I learned very quickly as a teenager never to say goodbye. Goodbye, I learned, is forever. It seemed like when ever I said goodbye to anybody they'd leave me, or die. I think of my teenage life in the US as sort of like that game where you stack up all the blocks and pull them out and hope the little tower doesn't fall down. My grandpa dying was the first three blocks. Those three blocks made me vulnerable to relationships with anybody who'd "love" me. Those relationships gave way to what I imagine another three blocks or so, at which point the tower became rather unsteady.
When I was 15 I met a guy in America, Marvin. He was only two years older, but he "loved" me. In the beginning, I thought it was all good, but it it only took a few months to start slowly slipping. Offhand comments about my religion, my political beliefs, my family and their beliefs. I stayed with him until I was 18. Maybe it was because I finally snapped. Maybe it was because I found what a man is supposed to treat a woman like. I suppose I'll never know for sure what made me do it. Maybe it was the last little comments he made.
The day I turned 18 I had a huge party. No one showed up. I ended up sharing pizza and candy with Leon and Eliana. I realized at that point who my friends really were. It still hurt that even though so many people had said they'd come, only two of them showed up. It made me wonder if I mattered to anybody. It was that night that I decided that if no one cared enough I wouldn't keep trying to please them and I would never fold to anybody else's demands again. That was the block that caused the tower to tumble. Over the next six months I proceed to do anything and everything I could to push my family and so-called friends away from me. I stayed out past curfew, I dyed my hair funny colours and I pierced everything I could think of.
Getting my friends to hate me was the easy part. I decided my family didn't need me anyway. I took a bottle of pills and went to bed. Eliana was the one, again, who noticed something was wrong with me. I was beginning to resent Eliana- I saw it as her fault that I had to be alive. I hated that, and yet, at the same time, loved her for it. After I'd been held in the hospital for two full weeks, I decided that I had to do something to get away from all of the memories and people. It was at that moment I decided I was moving to another country.
When I got home, I sat down at my desk and began contemplating where I was going to go. I drew all over my diary with a green magic marker. Not England. Too many memories there. I thought long and hard about where I was going. Then it hit me, I was Jewish. I'd fit in just fine in Israel. I had no idea what I was in for.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Me, Delilah
I love it when it rains. I love watching it from inside and I love going outside to play in the rain. I guess that's how I found myself on 2nd street on March 21st that day. It was raining and my best friend, Leon, and I wanted to go for a walk. I splashed around in the puddles in my blue sneakers while Leon did his usual relaxed walk with his hands in his pockets. I stopped in front of him and laughed. He smiled at me.
I met Leon in the 7th grade at Jackson Middle School in Maples, WA. He sat by me in Mr. Acker's second hour art class. I failed because I liked to watch Leon draw. He drew beautifully and his hands were so full of grace. For some reason, watching someone draw the way he did was so mesmerizing to me. I could watch for hours. I always wished that I could draw that way. To take an image that existed only in my head and put it on paper for the whole world to see.
I was never the popular girl in high school, but that never bothered me, because the friends I had were real. I was never afraid to get dirty. And although I was shy, i wasn't afraid to make an idiot out of myself for fun or to cheer a friend up. High school wasn't the place for me, though. I suppose it's a great stepping stone for a lot of people, but for me it was just a struggle to keep my head above water. With being "unpopular", came people teasing me. I left my sophomore year to go to college.
I always wanted to be just like my older sister, Eliana. She was calm and quiet, with few friends, but they mattered. I had one sister, Eliana, and two brothers, Daniel, and Joshua. I was the closest with Joshua. He was my only blood sibling. We were all adopted. When we were little, Joshua and I used to talk about what we thought our real parents might be like.
Joshua was two years older than me, Eliana was six years older than me and Daniel was four years older. Eliana and Daniel were adopted together, and Joshua and I were adopted together. I was closer with Joshua, not only because our ages were closer, but because he was my only blood sibling. Eliana was a little more withdrawn and tried to be a good big sister to me but she and I never understood each other. Daniel stuck with Eliana and didn't really make an effort to make family of me or Joshua.
Daniel was always a little bit of a rebel. He always got in trouble at school, and would sometimes refuse to talk to anyone but Eliana for days on end. When I asked my mom about his odd behavior, she said only that Daniel and Eliana had been through terrible things during their lives, things that I would understand later.
Growing up, Joshua was my best friend. He never let kids in school pick on me and he helped me with my homework. He always put me before himself. There was never a time when he'd turn me down to go somewhere with his friends. He played guitar and wanted to be a rock star when he grew up. I wanted to be a rock star, too. I always took his guitar and played with it. Every time I unknowingly untuned his guitar playing with the strings and such, but he never got angry with me.
Eliana and I got along but with little communication. She wanted to be a pianist when she grew up. Our parents bought a keyboard that sat in the room I shared with her in our house on Pritchett street. Eliana and I weren't ever like sisters, we just shared a room. She cared about me, and I cared about her, but we never acted like sisters. Joshua and Eliana got along fine, but they didn't seem to have any more of a bond than I had with her. If anything, there was a tenseness between them because Joshua always thought that she should be more a part of my life than she was.
I met Leon in the 7th grade at Jackson Middle School in Maples, WA. He sat by me in Mr. Acker's second hour art class. I failed because I liked to watch Leon draw. He drew beautifully and his hands were so full of grace. For some reason, watching someone draw the way he did was so mesmerizing to me. I could watch for hours. I always wished that I could draw that way. To take an image that existed only in my head and put it on paper for the whole world to see.
I was never the popular girl in high school, but that never bothered me, because the friends I had were real. I was never afraid to get dirty. And although I was shy, i wasn't afraid to make an idiot out of myself for fun or to cheer a friend up. High school wasn't the place for me, though. I suppose it's a great stepping stone for a lot of people, but for me it was just a struggle to keep my head above water. With being "unpopular", came people teasing me. I left my sophomore year to go to college.
I always wanted to be just like my older sister, Eliana. She was calm and quiet, with few friends, but they mattered. I had one sister, Eliana, and two brothers, Daniel, and Joshua. I was the closest with Joshua. He was my only blood sibling. We were all adopted. When we were little, Joshua and I used to talk about what we thought our real parents might be like.
Joshua was two years older than me, Eliana was six years older than me and Daniel was four years older. Eliana and Daniel were adopted together, and Joshua and I were adopted together. I was closer with Joshua, not only because our ages were closer, but because he was my only blood sibling. Eliana was a little more withdrawn and tried to be a good big sister to me but she and I never understood each other. Daniel stuck with Eliana and didn't really make an effort to make family of me or Joshua.
Daniel was always a little bit of a rebel. He always got in trouble at school, and would sometimes refuse to talk to anyone but Eliana for days on end. When I asked my mom about his odd behavior, she said only that Daniel and Eliana had been through terrible things during their lives, things that I would understand later.
Growing up, Joshua was my best friend. He never let kids in school pick on me and he helped me with my homework. He always put me before himself. There was never a time when he'd turn me down to go somewhere with his friends. He played guitar and wanted to be a rock star when he grew up. I wanted to be a rock star, too. I always took his guitar and played with it. Every time I unknowingly untuned his guitar playing with the strings and such, but he never got angry with me.
Eliana and I got along but with little communication. She wanted to be a pianist when she grew up. Our parents bought a keyboard that sat in the room I shared with her in our house on Pritchett street. Eliana and I weren't ever like sisters, we just shared a room. She cared about me, and I cared about her, but we never acted like sisters. Joshua and Eliana got along fine, but they didn't seem to have any more of a bond than I had with her. If anything, there was a tenseness between them because Joshua always thought that she should be more a part of my life than she was.
A Piano In England, A Bullet In America
I always slightly envied Eliana's piano skills. When I was 10, Eliana was invited to play piano in London. After some begging, it was agreed upon by our parents that I could go with her. It was the highlight of my first 10 years of life. The plane took forever, but it was worth it. She played "Moonlight Sonata" in front of more people than I'd ever seen before. It was beautiful.
After she was done playing, we went out for dinner and back to our hotel room. Eliana let me jump on my bed. We had one room and my bed was right next to hers. She'd just gotten out of the shower and was sitting on her bed drying her hair when the phone rang. "Be quiet, Lilah", she said as she reached for it. I got up and left before she even picked it up. I wandered into the other room to look for something to eat when I heard her start to cry. I quietly went back to the bedroom and peeked around the corner. I couldn't understand what she was saying through her tears. She hung up after about three minutes and I hid around the corner while she tried to put on a composed face.
"Delilah?" She called out to me, her voice still shaky. I got up and slowly walked into our room. She opened her arms for me to come sit by her. I did so and after a while of just sitting by her, she told me that something bad had happened. "Lilah... Joshua got shot today." She started crying quietly again. She took a deep breath and finished... "He died, Lilah." I didn't believe her. I just told her I wanted to go home. I didn't want to cry. I was mad. I just wanted to go home. She was lying to me.
The next morning we got on a plane and went back home three days early. I was starting to believe her. When we got off the plane, our mom was standing outside of the terminal waiting. Her eyes were red and she looked like she hadn't slept in a week. "Where's Joshua mom?" She looked down at me. I suppose she understood. She never answered my question. We got our luggage and the drive home was completely silent.
My brother's death became real to me when we got to the house. Our dad came out and hugged Eliana and I, and we took our things inside. There were flowers and pictures all over the house. Joshua was not in his room. I don't know how long I stood in his doorway before Daniel came up behind me. "He's not coming back, Delilah". It was at that moment that I realized that Eliana was not lying. I screamed and collapsed to the floor, almost as if I were throwing a temper tantrum. I didn't want him to be gone.
There was a memorial service for him the next day. The next six months in my house were unusually quiet and sad. I expected him to still be there. I went looking for him the first few days after I came home. After that I just waited for him to come home. It took me a long time to stop expecting him to come play with me or tease me. It took me six years to understand... Joshua was never coming home.
I was sixteen when it really hit me that my brother was never going to come home. It was on June 16, his birthday. I'd almost forgotten. I got up and as always on that day of every year, my mother sat at the table with a bunch of pink roses and cried. I don't know what made this time different. My dad usually just stayed quiet all day. "He would've been 18..." my mom sobbed "He would have been an adult today". My dad hung his head and helped my mom up out of the kitchen chair and she walked half-limp by his side. I turned around and waited for Eliana.
We went to the graveyard just like every other June 16th, and my mom cried and told him happy birthday...It was raining. I think it was then that it occurred to me that he was not coming back. "Joshua Kristov. Beloved brother, son, and friend". That was my brother's name. The rain picked up and started bouncing up off the ground and my mom, on her knees didn't seem to care as she brushed the dust and dirt off my brother's grave. He wasn't coming back. This was as close to him as I'd ever come again.
I was quiet for the ride home. I felt as if he had just died. When I got home I decided that I would not live this life without my brother. I stayed in my room most of the day and cried. My parents chalked it up to the day. That night, I made possibly the biggest mistake of my life. I waited until I thought everyone was sleeping. I went into the kitchen and got one of my mom's knives. I ran a bathtub full of water. It was warm and at first I was afraid. Then a sudden wave of anger hit me, the anger at the horrible people who'd ended my brother's life. This was my punishing them. I cut my wrists. I watched the blood run down my arms and into the water. I don't know how long I watched that before I started to feel dizzy, and cold, and tired... I laid my arms down by my sides and closed my eyes.
Eliana some time during the night wanted the bathroom. I was later told that when I didn't say anything when she knocked, she thought that I'd just left the light on and walked in. I woke up the next day in the hospital. "You're lucky", the nurse said to me. I didn't feel lucky. I wanted to die. Plain and simple. "Shut up. You should have let me die." She sighed and left.
The hospital kept me for 72 hours and during that time my family all wanted to see me. I didn't want to see them. They all asked the same question. "Why?", and I didn't know the answer to it. I didn't want to explain anything to anybody or even try.
That was my first suicide attempt.
After she was done playing, we went out for dinner and back to our hotel room. Eliana let me jump on my bed. We had one room and my bed was right next to hers. She'd just gotten out of the shower and was sitting on her bed drying her hair when the phone rang. "Be quiet, Lilah", she said as she reached for it. I got up and left before she even picked it up. I wandered into the other room to look for something to eat when I heard her start to cry. I quietly went back to the bedroom and peeked around the corner. I couldn't understand what she was saying through her tears. She hung up after about three minutes and I hid around the corner while she tried to put on a composed face.
"Delilah?" She called out to me, her voice still shaky. I got up and slowly walked into our room. She opened her arms for me to come sit by her. I did so and after a while of just sitting by her, she told me that something bad had happened. "Lilah... Joshua got shot today." She started crying quietly again. She took a deep breath and finished... "He died, Lilah." I didn't believe her. I just told her I wanted to go home. I didn't want to cry. I was mad. I just wanted to go home. She was lying to me.
The next morning we got on a plane and went back home three days early. I was starting to believe her. When we got off the plane, our mom was standing outside of the terminal waiting. Her eyes were red and she looked like she hadn't slept in a week. "Where's Joshua mom?" She looked down at me. I suppose she understood. She never answered my question. We got our luggage and the drive home was completely silent.
My brother's death became real to me when we got to the house. Our dad came out and hugged Eliana and I, and we took our things inside. There were flowers and pictures all over the house. Joshua was not in his room. I don't know how long I stood in his doorway before Daniel came up behind me. "He's not coming back, Delilah". It was at that moment that I realized that Eliana was not lying. I screamed and collapsed to the floor, almost as if I were throwing a temper tantrum. I didn't want him to be gone.
There was a memorial service for him the next day. The next six months in my house were unusually quiet and sad. I expected him to still be there. I went looking for him the first few days after I came home. After that I just waited for him to come home. It took me a long time to stop expecting him to come play with me or tease me. It took me six years to understand... Joshua was never coming home.
I was sixteen when it really hit me that my brother was never going to come home. It was on June 16, his birthday. I'd almost forgotten. I got up and as always on that day of every year, my mother sat at the table with a bunch of pink roses and cried. I don't know what made this time different. My dad usually just stayed quiet all day. "He would've been 18..." my mom sobbed "He would have been an adult today". My dad hung his head and helped my mom up out of the kitchen chair and she walked half-limp by his side. I turned around and waited for Eliana.
We went to the graveyard just like every other June 16th, and my mom cried and told him happy birthday...It was raining. I think it was then that it occurred to me that he was not coming back. "Joshua Kristov. Beloved brother, son, and friend". That was my brother's name. The rain picked up and started bouncing up off the ground and my mom, on her knees didn't seem to care as she brushed the dust and dirt off my brother's grave. He wasn't coming back. This was as close to him as I'd ever come again.
I was quiet for the ride home. I felt as if he had just died. When I got home I decided that I would not live this life without my brother. I stayed in my room most of the day and cried. My parents chalked it up to the day. That night, I made possibly the biggest mistake of my life. I waited until I thought everyone was sleeping. I went into the kitchen and got one of my mom's knives. I ran a bathtub full of water. It was warm and at first I was afraid. Then a sudden wave of anger hit me, the anger at the horrible people who'd ended my brother's life. This was my punishing them. I cut my wrists. I watched the blood run down my arms and into the water. I don't know how long I watched that before I started to feel dizzy, and cold, and tired... I laid my arms down by my sides and closed my eyes.
Eliana some time during the night wanted the bathroom. I was later told that when I didn't say anything when she knocked, she thought that I'd just left the light on and walked in. I woke up the next day in the hospital. "You're lucky", the nurse said to me. I didn't feel lucky. I wanted to die. Plain and simple. "Shut up. You should have let me die." She sighed and left.
The hospital kept me for 72 hours and during that time my family all wanted to see me. I didn't want to see them. They all asked the same question. "Why?", and I didn't know the answer to it. I didn't want to explain anything to anybody or even try.
That was my first suicide attempt.
Time & Love
The passage of time is sometimes measured in minutes, hours, days, and years. However, to me, all time is, is a set of memories and moments. Some moments will make important memories, others will be nothing but a bleak and empty place in one's soul. At some points, however, when something is lost, what a person may previously have perceived as meaningless, can turn into one of the most important memories of life.
I've always wondered what people see when they look at the people around them. Occasionally strangers meet eyes somewhere, a single glance, a momentary exchange of emotions; of lives, and they each form their own opinion about the other person, whether they realize it or not. At that moment, every piece of one's life experience factors in to create a single thought. That thought will become a memory, and although in a miniscule fashion, that memory will influence the next time you form an opinion.
"I'm not long for this world", he spoke softly, more so than his usual calm tone- as if that would make it better. I stared at the floor, and for a moment, time just stopped. A silence that could have been cut with a knife overtook the room- it stole my breath and every bit of warmth from my body. Across the room, I heard my aunt whimper, then cry. What could have been any ordinary nothing memory to me, turned at that moment to what I can only describe as a bomb being dropped on my life. I knew at that moment that the way I saw the world and lived my life would be changed forever. I knew that soon it would change even more.
I think the thing that made me the most angry about that situation was that grandpa knew he was going to die. Furthering my anger was that I could blame it on another person, hold another human being responsible for his sickness, and ultimately his death- but that I couldn't scream at them, or hurt them, or even kill them. It was a whole company, and the ones responsible for that moment, and so many others in my life, as well as in the lives of what I could only imagine thousands of other people, were already dead. He refused to place blame. To this day, I don't know how to feel about that.
Two months after that day, I came home to an existence forever broken. It was one of those times I knew exactly what was happening, but forced myself not to know. An hour later, my dad told my brother and I that a part of us was dead, and that the our lives would never be the same. He didn't say that, but what we heard that day was tantamount to just that- the end of the world as we knew it.
The day he died, the weather was beautiful. More so than it had been in so long. The sun was out and it was warm with only a slight breeze. I remember the day he told us he would soon leave us was a sunny day, too. I imagine that the sun and the calm outside the day he died was the angels welcoming him home, and the heavens opening their arms to him. The beauty shown on the earth for us to see that day pales in comparison to the amazing things I know he sees every day now. Every sunny day, like the day in June, is a memoir to him, and a reminder that no matter who leaves me, I will never walk alone.
Love is a strange and confusing emotion, if it could be described as that at all. It can take so many forms- A friend, a family member, romance. There's little difference in the feeling itself, but at the same time, they're so different that they can barely fit into the same catagory. Love is bittersweet, though. It has no storybook ending. Nothing ever ends happily ever after. While it lasts, though, it's a drug just like any other. You enjoy it, you will kill for it, you need it, and when it runs out, you're left a terrible mess of a person.
Before my grandpa died, people were at least civil to each other at family gatherings. After he was gone, slowly but surely, the sanity slipped. Comments that never would have been made in his presence. Did they realize that they are still in his presence? I did. It made me want to scream. In a room like this, though, no one would hear me. It was every comment ever made at the table in the house with the pink wallpaper and the white carpet that changed me forever. A demon spawned at that table. A cold cruel demon that shared it's energy among everyone there. I don't know quite what created it. I hope that I never will.
In the house with the pink wallpaper, if I should ever go in the room with the piano, I can almost see him. Just almost. His frail fingers on the keys in his blue shirt and if I'm really lucky, I can hear him play. I watch his fingers move over the keys and as they press down. Amazing, somber and strong melodies follow. The kind that stops your heart from beating and changes the way you look at the world, if only for a moment. His eyes forward, occasionally looking down... His figure and gifted hands are but a slow-moving image now, and the music he played is but a whisper.. They exist now only in my memories and my dreams. They will live there forever, as will his soul and every bit of love he ever gave me.
I've always wondered what people see when they look at the people around them. Occasionally strangers meet eyes somewhere, a single glance, a momentary exchange of emotions; of lives, and they each form their own opinion about the other person, whether they realize it or not. At that moment, every piece of one's life experience factors in to create a single thought. That thought will become a memory, and although in a miniscule fashion, that memory will influence the next time you form an opinion.
"I'm not long for this world", he spoke softly, more so than his usual calm tone- as if that would make it better. I stared at the floor, and for a moment, time just stopped. A silence that could have been cut with a knife overtook the room- it stole my breath and every bit of warmth from my body. Across the room, I heard my aunt whimper, then cry. What could have been any ordinary nothing memory to me, turned at that moment to what I can only describe as a bomb being dropped on my life. I knew at that moment that the way I saw the world and lived my life would be changed forever. I knew that soon it would change even more.
I think the thing that made me the most angry about that situation was that grandpa knew he was going to die. Furthering my anger was that I could blame it on another person, hold another human being responsible for his sickness, and ultimately his death- but that I couldn't scream at them, or hurt them, or even kill them. It was a whole company, and the ones responsible for that moment, and so many others in my life, as well as in the lives of what I could only imagine thousands of other people, were already dead. He refused to place blame. To this day, I don't know how to feel about that.
Two months after that day, I came home to an existence forever broken. It was one of those times I knew exactly what was happening, but forced myself not to know. An hour later, my dad told my brother and I that a part of us was dead, and that the our lives would never be the same. He didn't say that, but what we heard that day was tantamount to just that- the end of the world as we knew it.
The day he died, the weather was beautiful. More so than it had been in so long. The sun was out and it was warm with only a slight breeze. I remember the day he told us he would soon leave us was a sunny day, too. I imagine that the sun and the calm outside the day he died was the angels welcoming him home, and the heavens opening their arms to him. The beauty shown on the earth for us to see that day pales in comparison to the amazing things I know he sees every day now. Every sunny day, like the day in June, is a memoir to him, and a reminder that no matter who leaves me, I will never walk alone.
Love is a strange and confusing emotion, if it could be described as that at all. It can take so many forms- A friend, a family member, romance. There's little difference in the feeling itself, but at the same time, they're so different that they can barely fit into the same catagory. Love is bittersweet, though. It has no storybook ending. Nothing ever ends happily ever after. While it lasts, though, it's a drug just like any other. You enjoy it, you will kill for it, you need it, and when it runs out, you're left a terrible mess of a person.
Before my grandpa died, people were at least civil to each other at family gatherings. After he was gone, slowly but surely, the sanity slipped. Comments that never would have been made in his presence. Did they realize that they are still in his presence? I did. It made me want to scream. In a room like this, though, no one would hear me. It was every comment ever made at the table in the house with the pink wallpaper and the white carpet that changed me forever. A demon spawned at that table. A cold cruel demon that shared it's energy among everyone there. I don't know quite what created it. I hope that I never will.
In the house with the pink wallpaper, if I should ever go in the room with the piano, I can almost see him. Just almost. His frail fingers on the keys in his blue shirt and if I'm really lucky, I can hear him play. I watch his fingers move over the keys and as they press down. Amazing, somber and strong melodies follow. The kind that stops your heart from beating and changes the way you look at the world, if only for a moment. His eyes forward, occasionally looking down... His figure and gifted hands are but a slow-moving image now, and the music he played is but a whisper.. They exist now only in my memories and my dreams. They will live there forever, as will his soul and every bit of love he ever gave me.
A New Friend
When I came to Israel, I spoke very little Hebrew. I did, however, get a job as a waitress in a small restaurant in Tel aviv. I was, picking up on some words. As time went on, I began to hear words in the songs that played so quietly in the restaurant in which I worked, and although they were songs I'd heard many times before, I thought to myself that hearing and identifying words would be the first step for me in learning to speak and understand the language of my new country. For two months I worked in the restaurant, and I slowly developed a sense of the new language. Every word was a small victory.
As I was getting ready to leave one night, a group of four boys came in. They were particularly loud and obnoxious. I looked at my manager and he smiled back at me. I knew that look. It meant I would be serving them. The owner's daughter showed the boys to an empty table off in the corner. I put my apron back on and begrudgingly approached them. They placed their orders, and one boy said something I didn't understand. "I'm sorry...", I said, "Ani lo mevin". They all stopped and looked at each other, and began laughing. One of the boys said a word I recognized- "anglit", English. I looked down. I realized they, like many before them, were making fun of me. I sighed and looked back up to walk away, and as I turned, I realized that only three of the boys were laughing. One had a rather disappointed look on his face.
I went about cleaning other tables as the boys finished their dinner, trying my best not to look at them. Eventually, they left and the only sound left was the music that I'd heard so many times. I finished a table and turned around, only to realize that the quiet boy was still there. I put my tray on the bar and approached him. I picked up the other three glasses. "I apologize for my friends". I looked up. He was looking at me. I was rather stunned that he spoke such fluent English. "It's not a problem.", I replied with a faked smile. As I cleaned the table, he sat and stirred the ice in his glass with his straw. He helped me finish picking up the table without a word. "Thank you", I realized I was actually smiling this time. I picked up my tray and looked up. Our eyes met.
After I was given permission, I hung up my apron and proceeded to leave. As I put on my jacket and I reached for the door, he called out to me "Wait!". I was frozen. I didn't know whether to keep going or to turn around. "Just go, Delilah.", I thought. I turned around in time to see him running to catch up with me. "No one should have to walk home alone", he said. I tried not to, but despite my best efforts, I smiled a bit. He opened the door for me. "My name is Amir", he said with a smile. "That's a lovely name," I replied. "My name is..." He interrupted "Delilah?". I looked up at him with great surprise. "How did you know?" He laughed quietly and pointed to the name tag that I had forgotten to take off.
Amir walked me home that night. Right to my apartment door, "Laila tov", I smiled and started to unlock my apartment door. "Here", he said quietly as he took a piece of paper out of his pocket. I left the key in the door as I took it and looked at it. It had his name and a telephone number. "If you ever need a friend." He smiled, and walked away. I sighed with content and leaned against the outside of my door as I stared at the paper. I laughed. I'd made my first friend in my new home.
I fell asleep in my work clothes. The next morning I woke up and was pretty sure it was all a dream. I got up and made toast. For some reason, I had a very odd feeling about everything. I couldn't think about anything but the boy that I'd obviously dreamed about. I pulled the crust off my toast and made it into a star shape. I couldn't eat breakfast, so I decided to go for an early morning walk. I picked my jacket up off the chair and left. As I was walking down the beach, and the wind blew, I put my hands into my pockets, where I found the piece of paper. Amir was not a dream.
I ran back to my apartment. As I got in, I thought to myself, "why did you do that? You're not going to call him." I sat down at the table in the kitchen and stared at the paper. Why would he ever want to be my friend? I don't even speak his language. I decided at that moment that I was absolutely not calling Amir. I put my head down on the table. He seemed so sincere. I reached for the phone. I started to dial and hung up. I couldn't do it. I did this three times before I decided I was going to call. I held my breath as I dialed the numbers... With every ring, my chest tightened a bit more. "Shalom?", he answered. What was I going to say? What's my name? Oh shit. For a moment I lost my ability to speak... "Hi, Amir... It's..." Once again, he interrupted, "Delilah!" He had such a surprised and happy tone in his voice. It caught me slightly off guard, and I felt myself begin to blush, and smile. I was left at a slight lack of words. I should have thought about that whole "what to say" thing before I called him, I thought... But he headed me off- "What are you doing today? Would you like to go to lunch?"
I'm the kind of girl never to trust a man, never to love. I told him that I would go to lunch with him. He told me to meet him at the little restaurant down the street from my apartment. How bad could it go? I decided that I would have to test him to see what his motives were. It obviously couldn't be love. My hair was still wind-blown from my walk on the beach and I was dressed terribly. I stared at myself in the mirror in my bathroom. I got my favorite white sun dress and brushed my hair out. I decided to braid it into pigtails, and stuck my white flower hairpin in one side. I looked like something straight out of the 50's. Everything I did felt like it was taking forever. It'd only been ten minutes. I slipped on my white sandals and grabbed my book bag on the way out the door.
I walked down the busy street and although I was too scatter minded to bring a jacket, the breeze really didn't bother me. My mind was elsewhere. Wondering why he could have an interest in a girl like me. I hoped for the best, and I meant to prepare for the worst but his charm disallowed me to. Before I knew it, my relaxed walk was over and my thoughts returned to what was going on around me. I looked around, and I wondered why I'd never been here, even though I lived right down the street. Just as my thoughts started wandering again, over the noise of the cars and the people talking, I heard my name. I turned around, and there he was. I was mesmerized by his smile, and he looked so careful as he approached me. "Delilah." He said, as his smile widened. I looked down and felt myself smiling and beginning to blush again. "You look amazing". I looked up at him, as he held his hand out for mine. I took his hand, and felt myself letting my guard down. I could almost feel his sincerity. He really meant it.
We shared lunch that day. He told me about his family and I told him about mine. I told him about America and England. The wind died down to a gentle breeze. It felt like something out of a movie. We talked for over two hours. After a bit I found myself just staring at him, as he returned my gaze. The short comfortable silence between us was enough for me to notice everything about him. He had bright, happy, brown eyes and a smile as if it were crafted by God himself just to melt my heart. "What are you doing tonight?"- he asked me in a calm tone. I laughed a bit, I told him nothing. Tonight was my night off. "Would you like to see something beautiful?"... I smiled and nodded. "I have to go to work soon, but I will pick you up at your apartment this afternoon at 7:00." He took me back to my apartment. We held hands the whole way back, and it were as if we were made for each other, I felt myself falling in love.
I went home and laid on my sofa for a while wondering what he could possibly want to show me. I couldn't come up with anything that great. I guess I'll just have to wait. I kept myself busy playing with my cat and eventually I fell asleep with her on the sofa with my little stereo playing quietly.
I woke up when Amir knocked on my door. I was petrified. My dress was wrinkled and my hair was a mess. I picked up Dakota and answered the door. He took a look at me and chuckled, "You're so beautiful". I thought to myself that I begged to differ, I told him I would change my clothes and brush my hair and I'd be ready to go. He smiled and laughed a bit again, "You don't have to, just come with me. I have something beautiful to show you." I picked up my jacket and book bag, and he led me down the hall of my apartment and outside. We walked for quite a while and eventually we came to a place just outside of town. He took me down a trail and told me to cover my eyes. "Don't peek", he said with a smile. I didn't. I let him lead me for another two minutes or so. He took my hands and I opened my eyes. "Here. The only thing as beautiful as you." The sun was setting over the sea and the waves met softly with the rocks below us. "It's beautiful", I found myself thinking aloud.
He smiled at me and sat in the sand. I looked out, in pure amazement. By this time, the world, in my eyes, had regained it's beauty, and my soul had regained hope. I sat by him. I looked over at Amir, who looked as if he were day dreaming. "Thank you, Amir, for bringing me here." He put an arm around me and thanked me for giving him a chance. I leaned on his shoulder. "Delilah?", he asked softly. Without moving from his shoulder I replied with a quiet, "hmm?". He hesitated, and after a momentary pause, he changed my life forever. "Would it be too forward of me to ask you to be my girlfriend?" I smiled. "Not at all... not at all."
A year later, Amir called me and said he had to talk to me about something important and to meet him at the same restaurant as we first had lunch at. It was his 18th birthday, so it was obviously something fun. I excitedly got dressed into my now not so white sun dress that I'd had for so long.
I skipped down the street and when I got there, he was dressed in an olive-drab uniform holding a bouquet of white carnations. I was slightly puzzled. I'd seen soldiers dressed like that. Surely he hadn't joined the army, it was dangerous. I walked up to him slowly. "Amir?" He smiled that gentle smile he always had when he had bad news and didn't want to upset me with it.
"Lilah, we have to talk." Wait a minute, in my experience, that is not a good thing to hear. I stared up at him. He pulled a chair out and I sat down, he put his hands on mine. I continued to look at him. "What's going on, Amir?" I was afraid to let him answer. He sighed, I knew he saw my fear. "Lilah, in Israel, when you turn 18 you have to join the army." I stared in shock. "No." I told him firmly. "You aren't leaving me for that. Let's go back to America. Anywhere but here. Come on, lets go now. Please!"
He explained to me that it was his duty to his country to do what he was doing and that I shouldn't worry; that everything would be alright. It didn't feel alright. He took a deep breath and brushed my hair out of my face. "Delilah... Would you marry me?" I looked up into his eyes. "Of course..." I began to cry. "Amir you can't leave. We can go to England!" He just reached out to hug me. "Shh, Lilah. Don't you worry. No one's going to take me away from you."
I smiled and bit my tongue. I felt the tears rise. I faked the best smile I could before I saw the pain in his eyes and I began to cry. All I could think of was the dead soldiers they carried off in sheets in the middle of the very city I was in. It hit me very suddenly that those were people just like Amir, and that it could so easily happen to him. He made his best effort to comfort me. Although it was warm outside, I was shaking.
Two weeks later, just before he left, we were married on a gazebo on the beach, the wind blew gently and the waves whispered. It was the most beautiful day I'd ever seen in Tel aviv, amplified by the words "I do".
Ten days later, he left for the first time, and as promised, he came back once or twice a month for a weekend. We enjoyed our time together and spent most of it on the same beach where we promised each other and God that we would never leave each other's side
As I was getting ready to leave one night, a group of four boys came in. They were particularly loud and obnoxious. I looked at my manager and he smiled back at me. I knew that look. It meant I would be serving them. The owner's daughter showed the boys to an empty table off in the corner. I put my apron back on and begrudgingly approached them. They placed their orders, and one boy said something I didn't understand. "I'm sorry...", I said, "Ani lo mevin". They all stopped and looked at each other, and began laughing. One of the boys said a word I recognized- "anglit", English. I looked down. I realized they, like many before them, were making fun of me. I sighed and looked back up to walk away, and as I turned, I realized that only three of the boys were laughing. One had a rather disappointed look on his face.
I went about cleaning other tables as the boys finished their dinner, trying my best not to look at them. Eventually, they left and the only sound left was the music that I'd heard so many times. I finished a table and turned around, only to realize that the quiet boy was still there. I put my tray on the bar and approached him. I picked up the other three glasses. "I apologize for my friends". I looked up. He was looking at me. I was rather stunned that he spoke such fluent English. "It's not a problem.", I replied with a faked smile. As I cleaned the table, he sat and stirred the ice in his glass with his straw. He helped me finish picking up the table without a word. "Thank you", I realized I was actually smiling this time. I picked up my tray and looked up. Our eyes met.
After I was given permission, I hung up my apron and proceeded to leave. As I put on my jacket and I reached for the door, he called out to me "Wait!". I was frozen. I didn't know whether to keep going or to turn around. "Just go, Delilah.", I thought. I turned around in time to see him running to catch up with me. "No one should have to walk home alone", he said. I tried not to, but despite my best efforts, I smiled a bit. He opened the door for me. "My name is Amir", he said with a smile. "That's a lovely name," I replied. "My name is..." He interrupted "Delilah?". I looked up at him with great surprise. "How did you know?" He laughed quietly and pointed to the name tag that I had forgotten to take off.
Amir walked me home that night. Right to my apartment door, "Laila tov", I smiled and started to unlock my apartment door. "Here", he said quietly as he took a piece of paper out of his pocket. I left the key in the door as I took it and looked at it. It had his name and a telephone number. "If you ever need a friend." He smiled, and walked away. I sighed with content and leaned against the outside of my door as I stared at the paper. I laughed. I'd made my first friend in my new home.
I fell asleep in my work clothes. The next morning I woke up and was pretty sure it was all a dream. I got up and made toast. For some reason, I had a very odd feeling about everything. I couldn't think about anything but the boy that I'd obviously dreamed about. I pulled the crust off my toast and made it into a star shape. I couldn't eat breakfast, so I decided to go for an early morning walk. I picked my jacket up off the chair and left. As I was walking down the beach, and the wind blew, I put my hands into my pockets, where I found the piece of paper. Amir was not a dream.
I ran back to my apartment. As I got in, I thought to myself, "why did you do that? You're not going to call him." I sat down at the table in the kitchen and stared at the paper. Why would he ever want to be my friend? I don't even speak his language. I decided at that moment that I was absolutely not calling Amir. I put my head down on the table. He seemed so sincere. I reached for the phone. I started to dial and hung up. I couldn't do it. I did this three times before I decided I was going to call. I held my breath as I dialed the numbers... With every ring, my chest tightened a bit more. "Shalom?", he answered. What was I going to say? What's my name? Oh shit. For a moment I lost my ability to speak... "Hi, Amir... It's..." Once again, he interrupted, "Delilah!" He had such a surprised and happy tone in his voice. It caught me slightly off guard, and I felt myself begin to blush, and smile. I was left at a slight lack of words. I should have thought about that whole "what to say" thing before I called him, I thought... But he headed me off- "What are you doing today? Would you like to go to lunch?"
I'm the kind of girl never to trust a man, never to love. I told him that I would go to lunch with him. He told me to meet him at the little restaurant down the street from my apartment. How bad could it go? I decided that I would have to test him to see what his motives were. It obviously couldn't be love. My hair was still wind-blown from my walk on the beach and I was dressed terribly. I stared at myself in the mirror in my bathroom. I got my favorite white sun dress and brushed my hair out. I decided to braid it into pigtails, and stuck my white flower hairpin in one side. I looked like something straight out of the 50's. Everything I did felt like it was taking forever. It'd only been ten minutes. I slipped on my white sandals and grabbed my book bag on the way out the door.
I walked down the busy street and although I was too scatter minded to bring a jacket, the breeze really didn't bother me. My mind was elsewhere. Wondering why he could have an interest in a girl like me. I hoped for the best, and I meant to prepare for the worst but his charm disallowed me to. Before I knew it, my relaxed walk was over and my thoughts returned to what was going on around me. I looked around, and I wondered why I'd never been here, even though I lived right down the street. Just as my thoughts started wandering again, over the noise of the cars and the people talking, I heard my name. I turned around, and there he was. I was mesmerized by his smile, and he looked so careful as he approached me. "Delilah." He said, as his smile widened. I looked down and felt myself smiling and beginning to blush again. "You look amazing". I looked up at him, as he held his hand out for mine. I took his hand, and felt myself letting my guard down. I could almost feel his sincerity. He really meant it.
We shared lunch that day. He told me about his family and I told him about mine. I told him about America and England. The wind died down to a gentle breeze. It felt like something out of a movie. We talked for over two hours. After a bit I found myself just staring at him, as he returned my gaze. The short comfortable silence between us was enough for me to notice everything about him. He had bright, happy, brown eyes and a smile as if it were crafted by God himself just to melt my heart. "What are you doing tonight?"- he asked me in a calm tone. I laughed a bit, I told him nothing. Tonight was my night off. "Would you like to see something beautiful?"... I smiled and nodded. "I have to go to work soon, but I will pick you up at your apartment this afternoon at 7:00." He took me back to my apartment. We held hands the whole way back, and it were as if we were made for each other, I felt myself falling in love.
I went home and laid on my sofa for a while wondering what he could possibly want to show me. I couldn't come up with anything that great. I guess I'll just have to wait. I kept myself busy playing with my cat and eventually I fell asleep with her on the sofa with my little stereo playing quietly.
I woke up when Amir knocked on my door. I was petrified. My dress was wrinkled and my hair was a mess. I picked up Dakota and answered the door. He took a look at me and chuckled, "You're so beautiful". I thought to myself that I begged to differ, I told him I would change my clothes and brush my hair and I'd be ready to go. He smiled and laughed a bit again, "You don't have to, just come with me. I have something beautiful to show you." I picked up my jacket and book bag, and he led me down the hall of my apartment and outside. We walked for quite a while and eventually we came to a place just outside of town. He took me down a trail and told me to cover my eyes. "Don't peek", he said with a smile. I didn't. I let him lead me for another two minutes or so. He took my hands and I opened my eyes. "Here. The only thing as beautiful as you." The sun was setting over the sea and the waves met softly with the rocks below us. "It's beautiful", I found myself thinking aloud.
He smiled at me and sat in the sand. I looked out, in pure amazement. By this time, the world, in my eyes, had regained it's beauty, and my soul had regained hope. I sat by him. I looked over at Amir, who looked as if he were day dreaming. "Thank you, Amir, for bringing me here." He put an arm around me and thanked me for giving him a chance. I leaned on his shoulder. "Delilah?", he asked softly. Without moving from his shoulder I replied with a quiet, "hmm?". He hesitated, and after a momentary pause, he changed my life forever. "Would it be too forward of me to ask you to be my girlfriend?" I smiled. "Not at all... not at all."
A year later, Amir called me and said he had to talk to me about something important and to meet him at the same restaurant as we first had lunch at. It was his 18th birthday, so it was obviously something fun. I excitedly got dressed into my now not so white sun dress that I'd had for so long.
I skipped down the street and when I got there, he was dressed in an olive-drab uniform holding a bouquet of white carnations. I was slightly puzzled. I'd seen soldiers dressed like that. Surely he hadn't joined the army, it was dangerous. I walked up to him slowly. "Amir?" He smiled that gentle smile he always had when he had bad news and didn't want to upset me with it.
"Lilah, we have to talk." Wait a minute, in my experience, that is not a good thing to hear. I stared up at him. He pulled a chair out and I sat down, he put his hands on mine. I continued to look at him. "What's going on, Amir?" I was afraid to let him answer. He sighed, I knew he saw my fear. "Lilah, in Israel, when you turn 18 you have to join the army." I stared in shock. "No." I told him firmly. "You aren't leaving me for that. Let's go back to America. Anywhere but here. Come on, lets go now. Please!"
He explained to me that it was his duty to his country to do what he was doing and that I shouldn't worry; that everything would be alright. It didn't feel alright. He took a deep breath and brushed my hair out of my face. "Delilah... Would you marry me?" I looked up into his eyes. "Of course..." I began to cry. "Amir you can't leave. We can go to England!" He just reached out to hug me. "Shh, Lilah. Don't you worry. No one's going to take me away from you."
I smiled and bit my tongue. I felt the tears rise. I faked the best smile I could before I saw the pain in his eyes and I began to cry. All I could think of was the dead soldiers they carried off in sheets in the middle of the very city I was in. It hit me very suddenly that those were people just like Amir, and that it could so easily happen to him. He made his best effort to comfort me. Although it was warm outside, I was shaking.
Two weeks later, just before he left, we were married on a gazebo on the beach, the wind blew gently and the waves whispered. It was the most beautiful day I'd ever seen in Tel aviv, amplified by the words "I do".
Ten days later, he left for the first time, and as promised, he came back once or twice a month for a weekend. We enjoyed our time together and spent most of it on the same beach where we promised each other and God that we would never leave each other's side
Ashes To Ashes
When Amir didn't come home on August 12 as planned, I didn't think much of it. He was often late. I always told myself he was out on a mission- like my own personal secret agent. I laughed to myself quietly at that thought as I filled the cat dish with food. I sat on the counter and watched him do his usual three-kibble taste test when there was a knock at the door
It startled calvin and he ran off to hide behind the sofa. Filled with curiosity, I hopped off the counter and walked to the door. I looked through the peephole only to find that which every person who loves a soldier fears the most. I slid the door chain open and turned the lock. I couldn't breathe as I pulled the door open.
I stared in silence at the two uniformed officers. "I understand English is your first language", one of the men said, as he took off his hat, almost as if he were ashamed. I replied only with a slight nod. "Are you Delilah?" I choked back the thoughts and tears and once again replied only with a nod.
"I am very sorry to have to inform you..." The words ran together as I fell to my knees. The other man picked me up and carried me to the sofa. "These were among his belongings..." I looked up again the first man held out a plastic marked "Amir Yohansen." I swallowed hard as I opened it. His dog-tags. I began to cry. His wedding ring, a picture of us. It hurt even worse knowing that he loved me so much.
I pulled out a little white sealed envelope. The front read "To my beloved Lilah." I opened it only to find four lines:
Talk of a beautiful place,
A place we'll all be soon,
My darling I will see you there,
Meet you there at noon.
I was confused. Noon? What happens at noon? I looked up at the still standing officers. Though my tears, I commanded them to sit down. I folded the note again and put it in my lap, guarding it with my hands. "What time did he..." I choked on my tears once again and couldn't finish. "08:00", sighed the now-sitting officer. "Then why noon?!" I demanded. "What happens at noon?!" I began to sob. Neither man said anything- it would seem they were as perplexed as I.
After I was informed of Amir's death, I decided Israel wasn't the place for me anymore. I attended his funeral. Most of the people who spoke spoke only Hebrew but it was the emotion attached to the words that I didn't understand me that wrapped itself around my soul and ripped at me. I sat by his mother the whole time I sat and I couldn't stop crying. Eventually she wanted me to speak. "I can't." I choked out. She stared at me with pleading eyes.
I walked slowly up toward the front of the room and stared out at all the people. Not a soul in the room was without tears. I took a breath and began. "I know that there are many people here who will never know what I said about my husband. For that I am sorry, but I speak now only to him, as I am sure you all will too. If I could have died in Amir's place, I would have. I refuse to refer to my husband as if he is not alive. I know he's here in this room, I know he's standing by me, and I know with every bit of love in his heart he is standing by every one of you. For those of you who understand me, remember that for the rest of your life." I put the microphone down and with that, I returned to my seat.
Amir was buried in a beautiful place in Tel Aviv. I put white carnations on his grave. He used to bring them to me every month. He said they were pure, like me. The reality of his death sunk in to the full extent when I saw his name on the headstone. My love was gone, I told myself only for a while. He would come back, right? He had to come back.
I put my hand on the grave. My tears hit the stone and at that moment I vowed never to love another man, not as long I lived. God made us for each other and He made our hands fit together so perfectly that I would never have to love anybody else and I wouldn't. Death did not part us, it just postponed our togetherness. I did not sleep that night. I waited all night for him to come home. He never came.
It startled calvin and he ran off to hide behind the sofa. Filled with curiosity, I hopped off the counter and walked to the door. I looked through the peephole only to find that which every person who loves a soldier fears the most. I slid the door chain open and turned the lock. I couldn't breathe as I pulled the door open.
I stared in silence at the two uniformed officers. "I understand English is your first language", one of the men said, as he took off his hat, almost as if he were ashamed. I replied only with a slight nod. "Are you Delilah?" I choked back the thoughts and tears and once again replied only with a nod.
"I am very sorry to have to inform you..." The words ran together as I fell to my knees. The other man picked me up and carried me to the sofa. "These were among his belongings..." I looked up again the first man held out a plastic marked "Amir Yohansen." I swallowed hard as I opened it. His dog-tags. I began to cry. His wedding ring, a picture of us. It hurt even worse knowing that he loved me so much.
I pulled out a little white sealed envelope. The front read "To my beloved Lilah." I opened it only to find four lines:
Talk of a beautiful place,
A place we'll all be soon,
My darling I will see you there,
Meet you there at noon.
I was confused. Noon? What happens at noon? I looked up at the still standing officers. Though my tears, I commanded them to sit down. I folded the note again and put it in my lap, guarding it with my hands. "What time did he..." I choked on my tears once again and couldn't finish. "08:00", sighed the now-sitting officer. "Then why noon?!" I demanded. "What happens at noon?!" I began to sob. Neither man said anything- it would seem they were as perplexed as I.
After I was informed of Amir's death, I decided Israel wasn't the place for me anymore. I attended his funeral. Most of the people who spoke spoke only Hebrew but it was the emotion attached to the words that I didn't understand me that wrapped itself around my soul and ripped at me. I sat by his mother the whole time I sat and I couldn't stop crying. Eventually she wanted me to speak. "I can't." I choked out. She stared at me with pleading eyes.
I walked slowly up toward the front of the room and stared out at all the people. Not a soul in the room was without tears. I took a breath and began. "I know that there are many people here who will never know what I said about my husband. For that I am sorry, but I speak now only to him, as I am sure you all will too. If I could have died in Amir's place, I would have. I refuse to refer to my husband as if he is not alive. I know he's here in this room, I know he's standing by me, and I know with every bit of love in his heart he is standing by every one of you. For those of you who understand me, remember that for the rest of your life." I put the microphone down and with that, I returned to my seat.
Amir was buried in a beautiful place in Tel Aviv. I put white carnations on his grave. He used to bring them to me every month. He said they were pure, like me. The reality of his death sunk in to the full extent when I saw his name on the headstone. My love was gone, I told myself only for a while. He would come back, right? He had to come back.
I put my hand on the grave. My tears hit the stone and at that moment I vowed never to love another man, not as long I lived. God made us for each other and He made our hands fit together so perfectly that I would never have to love anybody else and I wouldn't. Death did not part us, it just postponed our togetherness. I did not sleep that night. I waited all night for him to come home. He never came.
A Meeting Place
"Leon! Come on!" I laughed. My blue sneakers weren't very blue anymore. I was walking backward. He grinned. "Breathe, Lilah. It could make even you pass as human." I stomped in another puddle and stuck out my tongue. I turned around again, just in time for Leon to run up behind me and pick me up.
"Now you're doomed!" He laughed maniacally, "I've got you!" I squeaked. "Put me down, dorkface!!" He put me down and pretended to cry. "Oh come on and quit being such a girl!" He scoffed. "Some day you're going to fall for that!" I laughed. "Hang onto that dream!"
He and I walked down the sidewalk side-by-side, making fun of each other. Suddenly he stopped. Everything after that was silent- except the two gunshots. I didnt feel anything, so I assumed Leon had been hit. I recognized the man behind the gun- the man who'd killed Joshua. Rage, hate... Leon! I turned to him, expecting to be hurt, but he wasn't. For a moment, I felt relief, until I saw his tears. I looked down and my hands were completely blood-covered, but still, I felt nothing. I collapsed to the pavement, and Leon's lips were moving, but I heard nothing. "
Lilah..." I heard a soft, familiar voice. It was Amir. Leon leaned down by my side and I saw him cry. I sat up and turned around. Amir was standing about ten feet behind me. I scrambled to get up. I ran to him. He caught me in his arms. "Oh my God, Amir! How'd you get here?" I leaned into his chest and cried. "I thought you were dead. I thought for sure..."
I looked up at him. He was smiling contently and looked a little brighter than usual. "Hush my dear. Listen, and you'll understand." I looked around, Leon was crying over me. Me? "Amir?" I looked up at him with a slight panic. "Just listen", he said gently as he pointed to the clock tower. I watched the second hand complete the minute and suddenly I understood, as the clock struck twelve.
"Now you're doomed!" He laughed maniacally, "I've got you!" I squeaked. "Put me down, dorkface!!" He put me down and pretended to cry. "Oh come on and quit being such a girl!" He scoffed. "Some day you're going to fall for that!" I laughed. "Hang onto that dream!"
He and I walked down the sidewalk side-by-side, making fun of each other. Suddenly he stopped. Everything after that was silent- except the two gunshots. I didnt feel anything, so I assumed Leon had been hit. I recognized the man behind the gun- the man who'd killed Joshua. Rage, hate... Leon! I turned to him, expecting to be hurt, but he wasn't. For a moment, I felt relief, until I saw his tears. I looked down and my hands were completely blood-covered, but still, I felt nothing. I collapsed to the pavement, and Leon's lips were moving, but I heard nothing. "
Lilah..." I heard a soft, familiar voice. It was Amir. Leon leaned down by my side and I saw him cry. I sat up and turned around. Amir was standing about ten feet behind me. I scrambled to get up. I ran to him. He caught me in his arms. "Oh my God, Amir! How'd you get here?" I leaned into his chest and cried. "I thought you were dead. I thought for sure..."
I looked up at him. He was smiling contently and looked a little brighter than usual. "Hush my dear. Listen, and you'll understand." I looked around, Leon was crying over me. Me? "Amir?" I looked up at him with a slight panic. "Just listen", he said gently as he pointed to the clock tower. I watched the second hand complete the minute and suddenly I understood, as the clock struck twelve.
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