9

A Building

Rothschild Boulevard bounced back to life and its commotion began to seep into the apartments in building 5A. They responded in kind. The sounds of radios and TV screens escaped from under the doors, or through open windows, and sank into the noise on the street.

The man with fluffy white hair was wearing a black undershirt and a white pair of boxers. He started listening to music on his radio with excessive joy, as if for the first time. He picked up a bag of Italian coffee and smelled its aroma. He filled one big spoon and fed it to the espresso machine. After adding water, he stood there waiting and admiring the machine. His wife used to mock him whenever she saw him in this state. “It’s as if you’re looking at a Mercedes,” she used to mumble. But she wasn’t there this morning. She had left the day before to visit her family in Jerusalem. He didn’t like her family or Jerusalem. They were religious and kept Shabbat and he doesn’t. His wife stopped observing Shabbat, but she only cooks and eats kosher and her family keeps pressuring him to pray and keep kosher.

This morning he doesn’t have to answer her questions, or engage in meaningless conversations about her relatives and friends. He won’t hear her calling him from the kitchen telling him to answer the phone, something he doesn’t like to. Why else was the answering machine invented? Whoever wants to talk to him can leave him a message and he’ll get back to them later. He refused to buy a cell phone despite all the fights they had about the subject.

He stretched out lazily on the bamboo rocking chair in the living room. Sipping his coffee and listening to the radio in peace reminds him of his mornings back when he was single and lived alone. He sipped his espresso as he listened to the news.

Meanwhile, the woman who lived right above him was wiping away her tears. Following a long night, agonizing over a recent breakup, she got out of bed and took off the clothes she’d had slept in. She turned on the TV so as not to feel lonely, and stood naked in front of the mirror, looking for the ghost of a wrinkle on her face. She walked to the kitchen to quench her thirst, looking at every mirror she passed by, the apartment was full them, as if to console herself with her young body, which so many men told her was so dazzling.

A few drops of the water she was drinking trickled down all the way to her breasts. She went back to her bedroom and raised the TV’s volume. She looked into the mirror again and touched her face. She wasn’t paying attention to the chatter on “Good Morning Israel” at first. But she ignored her reflection in the mirror and sat on the edge of her bed gazing at the TV screen in disbelief.

At that exact moment, another neighbor of hers, on the second floor, was cursing Haaretz, because the delivery person was late. It wasn’t the first time the bastard was late and, without the paper, his morning will not be the same. He sat in his balcony, just as he did at that time every morning. A plate with three pieces of whole wheat bread and another with butter cubes and the apple jam he made himself, and a cup of American coffee, sat on the table. He usually ate his breakfast while reading the newspaper. Classical music, mostly Chopin, but sometimes Rachmaninoff, could be heard in the background.

But instead of reading the newspaper, he was listening to the radio, and looking at the public bus, which had stopped in front of the building. It stood there puffing its black smoke in the face of the morning. The bus driver raised the volume of the radio when the announcer noted that it was the eight o’clock news bulletin. The AC was out of order and most of the windows were open. The news pierced the ears of pedestrians.

“It’s eight in the morning. I am Tamar Netanyahu and this is the news bulletin:

A state of maximum emergency was declared in the country because the Arabs have declared a general strike. Security and police units have recalled reserves. All of the Arab inhabitants of Israel, Judea and Samaria, and Gaza have disappeared. All Arab prisoners in civil and military prisons have disappeared, including those with blood on their hands. Prison authorities and police, as well as the IDF, are investigating the matter and coordinating their efforts. Business owners have reported that their Arab employees did not show up to their jobs. The government is holding an emergency session with the chiefs of military and security to discuss the matter. The prime minister has consulted with regional and western leaders. It is expected that the government spokesperson will hold a press conference in the coming few hours.

Earlier this morning, police summoned the heads of sects, Arab tribes, as well as heads of municipalities and local councils to register at the nearest police stations.

The police have set up mobile checkpoints at the entrances of Arab cities and villages in Israel. Security has been tightened as well on all cross-points with Judea and Samaria. The minister of defense declared the latter closed military areas. Arab areas in mixed cities are under surveillance to ensure no exit or entry. The police instructed citizens to be vigilant and to report any information or suspicious movements they might notice.

It is worth noting that neither the Arab leaders in Israel, nor the Palestinian Authority, had declared their intention to stage a strike. Security officials are scanning and analyzing all the footage from surveillance cameras in public places. No official response from the state has been issued as of now. Finally, here is the weather forecast: Sunny with temperatures reaching 20 degrees Celsius. This was a news summary prepared by Tamar Netanyahu.

We are changing our normal schedule and will have special coverage of the disappearance of the Arabs so as to keep you posted about the latest developments. Our guest in the studio today is Shlomo Ben Gaon, an expert on Arab affairs.”

When the bus started moving, the angry man was relieved. The engine’s noise had disrupted the serenity of his morning hours. He called the public relations office at Haaretz to complain about the newspaper not being delivered, and to ask for a refund. It wasn’t the first time. He then put on a blue shirt, grey pants, and sandals over the soft black socks he always wore, even in summer. He slammed the door behind him and walked to the kiosk near his house to buy the paper.