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“We’ll try to have the funeral today,” Ilan promised. As per Jewish tradition, they would have the funeral as soon as possible. Her ex hugged her, and she clung to his strong arms, his familiar faint scent of cigarettes, her cheek resting against his assured, paced heartbeat. The old warmth wasn’t there. She let him go.
“I’ll mobilize my family,” he added and left to go to her parents’.
***
She watched her shrouded mom, the body small and insignificant, being rolled into the grave. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she egged her, telling Dafna to move on. She wished she had Erez here, but after a long deliberation, she decided not to send him the news about her mother. He hadn’t met her sons yet, and this was the wrong place and time.
“Did you prepare anything?” Sigal asked. She shook her head. In the ten hours since learning of her mother’s death, she didn’t cry. Sadness sat like a hard ball in her stomach, a weight she didn’t know how to carry, because she already missed her mother. So much. Sitting down and writing a well worded, ‘respectful’ speech seemed wrong.
Sigal stuck a note into her hand.
“Here you go. I know how much you hate talking without being prepared. This is from my mother’s funeral. It’s generic enough for you to read here. Just change some names.”
Even in this time of numbness Sigal could make her smile, but she shook her head, declining Sigal’s offer, even though she didn’t prepare any eulogy in advance. She knew what she was feeling, and contrary to habit, she would speak without preparation, from her heart.
She walked up to the microphone, feeling all alone. As if reading her mind, Ori came to stand beside her. She interloped her fingers with his and started speaking.
“My mother, Hannah, was a strong woman. She was meticulous, upright, sometimes uptight. She visited her hairdresser twice a week, and never ever left the house without her lipstick on. She liked to say that ‘how you look is how you behave’.”
The crowd, Hannah’s students, and their neighbors, well versed, murmured along with her the last line, ‘how you look is how you behave’.
“She was a teacher, an educator, beloved by generations of students. Her life made a difference. To her colleagues, her pupils, her neighbors and especially to us, to her family. Before the illness made a mess of her mind, she treated everyone with dignity and respect. She lived by her principles. I’m proud to be her daughter. I’ll miss her.”
Ori hugged her and Tom joined them, his arms strong around her waist.
***
Nearly all the funeral attendees congregated at her house right after the funeral. Bar Avigail, who was abroad, all her friends were there. The Ohayons, Ilan and his four siblings, brought in quantities of food. Orna took control of her kitchen, a general at work conveying orders. All Kisharti management was there. Daniel hugged her, and Gil shook her hand. Menni’s eyes were watchful as his mouth formed empty words of commiseration.
“When did Menni and Daniel return?” Dafna asked Nurit.
“This morning. I’ll talk to Menni, I’ll set things to right.” Nurit looked frightened but determined. Dafna wouldn’t let her confront the trio all by herself. She needed to be there. They should both be there to flank the SOB and attack him unprepared. He wouldn’t expect her at the office, just a day after her mother’s funeral. God, she was seriously fucked up.
“Wait for me! We’ll do it together. Tomorrow.”
Nurit hugged her strongly. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Come twilight, she needed a moment to herself. She slipped into her favorite corner of the yard, under the lemon tree. Only a couple of weeks and the lemons would be ripe. This tree was an alpha tree, the kind that grew an enormous amount of fruit. Her mother had loved these succulent, almost sweet lemons, freezing trays of lemonade every autumn, and Dafna had scored popularity points by bringing in loads of lemons to the office.
She turned away from her house and hid behind the tree, laying her back against the whitewashed bark, knowing it soiled her dress, and not caring. She took a lungful of fresh air, scented with green leaves and fresh citrus.
“Hey, are you okay?” Ilan, of course, knew where to find her. His lean face was haggard, he hadn’t slept in two days, coming here straight from their flight, taking care of all the funeral arrangements for her. She was very lucky that he was her children’s father. She hugged him, grateful he would always be a part of her life, and happy that she no longer had to have sex with him.
“Ilan, you’ve done enough,” she told her trusty ex-husband. “Go home.”
It was her job to set matters right. First, tomorrow at Kisharti, Nurit and she would reveal Menni’s true nature to the other management members, and to his all-important investor.
Then she would seek Erez and apologize to him.
Silent tears poured down her cheeks. When all was right with the world, she would mourn her mother properly.
Chapter 40
Hand In Hand
“I hope it works,” Nurit said.
“We’ll see,” she answered, trying to hide how insecure she was. She and Nurit were in the Kisharti building’s lobby waiting for the investor, Motti, to arrive. Her mind and heart were still in the cemetery, where her mother was laid to rest yesterday. Coming here, to Kisharti’s offices on a day that she should have stayed at home with her father, was, and felt, very wrong. Violating shiva would have never crossed her mind, but they weren’t sitting. Shlomo refused to sit shiva, saying he didn’t want the influx of visitors. She left him this morning with the caregiver Aditi, who now that her mother was dead, would soon have to leave their home.
