A Life Worth Living (13 page)

They fell in a sleepy kind of state, kissing and talking and sleeping until it was five in the morning and Hillel reluctantly pushed himself up.

“I gotta go,” he said.

“I know,” Gaby said.

He gave her a hug and got out of bed to put his shirt back on. Gaby watched him drowsily as he got dressed, admiring how his dog tags looked against his skin.

“Will you be okay getting out?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Go to sleep. Don’t worry about me.” He bent down and tucked the quilt around her. “Good night, my Gaby. Sweet dreams. ”

Gaby smiled drowsily, unable to articulate a response.

He gave her one last lingering kiss and left the room. Gaby sighed, already feeling the sting of separation. As he closed the door, she thought she heard someone talking, but then she shook her head. Rafi and her mother were fast asleep. She must have been imagining it. She snuggled deeper under the covers and promptly fell asleep.

Hillel’s call woke Gaby a few days later at the kibbutz. She sleepily searched around the side of the bed until she found her phone. “Hello?” she croaked.

“How’s it going?” Hillel asked.

“It’s okay. Not as cool as I thought it would be. Actually, not cool at all.” Gaby lay back on her bed and put her feet up against the white wall.

She was alone in the small house she shared with Shira and Devorah Leah. They had already left to go to work in the
refet
, the cow pasture. Working in the
refet
meant that the two girls needed to wake up at four to milk the cows, but the plus side was that work was over by ten and they could sleep in until dinner. Gaby had a less strenuous and a more typical schedule working from nine to three in the
gan hayeladim
, the children’s day care. But still. “It’s work. For free. No wonder there are only two other
b’not sherut
here.”

“What did you think it would be like?” Hillel said. “You knew you were going to have to work.”

“I didn’t know it would be like this. I wanted to do something real. But this, this is just boring, reading stories and handing out juice the whole day.”

“It’s not worse than my job, checking bags non-stop.”

“Yeah, but at least your job is important,” she said, not caring that she was whining. Why couldn’t she find something that she actually wanted to do?

“Your job is important to the moms.”

“Maybe… It’s not all bad. My Hebrew is getting good. And it’s not that the kids aren’t cute. It’s just that I wish I could do something else, something more valuable. But unless I want to peel thousands of potatoes every day, there’s not much else that I can do here. At least your job is temporary. You’re going to get transferred soon. I have another eight months of this never-ending routine. ”

“Hopefully I’ll get transferred. I’ve been waiting a long time. Who knows when it will actually happen? Anyway, you just have to think how much you’re helping the State,” he said, jokingly.

Gaby snorted. “I’m not that much of a Zionist. And you know what I realized? Me and my mother are doing the same job. How weird is that?” Gaby hit the wall a couple of times with her heels. “But you know what would make me feel better?” she asked.

“Let’s hear.”

“If you would visit me.”

“I’ll visit you.”

“You would? Like this
shabbos
?” she asked hopefully, knowing before the words left her mouth that Hillel would say yes.

“Yeah, I could do that.”

“Awesome, I’m so excited!” Gaby swung her feet off the wall and sat up, feeling relieved. Finally she was with someone she could count on, someone who would come to her rescue if she needed him. “It’ll be cool. On
shabbos
in the kibbutz everyone eats together in the main dining room. It’s kinda nice.”

“I’m sure it will be. Listen, I gotta go, my
mefaked
is calling me.”

“Call me later, kay?”

“Yeah, have a good day.”

Gaby threw her cell phone on her bed and buried her head in her pillow, her good spirits quickly dissipating.

Life was not interesting, or holistic, or invigorating, or in-touch-with-nature here on the kibbutz. It was like a bungalow colony where everyone pooled their money together, even the ones who worked off the kibbutz. Officially, everyone was paid the same stipend, from the psychologist who worked with the teens in the nearby juvenile delinquent center to the ladies who scrubbed vegetables in the kitchen. Some of the houses were nicer than others, but she wasn’t sure why.

The
b’not sherut
didn’t get paid at all, just a small stipend of six hundred shekel a month to spend on extras. Other than that little pocket change, all the
b’not sherut
got were the most annoying jobs that nobody else on the kibbutz wanted to do. Nobody, for example, was lining up to change a hundred diapers a day, a task that faced Gaby as soon as she managed to get herself out the door. The
b’not sherut
were the lowest rung on the totem pole, a position that Gaby didn’t relish inhabiting.

Gaby sighed and got up to face the day. Their little place was small and simple. Just one big room for the girls to sleep in, a tiny kitchenette, and a single bathroom for all three of them to share. Mercifully the girls got along, or the tight space would make for some awkward situations. Shira and Devorah Leah had done their best to make the place homey by hanging up funky psychedelic posters on the wall, gauzy curtains on the windows, and woven rugs on the chilly tiled floor. It wasn’t bad, just not where Gaby had thought she’d end up.

Gaby pushed open the door and stepped outside, into the sunlight. Her dented bike, lent to her by the kibbutz for the duration of her stay, leaned against the cream stucco wall.

It was already November, but there were still hot days on the kibbutz. Today was one of those days, with the sun whitewashing all the buildings and burning Gaby’s skin. If it got any hotter, she was going to cave and wear one of those nerdy floppy hats many of the
kibbutznikim
wore.

Gaby took a roundabout route to get to the
gan
, biking slowly on the dusty dirt road that passed by vast fields of date trees, banana trees and various vegetables plots, dairy farms, turkey and chicken coops, the fish ponds, and small factories until the road turned into a paved street in the center of the kibbutz. Here, set up in a semi-circle around a splashing waterfall and well-tended flower beds, was the
gan
, dining room, administrative offices and guest houses.

She’d have to find out how Hillel could get one of the guest rooms for the weekend. Maybe Chana, her adopted mother while she was on the kibbutz, would know. Thinking of being alone with Hillel again, she allowed herself a private smile. At least she had Hillel. They hadn’t been alone since the night he slept over in
Shiloh and she yearned for him so much, it sometimes pained her physically. Why in the world did she decide to move so far away from him right after they had started dating? And Hillel was the perfect boyfriend, the one she always dreamed about having. At least once a day, he called to see what was up with her and didn’t mind hearing Gaby complain about the same things over and over again.

She stuck her bike in one of the bike parking spots and walked into the
gan
, relishing the cool air of the air-conditioning. Helping herself to a glass of water from the machine, she waved hello to the other
ganenets
.

“Hi, Gaby,
boker tov. Hinne
Adam.” One of the senior teachers handed her a baby boy, who immediately grabbed her cup of water, causing it to spill all over her shirt.

Gaby sighed, brushing ineffectively at the water soaking her shirt with a paper napkin. Looked like it would be just another day in a series of days. Hillel couldn’t come soon enough.

***

That night, as the girls sat out
side around a makeshift bonfire playing music on Devorah Leah’s iPhone and staring into the vastness of the twinkly night sky, Gaby told Devorah Leah about Hillel’s upcoming visit.

“
Why, why, why
,” Devorah Leah said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “He’s gonna stay in the guest house?”

“Yeah, Chana said she’ll arrange it for me,” Gaby said, ignoring Devorah Leah’s tone.

“What’s he like?”

“He’s like…” Gaby thought for a moment. “He’s like a warm cup of tea. Just so soothing and comforting.”

“Nice,” said Devorah Leah. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we all got a break from stupid boyfriend drama? Shira, for one, could definitely use a break.” They both looked over at Shira who was sitting a little bit apart from them, texting rapidly on her phone. “Chen is driving her crazy.”

“Yeah, I think we all need a break,” Gaby said, careful to include Devorah Leah in her observation.

Shira’s obsession with her boyfriend would be funny if it weren’t so tragic. There were all these long tearful conversations at night, and then dramatic breakups the next day. The relationship was clearly never going to work. Shira was definitely a free-spirit, but she came from a religious background and had already begun thinking of long-term plans like marriage and places where the two of them would live. Chen, on the other hand, was a proudly secular Israeli and was planning a one way trip to Southeast Asia as soon as he finished the army. He had yet to include Shira in his plans.

It was interesting that Devorah Leah thought Shira’s situation was melodramatic, because hers wasn’t much better. She kept herself busy meeting someone new every week, and then would be heartbroken when her latest conquest didn’t call her the next day or any day after that.

It was easy to feel superior that she didn’t have to play games with Hillel to keep his attention, but Gaby knew she was no better than Shira or Devorah Leah. There were years of her life that she spent chasing after boys who couldn’t care less about her. But all that was in her past. She knew better now. She knew what was important, and Hillel had it. Nice, and caring, and attentive. It wouldn’t hurt if he was either a drop hotter or cooler, but she wasn’t going to focus on what he lacked.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Gaby threw a small stone at Shira.

Shira looked up from her phone, her eyes ablaze. For a second, Gaby regretted the overture, dreading the upcoming blow-by-blow breakdown about the latest confrontation with Chen. But instead, Shira jumped up from her seat and showed her phone’s screen to the girls. “Check this out. This lady is my new hero.”

The two girls scrolled through the phone, reading the breaking news report about the mother of four who singlehandedly defended her family from an Arab intruder, locking him in the bathroom until cops were able to apprehend him. “
Ani metah
,” Devorah Leah breathed. “Where was her husband?”

“It says he was in the army. I guess he’s an officer.” Shira brushed off the mention of the absent husband with a dismissive wave of her hand, and stared into the fire as if talking to the burning twigs. “Can you believe it? She fought him, and he stabbed her in the face, but still she was able to lock him out.”

“It’s unbelievable. She locked him in the bathroom using her kid’s bed!” Gaby shook her head in bewildered admiration.

“I know. Imagine, all her kids must have been freaking out, and she stayed so calm and did what she had to do.” Shira straightened up abruptly. “We gotta do something to honor this woman. What was her name?”

Gaby looked down at the screen. “It just says Yael, I guess they don’t want to use her name to protect her anonymity.”

“Yeah, most probably. Well, she deserves a party. Yael of… What town is it?”

“Sdei Avraham,” provided Gaby.

Shira stretched her arms out to the twinkly night sky. “Yael of Sdei Avraham, I know your soul can hear me,” she called out. “You are a true hero of the nation of
Israel. This is for you.” Shira bent down and scrolled through Devorah Leah’s phone.

“How appropriate,” she said with a satisfied look on her face when she found the song she was looking for.
I Need a Hero
by Bonnie Tyler started playing at full volume. She looked at the two girls, who were looking up at her with bemused expressions. “
B’not, takumu
!”

The girls jumped up from their places, laughing.

“
Bo’u, nirkod
!” Shira put out her hands and the girls clasped hands, running around the fire, singing and whooping at the top of their lungs in honor of Yael, from Moshav Sdei Avraham.

Gaby sat across from Hillel in the cavernous dining room. The last time she saw him was over a month ago when he brought her to the bus station and they kissed secretly in a quiet corner of the terminal.

Hillel looked happy, more confident. He had finally switched assignments and was no longer guarding the bus station. He now served in administrative duty in the armory division, handing out guns. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he was glad to get out of checking-bags-duty. Being a lone soldier and missing out on the
protectzia
that the army ran on, he had to take whatever assignments he got without having the luxury of asking a father or an older brother to call someone they knew to get him assigned somewhere else.

But now, sitting comfortably with her adopted family a
t their place at the long lunch table, ignoring the fierce debated being waged between Chana and her husband, Ira, about the upcoming election, Gaby couldn’t get over how cute Hillel looked, proper military assignment or not. He was wearing a black knitted
kippah
, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up halfway, revealing his strong arms, and his face was freshly shaved. Shira and Devorah Leah were sitting with their adopted families, but they had all hung out before candle lighting. While the girls had made a game out of half-heartedly baking a cake for
shabbos
, Hillel had charmed them all by fixing a lamp they’d assumed was broken.

Her supervisor at the
gan
, Noa, passed by with a platter of chicken. Gaby took two servings and felt perverse pleasure in saying thank you. Gaby knew it was just a formality, but for that one instant, it felt good to be the one to say thank you.

“That’s my supervisor,” she told Hillel.

“Really?” Hillel looked around curiously. “How does that work? Does everyone take a turn serving?”

“Yeah. Everyone does it, no matter how rich you are. Isn’t that strange?”

“No, it’s good. It’s like everyone is one big family.”

“Is there anything you can complain about?”

“I’m just easy to please,” Hillel said, smiling.

Gaby smiled back, letting Hillel’s good nature wash over her. It was easy to be happy when she was sitting near him. Chana interrupted their little staring contest when she asked them, “So what do you two think?”

“About what?” Gaby asked.

“About Peres and the presidency.”

Gaby looked skeptically at her. “Does it matter? Isn’t the presidency just a formality?”

Chana raised her eyebrows, and Hillel kicked her under the table. “Peres is one of
Israel’s greatest statesmen,” he interjected quickly. Chana nodded, pleased, and then launched into a passionate monologue about the legacy of Shimon Peres in the general direction of Hillel, who nodded politely at intervals every couple of minutes.

Gaby looked away, a little embarrassed at her thoughtless comment. Chana had immigrated to
Israel over fifteen years ago with her six young children. Although she looked mild enough, with her purple beret, a ready smile, and a kitchen filled with food that she was eager to feed Gaby with, she was fiercely political and passionate about her opinions.

The well-lit room was filled with all the families from the kibbutz. Although it wasn’t required that they eat together, most people did. The ritual of eating together was one of the last customs of the original kibbutz lifestyle that modern kibbutzim still espoused, now that the children no longer lived together and each family had their own home. They also still practiced the custom of pooling their money. Officially, the kibbutz had a shared income, with stipends for all the members depending on the size of the family and other extraneous circumstances.

Gaby still couldn’t figure out how that worked. If she was getting paid real money, there was no way she would just hand it over to those in charge.

After dinner was over, and everyone sang the
birkat hamazon
together, Gaby waved goodbye to Devorah Leah and Shira.

“See you later,” Shira said.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Devorah Leah added. The two girls laughed, and then skipped away, leaving Gaby and Hillel in the darkness.

“Want to take a walk?” Hillel asked.

“Sure.”

He held out his hand to her and together they walked down the darkened paths, with only the moon and twinkling stars to give them light.

They walked over to the pond, and Hillel sat down on a tree stump. Gaby settled herself on his lap and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“That was a stupid thing to say,” she said.

“Mmm?” Hillel murmured, nuzzling her neck.

“About Peres. I should have been more respectful.”

“I’m sure it’s okay,” Hillel said.

“No, Chana was upset.”

“She’ll get over it.”

“I just don’t know why I don’t think before I talk. It’s really embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Hillel said reassuringly. “I’m sure it’s no big deal.”

Gaby shrugged, still feeling unsettled.

Hillel rubbed her back. “It’s gonna be okay. Don’t worry.”

Gaby closed her eyes for a minute, thinking. Hillel was so laid-back, and she was bothered by everything. She wished she could borrow some of his tranquility. “Isn’t there anything you worry about?”

Hillel laughed. “Sure. Tons of stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Like dying,” he said in such a flippant tone that they both laughed.

Then Gaby sat up and looked into his warm hazel eyes. “Seriously. Are you afraid of dying?”

“Well, I’m afraid of dying and nobody caring,” Hillel said in a low voice.

Gaby took hold of his face. “I care.”

Hillel kissed her softly. “What do you worry about?”

“I guess the same thing.”

“Why? Because you live in Israel now?”

“Um, I wasn’t thinking about that specifically, though that’s a good point. I was thinking more about… if I died, right now, it would be like I came and then I left, and I was never here. Poof. Gone with the wind.” Gaby flapped her arms in the air. “By my friend’s Rikky’s funeral, everyone was just so sad and heartbroken, because she was such a great girl and I was thinking, would people cry like that by my funeral?”

“I’m sure a lot of people will cry by your funeral. I’m crying just thinking about it.”

Gaby smirked and punched him in the shoulder. “You know, now that you mentioned it, you’re right. Living in
Israel is more dangerous for my health.”

“Nah, people die everywhere. I was just reading online the other day that
America has the highest death rate of teenagers and young adults out of the twenty-eight richest countries. Israel didn’t even make the top ten. At least if you die here, you’ll be dying for a reason, instead of over a purse or a parking space.”

“What? Who got killed over a parking space?” Gaby asked.

“It happens.”

Gaby raised an eyebrow, and Hillel shrugged. “It happened at least once. Anyway, my butt is killing me. Would you like to go check out my room?” Hillel said in a fake British accent, and Gaby laughed at his attempt to be suave.

“Yeah, why not? Let’s go check out your room.” Gaby slid off Hillel and stood up. Hillel offered her his arm and they walked to the direction of his cabin, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists.

They passed Chana’s home, a two-story golden-brown stucco house. A full winter garden was kept well-watered with an intricate drip irrigation system that her oldest son had rigged up, thanks to his expertise working in the agriculture sector of the kibbutz. Chana’s husband was a tax attorney, and she was a successful artist. In the real world, it would make sense that the family was well-off financially, but in the kibbutz shared-wealth economy, it didn’t make sense why they were granted a luxurious dwelling, while others dwelled in more humble cottages.

A light was on over the porch, and Gaby saw Chana sitting on the upholstered porch swing, holding a small book to the light.

“Hi,” Gaby called out as they approached.

Chana put down the book and squinted in the dark.

“It’s me, Gaby,” Gaby said. “And Hillel,” she added with a self-conscious giggle.

“Hello, you two,” Chana said warmly, not commenting on the impropriety of the two of them being out alone so late.

As Gaby got closer, she realized that Chana had been reading from a book of
Tehillim
. Chana was religious, but she wasn’t exactly what one would call devout. To be reciting psalms hours after everyone else already went to sleep was quite the act of piety. “Did you stay up just to say
Tehillim
?” Gaby asked in wonder.

“I have three boys in the army,” Chana said frankly. “What else would I be doing?”

Gaby blushed. Couldn’t she say anything right? Immediately Hillel stepped in again to save the day. “May your prayers be heard,” he said. “May your sons and all the children of Israel be protected.”

“
Amein
,” Chana said reverentially, and with a good night wave, went back to her supplications.

“See,” Gaby said as they walked away. “I always say the wrong thing!”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “How could you have known why she was saying
Tehillim
?”

“Well, actually, I did know.” Gaby admitted. “She told me on Friday. One of her sons is in active duty, and the other two are doing their reserve duty at the same time.”

“That must be stressful for her.”

“Yeah, it is,” Gaby said, thinking of how Chana had enlisted her help to make care packages for her boys. They had baked dozens of cookies, probably enough for the whole brigade, and Chana had added magazines, lip balm, socks, and packages of gum to each cardboard box. Chana regaled Gaby with heroic stories and funny anecdotes of her sons’ experiences in the army as she packed each box with care and tenderness. It was obvious that while Chana was very proud of her sons, she was also very concerned about their safety.

“Don’t think about it,” Hillel said, squeezing Gaby to him. “It’s
shtu’yot
.”

Gaby smiled, allowing herself to forget about her latest faux pas. They reached the guesthouses, and there were other things on her mind. Hillel’s room was small and neat, with wood-panels on the walls and white tiles on the floor. The room was lit with just a low-wattage bulb over a desk. Gaby sat on the narrow single bed and watched while Hillel took off his
kippah
, unbuttoned his shirt and slipped off his
tzizit
, hanging them on the back of a chair. He unzipped his suit pants and folded it on the small wooden desk, leaving on just his white undershirt, gray boxers, and dog tags covered in a green fabric hanging on a thin silvery ball chain around his neck.

“You still wear suit pants?” Gaby asked. There probably wasn’t one male in the entire kibbutz who wore a suit.

Hillel looked at his pants. “I guess it’s a habit left over from living in the States.”

“It’s nice that you dress up for
shabbos
.”

“Why not?” Hillel slid into bed next to her and Gaby fell against him.

“I shouldn’t do this,” she whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back.

“Guys always think you’re cheap when you hook up with them so easily.”

“I don’t think you’re cheap,” Hillel said, brushing her hair back from her face.

Gaby just looked at him, battling an inner fight that she wasn’t even sure she could articulate. Hillel kissed her gently, and she kissed him back.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I love you. I love everything about you,” he said.

Gaby eyes widened. “You can’t love me. You just met me.”

Instead of answering, he hugged her tight, and they fall asleep that way.