Mitla Pass - Leon Uris [13]
Val, damn you, you’ve got to be more supportive. Read what this guy is reaching for. He’s good. He’s ripping himself open to find meanings. That’s when a writer can really be great, on a voyage of discovery.
What the hell, I came to Israel, didn’t I? Isn’t that being supportive enough? Did you come for Gideon or to save your own ass?
She heard Grover growl and the rubber flap of his dog door snap open and shut. Sounds disturbed her here, adding to the jittery feeling she always had when Gideon was away. Everything in this damned country ran on nerves and anxiety.
Val drew images of him whispering into the phone, calling that woman. Perhaps that woman was waiting for him at the hotel and they’d go at it desperately. If he smelled of a fresh shower, it was no doubt to get rid of her scent. He usually wore his guilt like a neon sign.
Lots of parties in Israel. Big social life. You know what it’s like to feel every pair of eyes in the room glaring at you. That’s the poor wife. Pity. No big deal in Israel, this bed-hopping: sophistication personified.
Natasha Solomon. She’s a bloody charmer all right. So sweet to Penelope and Roxy at the Savyon Club.
“When you come up to Jerusalem, I’d love to take your daughters around.”
And I’d like to bust you one in the mouth, lady!
Come on, Val, read the pages ... no use. She flung them down rudely. Stinks! Oh God, it hurts!
There was that awful night, not long after I had arrived in Israel. Gideon was working late at the hotel. Or so I thought. I decided to drive over and surprise him and maybe talk him into a little romantic stroll on the beach.
When I parked the car in the front of the Accadia, I heard riotous laughter coming from the beach.
“What’s going on down there?” I asked the doorman.
“A reunion of Hungarian survivors, from all over Israel,” he answered.
I was magnetically drawn to the bluffs that ran along the rear of the hotel. The Hungarians were strung all up and down the beach; a crowd of them around a campfire were having a boisterous time. Some of the revelers began to shed their clothing, daring others to do the same. They plunged naked into the water and indulged in horseplay that bordered on the sexy. I felt like a bit of a peeping Tom, but it was so damned joyous down there I almost had the urge to join them. Good Lord, if anyone deserved happiness, they certainly did. Seeing their naked bodies, I shuddered for an instant ... that was the way they were sent into the gas chambers.
And then it came back to me. The first time someone reached out to embrace me and I saw a number tattooed on her arm, I screamed and turned into Gideon’s arms, weeping. I was shaken for days. So, I thought, have a good time, guys! Thank God for Israel.
I turned and retraced my steps from the bluff and glanced up to Gideon’s window on the fourth floor. A large beach towel was draped over his balcony railing. Strange. Oh well, he must have taken a dip earlier—wait, what the hell’s that? A woman darted out of Gideon’s room, took the towel, and wrapped it about herself quickly.
I just stood there, stunned. From my vantage point I could see the door that led from the hotel to the beach. In a few moments the same woman emerged, ran across the beach, flung off the towel and joined the merrymaking in the sea. I looked up. Gideon was now on the balcony, watching her. I learned a short time later her name was Natasha Solomon. Apparently they had begun a not so discreet affair before my arrival
Oh God, Gideon, God! Why! Why! Why! Oh God! She was wild and beautiful, an untamed bird. I almost went insane but I held my tongue. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt but I didn’t face him with it. That was my damned fault ... but ... I guess