Chapter 26

We arrived back at his apartment late Thursday night and flopped right into bed. On Friday morning, I woke before him and slipped into the kitchen to make coffee. I sat outside on the balcony, inhaling the Jerusalem air and watching the city rouse to another sun-drenched morning. I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to imagine the city on a rainy winter day.

I opened my eyes and sipped my coffee, thinking about time. Over the last few weeks, there had been many moments when I wanted time to stop. But time declared war on me the day Jack died. I’d begged and pleaded with it to stop or reverse, but nothing interfered with time or stopped its progression, leaving me feeling that I was living on an airport moving walkway--always moving forward, until the walkway eventually ended. I gazed backward, trying to see Jack, but time dragged me further away from him. Now, I’d look back at Avi and pray that time would not dull my memories.

The sliding door behind me opened. Avi’s dreadlocks swished against my neck as his lips found my weak spot behind my ear. “Hey, beautiful. I missed you in bed.” He set his coffee on the small table next to me before plopping into the chair across from me.

Barefoot and shirtless, he looked like he walked out of a priceless painting, hanging in the Louvre. “Sorry, I woke a while ago and didn’t want to disturb you. Jerusalem is always beautiful, but I’ll miss the mornings the most.”

He reached over and clasped my hand. “We have a few more places to conquer before dinner at my sister’s house tonight. Aviva told Rivka that you’re a runner. She texted this morning, asking if you wanted to run with her before dinner?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

I’ll text her back and get the time. She can pick you up here.” He smiled and sipped the coffee. “I’m going to miss waking to fresh coffee.”

“I could make breakfast.”

“Will you cook naked?”

I slapped his arm. “No, but if you gush over my wonderful cooking, I’ll meet you in the bedroom, after the dishes are in the dishwasher.”

“Deal.”

I cooked. He set the table and outlined our plans for the day. He seemed to be, as my mom would say, “floating on cloud nine.”

Avi attacked the omelet, Israeli salad, and toast. I picked at mine and pushed it around the plate. “Are you finished?” he asked, while loading his plate into the dishwasher.

“I guess.”

He whisked it away from me. “The food was amazing, gourmet, the best, five stars!” He grabbed my hand and pulled me off the stool. “I complimented the food, and put the dishes in the dishwasher.” He scooped me into his arms. “Now, back to bed.”

***

A couple hours later, we left the apartment and walked to the Kotel. He said there was one more section of the Old City that I had to see before leaving Jerusalem. But first, he suggested we make a quick stop at the Western Wall.

We entered the Old City through Jaffa Gate and wandered down the narrow stone streets. When we reached the Tower of David, I stopped, looked up at the top of the minaret. A lump formed in my throat--a sight I would never see again. “Excuse me a minute.” I walked across the narrow street and stroked my hand against the stone wall of the tower constructed by long-forgotten people and named for a man who never stepped inside. “I will never forget you,” I whispered to an unknown listener.

Avi clasped my hand until we reached the Western Wall security gate. After nine days in Israel, I realized that metal detectors and x-ray machines didn’t bother me anymore, nor did the eighteen-year-old kids walking around the streets in military uniforms with automatic weapons dangling from their shoulders. I felt completely safe during the entire trip, well, except for the brief encounter with the camels on the way to the Dead Sea.

I checked my pockets for loose change, placed my bag on the x-ray machine conveyer belt, and walked through the metal detector. As I pulled my bag off the belt, I expected to see Avi behind me. Instead, two other people passed through the metal detector before I spotted him, standing with his back to me speaking with the security guard.

“What was that all about?” I asked when he finally passed through the arched scanner.

“Nothing, regular questions. I think they pull people randomly to ask more extensive questions. I’m sure he was just following procedures.”

We walked across the plaza, passing men in black hats, scurrying to find a spot at the Wall. I glanced down at the women’s side and remembered what it felt like to write the note on that small piece of paper and stuff it into the cracks. I slowed my stride for a moment, Please, please, hear my prayer.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just wondering how those guys can breathe in those wool coats and fur hats.”

He shrugged. “I want to say a quick prayer. You can wait here for a few minutes or check in with the modesty-police and go to the women’s side.”

My gaze started at the base of the Wall where the women prayed and climbed rock by rock until it reached a scrub bush blooming out of the cracks in the Wall. How could it possibly grow without soil and with very little water? “I’ll venture down,” I said.

He squeezed my hand and smiled before walking away. I didn’t expect him to be so upbeat on the day before I left.

Today, my long skirt and blouse passed the modesty inspection. I found a book of Tehillim on the prayer book table and knew exactly which psalms I wanted to read.

A spot opened between a uniformed school girl and an older orthodox woman, wearing a bobbed sheitel. She smiled, and I smiled back.

I touched the stone briefly before flipping through the pages to find Psalm 137.

By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat, we also wept when we remembered Zion

on willows in its midst we hung our harps

For there our captors asked us for word of song and our tormentors

[asked of us] mirth, “Sing for us of the song of Zion.”

How shall we sing the song of Zion on foreign soil?

If I forget you, O Jerusalem, my right hand forget [its skill]/

May my tongue cling to my palate, if I do not remember you,

if I do not bring up Jerusalem at the beginning of my joy...

I continued reading, already mourning for the city I was about to leave forever. Emotions pulsed through me--sadness over leaving Israel; pain when I imagined myself at the airport, kissing Avi for the last time; and apprehension over what I was going to see in my father’s eyes when I walked into the house. What racked my heart the most was the memory of the anguish I felt when I learned about Jack’s death.

I closed the book, leaned forward, and kissed the stone. Please grant my prayer. Help me find you and Jack.

“Sorry for taking so long,” I said when we met up in the courtyard.

“I wasn’t waiting long.” He reached for my hand. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”