Next Year in Israel (17 page)

It seemed fair. I opened one of Avi’s textbooks.

“It’s history,” he said. “The first page is at the end.”

I flipped to the back of the book. “We’ve learned about several wars with Arab countries. What do you think of them?”

He nodded as if he expected the question. “It’s the terrorists I hate.”

I sympathized with him. Who didn’t hate terrorists? I pulled a CD from my backpack and nudged his leg. “I brought you something.”

“It’s yours?” he asked. It was Ben’s CD, a mix of hip-hop and classic rock songs.

“Mia’s boyfriend lent it to me. Do you want to listen to it?”

“
Ken
. Thanks.”

“You can listen, but can’t keep. I always return stuff.”

“Is Ben Israeli?”

“His parents moved from Haifa to Miami when he was a baby, because his mom thought America would be safer. She was tired of war and terrorism. That was before 9/11.”

He frowned.

“Ever think of living somewhere else?” I asked.

“Never. This is my home.”

“Aren’t you scared of being blown up?”

He kicked my leg. “When they bomb my store, I’ll shop there the next day with a hundred other Israelis to send them the message that they don’t scare me. Isn’t it the same for you?”

Chapter 16

“WHAT WAS MIA’S EXCUSE FOR not coming?” Jake asked as we walked past a kiosk overflowing with newspapers. We were in Leah’s neighborhood, on our way to her apartment for Shabbat, because she had invited us for a weekend visit.

“She just said no.” Good thing Jake was with me. I was curious about Leah, but I didn’t think I could get through a weekend at her house alone, because Mia predicted that Leah prayed all weekend.

“I’m your second string,” Jake said. “No Avi.”

Mia had said Avi was my boyfriend after I told her about my weekend at his house, but I was confused. Not only had his parents made him keep the door to his room open when I was there, but they wouldn’t let us do anything alone all weekend, so we hadn’t kissed again. And he became less and less talkative as the weekend wore on. I knew that he was annoyed at his parents, but it felt like something else was wrong between us. Then there was the question of why he hadn’t called me or come to visit me at the
kfar
. It just didn’t feel like he was my boyfriend.

“I’m shocked you want to spend Shabbat with Leah,” I said.

“Why?” he asked. “She’s modern Orthodox.”

“You don’t seem like the religious type.”

“What type am I?”

“No comment.” Back home, I would have labeled him a jock jerk, but it was becoming harder to peg him one way.

He looked at Leah’s directions. “It’s the white building across the street. Have you ever been to an Orthodox house?”

“Nah.” We didn’t know any Orthodox Jews at home.

“One Orthodox tradition is sex on Shabbat.”

I rolled my eyes. “Is that all you think about?”

“Five hundred times a day. How often do you think about it?” We stopped at the crosswalk. “Come on, Becca. Tell me.”

“What makes you the Orthodox expert?” I said.

“My uncle’s Orthodox. What do you think about sex on Shabbat?”

We walked across the street. “You have a one-track mind. Can you talk about anything else?”

He didn’t say anything.

“See, you can’t.”

We passed a woman walking her dog. He paused on the sidewalk.

“Is this Leah’s building?” I stopped walking.

“I’m having second thoughts about college,” Jake said.

A car honked, and I blocked out the street noise. “I thought you wanted to go to Harvard or Yale?”

“That’s what my Dad wants. I want to wait to figure out career stuff, ‘cause I don’t know what I want to be.”

“Welcome to the clueless club,” I said. “There’s no membership fee.” Sometimes I felt like a moron because I had no career goals. Mom had known she wanted to be an accountant before college, and she had held several part-time accounting jobs by the time she graduated, which helped her get a ‘plum’ job after college. Was I gonna drift from one stupid job to another because I had no goal? I looked deeper into his eyes. He was so together. Popular. Honors society. Varsity sports. But underneath it all, he was dealing with the same kind of worries that I had.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Don’t want to waste my time in courses until I know what courses I should be taking.”

“I know what you mean,” I said. Life was confusing if you weren’t sure about your goals.

“I’d volunteer for Habitat for Humanity,” he said. “Put myself to use while I figure it out.” His plan was rather noble. Behind the perfect boy was a kind person. Somebody who wanted to be helpful.

“Are your parents okay with it?” Mine wouldn’t be. They expected me to go to college right away.

“No, they think I’ll get distracted and never go.”

“It’s your decision, not theirs.” He wasn’t unfocused; he just wanted to do it right.

“Dad said they’ll cut me off financially if I do it.”

I had assumed Jake had a good relationship with his parents because he never once complained about them. “He might not mean it.”

“He does; he’s trying to control me.”

I put down my backpack. “What does your mom think?”

Jake flinched. “She’s with him. They’re against me.”

“She… They might come around.” I wanted to inspire him. It sounded like he had already lost too much sleep over it.

“They threatened to kick me out of the house.”

He needed some kind of leverage. “Most colleges let you defer for a year after you’ve been accepted. Wait until you get in before you bring up it up again. Maybe having the acceptance will work in your favor.”

“They won’t budge. According to them, I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“You’ve got to bring it up again.” I didn’t want to give him false hope, but also I didn’t want him to give up.

“It’s like they don’t trust me.”

“It’s
your
life. If you really want to do it, you’ll find a way.”

He looked at me. “So you have no clue what you want to be, either?”

“Nope. I totally get where you are coming from. Sometimes I feel like I’m on the path to slackerhood. Hope I can figure it out when I get to college.”

“You’re not a slacker.” He smiled. “That’s from a slacker-in-training.”

“I could be a secret slacker or something.” The heat in my chest was rising.

He bent closer. “I’m the slacker.”

My heart thudded faster. “Just like you, I want a career that’s worthwhile.”

His mouth was so close that I could smell his delicious breath. “You’ll find one,” he said. “Your eyes are pretty. They look golden today.”

My insides melted. We were in that sweet spot where the energy was electric and everything came naturally. “Thanks. Leah’s waiting for us.” I turned away, afraid of what would happen if I stayed there too long.

~ * * * ~

The next morning, I pushed Leah’s green blanket off of my legs. Like the rest of her apartment, the décor in Leah’s guest bedroom was on the gaudy side. The brown crib next to my bed was covered in orange sheets.

“You’re finally awake.” Leah came into the room. She must have been hovering in the hallway, waiting for me to get up. “You missed services.”

“What are we doing now?” I closed my eyes for a moment.

“Eating. You must be starving. It’s almost noon.”

I stretched my arms, Shabbat dinner the night before had gone on until midnight. Six of Leah’s friends had shown up for dinner. After several Friday night dinners at the
kfar
, I had been able to follow the service. I had even recognized some of the prayers, and I didn’t mind Leah’s extra rituals, like washing our hands from a silver pitcher.

Leah leaned against the crib. “My daughters slept a lot when they were your age. Were you comfortable?”

“Yeah.” Leah’s bed was like a million feathers compared to the
kfar
’s metal cot.

“I’m glad Jake is here,” Leah said.

“Me too.” Getting to know him better had been the best part of the weekend. “Is he up?”

“Probably. You should get dressed.”

I eyed the timer plugged into the outlet for the lamp on the nightstand. “I shouldn’t turn the lights on or off, right?” Leah had told me the night before not to touch the light switch.

“That’s right. I don’t turn the lights on or off on Shabbat. Just like I don’t have to cook and do other things.”

I nodded and hoped she wouldn’t go into an in-depth explanation. It could take hours, especially if the list was long. “Is Jake coming over soon?”

Leah sighed. “Yes, he is.”

I got up, feeling anxious. I was probably being rude. She was letting me stay at her house. I should listen to whatever she had to say, no matter how long it took. “Is there a printed list of stuff that I shouldn’t do? I don’t want to accidentally do something wrong.”

“They’re not wrong,” Leah said. “They’re just not Orthodox traditions. Speaking of traditions, one Orthodox tradition is a leisurely lunch on Shabbat. Why don’t you go put on something nice, and we’ll have lunch.” She had instructed me to bring a skirt or a dress for Saturday, and I had packed my purple skirt and a cream-colored sweater.

When I emerged from the bathroom, Leah was sitting on the bed, waiting for me. “What a beautiful outfit,” she said. “You remind me of my youngest daughter, Channa.”

“The one who just had a baby?”

She tucked a strand of hair into her bun. “Yes. She’s in London with my new grandson.”

“You should have gone with them.”

“They’ll be home on Monday. I didn’t want to leave the
kfar
for two weeks. Look at his picture.” She picked up a small photo album that was on the nightstand.

I turned to the first page of her brag book. The mother holding the baby had a red-lipsticked mouth like Leah. One thing stood out. “Why is she wearing a scarf?” The scarf wasn’t a headband. Her hair was tucked all the way inside it.

Leah smiled. “It’s either a wig or a scarf.”

I was confused. Leah didn’t wear a scarf. “Are you wearing a wig?”

“No. Channa wants to be modest. By covering her hair, she feels less naked and not as focused on her appearance. She’s trying to be less shallow and live her life more consciously.”

I understood wanting to feel less naked. My first time at the
kfar
swimming pool, I had worn a shirt over my bathing suit because I didn’t want guys staring at my body. But covering up hair seemed unnatural and extreme. “How come you don’t cover your hair?”

“Some Orthodox women do it. Channa’s more observant than me.” She sounded proud. “Ready for lunch?”

~ * * * ~

Jake showed up for lunch, and we sat next to each other at her dining room table, which took up most of her living room. From the table, I could see white dishes left from dinner piled in a bowl of soapy water on the counter.

“How was the apartment next door?” I asked while Leah was in the kitchen. “Was it weird?”

“Her friends kept sneaking God into the conversation. It took a while to get used to God this and God that. You know why they separated us?”

“Why?”

“What did I say about the rules of Shabbat?”

I put my elbows on the white tablecloth. “I asked Leah. It only applies if you’re married.”

He winked at me. “Liar.”

My heart warmed again. “Liar, what?”

Leah placed a bowl of stew down. It had potatoes, beans, onions, and barley. “What are you two chatting about?”

“Nothing,” I said.

“Hmm,” Jake inhaled the steam. “Cholent. I love cholent.”

Since cooking wasn’t allowed on Shabbat, Leah had prepared it on Friday and kept it warm in a crockpot.

I swallowed a forkful. “Delicious.”

“It was my husband’s favorite.”

“What was his name, again?” Jake asked. Pictures of the gray-bearded man dressed in a black suit were in the living room.

“Samuel.” Leah spoke of him often, rarely using his name. It was always “He” or “my husband.” She smiled. “He insisted we have guests every Friday night for Shabbat dinner. Such a mitzvah.”

“Did he wear tefillin?” Jake asked, referring to the black boxes and leather straps the Orthodox men wore on the airplane and at the Western Wall.

I thought of the men praying on the airplane and the ones at the Wall who were dressed in black. They seemed to be less weird because her husband was like them.

Leah smiled. “Yes.”

“Do you wish he hadn’t volunteered for the Army?” I said.

“Sometimes,” she answered. “Orthodox can opt out, and he did until the day a stranger called him a cop-out for not serving.” Leah dabbed her lips with a cloth napkin, although she didn’t have any crumbs. “He volunteered later that day. I don’t know why he let it bother him. Everyone in this community receives dirty looks and hateful comments at one time or another. He wouldn’t have been in the accident if he hadn’t gone.”

I shouldn’t have asked about it. Talking about his death soured the taste of my cholent.

“His buddies had me in stitches from ghastly impersonations of Army life when they came to visit during
shiva
.”

Grandma told me she sat
shiva
when her parents passed away. It sounded to me like
shiva
wasn’t a time for jokes.

“I had to laugh,” Leah said. “It was the last day of
shiva
. After days of crying, I had to do something like laugh.”

Jake fiddled with his spoon. “Becca and I plan to head back on the five o’clock bus.”

“There’s a later bus. Friends are coming over for Havdalah. We should be done by eight.”

“We have the history test tomorrow,” Jake said.

“It’s a simple service,” she said. “You’ll enjoy it.”

“No thanks,” Jake said. “We need to study.”

Leah picked up a bowl of cloves from the counter. “Suit yourselves. Since you must leave before the service, I’ll go through what you’ll be missing. “

I paid attention when she showed us a two-wicked braided candle and explained how she said goodbye to Shabbat. I kept waiting for her to ask us to stay, but she didn’t.

“Move it,” Jake said when Leah let us go. “We have one minute to get the bus stop.”

I picked up my pace. “Her demo was only five minutes. We could have left earlier if you hadn’t taken a half-hour to get your backpack. What happened?”