Читать книгу Confluence - Stephen J. Gordon - Страница 12

6

I opened my eyes at 3 AM, which was now my norm, to see Katie watching me. “Hi there,” I said.

She smiled. “Hi.”

“So, my dear, I know why I’m awake. What about you? Everything okay?”

“I just woke up a minute ago and there you are.”

I kissed her. She moved closer and I looped my arm around the back of her head. She simultaneously leaned forward and rolled a little closer so I could put my other arm around her shoulders.

“Now that we’re both awake…” I began.

“Yes?”

“I want you to tell me a story.”

The light from the street washed into the room, creating a stillness.

“What about?” she looked into my eyes.

“I don’t know. Tell me about your family.”

“My family?”

“Back in the day. What did they do?”

“You’re a little weird, you know that?”

“And proud of it. Now talk. Tell me whatever you know about…your grandparents.”

“My grandparents. Okay.” She thought for a moment. “I’ll tell you about my grandmother on my mother’s side. There was some sort of a scandal.”

“Oooh. Juicy.”

“My grandmother was born in Russia in a very small town about 200 miles south of St. Petersburg. From what I’ve been told, her father, my great-grandfather, owned a small farm, a very small farm. I think he had, like, two cows that he was able to milk. My grandmother was the oldest of three. She had a younger brother and a younger sister. The brother was in the middle. My grandmother, when she was about 17, fell in love with one of the boys in her village. The parents on both sides didn’t get along from what I understand, but all relented and my grand­mother married the boy a year later.”

“So where’s the scandal?”

“Patience. So my grandmother stayed at home and made babies. My grand­mother’s brother, the one in the middle, was sent off to the nearest big town to study and get a job.”

“It’s good to be a man.”

“Stop.” Katie poked me in the ribs. “Well, apparently, while he was there he hooked up with a peasant girl from another village and they ran off together.”

“Never to be heard from again.”

“Actually, from what I’ve been told, he came back home to get his father’s blessing. The whole thing caused a big rift because his mother wanted him to get the blessing, but his father was too angry.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. I think eventually the father listened to his wife and supported them.”

“What about the younger sister?”

“The younger sister was a firecracker.”

“A firecracker?”

“Yeah. Don’t make fun of me. She was always a rebel. After her brother went off to the city to get a job, she met a guy passing through her village. He was like a revolutionary and the younger sister was instantly attracted to him. Of course her parents forbade her from becoming involved with him.”

“Okay, wait a minute.” I let a second pass as I thought. “Don’t tell me… she ran off with him to the city, and they became involved in protests against the Russian government.”

“Yes. How did you know that?”

“Then eventually the Russian government sent the army in to throw all the people out of their homes.”

“That’s right.”

“You’re so full of crap.”

Katie looked at me with innocent eyes.

“You just described Fiddler on the Roof.”

“Did not.”

“Yeah. You switched around the daughters and some other stuff…made one a guy, but that’s the story.”

“Okay, you got me there, Tevye. I stopped into a Jewish History class at school last week and they were watching the movie.”

“You’re so full of crap,” I repeated and pulled her close. I looked up at the ceiling for a long moment. I could feel the rise and fall of her torso as she breathed. Katie had deflected my request to tell me about her family, but I let it go for now.

“Gidon?”

“Hmmm?”

“I have a question for you.”

Uh oh.

“And you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah?” I said a little hesitantly.

“I know you’ve had to do really bad stuff over the years to keep people safe.”

You mean like killing terrorists in Lebanon, in Syria, and even in London, I thought.

“Do you have any regrets?”

I pictured a Lebanese village and a guy I shot as he was torturing a young American girl. She was tied into a chair and he was pressing the lit end of a cigarette into her neck. I pictured more recent kills in Baltimore, outside of the IDF work. “No regrets.” My voice came out softly. “Not a one. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” She let a moment go by. “You’re a good man. You help people.”

“You do what you can.”

“I want to go to Israel,” she said apropos of nothing.

“You’ve never been.”

She propped herself up and looked into my eyes. “I want to see what you see. I want to see what you’re always excited about.”

“My excitement isn’t what it used to be.”

“Yes it is. There’re just parts of it you have a problem with. Army stuff.”

“Yeah.”

“Next time you go, I want to come.”

“Okay. But I have no idea when that will be.”

“Doesn’t matter. I just want to be there with you.”

I didn’t say anything. I looked up at the ceiling again, and closed my eyes, even though I probably wouldn’t sleep.