57
Kneeling in front of the plastic toilet inside the tent, he fought back the urge to vomit while his assistant tried in vain to get him to drink some water. The old man finally managed to contain his nausea. He hated vomiting, that relaxing but exhausting sensation of expelling everything that was corroding him inside. It was a faithful reflection of his soul.
‘You don’t know how much this has cost me, Jacob. You have no idea, that
‘I’m afraid you are going to have to put up with her a little longer, sir.’
The old man looked at the bar at the other end of the room. His assistant, aware of the direction of his gaze, stared at him disapprovingly and the old man looked away and sighed.
‘Human beings are full of contradictions, Jacob. We end up enjoying what we hate the most. Telling a stranger about my life took a weight off my shoulders. For a moment I felt connected to the world. I had planned to deceive her, maybe mix in lies with some truths. Instead of that, I told her everything.’
‘You did it because you know it’s not a real interview. She won’t be able to publish it.’
‘Perhaps. Or maybe I just needed to talk. Do you think she suspects anything?’
‘I don’t think so, sir. In any case, we’ve almost reached the finish.’
‘She’s very bright, Jacob. Watch her closely. She could turn out to be more than a minor player in this whole thing.’
58
The only thing she remembered from the nightmare was a cold sweat, being gripped by fear and gasping in the darkness, trying to remember where she was. It was a recurring dream but Andrea never knew what it was about. Everything was erased the moment she woke up, leaving her with only traces of fear and loneliness.
But now Doc was immediately by her side, crawling over to her mattress to sit with her and put a hand on her shoulder. One was afraid of going any further, the other that she wouldn’t. Andrea sobbed. Doc embraced her.
Their foreheads touched and then their lips.
Like a car that has struggled uphill for hours and has finally reached the top, the next moment was going to be decisive, the instant of equilibrium.
Andrea’s tongue searched desperately for Doc’s, and she returned the kiss. Doc pulled off Andrea’s T-shirt and traced the moist, salty skin of her breasts with her tongue. Andrea lay back on the mattress. She was no longer afraid.
The car raced headlong downhill, without any brakes.
59
AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN
They remained next to each other, talking, for a long time; kissing every few words, as if they couldn’t believe that they had found each other and that the other person was still there.
‘Wow, Doc. You really know how to take care of your patients,’ Andrea said as she caressed Doc’s neck and played with the curls in her hair.
‘It’s part of my hypocritical oath.’
‘I thought it was the Hippocratic Oath.’
‘I took a different oath.’
‘It doesn’t matter how much you joke around, you’re not going to make me forget that I’m still angry with you.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about myself, Andrea. I guess lying is part of my work.’
‘What else is part of your work?’
‘My government wants to know what’s happening here. And don’t ask me any more about it, because I’m not going to tell you.’
‘We have ways of making you talk,’ Andrea said, shifting her caresses to a different place on Doc’s body.
‘I’m sure I’ll be able to fight off the interrogation,’ Doc whispered.
Neither woman spoke for a few minutes until Doc let out a long, almost silent, moan. Then she pulled Andrea to her and whispered in her ear.
‘Chedva.’
‘What does that mean?’ Andrea whispered back.
‘It’s my name.’
Andrea exhaled her surprise. Doc sensed the joy in her and hugged her tight.
‘Your secret name?’
‘Never say it out loud. Now you’re the only one who knows it.’
‘And your parents?’
‘They’re no longer alive.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘My mother died when I was a girl and my father died in a prison on the Negev.’
‘Why was he there?’
‘Are you sure you want to know? It’s a shitty, frustrating story.’
‘My life is full of shitty frustrations, Doc. It’d be nice to hear someone else’s for a change.’
There was a brief silence.
‘My father was a
