A Life Worth Living (21 page)

The sun was setting, turning the sky a warm orange. The stones of Jerusalem seemed to be more vibrant than ever as they absorbed the last light of the sun.

Gaby hurried along with the rest of the rush-hour crowd. She reached the bus station, and joined the group of commuters staring up the road for the bus. It had been a long day, but it felt good to be part of the working force, coming home after putting in a full day at the office. This was way better than being stuck in seminary, or rocking babies for hours on end in the kibbutz. At Yad Vashem, she was accomplishing something.

It had taken a few weeks, but she was slowly but surely getting the hang of the job. She finally felt like she had somewhere to be, with important work to do. It was hard not to feel superior to the girls she left behind in Brooklyn and seminary – not that she was trying hard not to feel superior – but she had real work to do, not meaningless busywork in some corporation. She had even gotten comfortable enough to decorate her office space with a painting of Hebron that Rafi had done in an after-school club.

Of course, it was difficult to listen to the CDs, and watch the DVDs, and then transcribe the information into the database. Often, she found herself having to rewind the recording repeatedly to catch mumbled details. The survivors were old and usually had thick European accents that Gaby struggled to make sense of. The details of families on the run, life-time neighbors turning hostile, children murdered in front of their parents, and the brutal agony of the camps was simply horrifying. It was hard to disengage and simply jot down the pertinent details, instead of imagining the event in explicit bloody detail as she was wont to do.

But regardless of how often Gaby needed to get a drink of water or walk outside to compose herself, she was happy she took the job. Because of her, these testimonies would be preserved for all time. Because of her, the dead had names and the living were comforted.

It was a shame Serena didn’t get this job. With her fascination with the Holocaust, she would have been a natural fit. Gaby made a mental note to email Serena later and see how she was doing. Last she heard, Serena was working as a counselor for children with special needs. Hopefully, she was happy there.

The bus came, and she squeezed her way on, handing her
Rav-Kav
to the driver. She held onto the metal bar as the driver swerved his way around the busy streets of the city. The bumps and turns were making Gaby slightly nauseous, and she regretted getting onto the bus. It wasn’t that long of a drive; it was probably walking distance. She quickly went over the route in her head, surprising herself how well she knew the streets of Jerusalem. Tomorrow, she’d try getting to the Central Bus Station by foot.

The bus pulled into the station, and Gaby got off with relief. She stood on the long security line to get inside the building. When she reached the front of the line, she let the guard check her pink-and-black handbag, and waited to collect it on the other side. Watching the guard check her bag made her think of Hillel and how he had taken care of her when he was stationed at the Central Bus Station. The memory made her miss him intensely, and as she rode the escalator to the second floor, she impulsively called him.

The call rang a few times, and then went to voice mail.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m in the
tachanah merkazit
, and it always makes me think of you. I hope everything is good…” she trailed off, feeling stupid. “Anyway, have a good night,” she said quickly, and hung up the phone.

Shaking her head, she went onto the bus and found a seat. Why would Hillel want to talk to her? He hadn’t spoken to her since the night she came home from the kibbutz. There was no reason to think he was ready to forgive her.

Just as the bus pulled out, and she was ready to sink into one of her self-flagellation moods, her phone rang.

“Hi,” Hillel said.

“Hi,” Gaby said, smiling in the darkness. He called her back! He must still like her a little bit if he called her back so quickly.

“I got your message.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what’s up?” Gaby said for lack of anything better. She couldn’t just launch into the details of her life after all this time.

“It’s going good.”

It was silent for a minute. Gaby scrambled to think of something to say that wouldn’t seem too presumptuous.

“One of my friends had a connection with this shipping company, and he thinks I could work for them when I get out of the army,” Hillel offered.

“Really? That’s awesome. I’m so happy for you. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Thanks,” Hillel said, and Gaby could hear the smile in his voice.

“I also got a job,” Gaby volunteered.

“Oh, yeah? Doing what?”

“It’s a little crazy, but I’m working for Yad Vashem,” she said proudly. “I type up all these transcripts and put the information into a master database.”

“Wow, that’s really something. How did you get that job?”

“It’s an interesting story, actually,” and she told him about needing money to buy Rafi a pair of
tefillin
and Henny meeting Elanit the night Gaby babysat for the Hoffingers.

“If you need help buying the
tefillin
, I could do it. There’s a
sofer
just down the block from my apartment.”

“Yeah? That would be great because I actually have no idea of how to go about buying it. I mean, I’m sure my mom could do it, but…”

“No, I’d be happy to help.”

“The thing is…” Gaby bit her lip. “Rafi needs someone to teach him how to put
tefillin
on and say the
b’rachah
on the Torah. Henny’s husband will most probably end up doing it, but I hate that everyone feels like they have to pitch in to help us. It’s like we’re this pathetic, helpless family just because we don’t have a father.”

“I can do it.”

“Really?” Gaby asked, barely believing her good luck.

“Yeah, it would be no big deal.”

“I mean, that would be amazing. Rafi will be so happy when I tell him.”

“He’s a good kid. Hey, isn’t his bar-mitzvah soon?”

“Yeah, it is. It’s in a few weeks.”

“And he doesn’t have
tefillin
yet?”

Gaby winced, thinking about Rafi’s despair when he spoke about his
tefillin
that one time. Gaby hadn’t seen Rafi get that upset in a long time, and it was something she was determined to fix. “I know, he’s really upset about it.”

“Do you want me to try to get him a pair soon?”

Gaby smiled, marveling at Hillel’s inability to hold a grudge. “Well, yeah, but I won’t be able to pay you back right away.”

“It’s okay. You’ll pay me back when you have the money.”

“Wow, thanks. That would be perfect. Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Hillel said, and Gaby could hear the smile in his voice. “So how should I give him his
tefillin
?”

“Um...” Gaby hesitated, and then blurted out quickly before she could chicken out. “Want to come for
shabbat
?”

Hillel was silent for a beat.

“Just as friends,” Gaby rushed to add. “We have a daybed, so you could sleep on that, or you can stay by a neighbor if you want.” We’re still friends, right? she wanted to beg. It was quiet for what seemed like eternity.

“Yeah, I could come,” he finally said. “I need to
s’gor shabbat
, to stay on the base for this
shabbat
, but next week I could come. If that works for you.”

Gaby let out the breath she wasn’t aware she was holding. “Next week sounds great. What food do you like?”

“Everything.”

“Okay,” Gaby said. “I’ll make you everything.”

Hillel laughed, and she hung up, smiling.

When the bus reached
Shiloh, Gaby got off and positively skipped up the hill. For once, when she reached their little house, both her mother and Rafi were home. Uncharacteristically, her mom was at the kitchen counter, preparing dinner.

Gaby was bursting to tell Rafi the news, but she waited until her mom brought the serving platters of chicken, mashed potatoes, and a large leafy salad to the table and sat down.

“Let’s hear, Gaby,” her mother said cautiously. “How’s it going over at the office?”

“It’s going really well. I’ve already gone through three testimonies,” Gaby said, ignoring for the moment Elanit’s rebuke the other week. “At first, I was a little scared about what I would hear on the recordings, but so far I’ve managed not to throw up on my desk. And guess what? I’m gonna get paid soon!” Gaby jumped in her seat a little with joy. “So, that will be a big help, right?”

Her mom smiled a small, sad smile. “Oh, no, Gaby, I want you to keep your paycheck.”

Gaby looked at her mother. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. You’re an adult now. The money you make should be yours.”

Gaby danced some more in her chair. “Yay. I’m rich!” Then she calmed down and said seriously, “But I’m going to pay for Rafi’s
tefillin
.”

Rafi perked up at that, pausing for a minute from his shoveling of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Really? You’re going to pay for my
tefillin
?”

“No, no, no,” Mrs. Kupfer said. “I’m paying for Rafi’s
tefillin
.”

Gaby drew back a bit, giving her mother a skeptical glance. “You’re going to be able to pay for the
tefillin
?”

“Yes, I can,” her mother said, slightly aggravated.

“How?” Gaby couldn’t help asking. If her mother was able to pay for the
tefillin
, why hadn’t she done it already?

“I’m making decent money here, and our expenses are much lower. Our rent is reasonable, and I don’t have to pay tuition for the two of you.”

“Okay, that’s good to hear.” Gaby said, letting the seminary debacle that would have cost her mother sixteen thousand dollars if she had stayed in school remain unmentioned. “But do you know where you’re gonna buy them?” she asked as diplomatically as she could, trying to hint with her voice that Rafi was waiting on pins and needles for his pair.

Mrs. Kupfer smiled apologetically. “I didn’t look into it yet, but I will make some inquiries soon, I promise. And I already spoke to the shul to reserve the
shabbos
of your bar-mitzvah for a nice
kiddush
for you,” she said, smiling at Rafi.

Rafi smiled back happily, secure in the unspoken knowledge that his sister would take care of the details that his mother will inadvertently leave out.

“What do you think about Hillel buying the
tefillin
?” Gaby asked.

“Yeah! Hillel could buy them!” Rafi raised his hands in the air jubilantly.

“Hillel? Who’s Hillel?” her mother asked.

“He’s my… friend,” Gaby said.

“Friend?” Rafi asked, and Gaby kicked him with more force than strictly necessary underneath the table.

“Yes, Hillel is my friend,” Gaby said, giving Rafi a withering look.

“If he wants to help out, that would be nice,” her mother acquiesced.

“Okay, good. Oh, and by the way, could he come to us for next
shabbat
? He said he could get the
tefillin
and teach Rafi how to put on them on.”

“Sure,” her mother said.

Gaby smiled, and Rafi beamed. It was still a little early to tell, but things were starting to look up.

It took another week of Gaby painstakingly going over interviews and reviewing her notes copious times to weed out any mistakes, wondering if any of these victims saw Baby Gruna before she died, when the never-ending litany of brutality and death became too much for her.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” Gaby said, putting her head into her hands.

Tali made a sympathetic noise without looking up.

“How do you guys keep doing this, day after day?” Gaby asked.

“It’s history,” Tali said, her voice high with forced emotion. “We’re recording history. What’s more important than that?”

“It’s a job,” Cobi said gruffly.

Gaby chuckled. “Come on, you don’t mean that.”

“Sure, I do.”

“Is there no other job you could do?” Gaby asked.

“Well, you’re at this job, so that’s good enough reason for me,” Cobi said, winking.

Gaby made a face at him. Cobi was cute in a hipster  way, but she had no time for boys anymore. Just one boy, if she could get him to give her another chance. “Very slick, Slick.” Then, getting back to her original topic, she added, “I just need something a little more positive. I can’t keep thinking about killing squads and dying children.”

“And starvation and torture,” Cobi added helpfully.

“Don’t forget humiliation and exposure,” Tali chimed in.

“Thanks you two. You’re making me feel so much better,” Gaby said, rolling her eyes at the two of them.

Elanit walked in just then, and the three of them instantly swiveled back to their computer screens.

“Hello, everyone, Gaby, you have a minute?”

“Sure,” Gaby said, dreading what new rebuke Elanit had in mind. She had been meticulous in proof-reading all the reports she typed before she submitted them, but maybe she missed some mistakes? Or maybe Elanit had decided that Gaby wasn’t up to par to the other college graduates?

Instead, Elanit smiled at her brightly. “A woman contacted me and informed me that she wanted to donate some correspondence she had with American Jewish soldiers. Her name is Lee Rubin. She lives in Ramat Chen, just outside Tel Aviv. Perhaps you’d like to visit with her, take a look at what she has, and speak with her about her experiences.”

“You want me to go?” Gaby looked at Cobi and Tali, who were trying hard to pretend they weren’t listening.

“Why not? I’ve been looking over your reports and you’ve done a good job so far. I like your insight. You get all the little details that a lot of people skip.”

“Wow, thank you,” Gaby said, practically glowing from Elanit’s compliment.

“At the visit with Mrs. Rubin,” Elanit continued as if Gaby hadn’t spoken, “I want you to photograph the letters she wants to donate so we can see if it would be applicable for an exhibit. During the interview, have her describe in as much detail as possible what life was like in New York before, during, and after the war, so we can write a back-story if we decided to accept her donation.”

“No problem,” Gaby said, nodding her head so vigorously, it was making her dizzy.

“Okay, here are the directions,” Elanit said briskly. “You can go straight to Mrs. Rubin’s home tomorrow and come back here afterwards, and we’ll discuss what you’ve discovered. You can submit the receipt for reimbursement to me.”

“Thank you. Thanks so much for the opportunity.”

“Sure,” Elanit waved away Gaby’s gratitude and walked out of the office.

“Will you look at that?” Tali said. “See! You’re doing a good job. I’ve been here for almost a year, and I’ve never been sent on any solo missions.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Cobi said, a hint of resentment in his voice.

“I heard there is a position open for a senior researcher. Maybe Elanit wants to hire you for that. It’s possible you’ll get your own office,” Tali said.

Gaby looked away, embarrassed by the attention. “I doubt it. I’m sure she just wants me to interview the woman because she speaks English.”

“We all speak English,” Cobi said. He drummed his fingers on his desk. “Things like that make me feel like it’s time for me to find a new place.”

“No, you can’t leave!” Gaby said, immediately feeling bad about bringing up her natural language superiority. “It’s like Tali said, we’re recording history. And you’re really good at it.”

Cobi shrugged off her attempts at mollifying him. “You seem to be doing better than me.”

“Oh, come on,” Tali said. “Enough of this. Jealousy doesn’t become you. It’s about time to close up shop. Who wants a drink?”

“Always,” Cobi said. “Gaby, you coming?”

“Um…” Gaby hesitated.

“Come on,
let’s celebrate your ‘promotion.’” Tali made quotes in the air with her fingers.

“All right, I’m in.” What else could Gaby say?

“Yeah!” Cobi jumped up, punching the air, and Gaby laughed.

The three of them walked outside in the chilly
Jerusalem night. Cobi leaned into the street and hailed a cab. They all clambered into the car, and Cobi gave directions in Hebrew to the driver and then settled back between the girls.

“So you think you’ll be getting a raise soon?” Cobi asked.

“What? Oh, I don’t know,” Gaby said, excited at the very idea of a raise, but careful to downplay any expectations. “I’m sure it’s just a one-time thing. I’m not gonna be traveling and interviewing people all the time.”

“You don’t know Elanit yet. When she decides she likes you, she likes you,” Tali said.

“Yeah, and if she doesn’t like you, then she doesn’t like you and that is that,” Cobi said. “That’s why the girl before you left. Elanit didn’t get along with Bina, nothing specific, she just rubbed Elanit the wrong way. Elanit was very clear about her disapproval of Bina, so she quit.”

“She found another job?”

“Nope. She went back home, to Florida. I guess she couldn’t find her place in Israel,” Tali said.

“Huh,” Gaby said, thinking about the girl. She had given up, but Gaby was still holding on. Imagine that. Gaby, the girl who couldn’t make it in seminary, or in a kibbutz where she basically worked for free, was finding success where others had failed.

The cab stopped moving, and Gaby looked out the window to see what was causing the standstill. A group of Breslov
chassidim
were dancing in the street to the loud pounding music of Rebbi Nachman, effectively shutting down the road.

She pointed out the oddity to Tali and Cobi, leaning forward to get a better view.

“Here is something you’ll find only in Israel,” Cobi observed.

“Did you know that Cobi used to be a
chassid
?” Tali asked, nudging Gaby.

“What? No way. What happened?” Gaby asked incredulously. She gave Cobi a look-over; he was dressed in a white t-shirt and black vest, without a
kippah
or
tzizit
in sight.

“The lifestyle just didn’t work out for me,” Cobi quickly said, staring straight ahead at the dancing
chassidim
.

Gaby got the hint and shut her mouth. The cab started driving again and pulled to a stop in a fashionable neighborhood. The three of them piled out onto the street and Gaby looked around, taking in the upscale boutiques, florists and high-end restaurants.

“This neighborhood looks familiar,” Gaby said, trying to place if she’d been there before.

“It’s called Katamon,” Tali said. “Also known as the German Colony.”

“This is a funny coincidence,” Gaby said. “I used to go to school right nearby.” Gaby pointed up the street, past the Bell Park, toward the opulent neighborhood of Rechavia and her seminary.

“Didn’t you say you were an
olah chadashah
?” Cobi asked, crinkling his eyes in suspicion.

“I am. I made
aliyah
in September. I just went there for seminary.”

Cobi nodded, but Tali looked even more confused. “
Mah zeh
?”

“It’s a school for religious girls,” Gaby said, wondering if she should clarify that she wasn’t as religious as the school was. Though neither the girls nor the rabbi were that religious; getting high on Benadryl or insulting eighteen-year-old girls wasn’t exactly pious. “It’s the first year after high school.”

“I never heard of such a thing. Is this a school just for American girls?” Tali asked.

“The students came from everywhere, like
Belgium and Australia,” Gaby said, thinking of Rikky. “But all the girls spoke English and our classes were taught in English. Israeli girls have their own seminaries where they can learn in Hebrew.”

“Who knew you were so religious?” Cobi wondered.

Gaby shrugged, embarrassed to be caught in that contradiction. “I’m not. I only went for a short time. It didn’t work out.”

“Like me,” Cobi said, pushing open the door to a noisy, crowded bar.

Gaby followed him, looking behind her shoulder in the direction of the seminary. Tali snagged a small round table, and Cobi brought over three beers.

Gaby sat down, pushing her bag underneath the table to make room for Cobi. She took a quick glance around her, appraising the place. There were barely any Israelis in the crowd. The majority of the patrons were speaking English and looked like they were dressed in Gap and Ralph Lauren. If not for the Israeli beer Goldstar advertised on top of the copper tiled bar, she could have easily imagined that she had found her way back to a bar on the Upper West Side.

Cobi passed Gaby an open beer and tapped Tali on the shoulder to hand her one. Tali had already turned her back to them to talk to a man at the next table. She turned around briefly to grab the beer and then returned to her flirting.

Gaby stretched her legs out and wondered how she was going to get home. She would have to take a bus to get to the Central Bus Station, and then another bus back to
Shiloh. She was getting tired just thinking about it.

“So what was seminary like?” Cobi asked, his face next to hers so she could hear him over the loud music.

Gaby made a face. “Why do you want to talk about seminary?”

“When I applied, they wouldn’t let me in. I want to know what I missed.”

Gaby laughed. She took a long drink from her beer and launched into the whole sorry tale of seminary and what a ridiculous waste of time that had been. She told him about Rikky and Serena and the fun they had, and how after Rikky died, Serena fell apart.

“She got kicked out only a few weeks after Rikky died, and then my tuition check bounced, and the rabbi was incredibly rude about it, so I just left,” Gaby said, leaving out the part where the rabbi called her family crazy, a comment that still stung.

“So this all comes back to Rikky,” Cobi said, stroking his chin as if he had a beard.

“How do you figure?”

“Wait, we need a refill for such a deep conversation.” Cobi went up to get more beer and came back a minute later. “If Rikky hadn’t died, and Serena wouldn’t have gotten kicked out, you would have more of an incentive to try to figure out your tuition.”

Gaby scrunched up her face, trying to think about it. “Wow. Rikky alive, and everyone in the same place… I would still be in seminary… It would be like living on a different planet.”

“Would you prefer to be in seminary if you had the chance?”

“Seminary? Not for all the money in the world. But I wish Rikky were still alive,” Gaby said quietly, pushing down the lump in her throat. “She was something else. She was the most alive girl I ever met, and now… there’s nothing. I don’t get it. I know it’s stupid to ask why she had to die, but I just don’t get it. What was the point?”

Cobi looked at her, his eyes crinkled in sympathy.

Gaby laughed a little at herself. “They say everything has a reason, right? Maybe this was how it was all supposed to work out.”

“If you were still in seminary, I wouldn’t have met you,” Cobi said.

Ignoring his comment, she asked him, “So how long did it take for you to grow out your hair like this?” She patted his red Jew-fro that sprung out a good few inches above his head. His hair was surprisingly soft, and she let her hand rest in it for a minute.

“A week.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She took a sip of her beer, feeling hot all of sudden. “What was it like for you, growing up
chassidic
?”

Cobi picked up his beer in a salute to an imaginary crowd. “It was what it was.”

“Oh, come on. I spilled all my secrets. You can’t tell me anything about why you decided to shave off your beard and
peyos
?”

Cobi rubbed his eyes, and he looked like he was in pain. Gaby immediately regretted her jokey tone. She covered his hand with hers. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me anything.”

Cobi gave her a little smile. “It’s just that I don’t know if I believe in God,” he said finally. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” Gaby answered automatically.