Mila walked barefoot to her kitchen, appreciating the coldness of the polished ceramic floor. She poured a glass of cold water from a pitcher waiting on the limestone countertop and went out to her terrace. She stood by the rail, facing the park and hiding in the shadows of dawn. The air was sweet. Orange and magnolia trees were blooming all over Rehavia, her neighborhood and around the rest of the city.
After the incident in Hong Kong, her almost-made plan of wiggling her way out from Masae’s fist had been put on pause. She returned to Israel to elaborate a better plan.
Mila sniffed the air and gazed right and left at the beige stones buildings along the street. Their balconies were filled with hanging plants, a sign of resilient life in the desert. She turned her gaze to the untouched ancient olive trees in the park in front of her apartment building. They were the live tokens of an ancient and eventful past.
Jerusalem, a city, a symbol, an idea for some, a dream for others. A city shaped by beginnings, conquests, crusades, migration, exchange, and constraints. So much history and meaning in such a tiny patch of land, she thought, sipping her water and moving to a patio chair. She sat meditatively, why did she feel so at home there?
Her past was a mystery that would take a little longer to unlock completely. And she would remember that she had been a teenager becoming an adult in Israel. She’d had a mother who loved her and friends who had taught her about life on the land. Although everything seemed lost, it was a breath away, stored in the place where she had put her life and her secrets, to protect from Masae everyone she loved and what they knew.
“Can’t sleep?” said a man from the terrace next to Mila’s. He sat still, also looking at the park and gardens in front.
Mila jumped to her feet and peered around the potted plants. In the darkness of night turning morning, she hadn’t seen the man behind the large ornamental figs and oranges.
“I’m sorry. I should have made my presence known sooner. But I didn’t want to disturb you,” said the man. He got to his feet and appeared from behind the plants.
Was he a giant or just seemed so by the dwarf trees? Mila wondered, trying to show herself more curious than shocked.
“I am Gadiel Shein.” He stretched his hand to her over the plants, his arms long enough to bridge the 50 inches gap between terraces.
“Mila Norfolk,” answered Mila, marveling at how she had missed his striking presence there. “I’m sorry; I’m not used to having neighbors or seeing them at this particular hour of the night.”
“Technically, very early in the morning,” Gadiel said, with an apologetic smile. “My friends and I just moved in.”
“I see.” Mila tried to appear nonchalant. “And… are you also having trouble sleeping?”
“Not really. I am an early riser,” Gadiel answered, gazing at the streets of gorgeous homes with arched doors and high ceilings. “The road was quiet, so I came out to breath a bit of fresh air and meditate. It’s so peaceful.”
“But soon buses, cars, and vespas will sound the alarm to begin the day,” Mila offered, admiring the peculiar man and failing to determine where he was from. He seemed so foreign, maybe he was Asian, yet he spoke Hebrew like a local. He looked young and fit, but his very straight hair was totally white. It framed his square face. “I understand. Nature and silence bring me peace as well. And I come out to… Well, I don’t know if what I do could be called meditation or prayer. But I sit here mostly contemplating things.” Mila peeked behind her, from her chair and the door, considering her escape. Things I’ve lost, she thought, guarding her words, but they seemed loose in her tongue ready to slip through her lips. “I don’t want to disturb your meditation, so if you’ll excuse me,” She stepped back, ready to get inside her apartment.
“You are not disturbing me. It’d be a pleasure to get to know my neighbor,” he said with a warm smile. He brought his chair closer to that side of his balcony’s railing, and invited her to do the same without words, just with his expectant eyes made bright by the moonlight.
“Alright. Why not?” Mila answered, pulling her chair closer to his side. If she wanted to live a normal life, she had to learn to make friends. Besides, there was something calming about Gadiel. She couldn’t help, but to stare at him through the leafy plants. He was looking straight into the night and seemed completely at peace. She kept staring at him like to a supernatural being about to glow or transfigure. She wasn’t the gawking type, but he was radiant and beautiful to look at. Mila forced her gaze from Gadiel to the park.
They remained quiet in the dimmed light, sitting side by side, divided by few inches between terraces and the foliage of the potted plants.
“You mentioned that you were contemplating things… Could I ask what things?” Gadiel broke the silence. He glanced at her briefly through the fig tree and flashed her an inviting smile before gazing back into the park in front of them. “I apologize for jumping into the deep end. Please, forgive my struggle with small talk.”
“No problem. I’m not the queen of small talk, myself,” Mila sighed and had a sip of her cold water, wishing it was hot tea now. “I lost some things in an accident I had. I woke up from a coma with a mind completely wiped,” Mila answered, questioning herself for oversharing. But the words broke out so willingly to the stranger’s ears. She turned to him flustered and blushing; he didn’t seem to notice. He listened to her as if detached from the physical place where he sat. Mila felt as if her soul had been uncapped, her emotions about to spill over. “And I’ve been trying hard to remember ever since, feeling…”
“Feeling stuck at the other edge of the chasm, standing in your present while stretching your fingers to your past. If you could only get close enough to reach those pieces…” Gadiel said with understanding, turning to look at her, his eyes glittered. “What a terrible thing to go through, Mila,” he lamented, his voice and gaze wrapping her in compassion.
“Yes! I’ve been feeling exactly like that.” Mila jumped to the railing in front of her. She studied Gadiel, suspicious of Masae planting a spy or shrink next door. But it couldn’t be, he looked supraliminal, someone above the physical world and yet so down to earth. There wasn’t any cloud of arrogance or self-importance in his gaze or tone. Even his clothing was simple, a loose fitting t-shirt and linen pants, and barefoot. His posture was open with his elbows resting on the arms of the chair and his fingers interlocked. He was reassuringly calm. “How do you know? Are you a psychiatrist?” She shook her head. “Great! You must think I’m crazy!”
Gadiel chuckled. “I’m a doctor, yes, you are right. I used to be called a healer, but that’s another story. I’m not a psychiatrist. Although I do believe that mind, body, and soul should be treated together.” Gadiel studied her, searching for any sign of recognition on her part at the mention of the word ‘healer’. But she didn’t seem to have a special association with the term. “In my opinion as a doctor, if the title makes you feel better, you are not crazy.” He smiled kindly. “You’ve gone through an accident, a coma, and memory loss. That’s a lot of trauma. It’s normal to feel the way you do.” He got up and approached the railing and spoke as to the air. “I met someone who had gone through so much loss in her life. She rose from her pain with courage, I was told by those who loved her and suffered her loss.”
“What happened to her?” Mila asked, hearing her heart drumming loudly. Was her wanting to know her past making her susceptible to believing in miraculous encounters?
“She was taken from us the day I met her and we’ve been looking for her ever since.” Gadiel answered in ancient Hebrew, turning to face her.
There was a flash of light across Mila’s eyes. She peered at Gadiel as if seeing him for the first time. She stepped to his side of the railing, closer enough to notice in his amethyst eyes the love of a friend who had known her for a long time. He was luminous in the early morning light, angelical even, and spoke the language of the old woman in her dreams. He spoke to her in the shielding language she instinctively used to protect her thoughts from Masae’s special gift. Mila shook her head, trying to break the spell, afraid she wasn’t ready for what would happen next.
She had asked God for help, and there stood this doctor-healer as if fallen from the sky. She drank her water, but continued to thirst. First, she didn’t have any faith or conviction, and second… Was he talking about her? Did she really want to know? Her heart was pounding and her hands shaking.
“I hope you find her.” Mila mumbled, gripping the railing.
Quietly, night had become day and birds were chirping joyfully from the nests on tree branches. Now she could see the colorful plants hanging from balconies. The sun rose, promising a cloudless blue sky. The coolness of the night was replaced by a progressing warmth. The first vehicles began to roll past the avenue at the end of the street.
“What time is it?” Mila asked, turning to see if he had a watch.
“It must be almost six.” Gadiel looked at the clearing sky. “Time flies.”
“That’s small talk.” Mila said with a friendly wink, freeing herself from the intensity of the moment before. “I have to go.” She peered toward the biggest olive tree in the park and spotted a mama cat with her kittens taking shelter under the tree. “Time to feed my friends,” she nodded in the tree’s direction, getting ready to leave.
Gadiel was also peering at the great and ancient tree and the stray cats. “Kindness is the language of the light abiding within the person.” He turned to Mila, studying her expression. “It might not feel like you are doing much, but you are. One kind act at a time can move mountains and restore worlds. That light, Mila, belongs to who you were.”
“Todah, Gadiel. It was nice talking to you,” Mila murmured insecure, considering what he said under the light of her two years of tests, breaking bodies and being Masae’s bioweapons delivery girl. No, feeding cats or any other act of benevolence she offered, wasn’t enough to compensate for the darkness she knew existed within herself and in her record.
“Anytime,” Gadiel said, gazing back at the trees as Mila had already left. “You are a crucible, Mila. From this broken vessel, beauty and strength will emerge after the blazing fire is over.”