Chapter 3
Stalking in Savyon
After Lily dropped me off and drove away, I spent the whole day in a restless state.
I couldn’t erase her image from my mind.
I knew that if I could just suppress my thoughts, there was a good chance I’d forget her before I got back from Finland.
Logically, that was the best outcome for me.
After all, she’d made it clear she had a boyfriend – and more than that, she was sick, on borrowed time, like the department head had said.
Two years to live, I told myself. Two years and then no more Lily.
Why would I even get involved? But logic was one thing, and emotion another.
An uncontrollable urge took over – I had to see her again, at least once more.
Suddenly, the perfect plan flashed into my mind: how to “accidentally” run into Lily again.
The thought set my whole body buzzing, blowing down the house of cards I’d tried to build.
I needed someone to team up with, someone who could get me the information I needed for this mission and also convince me that I wasn’t completely insane.
I called Max – who’d be crazy enough to go along with me.
I knew he’d be the perfect accomplice for my wild plan.
He always knew things before anyone else, asked questions, and gave opinions on everything.
He understood things at lightning speed, even stuff he didn’t actually know about.
He could get anything and always knew the right people at the right time.
“Do you have a map of Savyon?” I asked when he picked up.
“What??? From where?”
“I don’t know, but get me one. Savyon and Judah-Gardens – better safe than sorry.”
“Have you lost it? From where?” I wasn’t surprised when, a few hours later, he called back to say the map was in his hands.
“Bring a pencil too.”
“I’ll pick you up from my place at seven sharp.”
“What’s with the map and the pencil? Is there a war?”
“I think so – and this time, I’m shooting first.”
“At whom?”
“C’mon, man, stop asking questions. I’m not sure I’ve got answers.
” By six thirty, I was already waiting. The front door was, as always, unlocked.
Every visitor, even the first timers, felt at home there.
I walked in. Only his mom was in the kitchen.
She was one of the most colorful women I knew.
You could talk to her about family, politics, arak, or poker – a game she especially loved.
As we chatted, I debated whether to tell her about my “brilliant” plan.
A mother of ten, she’d definitely have wise advice – but maybe also the advice I didn’t want to hear: to let the whole thing go.
And I wasn’t ready for that. So I kept the conversation light. Max showed up at a quarter to seven.
“So what’s the plan?” he asked eagerly.
“We’re going to Savyon to look for a Peugeot 504.”
“Whose? What color? What’s the number?”
“Some girl I met today. I fell for her, but she’s got a boyfriend. The car’s white, and the last three digits on the plate are 567.” Only after I said the words “I fell for her” did I realize the seed of love had already been planted.
“Whoa – you’re in love?”
“I think so.”
“But she’s got a boyfriend.”
“I know. That only makes it more of a challenge.”
“And her?”
“I haven’t asked yet.”
“Did you set something up with her?”
“No, but we’ll find her,” I said with confidence.
I had no idea what time she was supposed to be in Savyon, or even where.
Sure, Savyon isn’t that big, but the odds were stacked against me.
Max spread the map open. I was stunned – he’d gotten it, plus an aerial photo, from a relative in military intelligence, scale 1:10,000.
You could practically see the flowers in every yard, maybe even smell them.
I knew I could count on him. Slowly, the tension eased.
Together, we marked a winding route that would cover all the streets.
We figured we could cover the whole town in about thirty minutes.
“We start now and drive around till ten,” I declared in my best veteran-officer tone.
“Are you nuts? Three hours?!” He looked at me in horror.
“You know what? We’ll do five or six loops. If we find her – it means God’s with me. If not, He’s with her boyfriend,” I said, brushing off his protest. We climbed into my dad’s blue Ford. He drove; I navigated. By 7:15, we were at the roundabout at the entrance to town.
We started circling the neighborhood as night fell, groping our way through the darkness.
Here and there, we passed pedestrians, but we couldn’t ask anyone anything.
What were we supposed to say? Have you seen a white Peugeot 504 driven by a beautiful girl with green eyes?
Around eight o’clock, we found ourselves back at the roundabout.
No sign of the white Peugeot ending in 567.
“Maybe she hasn’t arrived yet?” Max wondered aloud. To my relief, he was already caught up in the mission.
“Or maybe she already left?” I voiced my own hidden fear, then quickly suggested another plan to push it aside.
“Let’s do another round – and this time we’ll hit the cul-de-sacs too.” Nothing changed, except the disappointment and despair that began to gnaw at me. Another half hour slipped by. We stopped at the neighborhood center for a soda.
“Look,” Max suddenly pointed to a white 504 gliding slowly through the roundabout.
“Let’s go!” We leapt back into the Ford and tailed it.
As we got closer, I saw the plate was different. We turned back, frustrated.
“Let’s try the other direction,” I suggested, hoping a change of luck might help.
“Let’s do it!” We drove down the main boulevard. To my surprise, about five hundred meters from the center, I spotted a 504 parked in front of a house.
“Stop!” I jumped out, knees shaking, and approached the car. There it was – 567. I touched the hood. Cold.
“It’s been here at least an hour. How did we miss it?”
“Forget it – for now, God’s with you. Stop whining.”
“I can’t believe it. I’m checking again to be sure.” A weak yellow light spilled across the doorway. Only one window glowed inside the house. Savyon’s silence was stifling. I had no idea what to expect.
“I’m not leaving until she comes out,” I told Max.
“And me? What’s my role in this plan?”
“I’ll get into her Peugeot. If she doesn’t throw me out, you follow us.
I need to have the Ford back to my dad by seven in the morning.
Let’s see what happens till then.” I was so hyped I didn’t even stop to hear how crazy I sounded.
I leaned against her car and waited. Half an hour crawled by.
Nothing moved – like the world had frozen.
The street was empty, even the dog-walkers had vanished.
Occasionally, a car passed. The driver would glance at Max, who sat in the Ford pretending to read an old newspaper.
From where I stood, he looked like a private detective on a stakeout.
Suddenly the pathway lit up, followed by the porch.
A second later the front door opened. I adjusted my glasses, straining to see.
Lily stood in the doorway, her back to me, talking to someone.
Her blond hair gleamed under the porch light.
Then I heard her voice cut through the silence:
“See you next week.” She turned toward the street.
My eyes locked on her. I didn’t want to startle her – I was afraid she’d be spooked.
She looked left, then right, as if she’d forgotten where she parked.
She glanced quickly at the Ford across the street, ignored it, then started toward the Peugeot. She stopped a few feet away.
“Lily?”
“Yes?” She looked surprised, but not scared.
“Michael. From this morning.”
“Michael? What are you doing here?”
“Trying to hitch another ride with you to Tel-Aviv.”
“Are you crazy? I told you, I have a boyfriend.”
“I didn’t say anything about dating. Just a ride.”
“A ride for life?” she teased.
“You said it!” I laughed.
“This isn’t going to work.”
“What harm is there if I tag along to Tel-Aviv?”
“Honestly, I mind,” she said seriously.
“But then again – what could happen? You’re a doctor. You wouldn’t want trouble.”
“What do you mean?” I echoed my morning question, still unable to read her.
“Exactly what you mean.”
“Hold on, let me just tell someone something,” I said, running back to the Ford.
“To Ramat Aviv,” I told Max happily, “to the university, corner of Tagore street. You can join us later – I’ll wait.”
“Bastard. Son of a bitch,” he muttered, starting the Ford.
“Bastard,” she repeated when I got into her car, as if she’d heard him – or had known us forever.
“Do we have to go to Ramat Aviv?” I asked, hoping to convince her to stop for coffee first.
“We don’t have to. But we are,” she ruled.
“Your boyfriend’s waiting?”
“Counting the minutes.”
“Really? That jealous?”
“I told you this morning – nothing’s changed in the last few hours.”
“So what are you doing here?” I shifted the subject.
“Visiting Sara, an American psychiatrist some friends in Ashkelon introduced me to. She recently left her hospital job and now only takes on special cases. She’s very selective.
This is our second meeting. I think she’s fallen for me.
She wants to keep seeing me for free. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
” I hadn’t expected such a long, detailed answer.
It was the most she’d ever said. She shifted into drive and headed toward Tel-Aviv.
This time, she didn’t cover her right cheek with her hand.
I studied her from the side. She looked perfect, just like that morning.
In real life, she was even more beautiful than in memory.
We sped toward the Savyon junction. I had hoped the drive would stretch out, that we’d talk more – but the roads were nearly empty, and every light was green.
We hardly spoke. I kept staring at her, hypnotized, until she turned and smiled.
“Don’t you ever get tired?”
“Of what?”
“Of staring at me all the time.”
“I love it. I keep discovering something new.”
“This morning, when I covered my cheek, I was hiding a pimple,” she admitted.
“I didn’t even notice. It disappears in your beauty.”
“Stop flattering me,” she said, without much conviction.
“I mean it. Swear to God.” I said earnestly.
“I don’t believe in oaths. Or in God at all.”
“I do,” I said quietly. “Sometimes I’m sure He arranges things.” But then I remembered the plan God supposedly had for Lily.
“Even this meeting?” she asked, cutting into my thoughts.
“This one too.” We fell silent again.
“Where do you live?” I asked as the car slowed, sensing the ride was ending. I wanted to stretch out every second.
“Not far,” she said curtly. When I lingered, she added: “But I’m not telling you exactly where – because tomorrow morning, you’ll show up at the door.”
“Take my number, just in case…” I kept hoping.
“I told you, no chance. I’m getting married.”
“What?!” The words hit me like a kick in the gut. I hadn’t seen it coming. Fuck.
“Yes. I’m getting married,” she repeated, twisting the knife.
“When?” I croaked, struggling to let go of the hopes and dreams I’d spun since the moment I saw her.
“Two months, give or take.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“You could’ve hinted.”
“I did. You ignored it. I saw.” The helplessness washing over me was terrifying. I felt that if I stayed in the car another second, I wouldn’t make it out.
“If anything changes – you know how to reach me. Shira has my number.” I refused to let go.
“Believe me, I know.”
I stepped out into the night air, humiliated. I felt like a complete idiot. She’d told me a dozen times I didn’t stand a chance – and still I kept dreaming, pushing, fighting…
The Ford’s headlights flickered. Max was waiting at the junction. My legs felt like lead as I walked toward him, as if the earth wanted to swallow me, to save me from my own shame.
“Forget it,” I sighed, opening the car door and seeing the expectation on his face.
“Don’t even ask.”
“Well?” he prodded.
“She’s getting married in two months,” I said bleakly.
“You’re screwed.”
“Big time,” I answered, and meant it.
Neither of us could imagine the twists the next two months would bring.