The Jerusalem Inception - By Avraham Azrieli Page 0,73
silence.
“There’s no punishment,” Rabbi Gerster roared, “no punishment for the dead! Only the judgment of the Lord!” He brought his hands to his chest, gripped the lapel of his coat, and pulled his hands forcefully in opposite directions, ripping the black cloth apart. It made a loud tearing sound, like a hoarse cry of pain. His eyes closed, the rabbi pressed his fists to his chest, against the torn cloth. With a voice full of agony he recited the mourners’ prayer for the dead: “Blessed be He, Master of the Universe, the true judge.”
“Amen,” the men chorused, rising from the floor. “Amen.” None of them looked at Lemmy anymore. For them, and for their rabbi, Jerusalem Gerster was dead.
Chapter 26
Lemmy spent a week with Tanya—reading, talking, and making passionate, tender love. When she sat for hours with the oversized headphones in the other room, he slept as if recovering from months of insomnia. For his eighteen birthday, she baked a chocolate cake and opened a bottle of wine, which they finished together. Now that he was officially an adult, she took him to a government office, where he obtained an Israeli ID card and received his military draft papers.
They barely slept that night. In the morning, they showered together and took the bus to an open field in West Jerusalem, where the IDF had set up a processing center for mandatory draftees, most of them recent high-school graduates. Several rows of military trucks waited in the sun, and female soldiers in olive-green uniform and hoarse voices tried to keep order.
Standing among hundreds of young recruits and their families, Tanya hugged him tightly. She smiled through her tears. “Keep safe, will you? And no more rebellions. Once in uniform, you must obey orders.”
Lemmy made a mock salute. “Yes, Madam!”
She waved as he climbed onto the back of the truck. “Don’t forget to write!”
He blew her a kiss and mouthed, “I love you!”
The trucks departed in a cloud of dust and engine fumes. The families, many with younger children, waved at the convoy until it made the turn onto the main road to Tel Aviv. Fathers put on brave faces while mothers wiped tears.
Tanya walked to the main road, where she planned to catch a local bus back home. She noticed Elie’s car, parked farther up the road under a tree.
Tanya got in. “You’re becoming too predictable for a spy.”
“It’s all part of the plan.” His face seemed even gaunter than before, his dark eyes sunken beside the protruding bridge of his nose. He was wearing a brown wool cap, pulled down over his ears. He emitted a medicinal smell, which she assumed came from the ointment on his burns. She watched the families leave the field, some getting into their small cars, others walking, or waiting for the bus. “The army is the best thing for him.”
“I made a few calls. He’ll be assigned to Paratroopers Command. Their boot camp lasts six months, so even if war breaks out, he’ll still be in training, safely away from battle.”
She thought of Lemmy in uniform, so different from the Talmudic scholar he had been only a week earlier. He was free now to make new friends, gain confidence in himself, and become a normal Israeli. “Have you spoken to Abraham?”
Elie uttered a strange chuckle, something between clearing his throat and blowing his nose. “He’s too furious to speak with anyone. Blames you for brainwashing his boy.”
The thought of Abraham being angry with her gave Tanya mixed feelings—a satisfaction in prevailing over him to set Lemmy free and a lingering doubt as to whether she had done the right thing, tearing a boy from his family and community.
“Better keep away from Abraham,” he added. “He’s got a temper, you know.”
His tone made Tanya wonder whether Elie was telling the truth, or was he up to his usual manipulations. “Lemmy told me that his father was sad, that he hugged him before addressing the men, and tore his coat in mourning, as if his son had died. But you say he’s furious?”
“Abraham isn’t furious with his son. He’s furious with you. But he’s a soldier in our fight for survival. A secret agent of his caliber doesn’t get distracted from his job by personal problems.”
“He’s not a machine. Losing a son is a tragedy for any parent.”
“Abraham’s job is to keep the ultra-Orthodox under control, not to babysit a troublesome teenager whose very existence was an error and whose behavior undermines Abraham’s authority. It’s better