10

Ariel

Ariel dragged himself out of bed and went to the kitchen. He wanted to sleep some more, but couldn’t. Books and newspapers were scattered everywhere in the living room. He had to tidy up.

It took seven steps to get to the little kitchen. He opened the big silver refrigerator and stood there perplexed, as if he’d forgotten that he came to drink water. He took a bite out of a red apple that sat on one of the shelves. He had brushed his teeth before going to sleep, but the sour taste of wine from the night before lingered. Maybe the apple will change that.

He should take a shower, he thought, as he scratched his head. He put the apple on the tiny kitchen table. He went to the bathroom, jumped under the shower, and thought about his ten-day vacation. He has to buy a few things for his apartment, including a new bath mat. As he scrubbed his body under the hot water, he heard an impulsive door ring. It was rare for anyone to come without calling beforehand. Maybe it’s by mistake, or the mailman. The ringing didn’t stop and it was joined by knocks and banging on the door. He shut the water, took a towel, and wrapped it hastily around his waist. He went and opened the door without even asking who it was, or looking through the peephole.

It was his ex, Zohar, but he didn’t recognize her at first. She had cut her coal-black hair short and died it a light chestnut color that didn’t suit her.

“Shalom. Why did it take you forever to open the door? And why are you still asleep when there is such a big mess in the country?”

“I didn’t know that you are an investigator now. What are you talking about? What mess? Was there a terrorist attack?”

He asked her to come in. He hadn’t seen her since they broke up. It was strange for her to visit. Maybe it was one of her crazy fits and she wants to get back together. As he closed the door, he heard her weeping. He’d never seen so much fear in her eyes. He took her in his arms.

“We’re finished. They’ll finish us off.”

“Who will be finished?”

“Didn’t you hear the news? The Palestinians have disappeared without a trace. Neither here nor in Judea and Samaria. I don’t know if we did it ourselves, somehow, or if they’re hiding somewhere. Either way, Arab countries will attack us and tear us to pieces.”

Ariel laughed.

“You’re hallucinating. Did you drink something last night, or is it a new kid of hash? I want some too.”

She wiped away her tears and pushed him aside.

“Don’t make light of the situation. It’s not a joke. Didn’t you hear the news?”

He picked up the remote, turned the radio on, and scanned it looking for the Army Radio Station. He turned the TV on, too, but kept it on mute. The announcer was reminding listeners that the Palestinians have disappeared.

Ariel was incredulous.

“What are they talking about? I don’t understand.”

“The Arabs are gone! Simply gone. None of them showed up to work. Their houses are empty and their phones ring, but no one answers. The workers, beggars, prisoners, teachers, patients, café owners, cooks, and garbage men. They are aaaaaaaaaall gonnnnnneeeee.”

She took a deep breath and continued.

“No one knows what is happening. They disappeared, Ariel. Na’lamu ata mifen zeh na’lamuuuuu?”

“Calm down please. You’re losing it. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“What about your Arab friends? They didn’t tell you about it?”

“I was with Alaa last night until around eleven, or shortly thereafter. We talked a bit and then he went to his apartment. Wait, I’ll call him and you’ll see for yourself.” Ariel went to the bedroom and put on black underpants and a pair of jeans, and a white V-neck T-shirt. He came back with his cell phone in hand and dialed Alaa’s number. Zohar sat on the couch looking out the window to her left.

“His phone is turned off, or out of coverage. He’s supposed to be at work now. We came back relatively early so he could get up in time for work.”

“You don’t get it, do you? All the Palestinians have disappeared. You won’t find Alaa, or the others. I don’t care about them. But we need to know where they went and what is happening?”

“I‘ll go knock on his door. Wait here!”

He went out barefoot and ran down to the third floor. He rang Alaa’s bell, confident that he’d open the door in no time, if he’s not at work. Taking time to open the door doesn’t mean anything necessarily. Alaa’s usually late. Ariel rang the bell several times and then started banging on the door and calling out, “Alaa, Alaa, ata bu?”

When he went back up Zohar was getting ready to leave.

“He’s not answering.”

“You mean he disappeared with the others.”

“I don’t want to get into an argument, but I don’t think he’s disappeared. Maybe he’s wiped out and wasn’t able to go to work. We drank a whole bottle of wine last night and he was tired. His phone is off and he only turns it off when he’s asleep.”

“You still don’t get what’s happening. Listen to your voicemail. Listen to the news. This is the nonchalant attitude that ruined our relationship. I’m going.”

He asked her to stay, but she was determined to leave. He checked his voicemail.

“Ariel, it’s your mother. Please call me back as soon as you get this.”

“Ariel, mother here again. Call me! Where are you? Why is your phone turned off? I’m very worried about you. Please call.”

“Hi Ariel, Matthew here. I’m sure you’ve already heard. I know you are on vacation, but this is an emergency. Call us right away. We sent several e-mails. Please call ASAP.”

“Shalom Ariel. This is Dany. I returned two days ago and I’d planned to call you earlier to have a drink, but am calling now because of what happened. Maybe you have some information or explanation? Please call me.”

“Ariel, this is Zohar. Please call me.”

“Zohar again. I’ll stop by your place, maybe you’re there. I’m worried about you. Call me.”

He felt numb. He couldn’t believe what was happening. As if it’s doomsday. Is it a war? He called Alaa again. No answer. He didn’t even reach his voicemail so he could say a sentence or two in the hopes that Alaa would call back once he hears the message. All he got was the automatic message: “The number you called is outside the service area. Please try again later.”

He called his mother, who said in a shaky voice:

“Where are you? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you since this morning. I’m very worried. I miss your father. Were he alive we’d know what is happening.”

“How about good morning first, mother? Please calm down. No need to worry this much. Everything will be fine. Had there been any danger, we would’ve known right away. Please calm down.”

“But the news is worrisome. It reminds me of Yom Kippur, when the Arabs attacked us from all sides, and we were going to lose everything. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“There is no need for all this, please. What you’re saying isn’t true. We defeated them in just six days and regained our strength. No need to worry. I’ll call Dod Itzik and get back to you, please.”

“Ok, I’ll wait for your call.”

He liked to call him “Dod Itzik,” “Uncle Itzik,” as if the two went together. His affection and respect for Itzik increased after his father died. They remained close even if and when they disagreed. Ariel did not think it was necessary to keep the West Bank and Gaza. That’s what he called them at times. Otherwise it’s always “Judea and Samaria.” During his reserve military service, he was sent to Hebron. That was his nightmare. He thought about refusing to go there, but he decided that his presence and writing about it would be more important and consequential than refusing to serve. He wrote about it and some stopped talking to him after that. Alaa used to tell Ariel that he was merely creating “good” excuses to justify horrors. Itzik used to criticize him a lot, too, but for other reasons. But Itzik stood by his side and never abandoned him. Perhaps because he had paternal feelings toward him. There was an argument about the country’s priorities during the last dinner where he and Itzik were guests. Ariel said that Iran was Israel’s major problem and they had to focus on Hizballah, because it is its long arm in Lebanon. They should withdraw from the West Bank and Gaza and allow for the establishment of a demilitarized Palestinian state. Those seated around the table were aghast and looked at him as if he’d just arrived from outer space. They were all were in agreement about Iran, but they objected to the idea and location of a demilitarized state. For how could Ariel, the son of an IDF hero, utter such words? His father was killed when his helicopter crashed during a military operation in south Lebanon. How could he call Judea and Samaria “the West Bank and Gaza?” How could he say that they don’t need them, and that a Palestinian entity must be established there and they should swap the land and settlements? Spitting in their faces would’ve been less offensive. Itzik interceded and took care of remedying the situation. The subject was closed and it was only revisited later when Itzik called to talk to him. The other guests were so appalled by Ariel’s statement. It didn’t matter to them that he was not against military service in principle. He just didn’t think it was useful to serve in the territories to provide protection for settlements.

Ariel went to the bathroom to take a leak. His phone was in his hand and he dialed Itzik’s number. He looked in the long mirror. It was a strange moment. He thought his face belonged to some other person whom he’d met, but didn’t know very well. Itzik wasn’t answering. He put the phone aside, washed his hands quickly, and then went back to the living room to call others.