Page 50 of Status Undefined
“Yes. Just getting dressed.” I cleared my throat – my voice didn’t sound quite right. “You’d better go to school. You’ll be late.”
“Yeah, yeah. I just wanted you to know… never mind. Good night!”
“Good morning!”
That’s how we always signed off, but this time our conversation left me with a funny feeling.
I had my daily routine. I got up at 8:00 p.m. every day and, after a quick shower, I took the subway from Brooklyn to Central Park. In Phuket I’d developed the habit of going to the park when I needed to clear my head and Central Park was perfect for that. I loved the quiet winter nights in the park. My favorite walk was from my subway stop right across the park to Strawberry Fields. The park has an unreal beauty at that time of night. You know there are other people there. You can hear them, but you don’t know exactly where they are; they might as well be wearing invisibility cloaks.
A little before midnight I would go home and start work. The sessions with clients would last until the morning. I hadn’t asked them to adjust their schedules to suit my New York time zone. I didn’t want them to be inconvenienced by my decision to move. Then my mom and I would have breakfast together and talk, catching up a little more every day. That was my routine. It gave me the emotional peace and quiet that I needed so much, and I prayed it would stay that way.
But that evening I was on edge. Knowing that Daniel was in town, maybe even in the park, that I might run into him at any point, was both exciting and stressful. Keren had not been the bearer of good news. I had no hope and thinking about him just made it harder to move on, perhaps to some guy who would give me more than just a taste of his life.
February 4 (Amit)
I didn’t work on Fridays and Saturdays – the weekend in Israel – but my inner clock stayed the same. So on Shabbat I was having breakfast with my mother before heading to bed. Mom was pouring herself a cup of coffee and I went to get a cereal bowl out of the squeaky drawer. The kitchen was on the old side, to put it mildly. The apartment belonged to my mother’s unmarried aunt who had recently moved to a nursing home. It was long overdue for a makeover, but still livable. The bare faded walls didn’t make for a warm, homey atmosphere, but I reckoned it just needed some work.
“Do you ever miss Israel?” I asked my mother as I poured milk on my cereal.
“A lot. Especially on Shabbat. The quiet outside, getting together with neighbors, family meals.”
She noticed my frown when she mentioned family meals.
“Dalia from next door told me there was a lot of yelling when you came out to your father.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“When she told me that, I almost came back. I knew you were about to get out of the army. I had packed my bags and bought a ticket when Dalia called to tell me you’d gone to Thailand with your friends. I postponed my flight, thinking it would be until you went home. But…”
“Yes. I had no reason to go home.”
“I’m not sure that’s true. Dalia told me that after you left, your dad…”
“I don’t want to hear it!” I cut her off, raising my voice. “He doesn’t deserve my pity – or yours!”
“Amitush, he loves you more than you know.”
“He had a strange way of showing it. I’m capable of forgiving, but I don’t want to repeat my mistakes. He had enough chances.Every time he hurt you he was hurting me too. How can you defend him?” I was shouting now.
“Love is a strange thing, Amit.”
“Yes, but it’s not a good reason to let others hurt us.” A tear crept down my cheek and I wiped it away.
She gave me an odd look, as if she had just understood something from my expression.
“I know you don’t want to talk about the boy you were with in Phuket, but it’s not good to bottle up the pain. You have to let it out.”
“He’s here. In the city.” I didn’t elaborate. I didn’t want to talk about him.
“Are you going to meet?”
“No. I told you. It’s not smart to repeat mistakes.” I tried to eat my cornflakes, but my throat was constricted.
“Some people deserve a second chance. We all make mistakes.”
“I know that. I just don’t want to get hurt anymore. I’m sick of it!” I started to cry, and my mother came over and held me, as only a mother can. I gave up on breakfast and went to bed. She stayed with me until I fell asleep.
February 8 (Daniel)
