A Possibility of Violence (19 page)

Tomorrow would be Yom Kippur eve.

He thought about the streets emptied of people, and afterward about the phone conversation with Brigadier General Anselmo Garbo. The Filipino detective who had impressed him with his sharpness asked Avraham to keep him updated as the investigation continued.

Perhaps he could ask Garbo to arrest Sara and question him himself when he landed with his children in Manila? Maybe this was his only option. But would the illustrious detective agree to question Sara?

If he didn't find a pretext for questioning Sara by the evening he would have no choice but to call Garbo and inform him that Sara was on his way to him.

12

IT WAS ONLY IN THE DEPARTURE
hall that their trip became real, and for a moment Chaim was struck with fear at the sight of the masses of people and suitcases and luggage carts.

Terminal 3 was more crowded than he had expected.

The last time he was here was when he flew to Cyprus with Jenny. Back then the terminal was almost completely empty, maybe because winter had already begun, and that was likely why he was surprised by the sight of long lines winding everywhere in the hall that morning. He instructed Ezer and Shalom to hold on to the luggage cart so they wouldn't get lost, because they looked confused at the entrance to the giant hall bathed in light. Shalom had already cried that he wanted to go back home.

In the days following, Chaim often thought about that moment at the entrance to the airport. True, he quickly suppressed his weakness and began searching for the Korean Air counter, but wasn't there a shred of hope in him that a higher power might cancel their trip? Perhaps he even wanted to tell his story, though maybe not just yet. On the departures board suspended from the hall's ceiling he saw that flight KE958 hadn't been canceled and that the plane would leave at its appointed time.

 

WHAT ELSE WOULD CHAIM REMEMBER FROM
that morning? The clothes the children wore. The silence in the dark streets during the drive to the airport. And Ezer.

His son was different that day, and Chaim noticed it, even though he was focused on his tasks. He thought that the closeness between them created the day before was probably a part of it. As if Ezer had matured a good few years within that twenty-four hours. He was still quiet and cautious, but he tried to help Chaim and handled his younger brother with an adult sense of responsibility. He swiftly got out of bed when Chaim woke them, at four fifteen in the morning, and was alert and purposeful, as if he had been up for a while. He immediately took off his white pajama bottoms and pulled over his thin body the clothes that were seared into his father's memory: the red underwear and the sweatpants and the knit shirt with the picture of the boat that Jenny had bought him for his birthday.

Manila was still far off, and the way there would be complicated by small tasks that came one on the heels of the other. Waking the kids and getting them dressed. Bringing them and the suitcases downstairs and into the taxi. Making sure that all the windows were closed and disconnecting the gas tap. Not forgetting anything at home. Arriving safely and on time at the airport.

Not forgetting anything at home.

The taxi driver showed up at three minutes to five.

Ezer stood next to the big window and looked out through the blinds when the telephone rang and a number Chaim didn't recognize appeared on the screen. The driver said to him, “Good morning,” and he turned to the children and said, “Let's go, Ezer, the cab's here,” and Ezer turned around and in an excited voice said, “I see it down there.” Chaim carried the suitcase and placed it outside the apartment, and Ezer insisted that he'd manage to drag the large carryall down the stairs by himself. When he closed the door for the last time he didn't notice the dark living room shrinking before him or his own fingers turning the key in the lock with a quick and natural motion. The light in the stairwell went off and he turned it on and saw Ezer hauling the carryall down the stairs.

When they got out to the street, Ezer wanted to put the bag into the taxi's trunk himself and afterward lifted Shalom up into the backseat and put on his and his brother's seatbelts at the request of the driver.

There was almost no traffic in the streets.

When the cab passed Lavon Street, Chaim recalled the morning when they discovered that a suitcase with a bomb inside had been placed next to Shalom's daycare. Their trip to Manila actually began then, even though they didn't know that yet. Were it not for the man and the woman who were arrested yesterday in Eilat and brought to the courthouse with their faces covered they wouldn't be on the way to the airport now. The radio in the cab was on and the five-o'clock news was being broadcast when the driver asked, “Do you mind the window being open? Is it too windy?” Afterward he asked them where they were traveling to. He was younger than Chaim, maybe forty-five or fifty, but he looked like an entirely different kind of person. His right ear, the one closer to Chaim, was reddish and swollen and in the thick lobe was a small, golden earring. Chaim said that they were flying to the Philippines, and the driver said, “Never been. First time?” And he said that they were going to see his wife, who'd been in Manila for a few weeks with family and would return with them, and the driver said, “Ah, so that's why your children are like that. Smart move. I almost got married to a Russian woman about six months ago but changed my mind at the last moment. Twenty years I was married.” On the highway a southbound train raced alongside them in the opposite direction. And in less than twenty minutes they arrived.

 

JENNY HAD WALKED QUICKLY IN FRONT
of him and he had struggled to roll the cart behind her because one of the wheels was crooked, he remembered.

He forgot what she wore but could recall that over her shoulder she carried a small brown bag in which they kept the documents and wedding rings, and that she knew exactly where to go and which document to present at each stop. She had carried the wedding dress on a hanger, hidden under a blue cover. His gray suit was folded up inside the suitcase.

Perhaps it was already possible then to know that this was how it would end. He had gotten used to life alone and hadn't dreamed of getting married, but longed to have sons, and his mother knew this even though they didn't speak about it, and she thought that Jenny wanted children as well, or at least that's what Jenny had told her. Had she lied? At their first meeting, the dinner at his mom's place, no one mentioned children, but the question hung in the air, and by their third or fourth meeting the details were finalized. When Jenny didn't get pregnant his mother suggested that he search the cabinets, and he did in fact find the pills she had hidden in a drawer in the bedroom. He confronted her but this didn't help, and when his mother intervened she spoke with Jenny face-to-face and threatened her that they'd get divorced immediately and that she'd lose her visa. Jenny traveled to the Philippines for a short vacation, and when she returned she stopped taking the pills.

And there was a measure of compatibility between them, though they didn't consciously work at it. Jenny was organized and loved to work, like him, and her talkativeness compensated for his reticence. Even at the airport on the way to Cyprus she was the one who spoke, in Hebrew, with the security agents and flight attendants.

The fear that seized Chaim for a moment when they entered the hall passed.

They had to find the Korean Air counter and wait in line for a security check, and after that hand over the suitcase and receive their boarding passes. Afterward they would look for the passageway to the hall where carry-on bags and travelers are checked by metal detectors, then on to passport control, and finally they'd locate the gate for the plane indicated on the ticket. Shalom sat down on the cart because he was tired of standing. While they waited at the end of the long line for the security check in Area E behind a group of foreign tourists, a young security agent approached them and asked, “Israeli passport?” in both Hebrew and English.

Chaim said yes, and the security agent asked them to step out from the line and follow him.

Should he have reacted differently? He was so focused on the children and the tasks he had to perform that his reactions were quick, automatic. Shalom complained that he was hungry and Chaim promised that after the check was over and the luggage checked in they'd sit down to eat. And every time he was asked, he simply told the same story he'd been telling for the last few days to whoever inquired. The security agent was polite and cordial. He stroked the hair on Shalom's head as he checked his frowning face and compared it to the picture in the passport. Chaim said, “That's an old picture, we should have replaced it,” and the security agent said, “You can see it's him, no problem.” Afterward he asked, “All of you are flying to Seoul?” and Chaim was surprised and said, “Not to Seoul, to Manila.”

The security agent laughed.

“For that flight I'm no longer responsible. In Seoul they'll check you again before you get on your connecting flight. Just don't forget to tell the agents at the counter that you're going to Manila, so that your bags will arrive there.” When he checked the picture on Ezer's passport the boy turned red and looked at him with a serious expression. He asked him, “Are you sure you are you, young man?” and Ezer looked at Chaim, confused, until the security agent said, “I'm just joking with you, son. Your picture's fine.” He asked about the purpose of their trip, and Chaim answered him with the same explanation that he had given the cabdriver this morning on the way to the airport.

“Your wife lives there?”

“No, she lives here. She went there to take care of her father.”

“And does she have an Israeli or Philippine identity card?”

“She has a temporary card, yes. Israeli. All her papers are in order.”

“And I understand that she is the children's mother?”

He was tense, even though he had prepared himself for the questions that would be asked. The security agent checked how long Jenny had resided in Israel and how long they had been married, and then apologized and went away, and Chaim saw him walk over to the luggage-scanning machine, where he spoke with another security agent, older, before returning. He said, “I apologize that the checks are longer today, but those are our directives. Could you give me the address where you'll be in Manila or the name of your hotel, and also your wife's phone number?”

Chaim felt Ezer's warm hand crawl into his hand as if he knew that something had happened.

He pulled his hand away from his son's and located among the documents he'd received from the travel agent the printed page with the hotel confirmation. The address of the hotel and the telephone number appeared at the bottom of the page. His voice cracked when he asked, “Why do you need this?” And the security agent answered that it was a routine check they made in a line in which many foreign workers are traveling. “I can give you the cell number but I don't think she'll answer. Her phone is off. I spoke to her half an hour ago,” Chaim said, and the security agent answered, “No problem. Does she speak Hebrew or English?”

Ezer followed him with his eyes when he walked away from them again and conferred privately with the older agent who wore an electronic device in his ear. Shalom complained again that he was hungry. Chaim opened the carryall and found the plastic container in which he had put the cheese sandwiches and offered one to each of the boys. Ezer didn't want to eat.

Chaim said that Jenny speaks English and Hebrew.

And stood in the middle of the giant departure hall with his two sons and a cart loaded with a suitcase and a large carryall next to them.

Because they arrived at the airport early, there remained more than two and a half hours before the flight.

He assumed that they wouldn't prevent them from flying because Jenny didn't answer but said to himself that even if that did happen, it wouldn't be so bad. Since the police investigation was over, they could return home. And perhaps he even felt relief when he thought that this was liable to happen. A slice of cheese slid out of Shalom's sandwich and when Chaim bent down to pick it up he saw the security agent returning to them with a cell phone in his hand. There was a wide smile on his face. He spoke with someone on the phone, and when he approached them Chaim heard him say in English: “Yes, of course they are here, they are wonderful. You want to talk to them? Okay, thank you very much for speaking with me, Jennifer. I will pass them to you.”

He didn't understand who he was speaking with and what exactly he had heard, but the security agent said to him, “Take it, talk to her. You have an amazing wife.” And after he handed the phone over to him he started affixing stickers to the suitcase confirming that it had been checked, and even managed to ask Chaim, “Are you checking the carryall or is it going on the plane with you?” Ezer looked at his father without saying a word, and when Chaim brought the device close to his own ear, Shalom screamed, “Is that Mom? I want to talk to Mom too!”

Jenny's phone was in the shed at his mother's house, without a battery, along with her passport and other documents that he put there a few days after he brought her body and buried it in the yard.

The security agent stood next to him while he spoke, without looking at him. Chaim said quietly, “Yes,” but the voice that emerged from the device spoke to him in Hebrew. “Chaim? Can you hear me?”

He said, “Yes,” and the voice continued, “Chaim, how are you? Are you ready for the journey? How are the boys?”

A tremor of weakness passed down the length of his legs when he said quietly, “Fine. How are you?”

Now he was certain that this wasn't his mother. But the voice also wasn't Jenny's, though if he had to describe how it was different from her voice he wouldn't have been able to. Indeed, he recognized the accent, and in a strange way the foreign voice spoke like Jenny as well, with great quickness, but it wasn't her voice.

“Okay, Chaim. You won't forget to buy me what I asked for from the duty-free, right? Do you remember? Don't forget.”

For some reason he again said in English, “Yes,” and heard the voice say to him, “Chaim, can I talk to the boys for a moment?” but he didn't answer.

He returned the phone to the security agent, who said, “Okay, Jennifer, thanks again for . . .” and then removed the phone from his ear and said, “She already hung up.”