The Masada Complex (58 page)

Her belly!

Would Father notice the life growing inside her? She hoped not. Not yet, anyway. “I wanted to see you before Wednesday.”

He uttered a sound, something between a cough and a bark, and tried to stand.

Through the glass doors of the lobby, Professor Silver saw Masada and Rabbi Josh get out of a taxicab. The rabbi headed down the street, limping. Masada came up the steps to the lobby. Silver turned to examine a cheap poster of the Mediterranean coast that was pinned to the wall. The glass door opened behind him.

“Levy!”

“Oh,” he turned, “my favorite voice.”

She bent down to hug him. “Get your bag. Back to the hospital.”

“What?”

“I’m going to raise the biggest stink. They’ll take care of you right away.”

“Calm down, meidaleh. It’s just a little procedure on my right eye.” Silver made sure a smile remained on his face while his mind struggled to figure out what she actually knew. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re losing your vision?”

“It’s a long time off.” He watched her reaction.

“Still, you should have told me!”

He was relieved. She obviously didn’t know the details, or that he only had one eye.

“I’m sure it’s Colonel Ness. He interfered with your surgery to pressure me to make a deal with him.”

Silver touched his thick spectacles. “My surgery for your integrity?” He fought to maintain a calm façade. If Masada made a fuss, they might tell her he was mumbling in Arabic while under anesthetics. He straightened up, sighing. “I’d rather suffer than let you cave in to extortion.” He took the bottle of eye drops from his pocket to show her. “They gave me these—”

“I’m not going to cave in! Let’s go!” Masada grabbed his arm, and the bottle flew from his hand. It hit the tiled floor with a sickening pop.

“No!” Silver dropped to his knees and felt around for the bottle. The blotch hid every section of the floor he was trying to see. His hand touched something, and he heard it roll away. “Where is it?” He felt the wet floor with his hands, swiping it back and forth.
“Help me!”

“There.” Masada’s shoes passed by him. “I got it.”

The front desk clerk appeared next to him, helping him stand. Silver trembled, reaching with his hands. “Give it to me!”

“It’s cracked,” Masada said, touching him with a moist hand. “You’ll need a new one.”

“No!” Silver snatched the little bottle and held it up, slightly to the side of the blotch. A hairline crack traveled from the plastic cap down, around the bottom, and up the other side. Clear drops seeped onto his hand. He turned the bottle upside down.

“Here,” Masada said, “I’ll hold it.”

“Leave it!” Silver stumbled in different directions. “Give me a cup! Something! Don’t just stand there!”

The clerk ran off to the cafeteria.

Silver realized he was moaning and shushed himself. His shaking hands almost dropped the bottle again. “Irreplaceable! Can’t lose it.”

Masada stood still, saying nothing.

The clerk appeared with a plastic water bottle, which he emptied onto a shriveled potted plant and held for Silver, who poured in the remaining clear liquid from the cracked bottle. He hugged the plastic bottle to his chest and found a seat.

“Miss El-Tal?” The clerk’s voice was a pitch higher than usual, as if he also realized something more than a glass bottle had cracked. “A man called for you a little while ago and left a message.” He handed her a note.

She looked at it and groaned.

“Any news?” Silver asked. He had called in the message before leaving the hospital.

“Someone from my old kibbutz.”

“What do they want?”

“There’s a memorial service for my little brother.”

Not so little,
Silver thought. “Really? Then we should attend, of course.”

“Of course not.” Masada rubbed her knee through the bulky brace and glanced at the bottle. “You’re losing your eyesight, aren’t you?”

He sighed. “We all have our precious little denials to nurture.”

She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. “You’re a foolish man, Levy Silver. And in no condition to go to Mount Masada at four-thirty in the morning.”

“I’ve never been there,” he lied. “And with my eyesight going, I’d love to see dawn breaking over the Dead Sea before it’s too late.”

Her face contorted. What could she say?

“And after the memorial, my driver will take us from Mount Masada directly to Hadassah Hospital, and you’ll make a huge scene until they fix my eyes. How’s that?” He gambled she didn’t know the Michener Eye Center would be shut down for renovations.

“Now you’re trading?”

He laughed, threading his arm in hers. “Quid pro quo.”

Elizabeth McPherson stepped closer to her father. “I came to mend fences.”

Father’s shriveled face twitched. “Fences?”

“That’s how we say it in America.” She realized the phrase didn’t work in Arabic. Looking up at the patch of blue through the skylight, she explained, “To fix our relationship.”

“Like this you come?” His gnarled hand motioned at her clothes.

She smiled. “This is how I dress when I talk to judges.”

Hajj Mahfizie mumbled something, and a moment later a blanket was draped around her shoulders, its coarseness scratching the back of her neck, its odor musty.

Elizabeth shook off the blanket, which fell on the floor around her feet. “It’s time you accepted me the way I am, Father.”

A murmur passed through the crowd. Several young men stood up.

“You know what I’ve done for Palestine. I’m a modern woman, very successful in my profession. It’s time you see there’s much to be proud of me.”

“Leave!” Father waved his hand. “Go!”

She stumbled backwards but steeled herself. “We should discuss the ceremony.”

Complete silence was the only response. Two men stepped in to support Hajj Mahfizie.

“It’s not every day that your daughter becomes,” she hesitated, “
Hero of Palestine.
”

The men burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” She grew angrier. “You think women can’t be heroes?

Their laughter quieted.

“You think only guns and bombs and suicides demonstrate courage?” She was yelling now. “You’re wrong! The bravest deeds are done quietly. What I did for Palestine no one else could do. And many women can provide unique services too. You cover us up in blankets, but it must change.” She paused, thinking she heard Father say something.

He didn’t move.

“I thought I’d keep it a surprise, but I might as well tell you now that on Wednesday, from the stage on the main street of this camp, I plan to announce the formation of the Palestinian Women Advancement League.”

Father was pointing at her.

“And this organization will dedicate itself to Palestinian women of all—”

Someone shoved her from behind, and she fell to the floor. The rough blanket was thrown over her, and strong hands lifted her.

She struggled to free herself. “Let me go!”

Someone kicked her. The pain made her fight harder. She managed to release one arm and felt her hand slap against a face. “Release me immediately!”

A fist punched her left kidney, paralyzing her.

They carried her, wrapped in the coarse blanket. A door screeched, and she was dropped to the floor, the air knocked out of her.

Through the fog of pain and fear, Elizabeth heard the door being locked.

After returning from Hadassah, Rabbi Josh had visited a pharmacy and bought tiny scissors, bandages, and a tube of ointment. Back in his room, he propped his right foot up on a chair and pulled off bits of skin from each blister, gritting his teeth. In the back of his heel, a large blister had not yet burst. He popped it.

A knock came from the door, and Professor Silver entered. “
Oy!”
He gazed at the rabbi’s foot. “What have you done to yourself?”

“Jogged too long in the wrong shoes.” Remembering Tara’s suspicions, the rabbi asked innocently, “How did your eye procedure go?”

“It was postponed,” Silver said. “Could you—”

“Postponed?” He pressed the blister, which oozed clear liquid. “Wasn’t it an urgent thing?”

“Not at all. A little tinkering with one of my eyes. Nothing serious.”

The rabbi glanced at him, wondering why he was lying, and with such ease! “It’s not getting worse?”

“At my age every bodily function is getting worse.” The professor removed his black beret and rubbed his thin hair. “I don’t sweat the little things.”

Rabbi Josh took out the supplies, arranging them on the table. “Nothing serious?”

“Thank God.” The professor touched his black-rimmed glasses.

Fearing his face would betray his dismay, Rabbi Josh bent forward to look closely at his foot. “I’m glad,” he said, feeling the exact opposite. He brought the pointed edge of the tiny, half-moon scissors to the popped blister while pinching the skin between a finger and a thumb to raise it. “I was wondering about what you overheard.” He began to snip at the raised skin, twisting his face as the burning intensified. “Between Masada and Al.” He clipped the skin in a circle, tearing off the last bit, which hurt even more. “Could you tell me again?”

“Again?” The professor puffed air. “They were doing it.”

Rabbi Josh resisted the urge to glance at Professor Silver. “You sure you heard it clearly?” He pulled a loose piece of skin from his toe, and it trailed a patch of healthy skin that detached with the sensation of red-hot iron. He groaned.

“You need a doctor.” Silver peered at the foot.

“Happened before. I get carried away with exercise.” Unscrewing the tube of ointment, he repeated his question, “Did you hear them clearly?”

“I think so.” Professor Silver’s friendly tone was touched by impatience. “It was a very traumatic night.”

The vision of Raul’s white face pounced on Rabbi Josh’s mind like a stalker who had waited for the right moment to strike. He pushed the vision away, but his hand clenched the tube so hard it sprouted a long, gray worm of ointment on top of his bare foot. He smeared it over the blisters, twisting his face at the pain. “It’s important for me to know what she said exactly.”