Chapter Twenty-One
“And Pharaoh said: ‘Go up, and bury thy father,
according as he made thee swear.”
“So how were things with Melody?” Max asked his son as he entered the house. When he noticed that Yiftach wasn’t answering, he added yet another question, “Are you okay?”
They sat in the living room and Yiftach told his father everything—his dream about Nicole, his feelings for Melody and the letter he found in which she confessed her love for Eitan and set a date to see him again.
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit hard on her?” Max asked, “that’s a letter she wrote almost three years ago, way before the two of you ever met.”
“And she planned to keep that date even after we met. Don’t you see, Dad? She planned the whole thing. She was trying to get over this Eitan through me, and still keep all her options open.”
“She didn’t plan anything. You are responsible for having fallen in love with her and, by doing that, you also allowed Melody to free you from Nicole’s hold on you.”
“I don’t know… do you have evidence to back that up?”
“I know you’re a lawyer, but if you’re going to search for proof for everything in life, you will remain stuck in place.”
“Okay, Dad, enough. I’ve made a decision—this thing with Melody is over,” Yiftach said quietly but, in a voice steeped in anger, stated, “and you too should forget about her.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Max said.
“What did you just call me? Have you been drinking again?” Yiftach suddenly understood that what he was actually seeking was a worthy opponent to fight with.
“Why can’t you back me up for a change? Look at you—you haven’t said one nice word to me since the trial began.
Look at me—look at your son! You’re lecturing me about Melody? I’m the most famous man in the world!”
“Publicity isn’t always a good thing and, even if your actions are legendary, it doesn’t necessarily mean that they are good or moral.”
“So that’s what this is all about, Dad? You don’t approve of this trial? You were against it from the start?”
“Do you really want to throw Love into prison? Is that your final goal?”
“It’s not a final goal, but it is a halfway station to a better place. Why is it so hard for you to support me? Just look at the fame I’ve attained, doesn’t that interest you?”
“Is that what defines you?”
“What defines me is what I feel.”
“And also what you do.”
“I do what is needed to be done, what is just and moral. Criminals feed off the compassion of a forgiving society. Especially serial criminals, and Love is a serial criminal!”
“The hatred, the anger and the publicity that you’ve accumulated may give you a sense of power but, if you aren’t careful—they will destroy you!”
“You won’t take the hatred away from me. It is all I have left.” Fury ran rampant throughout Yiftach’s body, he was a flame of fire blazing out of control. “And anyway, what is it that you want from me? What do you want from all the broken-hearted people? Don’t you think they deserve justice?”
“You’re not talking about justice. You’re talking about revenge.”
“Sometimes they’re one and the same.”
“Not this time. Justice also includes concern for the stories of others. In contrast, revenge is spurred by the desire to fulfill your needs—and your needs only.”
A moment of silence hung between them before Max continued to speak. “You know, after Amitai was killed, I saw how quickly you changed from an adolescent into a man. It filled me with pride. But look at you now… you’re dragging your life along like some suitcase.”
“Here we go again with the same speeches… where is Mother when we need her?”
“Your mother is still dead and I’m still alive, so you’d better start listening to me too. Just look at you, ever since you returned from the States you’ve become bitter and arrogant, detached and haughty. You think you know everything and that you’re better than everyone.”
“My sobriety is worth something, Dad.”
“And my years of experience are worth a thing or two… and I’m telling you—you won’t win this trial.”
“We’ll wait and see… and here we are, back at square one—do you have anything good to say to me?”
“Yes, that my ability to read people, especially the eyes of my son, is an acquired skill.”
“It seems to me it’s also a vanishing skill.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“So talk to the point. What are you trying to say?”
“That Nicole doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Yes she does, just in the past.”
“Which means she is nonexistent.”
“She does exist, but in the past.”
“And the past that you’re talking about—does it exist in the physical world? Is there a place where the past continues to occur?”
“No…”
“So, therefore, neither it nor she exists.”
“They do!”
“Where?”
“In a non-physical place—in memories.”
“Precisely. It is the memories that you are clinging to because you think that if you let go of the memories, Nicole will disappear and with it will also vanish the one chance still left for you to be together again.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“That you are allowed to let go of your memories of Nicole and that each time you talk about Melody, you’re not impartial. Remember, my son, the heart is never impartial. Why don’t you just stand up and do something?”
“Like what?”
“Like to forget about Nicole and think of Melody, you idiot!” Max’s patience ran out and his nerves were highly strung.
“You really don’t understand? I already lost one son in my life and I’m not very happy to see my other son losing his sanity.
If only I could, I would get up and slap your face to save you from the swamp you’ve been sinking into ever since the whole story with Nicole went wrong.
But I’m too tired, I’m too old and, damn it, I’m too sick to do it.
Chava!” he yelled, “I don’t feel well! I want to go to sleep.
” Yiftach turned to go to his room, feeling a bit ashamed of himself.
That night, Yiftach twisted and turned in bed and couldn’t sleep.
He felt confused and lost. He walked out of the house with some misgiving, got into his car, and drove off.
He kept changing radio stations until he finally landed on a stupid debate on a sports channel.
The world was now split in two, thanks to the principled war that he himself had created, so he sometimes enjoyed hearing people arguing about nonsense.
After about ten minutes, he pulled up to the beach in Netanya.
At four a.m., the dark skies enveloped him in grogginess and he fell asleep in his car.
He woke up three hours later thinking about the dream he just had.
When he suddenly glanced at his cellphone, he noticed six unanswered messages: two voice messages and four text messages.
Chava was looking for him, her voice was frightened and anxious.
She asked where he was and why he wasn’t answering her calls.
In her last message, she told him to come to Meir Hospital in Kfar Sava as quickly as possible.