27

Freedom.
Does it mean freedom from persecution?
Freedom to do whatever you want?
Or is freedom a state of mind?
Maybe it’s all of those mixed together.

“You don’t trust me?”

I give a short laugh. “I didn’t cause that whole scene just to let you go free. Get in.”

He bends his head, his hands still bound behind his back, and sits in the passenger seat. He’s forced to situate himself so he’s not leaning against the uncomfortable cuffs, which makes me want to unshackle him, but what if he decides to leave me after I free him? No, I need him to hear me out, no matter what.

I have to lean over him to put his seatbelt on. He can’t do it himself while his hands are bound behind his back. I can feel his breath on my neck as I reach over his body to fasten the seatbelt. It’s the law, you know. I think I just heard him give a little grunt/moan combination, but I’m not sure.

“Are you wearing a new perfume?” he asks, his breath hot on my skin. “You smell different.”

I don’t answer, although it’s either the French fries I had at lunch or the Pleasure perfume I sprayed on an hour ago.

“Where are we going?” he asks when I drive off campus, heading north on Sheridan Road.

“You’re my prisoner. Prisoners aren’t usually told where they’re going to be held hostage. And they don’t talk.” To be honest, I don’t know where I’m headed. Somewhere we can be alone, somewhere nobody can find us. If there was a button I could press to whisk us away to a stranded island, I’d do it. He needs to hear me out. After that, well … I’ll hold my breath while I wait for his response.

When I reach a red light, I look over at him. He’s wearing a gray long-sleeve T-shirt with some logo in Hebrew on it, along with faded jeans with a small rip on one of the knees. I wonder if that rip happened tonight when Nathan jumped him. I can’t read Avi’s face; he’s a master at hiding emotion. Is that something he’s been taught, or was he born with that talent?

“Amy, you don’t have to do all this,” he says.

“Oh, yes. I do,” I tell him before I push on the accelerator and start driving again.

“Listen, Amy, when I came to Chicago I didn’t know—”

“Avi, wait until you hear me out before you say anything. Okay? I mean, I have some things I have to get off my chest before you tell me how much of a mistake it was that you came here and you’re going back home in two days never to see me again.”

“Whatever you want,” he says, looking out the window and taking a deep, frustrated breath.

Oh, great. Now I’ve pissed him off. I’m passing the Baha’i Temple, which looks like the Planetarium. It’s so huge and brilliantly lit up.

“It’s the Baha’i temple,” I explain when Avi’s eyes go wide from seeing such a unique building.

“Whoa,” Avi says. “The one in Haifa by my aunt’s house has a gold dome. Stuck in the middle of the mountain you can see it from miles away.”

I drive past the temple, past Gillson Park, past the million dollar houses on Sheridan Road only people who have old money can afford, my mom says. By the time we pass Glencoe I know my destination.

Rosewood Beach.

It’s a small beach in Highland Park my mom took me to one summer when I was little. I remember the wind was so strong my blanket flew up and threw sand in my face. I wasn’t a sand person to begin with. It was too messy and got all over and it took days to get out of my hair and shoes. And as much as my mom wanted to get me in that Lake Michigan water, I resisted. I saw the kids who played with their buckets in the water and splashed around … eventually they had to come out of the water and walk on the sand. That dry sand stuck to their feet and legs and hands and … ugh, all over.

Turning into the little driveway leading down to the tiny parking lot, I think of how messy situations can sometimes be a good thing. I think I’m just learning that.

I park the car in the darkened parking lot right near the edge of the beach overlooking the lake. No other car is in sight. We’re the only ones here in this secluded place.

Almost as if we’re on an island alone.

“Are you going to take the cuffs off now?” he asks.

“Nope. Not until you hear what I have to say.” I turn in my seat so I’m facing him. The only thing between us is the arm rest and cup holders. And our strained relationship, if you want to get technical.

I reach over and unbuckle his seatbelt, the click releasing him from the harness. He’s as comfortable as he’s gonna get with his hands secured behind his back.

His eyes are shining in the bright moonlight. I can feel them on me as though they were his hands.

“Don’t look at me,” I tell him.

“Why not?”

“It embarrasses me. What I’m about to say embarrasses me.”

“So let me talk,” he says in his smooth, confident voice. “I’m not embarrassed.”

I tilt my head and raise my eyebrows. “Just turn around.”

He shakes his head in confusion, but turns and stares out the opposite window.

I brace myself for the worst and start talking. “Last summer was the best summer of my life. Meeting someone I really liked surprised me more than anything.”

“Same here,” he says to the window.

“Yeah, but you told me not to wait for you. You didn’t want to get involved, you didn’t want a relationship … all you wanted was a summer fling.”

“It was awesome.”

“Yeah. But then it was over. You went to the army and I came back home. When things go wrong with Jess, I can’t call you. When things go wrong with friends at school or my family, you’re not here to calm me down and tell me not to freak out or hold my hand in that familiar way.”

This time he turns to me, his jaw clenched. “So you replaced me with Nathan?”

With my index finger, I twirl it in cirlces to remind him to turn around.

He looks at the window again and repeats, “So you replaced me with Nathan. I get it, Amy, you don’t have to state the obvious.”

“I admit it,” I say quietly. “I kissed Nathan. Twice. And he was a good kisser. Well, the first time he wasn’t, but the second time was considerably better.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Avi says, his voice tight.

“Yes, you do. I don’t want secrets between us, Avi. And I don’t want you running away from me when things get tough.”

“I don’t run.”

“You left so fast I didn’t have a chance to figure things out in my own head,” I say, putting my hand on his thigh. I need to touch him, to make him realize how much I care. Will he know by my touch how much I want him back in my life, how there’s a void in my heart only he can fill?

He looks down at my hand. “Did you figure it out?”

“I didn’t kidnap you for nothing, you know. Stay with me, Avi. Stick with me through my mistakes and through my crap and through my crabbiness and through my doubts because … oh, God, I love you.”

I’m waiting for him to say it back to me, not that it even matters. My love won’t waver. I can list one reason, or a hundred reasons, why I love him. There’s a connection when we laugh, when we fight, and when we kiss … there’s a restlessness that burns inside me for him when he’s not with me. I’m calmer when we’re together.

He’s in the Israeli army, I know. And I won’t likely be seeing him for a long time. Maybe he’ll get leave in the summer; maybe he won’t. It doesn’t even matter to me, as long as we take the time now to say whatever, whenever.

“Come here,” he says.

I look over at the small space in the front seat, the cup holders and arm rest between us. “Um, where do you want me to go, Avi? There’s not much room here.”

“You’re smart. Figure it out.”

Don’t ask me how it is that my prisoner is giving me the orders now, but I’m totally okay with it. I squeeze my way over the hump of the armrest and wiggle my way over to the passenger side, finally able to sit comfortably while straddling his legs.

“I’m selfish,” Avi says, his dark chocolate eyes boring into mine. “Because I don’t want to share you.” He bends his head down, says something in Hebrew to himself that sounds like a curse, and says, “My ego took a beating when I found out you kissed Nathan. I left you because my damn ego was bruised.”

I twist my head down so he can see my face. “If you can forgive me, I can forgive you … and your ego,” I say. “I just want to spend every second together before you go back to Israel.”

“And after I go back, what’s between us? I’ve got three years in the army. Who knows what’ll happen.”

“I don’t want to break up, Avi.”

“Me, either. How about a don’t ask, don’t tell relationship until I’m out of the army?”

Don’t ask, don’t tell. That sounds fair. “Sababa. Does that mean I can call you my boyfriend instead of my non-boyfriend?”

The side of his mouth quirks up. “Definitely.”

“Do we have a contract drawn up? Do we shake on it?”

“How about we seal the deal with a kiss. No distractions this time.”

We both lean forward, meeting in the middle. Just as our lips are about to touch, my cell phone rings.

“Aren’t you going to get it? It might be your dad.”

Tilting my head to the side and brushing my lips against his, I say, “No distractions, remember?”

Ignoring the persistent phone, we start kissing softly, the way it was the first time he ever touched me. Sweet and slow, with passion and hunger lurking behind as if waiting to be unleashed with a vengeance.

Lips against lips, I caress his face before moving my hands down to the hard planes of his chest, exploring my way while he’s still bound and we’re still kissing.

“One day we’re going to do this somewhere else than in a car,” he says, his voice and breath coming harder than before. Through his shirt I can feel his heart racing faster, too. I smile, knowing that I can bring him to feel this way, that he wants me as much as I want him.

Wiggling closer to him and putting the seat into a reclining position, I realize I’m playing with fire but it feels too good to stop. Groaning sounds fill the car. I’m not even sure if they’re coming from me or him. Avi nuzzles my neck with his lips, licking and kissing a path down to the V in my shirt while my fingers are wandering around his body giving caresses of their own.

With a shift of his body, suddenly Avi’s hands are on my waist, moving up my spine and cradling my head. His breathing is heavy and erratic and his eyes are so intense when he looks into mine it makes my breath hitch.

“You’re free from the handcuffs?” I whisper, feeling weak from his kisses and caresses and hands and words.

Between kissing me, he says, “Yeah. There was a release button on them.”

I lean back, separating our lips and bodies for a second. “When did you find it?”

“About ten seconds after you put them on me.” His fingers brush stray strands of hair away from my face. “The funny thing is, you don’t need handcuffs to bind me to you. I’m yours without them.”

I pull his head toward mine, and we kiss and continue exploring as we move in rhythm against each other.

“I want to forget how inexperienced you are,” he groans the words into my ear.

“So teach me,” I say. I bite my lower lip as I sit up and unbutton the top two buttons of my shirt.

“Look at me?” Avi asks.

“Why?”

“So I can see your eyes.”

Avi’s eyes are totally focused on my face and not my shirt as I move my hands lower and start unbuttoning the rest of the buttons. My hands are shaking. I’m not sure if it’s from the cold car or my trembling nerves.

“Didn’t you listen when your dad had the sex talk? Didn’t he tell you boys only want one thing?”

“Do you, Avi? Do you only want one thing?” I say as I open my shirt and reveal my bra beneath it.

“To be honest, my body’s only thinking about one thing right now.”

“Me, too. Aren’t you going to take your shirt off?”

As his hands reach for the hem of his shirt he says in a strained voice, “Your dad’s gonna kill me,” then he lifts his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the drivers seat with his eyes never leaving me.

Brushing the tips of his fingers across my abdomen, my body tingles in response and I shiver. “Are you okay with this?” he asks, his face serious.

I nod and give him a small smile. “I’ll let you know when I’m not.”

As I lean down to press our bodies against each other, his hands reach around under my open shirt and pull me toward him. “Your body … so warm.”

His hands are like a fire, consuming my body with his touch. I lean my head on his chest, hearing his heart beating in the same erratic rhythm as my own while his hands move up and caress my hair, my bare back, and my breasts.

I reclaim his lips and my raw emotions and new wonderful feelings whirl in my consciousness. I’m fully aware I’m not ready to have sex, but I’m ready to experience more … “Avi,” I say, letting my tone say more than my words. I want …

As if he understands, Avi shifts again, this time moving our bodies so he’s on top of me. “Ow,” he says.

“What?” Did I do something to hurt him?

“I just banged my head on the mirror.”

“I think the seatbelt is digging into my back,” I tell him. Or maybe it’s the handcuffs digging into my back. Or both. All I know is that we’re both uncomfortable right now.

He puts his forehead against mine and groans in frustration as he attempts to stretch his legs out so they’re not pinning mine under his. I think one of his legs is under the steering wheel, but I can’t be sure.

My hands are on his shoulders, my feet scrunched under the dashboard, and I think Avi’s elbow is stuck in the cup holder.

And now my cell phone is ringing again.

“This isn’t working, is it?” he says.

I scan our position, the awkwardness of it all. “I guess you’re right,” I say, totally frustrated.

He leans into the back seat, retrieves the ringing phone, and hands it to me.

Flipping it open, I say, “Hey, Aba.”

Avi twists himself and ends up sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Are you okay?” my dad barks on the other end of the line.

“Yeah.” More than okay.

“Then I’m going to kill you. Where are you? I’ve been calling and calling. Why get you a cell phone if you won’t answer it?”

“I didn’t hear the phone,” I lie, interrupting his tirade. “I must have been in a bad cell area.” That is such a lame answer, but I’m not too good at coming up with lies on the fly.

“Where are you? I asked Nathan, but he’s keeping his lips tighter than a submarine door. Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“I’m with Avi,” I finally say while tossing the handcuffs into the back seat so they’re not pressing into my back anymore.

“I thought he went to stay with his friend at Northwestern. You told me it was over between you two.”

“It was … but not anymore. He’s coming back home to stay with us.” I say the words, then look over at Avi hoping he’ll agree to sleep at our condo tonight and every night until his plane leaves.

“Are you with him now?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

I look out over the empty parking lot, the deserted beach, and the frozen Lake Michigan water glittering in the moonlight. “Yes,” I say.

“Put Avi on the phone. Right. Now.”

“Aba, don’t embarrass me.”

“Let me tell you this much, Amy. If you don’t put him on the phone, I’m taking away your cell phone, your computer privileges, car privileges, and that boy is not allowed in my home. Got it?”

My dad is a total buzz kill. I hold out the phone to Avi. “He wants to talk to you.”

Avi takes the phone with all seriousness. “Ken,” he says. Yes.

I only hear Avi’s part of the conversation, but it doesn’t even matter because he’s in full-blown Hebrew mode.

“Ani shomer aleha. Ken. He beseder. Ken, ani rotze lishmor al kol chelkay hagouf sheli.”

“What’s he saying?” I whisper.

Avi holds his hand over the mouthpiece. “He’s going through a list of my body parts he’ll rearrange if I ‘compromise’ you.”

I slap my hand over my eyes. Seriously, my dad could drive any guy away from me, even a commando in the Israel Defense Forces.

“Ron, ta’ameen li … ani ohev et habat shelcha ve lo ya’aseh cloom lif’goah bah.”

After Avi said that last part, there’s silence on the other end of the line for a second. I can feel the tension ebb and flow between the two men in my life.

“Beseder,” Avi says.

“Beseder,” he repeats.

“Beseder,” he says again.

The suspense is killing me. “What does beseder mean?”

Instead of answering me, he collapses the phone, disconnecting the line. Then he tosses the phone into the back seat. “It means ‘fine’, or ‘okay.’”

“Did he really threaten you?”

“Especially after I told him I loved you.”

Heart palpitation here. “You told him you loved me?”

He nods.

I tilt my head to the side and say with a smile, “You know you’re supposed to declare your love to the girl before you tell her father. Unless it’s the olden days, in which you’d be giving my dad goats, gifts, and gold in exchange for permission to marry me.”

“My family owns half of the goats on the moshav,” he says, lifting his eyebrows. “How about I offer our half to your dad?”

I was at the moshav over the summer. My uncle owns the other half of the goat farm. “That’s a lot of goats,” I say. “How do you know I’m worth it?”

Avi looks into my eyes. “You’re worth it, Amy,” he says, once again cradling my head in his hands. “Trust me, life with you would be an adventure,” he whispers.

As I’m about to pull him closer, I feel him tugging my shirt together. “What are you doing?”

“Buttoning your shirt,” he says as his hands deftly move up and button my shirt back up.

“Why?”

“Because I’d rather have you not tell our kids their dad declared his love in the back seat of a car.”

“We’re in the front seat.”

“Yeah, well … and as much as I think I could take your dad on and give him a pretty good run for his money, I’d rather not get into it with him.”

Avi puts his own shirt on, covering that six-pack and bronzed chest I once thought didn’t affect me. It does.

“Let’s take a walk on the beach.”

I look out the window and know it’s a cold, breezy night in northern Illinois. “It’s freezing out there.”

“Stay close, then. I’ll keep you warm.”

We step out of the car. Avi puts his arm around me as we walk down the dark, sandy beach. He’s right. His embrace does keep me warm on this chilly night. After a few minutes, Avi halts his steps and turns to me. He takes my hands in his, weaving my fingers through his own. “Amy,” he says, his voice laced with seriousness.

My eyes are filled with emotion. He’s going to say it … I know it’s so hard for him. His brother died in a bombing and Avi’s been struggling with his emotions ever since.

He squeezes his eyes shut as if trying desperately to pull out the words. “Wait here.” Taking my car keys from his back pocket, he runs to the car and back. “Here,” he says, holding out my cell phone. “Call your voicemail.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

I dial my voicemail number. The first call was from five o’clock … before I kidnapped him.

“Hi, Amy, it’s Avi. I’ve, uh, been thinking a lot this week and the truth is … well, I miss you. Too much. It’s killing me inside not being close to you. I mean, I understand if you want to never call or see me again because I left like a wounded ass, but … well … if you find it in your heart … or even your mind … to forgive me for having an ego as big as the Sears Tower I visited yesterday, call me back on this number – it’s Tarik’s cell.”

I press nine on my cell and turn to him. “That was so sweet,” I say. And it means so much to me that he called before I kidnapped him.

“Wait, listen to the next message.”

The next message? I put my ear back on the phone to hear the next message.

“It’s Avi again. Did I tell you your eyes remind me of blown glass? I can see your soul through those eyes, Amy. They get darker when you’re trying to be sexy and they shine when you smile. And when you think you’re in trouble you blink double the amount that you usually do. And when you’re sad, the corners of your eyes turn down. I miss your eyes. And I don’t want the sad ones to be my last memory of you.”

I save the second message, too, then look up at Avi. “There’s another one, isn’t there?”

He nods.

I press the button and forward to the next message.

“It’s Avi. And I want to say something to you. Not because I want you to say it back, either. (deep breath) I … I love you. It’s not that kind of conditional love … it’s the kind that’ll be around forever. Even if you don’t call. Even if you like Nathan or any other guy. We can be friends. We can be more. Just … call me back.”

I press the forward button. Avi looks like he wants to bite his nails right now, he’s so embarrassed.

“Did I mention when I first met you I was so attracted to you it scared me? Me, scared. I still am when I’m around you, because now I want you in my life forever. How long is forever, Amy?”

I shut the phone off.

“Don’t you want to hear the rest of the messages?”

I slip the phone into my back pocket while tears well in my eyes. “No.” Well, actually I’ll listen to them when I’m alone in my room at night and want to hear his voice before I fall asleep. Right now all I want to do is be with my boyfriend and enjoy the small amount of time we have left with each other.

“Avi?”

“Yeah.”

“Now I have to tell our kids you declared your love over a cell phone.”

He smiles wide, then laughs. “How about this, then … ” he says, then picks me up effortlessly in his strong arms and lays me gently down on the sand.

I have to say, I’m much less worried about the sand in my hair or stuck to my designer clothes than the words about to come out of Avi’s mouth.

He leans over me. His hands once again take mine in his and he weaves his fingers through mine. “I love you, Amy Nelson-Barak. From the moment I laid eyes on you I couldn’t stop looking at you. From the moment we talked I couldn’t stop arguing with you. From the moment we kissed I couldn’t stop kissing you. And from the moment we shared our hopes, fears, and insecurities I couldn’t stop loving you.”

Oh, that’s good. Twice.

Is today Tuesday?