The Theatre - Kellerman, Jonathan

What about addiction?

No chance. Don't worry about that. In fact, the heroin turned out to be a blessing. She was spared the gory details. All she remembers is his grabbing her suddenly, holding her down for the injection, then waking up in the ambulance.

Hearing the psychologist talk about the abduction had made him want to cringe. He'd suppressed it, thought he'd done a good job of hiding his feelings. But Ben David's look was penetrating. Appraising.

What, Eli?

Actually, what worries her the most is you-that you'll never be the same, that it was all her faut. you'll never forgive her.

There's nothing to forgive, Eli.

Of course not. I've told her that. It would help if she heard it from you.

"Motek?"

"Yes, Abba?"

"Come here, on the bed."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. I'm a tough guy. Come on."

She got up from the chair, settled near his right shoulder.

"How's the dog, Shosh?"

"Good. The first night he cried until morning. I put him in my bed, but last night he slept well. This morning he ate everything I gave him."

"And how about you-how are you sleeping?"

"Fine."

"No bad dreams?"

"No."

"And what did you eat for breakfast?"

"Nothing."

"Why not?"

"I wasn't hungry."

"Dieting?"

A tiny smile formed on her lips. She covered her mouth with her hand. When she removed it, the smile had vanished.

"No."

"What then, Yom Kippur? Have I been here so long that I've lost track of time?"

"Oh, Abba."

"Not Yom Kippur. Let me see-a boy. You want to look skinny for a boy."

"Abba!"

"Don't worry about what the boys think, what anyone thinks. You're beautiful just the way you are. Perfect." He lifted her hand to his lips, touched the palm to his unshaven cheek. Feeling the warmth, capillaries brimming with life-blood. Exulting in it.

"Smooth or scratchy?" Old game.

"Scratchy. Abba-"

"Perfect," he repeated. Pause. "Except, of course, for the way you treat your brothers."

The smile again, but sad. Fingers twisting her hair, then touching the wings of the silver butterfly.

"Have you done your homework?"

"There is no homework. School's out in two days. The teachers let us have parties. And they're wild animals."

"Your teachers are wild animals?"

"Mikey and Benny!"

"Oh. What species?"

She stiffened, pulled her hand away. "Abba, you're being silly, treating me like a baby and trying to avoid the subject."

"And what subject is that?"

"That I was stupid to go with a stranger-all those times you and Eema told me about strangers, and I went. I thought he was a rabbi-"

"You cared about Dayan-"

"It was stupid! Retarded! And because of it I hurt you, hurt you badly-your shoulder, your hand. It was all my fault!"

She tore at her hair, her little face crumpled. Daniel pulled her down to him, tucked her head under his neck, felt her fragile body convulse with sobs.

"I won't lie to you, Shosh, it was a mistake. But even mistakes turn out well-because of you, an evil man was caught before he could hurt anyone else. All part of God's plan."

Silence. "You killed him, didn't you, Abba?"

"Yes."

She sat up, stared out the window for a long time. Daniel followed her gaze, over the domes and spires of the Old City. The sun was setting, casting rosy shadows across the wilderness of Judea. Rose dappled with soft blue. He wished he had an artist's memory

"I'm glad you killed him. But it was still stupid and now your hand is ruined."

"It's injured, not ruined. It'll get better. I'll be fine."

"No!" Shoshi shook her head furiously. "In the hospital-I heard a doctor talking in the hospital. He said it was ruined-you'd be lucky to get any use out of it."

She began to cry again. Daniel clasped her to him, started crying too.

He held her, tried to absorb her grief. Waited until she'd calmed and took her chin in his hand, stared into her huge wet eyes. Smoothed back her hair, kissed tear-streaked cheeks, and forgot the pain.

"I'm not ruined, Shosheleh. I'm very, very whole. Please believe that. Abba doesn't lie to you, does he?" A shake of the head.

"Then believe me, please, sweetie. I'm whole, complete. No man could be more complete. Do you believe me?"

Nod.

He cradled her in his arms, remembering baby days, changing diapers, spoon-feeding mush, the first clumsy steps, inevitable pratfalls. The privilege of watching it-watching all of them.

The room grew dark. Daniel said, "Get me my siddur, motek. It's time to pray ma'ariv."

While she fetched the prayerbook, he recited a silent modeh ani-thanking the Almighty for restoring his soul. A morning prayer, twelve hours too late.

But it felt like morning.€