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The phone rang twice, and Ilan’s voice, usually calm and in control, sounded concerned.
“Dafna…?”
“Don’t worry Ilan,” she spoke fast, knowing how worried he would be. “It’s not Tom and it’s not Ori. It’s my mom. I’m at my parents’ house.”
Her mother took hold of her favorite vase, the one Dafna wasn’t even allowed to breathe next to when she was a child, the one Hannah inherited from her grandmother. She held it above her head, and Dafna watched helplessly as her mother brought down her arms and threw it on the floor, where it shattered into a thousand pieces. If Hannah ever got back to her senses, she would be so devastated.
She broke down and sobbed.
“It’s crazy in here,” she told her ex-husband. Then said the words she thought she would never utter, “I need you to come.”
“I’m coming. I’ll call you back,” Ilan said immediately and hung up.
There was no denying the relief that flooded her. She got up slowly, Hannah’s eyes following her every move, and retreated to the kitchen.
“Ilan is coming,” she told her father.
She didn’t know how long this crisis would last, and didn’t want her son spending the night alone, or God forbid, seeing his grandmother like this. She called Orna, and Raffi her husband, promised he’d come to pick up his nephew right away. She’d just gotten off the phone with Orna when Ilan called her back. It sounded as if he was already in his car, driving to her.
“Ilan, she’s bonkers. She walks around naked, cusses at my dad, lashing out at me when I try to put clothes on her. She must have taken the wrong dosage of her psychotic meds. My dad can’t stop crying.” She stopped and gulped.
“Call an ambulance,” Ilan ordered. She should have thought of that herself. “Where’s Tom?”
Dafna heard another thing breaking in the living room.
“I called your brother right after I called you. He’s coming to get him. Tom will spend the night there.”
“Good. Don’t let the medics take her until I arrive.” He was right. If they took her mother, and Dafna accompanied her, her father, fragile and confused, would be left alone. “You ride with her to the hospital and I’ll stay with your dad. Tell them your husband is on the way.”
She knew why he said that, because if she said, ‘my ex-husband is on the way’, it wouldn’t do much to halt the medics. But his wording still gave her pause.
She heard another crash from the living room.
“Ilan, I have to go. Come soon.”
Some piece of Ilan’s was hers, forever, and he had a piece of her. It made it hard to move on. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
Chapter 9
The Other Woman
Ilan’s kindness this past week reminded her why she fell in love with him in the first place. Having him around had suppressed all thoughts of the amazing night she had had with Erez. He was so masculine, and present, filling a room merely by being in it.
Yet despite his constant presence, he slept in her home office downstairs several nights, their old passion had never once ignited.
She drove to pick up her eldest, who had finally returned from summer camp.
“Imma! You didn’t have to come! I could walk,” her always considerate son said.
He looked so much like Ilan it was scary. If she hadn’t gone through twenty-four hours of labor, she would have thought he simply sprang out of her ex-husband’s brow.
“I wanted to pick you up and prepare you about Savta Hannah.”
Ori was a sensitive youth, and she was glad he hadn’t been here for his grandparents’ meltdown. Dafna told him about the relapse in his grandmother's health. She recounted how helpful his father had been.
“Abba interviewed with me the different live-in caregivers. Uncle Raffi and he moved furniture out and prepared a room for the caregiver, Aditi, that arrived yesterday.”
“He’ll always be there for you.” Ori nodded sagely. “Like you were there for him when Savta Juliette passed away.” Ilan’s mother died last year, and Dafna was there every day of the shiva, bringing food, helping to clean, and serving the multitudes of guests that came to the mourning tent.
