon Street and continued straight to the beach. We stopped for a few minutes on the Shlomo Lahat Promenade to watch a group of people doing traditional Israeli dances.

“Looks like fun,” I said while watching the dancers twirl and hop from foot to foot.

“It is, but we’re not joining in today. If you stayed, you could join an Israeli dance club.”

“You really are a nooknik,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“I think I’m losing my skill.” He looked at me, and I tried not to laugh at the serious expression covering his face. “In my prime,” he said. “Around age thirteen, I was the best. In under eighteen hours, you would have been begging me to let you stay, just to shut me up.”

“Of all your brilliance and skills, that’s the one that you’re the proudest of?”

“Yep, it’s the only skill I have that can be used to keep you here.”

“Avi.” I shook my head and pinched his cheek. “Let’s go swimming.”

There were plenty of tourists on the Thai beaches, but I’d describe those beaches as secluded compared to Gordon Beach. This was not going to be a relaxing day at the beach. The noise overwhelmed me, blaring music, people shouting, vendors hawking ice cream, and the sound of small black balls smacking against wooden paddles.

After walking up and down the beach a few times, we spotted two empty lounge chairs, tossed our things on them, and paid the beachboy twenty-four shekels.

“It’s time for you to learn the most important sport in Israel--we’ll maybe not the most important, but definitely the most important beach sport in Israel.” Avi pulled two paddles out of the beach bag and a small ball. He handed me one of the paddles. “Today, you’re getting a crash course in matkot.”

“It’s a very noisy game.” I pointed to at least twenty other couples also playing the game. “Thwak. Thwak,” I said, trying to mimic the sound of the balls smacking the paddles.

“Well, we’re going to go make some noise.”

Matkot turned out to be a cross between ping pong and volleyball. I suck at both games. Avi teased me about my lack of eye-hand coordination, but my running ability kept me from total matkot humiliation.

After an hour or so I realized that Tel Aviv beaches had an energy that the Thai beaches lacked. I always left Patong Beach feeling like I had just completed an hour and a half yoga class. I left Gordon Beach energized. “Can we walk to the Shuk HaCarmel?” I asked.

“Sure, it’s not far.”

“Great, let’s go there and find lunch.”

***

In the early evening, we took a cab to Jaffa and meandered through the narrow stone streets. “This place reminds me of the Old City,” I said, as we passed under an ancient archway.

“Jaffa maybe the oldest working port in the world,” Avi said.

We watched the sun set from an outdoor café. The sound of the waves hitting the break wall and the smell of salt in the air added to the atmosphere. “I think I’ve found my third favorite spot in Israel,” I said, gazing at his face.

“What’s number one and number two?”

“Two is the Old City.”

“I would have guessed that to be number one. You seemed so enchanted by the place.” He set his glass on the table and leaned toward me. “So, tell me what is number one?”

A blush heated my face. I shifted my gaze and swirled the red wine around my glass. “Your bed.”

I felt his fingers lifting my chin.

“Look at me,” he said. “Then stay and make it our bed.”

“If I stayed, I’d hate myself for breaking my pledge to my brother. There’s no forgiveness for me. Pleading for forgiveness on a thousand Yom Kippurs wouldn’t be enough.”

“You want to put yourself in prison for a crime you didn’t commit. Julie, it was an accident. You didn’t kill your brother.”

I wished I could believe him.

***

After our two days in Tel Aviv, I realized Avi was correct. The city produced a twenty-four-hour cacophony of horns, bus airbrakes, truck engines and sirens. And I also learned the difference between the people of Jerusalem and the people living in Tel Aviv. The citizens of Jerusalem prayed at dawn, and the people living in Tel-Aviv partied until dawn. The personality of Jerusalem suited me more. I couldn’t wait to get back to Avi’s apartment.