Chapter 12 #5
There was no delay. The whirlpool sucked us up right away, wrenching us from reality.
Just one warm and steady hand, holding onto me tightly, reminded me that I had a body, a name, a life.
I couldn’t hold my breath any longer and inhaled water without choking on it.
I was immediately expelled, one hand still entwined in Jean’s, the other clutching something small and round and hard.
“Our all-benevolent Father, merciful Holy Spirit, Lord our Savior, Mother of God, Saint Stephen, I beseech ye all,” a voice reeled off.
I opened my eyes and saw Jean, on all fours on the ground, spluttering and vomiting intermittently.
I scrambled to my feet and recognized the ruins of Le Destroit, peeking through the scant canopy of the carob tree. I was back in my own time. We did it.
“It gets easier every time,” I noted, half to myself and half to Jean.
I was still wearing the clothes Jean had given me.
They were quite clean, and not even wet.
I fingered the head covering. The transparent, flimsy fabric had been flung to the earth, but apart from that, it was still intact.
Jean was still saying his prayers on the ground.
“Do you want some water?” I offered. I had a small bottle in the car.
“Where’s the spring?” he managed to enunciate.
“There’s no spring here, in my time. I hope we’ll be able to find our way back to yours,” I added as a kind of joke. Poor Jean didn’t find it funny at all.
I helped him maneuver into a more comfortable position on his back; I told him to take deep breaths while I brought the bottle from the car.
The excitement I felt at having successfully brought him along with me was dampened by Jean’s severe reaction.
But I remembered the precise moment it dawned on me that I’d time-traveled and what a devastating effect it had on my own body.
It was hard to believe that had only been a week and a half ago.
As I took the bottle of water from the car, a passing vehicle slowed down, and the driver stared at me in astonishment.
I winked at him, all dressed up in my medieval clothes and headgear, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for me to be out like this, and the driver continued on his way.
I ducked back under the sparse canopy of the carob tree and helped Jean sit up and take a few sips of water from the bottle.
The color returned to his cheeks, and he even looked around a little.
I held my hand out, and we left the safety of the carob tree and ventured out.
When he saw the ruins of Le Destroit, he let out a gasp.
He surveyed the uniform neighborhoods of Atlit, extending in all directions, at the cars and trucks racing along the coastal road, and finally—when he saw the ruins of the fortress on the seashore, surrounded by the polystyrene-like structures of the Israeli naval base—Jean threw up again.
“I cannot … I cannot,” he repeated. “What is this atrocity?”
I led him back to the carob tree.
“Why is the air so odorous and heavy?” he gasped. “And everything is so ugly … and full of noise.”
I felt an irrational desire to defend all this, to justify it, but I knew the timing was wrong.
“Take me back, I beseech you, my lady,” Jean begged.
“Hang on for two more minutes,” I said. I took the cell phone out of my bag and switched it on with trepidation, because it often gave me trouble. To my great relief, it worked just fine. It was only two in the afternoon, earlier than I thought. There were no unread text messages.
Although Jean had likely thrown up everything he had inside him, he had the desperate look of a person who knew that the slightest provocation would trigger another convulsion. I put the cell phone on speaker and dialed Halimi’s number.
“Hi, sweetie,” Halimi said. I must have woken him up from a power nap. Jean, sitting next to me, gasped at the sounds emitting from the phone.
“Hi, Limi,” I said, my voice gentler than usual.
“What’s up? How’s the city that never sleeps? Did you get sushi?” Halimi said lazily.
“Yes, sure, everything’s great,” I said, perturbed that Jean was coughing torturously. He collapsed to the ground, limbs splayed.
“Are you listening?” I said, sitting down beside Jean and stroking his long hair, which fell loosely around his face. Jean’s breathing was labored. “My battery’s about to die, and things are a bit wild here at the publishing house—they’ve landed me with a piece of proofreading as well …”
I heard Halimi lighting a cigarette.
“Long story short, I’ll probably be back late, but don’t worry if I don’t answer when you call. You know how temperamental my phone can be.”
“Okay, Diti,” Halimi said. “Thanks for letting me know, my love. Lily and I’ll be waiting for you in our pajamas.”
I blew him kisses and switched the phone off. I looked at Jean some more. His breathing was still labored.
It was only then I noticed the blood, dripping slowly from his wrist.
“We need to get that bandaged up,” I said quietly. “Do you want to rest, and then we’ll walk around a little?”
He opened his eyes a chink. “No, not this time, my lady. Prithee, take me back.”
I grasped his hand and pulled him toward the book-sized puddle.