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“She’ll probably come for a visit when he finishes his business in Paris,” I wonder out loud.
“You have to understand,” he clarifies. “You’re the only woman in my life. You need to know that and try to rise above it all. Just like I need to accept your past, I have a past of my own. But what difference does it make? What matters is that we found each other. Don’t you think?”
“Avi,” I smile warmly. “I’m so happy that I’m here with you. You have no idea. I’m afraid of losing it.” I speak with sincerity and look straight into his eyes.
“Are you crazy?! We’ve only just begun, and you’re already seeing it end? I’m in love with you! There’s no chance that I’m letting you go. Especially not because of Michelle! Where else would I find such a gem like you? Affectionate, funny, shrewd, fascinating, loving, generous, sincere, gorgeous, a sex goddess, who’s willing to make sacrifices for me, who cares for me, without any interest in personal gain?”
“I feel exactly the same!” I smile at him, overjoyed.
“I’m glad we had this conversation. Now, I want to sink my teeth deep into you. I’ve waited half a day just for this moment,” he reminds me. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? Need to go to the bathroom?”
“No,” I laugh out loud. “Why?”
“Because from this moment on, this bed is your home,” he leaps at me, and gently bites me everywhere, turning me on as he moves up. He places his fingers on my clit, slowly kneading it, and penetrating me forcefully, again and again. We lose ourselves in each other’s arms, sinking deep into each other with perfect unison. We moan loudly, and our groans ring through the room.
Chapter 12
Dawn rises. A horrible phone call interrupts the silence.
“No!!!!!” Avi screams, writhing with pain, barely able to breathe. He weeps, pants, yells and cries out. “My grandmother is drawing her last breaths. I need to get there ASAP.”
I immediately enter Michael’s room, put on whatever clothes I can get my hands on, put my shoes on, run around the house, I collect a document here, a phone there, a purse and then immediately stand at his side. We eventually step into the cab that Tony has called for us. And we rush to the hospital, both of us very tense.
“Don’t let her leave me, not yet, please,” he mumbles to himself the whole drive. His eyes are red with pain and tension. His palms are cold and sweaty, and his amazing face is shrouded with sadness. The darkness slips into his heart, swallowing him up. We arrive at the hospital and quickly take the elevator to the fourth floor and enter her room. That precious woman lies there, the very same woman who has gotten under my skin from the very first second. Now, she looked dull and gray and was barely moving.
“My Granny,” he takes her hand in his and wails. “My beloved Grandma, I love you so much, what will I do now?” he cries. “Please don’t leave me, too, I beg of you.” His pain shatters my heart to millions of invisible pieces, and I feel out of place.
“I’ll step outside. You need your privacy. Call me if you need anything.”
He doesn’t respond, he’s distant, weeps and humbly shuts his eyes.
I leave the room, read psalm verses, and pray that her death won’t desecrate this man’s soul, scar him; I wipe my tears, imploring: Please God, give him the strength. Show him I’m here for him and I have no intentions of leaving him. If it’s his desire, I’ll willingly turn this man into my idol, love him, kiss his wounds and envelope him in heat, softness and gentleness. I’d give him everything he has been missing. Please, God, don’t let him turn his back on me. Don’t let his grief blind him. I won’t be able to handle it! God forbid I lose him!
He leaves the room, terrified, and calls the nurse. The monitor flatlines into a void. Loss. Emptiness. Death. A startled commotion sets into motion. Staff, doctors, everyone gathers around her. He stands on the side, frozen, stifling his tears. He was saying his goodbyes to the most meaningful woman in his life.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” the on-call doctor says. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing more we can do. May she rest in peace.”
“Amen,” Avi adds. “Now she can finally rest,” he kisses her forehead with great respect.
Friends and family swarm down the hospital corridors. Avi confirms her death, and they schedule her funeral for 4 pm that same day. Everything seems to be happening on its own. Friends and family gather at the cemetery; they eulogize her, one after another. I hear new details about this precious woman’s life. She was a Holocaust survivor, she was a pioneer who built this country, a merciful nurse who sacrificed her life for the people she loved, without fear or hesitation.
Now it’s his turn. He stands in front of everybody, weeping and praising her. “You know, when I was a child, we’d walk down the streets together and she was so proud of me. She’d tell anyone we’d meet along the way: ‘This is my grandson, Avi Levi. Take a good look at him and remember him.’ She’s always empowered me; even when I’d drive everyone mad, she’d always lend an ear, show me sympathy, love me, cared for me and protected me,” he weeps. “She wasn’t just a grandmother to me,” he continues. “She was like a mother to me, for all intents and purposes. Now, I feel like an orphan.”
I lift my eyes up and see a woman standing at his side, crying her eyes out. She’s mournful but seems embarrassed and ashamed. His words wound her hurt. I can see the pain spreading through her body. When he finishes speaking, the woman gives him a long and comforting hug.
“Thanks, Mom,” he blurts and frees himself from her arms.
He’s surrounded by so many people, and I feel redundant. I wonder if I should be here to witness him crumbling down right in front of my eyes. Would he feel less of a man in front of me? ‘I should leave immediately!’ I think over and over again. However, the line shortens and it’s my turn to hug and console him. He reaches both his arms out, gently takes my hand and pulls me to a deep and warm hug, dissolving all my fears. My man. He knows how to recognize my pain from miles away and envelop me at the right time. Whether it’s by placing his hand on my belly, or by hugging me with all his heart in his most challenging times. He makes sure I won’t feel lonely or unnecessary.
After the burial ceremony we head back home.
We barely utter a word on the drive back. Avi is quiet and withdrawn, and I’m also rather moody and upset.
“Where is the Shiva?” I ask.
“There won’t be a Shiva,” he replies bitterly. “My grandmother was a single child who had lost her only son. We’ll all gather at our house. It has open spaces and a lot of fresh air.”
“I see,” I look at him sadly.
