The Clay Urn Read online

  “This is where David slays Goliath,” Ari says. “Sure, right here.”

  “My dad spent months reading texts about David and Goliath. He arrived at the conclusion it was here.”

  “Did he ever find anything?”

  Ari breathes in the hot, stale air of the bus and follows the contours of Ilana’s face and hair with his eyes. He remembers how the moon reflected off her body last night while floating over the gentle waves.

  “You didn’t really want to come home, did you?” Ari says. “What?”

  “You were happy in New York?”

  “We were talking about Goliath.”

  Ari recalls how difficult it was for him when she was away. During their phone calls he sensed she was always trying to move their conversations along. She was disinterested and busy with other things. This hurt Ari and made him more reluctant to reach out. One night when he was alone in the tent after a particularly challenging mission, he wrote a letter that touched on his deepest emotions for Ilana. He revealed that the first time they met he had left his shoe polish on the belt in the grocery store on purpose, as he was completely smitten by her subtle beauty. She was the first lover he wanted to stay with long after the memories of the first night faded. Ilana quickly became a sounding board he desperately needed and a soulmate that he craved. He noticed that the phrasing of his sentences was filled with strong, poetic content. There was a complex rhythm that he read aloud to himself numerous times. In the morning he reread it one more time and decided not to send it. He was still angry about her shortness during the phone calls and instead reconstructed another that focused on his challenges at Officer Training school and his new role as Company Commander. He inhaled, sealed it and sent it off to her the next day.

  “You were happy in New York?” he asks again.

  “There were times that I really missed you,” Ilana says. “It affected me. When the pain got too great, I’d go for long walks to the park or to paint. I missed you, but if you want to know the truth, I was content.”

  “Where’d you paint?”

  “Does it really matter?”

  Ari had noticed small changes in her personality since she returned from New York. She wanted more time to be alone to work on her art. Sometimes in the middle of a conversation she would breathe in, look up, and run to get her sketchbook. It bothered Ari at first, but he realized this was how she planted ideas that would eventually end up on a canvas. He didn’t want to push her away, so he devised a way to engage her and not get angry during these moments. He started writing short prose inspired by her drawings. Ari knew this would be her life’s work and he made sure that if she felt the need to go away again, it would be with him. He worked hard on becoming a partner with her, which didn’t always come easy for him. He built a table and put it in the small garden so she could paint sunrises over the Judean Hills. She was wholly focused on getting into Jerusalem’s elite art school, so he gave her the time she needed to build her portfolio. Before going to work, Ari made her tea and bread with jam so she could continue painting.

  Overtaking a slow-moving truck, the bus swerves into the next lane.

  “No,” Ari says while exhaling. “I guess where you painted in New York doesn’t really matter.”

  Ilana smiles and reaches for his hand. Turning his body towards the window he looks out at the farms and fields of the flat coastal plain. They fall away abruptly as the bus climbs through a narrow pass and ascends the rocky landscape of the Judean Hills. Ilana breathes out and rests her head on his shoulder.

  “Didn’t you find the clay urn that’s in the apartment close to here?”

  Ari squints and points to a mound to the south.

  “That’s Tel Beit Shemesh. We found it on the other side of the slope. It’s funny. I always think about my dad when I’m on the bus from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. He loved these hills. After the Six Day War he marked off a bunch of antiquity sites and told me we’d go to each one. He was methodical in his approach. This one this month, that one next month. He said the Jordanians did very little digging so a virtual treasure chest awaited us.”

  The driver shifts into a lower gear. The bus jerks and sputters up another steep hill.

  “His favorite time to explore was winter. The rains wash away the topsoil and expose ancient coins and pottery. I remember getting excited when I saw the clouds gather after a long, hot summer. I knew it would be time to go out and explore with him. ‘See the stone over there?’ He always used to say. ‘That’s the one David used to whack the big guy.’ I believed everything he told me.”

  “I forgot how dry it is here in the summer,” Ilana says. “How ‘bout New York?”

  “The parks are green in the summer. It rains all the time.”

  “I can’t imagine that.”

  Ari inhales the fragrance surrounding Ilana and stares into her dark eyes.

  “If I asked you to marry me, would you?”

  “Are you kidding? You’re proposing to me on a bus?”

  Ari had turned the idea over in his mind enough times to know it was what he wanted, but to ease the shock to her, he’d decided to pose it as a question on the bus ride back to Jerusalem.

  The driver slams his brakes near a makeshift bus shelter and a group of soldiers hop on. Ari immediately recognizes one of them. He tries to turn away but Zeev spots him. Their eyes connect. A sharp pain churns inside Ari’s stomach. He remembers the night of shattered glass, the broken shard in his mouth and Zeev’s face staring motionless at the blood pooling under his boots from his best friend’s head. After reviewing the incident with his superiors Ari came to the conclusion that it would be better to keep it locked up inside and make every effort not to let it weigh him down. He justified it as a direct result of a long conflict that could ultimately have terrible consequences. This is how he came to terms with the loss of his father and would deal with this new tragedy the same way. Blocking it from his memory would allow him to focus on his responsibilities as company commander, but he still had to grapple with nightmares of the dog and the wailing mother attacking him and biting down on his arm until it was severed. The dreams were so real that he forced himself to wake and stay up until the morning.

  “Hey Captain,” Zeev says.

  Their eyes connect.

  “You can call me Ari,” he says to Zeev. “I thought you’d be done with your service by now?”

  Zeev shakes his head slowly and looks at Ilana.

  “Ilana this is Zeev.”

  “I signed up for more time to do officer’s training. I’m leading one of those units that I can’t talk to anyone about.”

  “Yep, I got it. Where you stationed?”

  “In the territories. My company’s kickin’ ass.”

  Leaning over Ilana’s body Zeev looks squarely at him. He can feel the heat of his breath on his face.

  “You know we talk a lot about what happened,” Zeev says.

  “Well, I guess that’s good for you guys. I don’t think too much about it.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess that’s good for you, Captain.”

  “It was a difficult mission,” Ari says.

  “Maybe.”

  The bus jerks forward. Zeev grabs for the seat handle and misses the grip. His gun swings to the front of his body and hits Ilana in her face.

  “Shit.”

  “I’m sorry, Adina.”

  “It’s Ilana,” she says while glancing at the back of the bus where his friends are sitting.

  “Why don’t you go join ‘em, Zeev,” she says.

  He re-adjusts his strap and shifts his machine gun so it rests on his back. “Have a fun life.”

  “Right,” says Ari.

  A red line swells on Ilana’s cheek.

  “Nice meeting you, Ilana,” he says. “I’m sorry about the gun. I’ll be more careful the next time.”

  He picks up his duffle bag and finds a seat with the others. “Who’s your friend?”
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br />   “It’s a long story.”

  “Well I guess we’ll share a scar from it so you might as well tell me.”

  Ari hesitated. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to re- open this. He found a way to set it aside, and as long as the nightmares subsided, he had no interest in reliving it.

  “I think I tried to tell you on the phone before you left for New York.”

  Ari reached out for Ilana’s hand.

  “We were on a night raid. I was commanding the unit and made some bad decisions. A bullet caught his best friend.”

  “So, they blame you?”

  “I guess,” he says.

  “I’m really sorry, Ari. That’s terrible. I wish you told me.”

  “I tried, but you weren’t here.”

  “Did you at least get the guy you were after?”

  “Nope. Mission unsuccessful.”

  She rests her hand on his thigh and breathes in deep.

  “Your cheek is red. Does it hurt?”

  “I’ll live,” she says while exhaling. “So, you want to marry me?”

  “Yep.”

  “I want five reasons why you want to tie the knot with me.”

  “You’re serious about that?”

  “I’m not sure you’re serious about marrying me.”

  “I’ll have my reasons by the time we get to Jerusalem.”

  Turning away from her voice he cranes his neck towards the back of the bus. The exhausted soldiers are crammed next to each other across the bench in the last row. Their heads move from side to side, occasionally dropping on the shoulder of their friend next to them. With no spare room, Zeev sits on his stuffed bag by their feet holding his gun between his knees. The driver shifts into the lowest gear and they begin their ascent to the top of the ridge.

  “It’s stinking’ hot in here. There’s no air coming out the vents,” Ari says.

  “Tell the driver to switch it on,” Ilana says.

  He walks down the narrow aisle and holds onto the bar in front of the driver for balance.

  “Excuse me, you mind turning the air conditioning on?”

  “Sorry, it’s broken,” the driver says.

  “Y’ should’a told us before we got on.”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  Ari slaps the safety bar with his open hand and returns to his seat.

  “What did he say?”

  “Fuck him.”

  Ilana breathes in and reaches for his hand.

  “You know I’d love to have the wedding ceremony at the apartment?”

  “It’s small,” Ari says. “I’m sure there are better places.”

  “I love the garden and the view of the desert is beautiful. It would be great to share it with everyone especially if we time it at sunset. We could have the ceremony in the garden and set the food up inside the apartment.”

  “I guess we can clear out the rocks and get rid of the brush,” Ari says. “We’ll have a look when we get there later.”

  “That sounds great.”

  “So, you’ll marry me?”

  She presses her lips to his cheek.

  “We’ll see.”

  Leaning his forehead on the hot glass he looks out the window at the ancient stone terraces lining the slopes. Small brush fires blow curls of smoke spiraling towards a cloudless sky. The bus jerks and sputters as it rumbles along the winding hills. Ari’s body succumbs to the heat. He closes his eyes and sways with the movement. Ilana says something about a white dress. Ari’s head hits the window. He feels her body pulsate from laughter.

  “Where are we?”

  “I don’t know,” says Ilana. “I’ll wake you when we get to Jerusalem.”

  “What did that sign say?”

  “Abu Tor.”

  Ari leans his head back on the window and closes his eyes. The heat from the glass is unbearable. Saliva runs down his cheek and drips over his shirt. He breathes in and wipes the liquid with the back of his hand.

  “Where are we?”

  Ilana removes a fine sweater from her bag and tucks it under his head. He inhales letting the sweet fragrance from the soft fibers sink in.

  “Go to sleep,” she says. “I’ll wake you when we get to Jerusalem.”

  Drifting into a deep sleep Ari enters a thick fog at the opening of a long, dark tunnel. He enters and feels the presence of another person. Unable to see his face he senses a familiarity about him. The other person walks through the mist and right up to Ari’s face. His breath is rancid. He wears a Syrian army uniform. He puts the barrel of his gun on Ari’s stomach and pulls the trigger. Ari runs towards the exit. His feet are heavy, his movement slow. He slams into a glass door. The impact throws his body backwards. Shards of glass fall at his feet. A piece shaped like a dagger slices through his hand. Ilana peeks through the shattered door, a dog at her side. She opens her arms wide.

  The bus driver turns up the volume on the radio in time for the news.

  “Good dog,” Ari mumbles to himself.

  Ilana opens her sketchbook, adjusts her glasses and watches Ari’s sleeping body. The pencil moves across the page outlining his face in dark shadows and thick lines. Eyes shut tight, his mouth salivates like a dog. She squares her body in front of him.

  “You don’t snore,” she whispers. “I like the way you smell after you shave. I get excited when you touch me.”

  A stream of saliva drips from the side of his mouth pooling on his shirt. He wipes his hand across his mouth and inhales in rapid succession.

  “The dog. He’s down,” Ari yells.

  “Wake up,” Ilana says shaking his shoulder.

  “What happened?”

  “Your head is banging on the glass.”

  “Where are we?”

  Ilana runs her hand down his cheek and asks, “What are you dreaming about?”

  The bus stops at a small farming village. A slender boy wearing a crisp white shirt and black pants steps on. He digs his hand deep into his pocket and withdraws a fistful of change.

  “One way to Jerusalem,” he says.

  The driver throws his change into the machine and hands him a small white ticket. Stepping over backpacks and suitcases he walks down the aisle and finds an open seat in front of Ari. Ilana breathes in a waft of his sharp cologne.

  “I wonder who he’s gonna visit?” Ilana says while waving her hand in front of her nose.

  They turn towards the window. Drifts of pink and white cyclamen dot the landscape. He presses his lips on her forehead and inhales.

  “If we wait ‘till the spring the weather will be great,” she says. “Maybe we widen the area near the stone fence. The rabbi can do the ceremony there at sunset. The light will be perfect.”

  “Do I still have to give you the five reasons,” Ari says.

  “Yep, you do. I’m just thinking ahead.”

  The boy rocks back and forth, stands up and looks down at the steep ravine at the edge of the road. Silent words like a prayer churn inside his mouth. The bus creeps along the top of the ridge.

  “That kid looks familiar,” Ari whispers to Ilana.

  The boy excuses himself to the woman next to him. She moves her legs to let him out. He rises, tucks his shirt into his pants and slowly walks down the aisle.

  “The guy’s weird,” Ilana says. “He’s talking to himself.”

  “It looks like he’s counting steps. We did that in field training to calculate distance.”

  Without warning, the boy lunges at the driver and wrestles the steering wheel away from his grip.

  “Allahu Akbar. God is greatest. Allahu Akbar,” he screams. With precise, choreographed movement, he plants his feet firmly on the floor and pulls the wheel towards him. The driver tries to fight him off but is overwhelmed by the boy’s strength and determination.

  “Allahu Akbar,” he screams again.

  Ari looks on in disbelief. He recognizes him as Naser Abdul Naser. A memory flashes through
Ilana’s mind. This is the same boy that watched Eyal push his father to the ground.

  “Allahu Akbar!”

  The muscles in Naser’s neck and arms expand to their fullest. With full control of the wheel he steers the hulking machine toward the edge. The bus hits the guardrail at full speed and sails over the cliff. Ilana digs her fingers into Ari’s arm and screams. Crashing glass ricochets off bending metal. Ari’s head slams into the frame. The bus bounces down the embankment. Windows shatter. Ilana is thrown. Chunks of glass rain down on Ari’s head. His body sails through the jagged remains of a window hitting the ground with a thud. His arm snaps. The bus explodes sending a twisting trail of black smoke rising from the valley floor. A fierce wind blows through the ravine carrying the thick stench of burning fuel and charred flesh.

  Hot winds and deafening screams swirl through the valley floor. Ari rises slowly. His bone breaks through his flesh. He turns his face away from the heat and listens for Ilana. His vision is blurred. He trips over the body of an infant. Her pink t-shirt blackened. Her face covered with glass and dirt. She is still and not breathing. The orthodox woman lies silent next to her. A symphony of wails bounce off the scorched earth. Crackling metal echo through the ravine. In the distance Ari senses a familiar voice. He limps towards it. Blood drips under his lip and pools inside his mouth. Bodies like boulders are strewn over the landscape. The heat becomes unbearable. He hears the voice again and pushes through the thick fumes of burning plastic seats. He stumbles and looks down at the ground. A boy is holding back his scream. The boy cannot move; his legs appear broken. Blood drips down his forehead. Their eyes lock. Ari breathes in quickly and exhales. He stares at the boy’s chest palpitating under his torn white shirt. A photograph flashes in his mind. The muscles in his stomach tense. He recognizes the face. A stone rests near his head. Accepting his fate, Naser lies still, staring at Ari. They are silent.

  The smoldering bus bellows and explodes, sending a ball of fire into a black void. The wind pushes the heat across their damaged bodies. Ari picks up the rock in his left hand. Mumbling words Naser turns his head away and closes his eyes. Blood drips from the side of his mouth spreading over the earth. In the distance Ari hears a voice calling again. A fireball consumes a single tree near the skeleton of the burning bus. He steps over Naser’s body and looks towards the crackling branches where he hears the voice again. He opens his fist. The rock falls and trickles down the slope. Holding his arm, he stumbles towards Ilana. She lays motionless. Her mangled body spread over the harsh, burnt landscape. Kneeling close to her he touches her cheek.