I can’t believe I was out of gas again. I’m done. And Shaked would be waiting for me outside the youth center in twenty minutes.
Right. I had to hurry. Excuse me. GetTaxi it was. And my cellphone’s lighting had somehow gone all the way down again. I think these fucking phones will make me lose my mind one day. A new model from some new company comes out every other day, giving us all a new way to lose our minds.
How was I supposed to change the settings if I couldn’t see the screen?
It was so hot here, I could die. I was already sticky with sweat, and the sun kept shining. I was also quite sure that, somehow, the phone was hotter than it was hot outside. It was blinding me too much to keep looking at it.
It was only Sunday today, wasn’t it? Supermarket, back to the supermarket for an adequately venomous remark, then back home with the groceries—though I’d of course forgotten to put the cottage cheese into the fridge, which means wasted money.
That protest from way back should have been about how the cheese goes off while you’re on the way back home from the supermarket. Who even heard about something like that? Who makes a cheese that has an expiration date of two hours? Let it cost eight, six, or nineteen shekels, at least I wouldn’t be paying for a rotten product. Do you know how many times I’d started making a sandwich, having the bread and vegetables all ready, only to have that bloody cottage cheese fuck it all up? what kind of home staple is that? I should transition to tahini. It’s healthier and would mean less aggravation.
Anyway—from the house I’d sprinted to the train station—okay, maybe it wasn’t truly a sprint, but it was a power walk—then almost got the wrong train to Netanya… ran to meet to Timothy… ran to Shaked…. Bugger it all.
“Taxi!” I yelled at the cab I saw from the corner of my eye and stepped out into the road.
You should have heard the squealing breaks.
I couldn’t help but smile to myself.
I got into the passenger seat in the front and told the driver, “I need to get to Ramat Aviv Gimel as fast as you can.”
“What’s got you in such a hurry?” He didn’t wait for a response before carrying on with, “What do you say about the mess with the government? Think they’ll ever give us a rest?
And here… we… go. Taxi questions and a horny driver.
Exactly what I didn’t need.
Chapter Six
Finally. Shaked was already waiting outside. It sucked being late for your own daughter.
“Shakedi, come darling.”
My beautiful girl came into the car, sitting in the back.
“How was acting class?”
“Okay,” my lovely daughter answered.
“So, did you dazzle them with how you can make yourself cry on command?”
“No, Mom. It was improvisation about something funny.”
“Right, well, you can cry from laughing too much, you know,” I retorted and remembered a night Eran and I spent the whole night laughing. We were sat on my roof and he was helping me hang up the laundry… or maybe it was fold the laundry. I can’t remember. No, it was hang the laundry—otherwise we would have been inside.
Anyway. I told Eran how I had ADHD. And I do.
I told him how I was sent to a test in front of a computer, and that suddenly the screen had turned white, and that was how they found out.
Eran, being Eran, had to make a joke out of everything and said, “Wait, wait. Now I get it. So, all your vendettas are actually toward a computer?”
“Why?” I’d asked.
“Why? Because you’re a walking distraction yourself. Anyone who stands in front of you with eyes and ears in his head can see—you’re confusing, you’re annoying, you’re annoying and confusing…”
Good times… I smiled to myself.
At last. Home sweet home. Only 200 meters away.
“How much do I owe you, sir?” I asked the cab driver as I opened my purse.
“Do you have paybox, or are you paying through the application?” he asked.
“Can I pay cash? I heard that no friend is more loyal than money in your hand.”
“No, I’m afraid that’s a problem for me… I need to clear it with Get Taxi and everything,” he said uncomfortably.
The radio played some band’s song, cautioning, if you suffer through it, your children will be next.
I decided to insist.
“I’ve only got cash. Do you accept that or not? Can you split two-hundred? I need to get a move on, buddy.” I made sure to sound as if the deal had already been struck.
“Two-hundred? I don’t think I’ve got any change… I only started work two hours ago,” he answered, obviously reading the situation.
“So, we’ll get change from the corner store down the road.”
“Mom—” Shaked started.
“Just a minute, Shaked.”
“Mooom—”
“Shaked, not now—come on. Let me pay so we can get inside.”
“Mom, isn’t that Natasha’s husband by our gate?”
“For god’s sake, Shaked, not now—what? Who? Where?”
“There, Mom. Next to the neighbor’s bike.”
“Shaked, go to Momi at the Kiosk and ask him to split this so we can have 112 shekels to pay the nice driver here, okay? Hurry up with it, do me a favor, love, all right?” Shaked went and I called out, “Shaked, Shaked, come back.”
“Come on, what, Mom?”
“Buy us some Bamba for tonight, I think we’re out.” That would give me a few extra seconds alone with Eran. I turned to the driver. “Wait here,” I said and got out—coolly and calmly. I couldn’t really process it, but I tried not to dally, because the Bambas would be here any second.
I went up to Eran, who was ten meters away from me. He was leaning against a green trash bin.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hello to you, too,” he replied. After a short silence he asked, “How are you?” I noticed he swallowed roughly. That was a good sign for me.
“It’s all good. I’m always good. Except for when people annoy me.” I gave
