Didn't know when he'd ever be.
Frame it and hang it on the fucking wall.
Everyone knew. Though the secret sat like a stone in his chest.
Last night he'd awakened, smothered by the stone, cold and damp and relentless. Struggling against dream bonds, unable to breathe
Pretty one.
The strawberry blonde swiveled on her stool in order to give him a full front view. Lush figure, all curves. Red brocade shorty jacket over black leotard. Low cut. Healthy chest, lots of cleavage. Long, shiny hair that she played with, knowing it was gorgeous. Maybe the color was natural-he wasn't close enough to tell for sure.
Very nice.
A flash of green strobe light turned her into something reptilian. It lasted for only a second but Avi turned away involuntarily. When he looked again she was bathed in warm colors, nice again.
He smoked.
She smoked.
Big-shot Lover Boy.
Everyone had nice words for him-Sharavi, the Arab, even old Shmeltzer.
Far as they knew, he'd slept through it all, dosed up on heroin.
Didn't know the maniac had let him come out of it, didn't know what the fucking shit had done with him.
To him.
Making him the woman. Calling him pretty one, cursing in German as he played out his filthy
The agony, the shame. After the fucking shit left, he bloodied his hands freeing himself, dressed himself before they had a chance to find out the truth.
The next day, he'd driven all the way to Haifa, found a doctor up on the Carmel, and using a false name, told a lame story about bleeding hemorrhoids which the doctor hadn't even pretended to believe. Cash up front had stifled any questions. Ointments, salves, the blood test results back yesterday.
Everything normal, Mr. Siegel.
Normal.
The secret intact. He returned to Headquarters a hero.
If any of them ever found out, they'd never look at him the same.
He wanted desperately to put the memories out of his mind, but they kept returning-in dreams and daydreams, filling empty moments, dominating his thoughts.
Filth. He wanted to remove his brain, dip it in acid.
The strawberry blonde had gotten up, was walking toward him.
Leaning low. Giving him a tease-glimpse of nipple before tugging up her top.
Really a gorgeous one.
She posed, smiled, tapped a foot, and made her chest shake.
He felt a warm stirring in his jeans. But vague, removed, as if it were happening to someone else's body.
He said nothing, did nothing.
She looked confused. 'Hey. Do you want to dance?'
Avi looked up at her, trying to collect his thoughts.
'Hey,' said the girl, smiling again, but hurt. 'I didn't know it was a life-or-death decision.'
She turned to leave.
Avi stood, took hold of her.
'It's not,' he said, twirling her around and putting on a smile of his own, the one the South African girl had called devilish, the one they all went for.
Keeping the smile plastered on his face, he squired her onto the dance floor.
On the fourth day, Daniel went home and slept until evening. When he awoke, Shoshi was in the room, sitting in a chair by the window, big-eyed, silent, picking at her cuticles.
Far away
He remembered Ben David's visit, yesterday. The disquieting feeling of waiting for a comparative stranger to tell him about his own child.
I won't tell you she's perfect. She's shaken up-traumatized. Expect some sleep problems, maybe nightmares, appetite loss, fearfulness, clinginess. It's normal, will take time to work through.
What about addiction?
No chance. Don't worry about that. In fact, the heroin turned out to be a blessing. She was spared the gory
