The Writers' Circle

CHAPTER FOUR


	Asaf's house was the almost the same as every house. Except the old peoples'. They had bigger ones. He and Yael had one large lounge, one moderate bedroom, one small kitchen and one smaller bathroom. It was in a row of four other single storey buildings. Out front - grass, trees, gardens and the backs of the row in front. Out back - the same. Same. A word that described the kibbutz, people in it, life.
	Thirty-six years. Little money, less love.
	Yael liked others more than she liked him. He liked her more than he liked himself. Never seemed fair. Until then.
	The lottery. First prize. After years and years of nothing. First prize. She liked him again.
	'It's plenty - enough to get out of the kibbutz. It's enough for us to start again. Asaf, you can be a businessman. Maybe in Rosh Hain. I can help you with the books, take care of the cashflow.' 
	Sure!


	Joe, really Josephine, was from Australia. One of the dozen foreign volunteers having a working holiday on the kibbutz. She stayed longer than intended. Almost a year. Joe helped when Asaf needed a second pair of hands. She preferred it to working in the kitchen. Usual job. Or the factory or with the cows.
	Joe was the same height as Asaf - short. Same width. Wide. But strong. She liked Asaf. Got drunk and fucked him one night behind the air-raid shelter that doubled as a bar. Once.
	Asaf liked Joe. Not enough to fuck her again. He liked Yael, too. Too much.
	Joe's sister sent her magazines from Australia. Asaf read them. Liked them. Another world. Not the same.
	He saw an ad once about an island with no-one on it. Just one wooden house. The island could be rented for three months. Asaf liked the idea.
	'I think you would be good,' Joe. Truthful.
	'Why?' Asaf. Not sure.
	'Because you are so good with your hands.' 
	Asaf blushed.
	Joe understood. 'No, silly, I don't mean that way.'
	Asaf blushed more.
	'I mean it. You can make anything and you have some great ideas. Shit, you could survive on your own for three months easily.'
	Asaf remembered. He kept the ad in a wooden box that held his army medal and his mother's gold. Left it to him when she died.
	It was something different. A silent dream that none of them knew. None could find out. A secret in a place with no secret. His revenge. A secret.


	Yael, tall and with a mind to match his physical strength. He wasn't afraid to tell her but he was afraid to listen. She was smarter. Could make him believe. So he didn't want to listen.
	'I'm going to Australia for three months.'
	'Joe put you up to this, did she?'
	Why do women always look for another woman's influence when a man wants to make a change in his life?    
	'No.'
	'So where you get this crazy idea? You a jetsetter already?'
	'I saw an ad. For an island. I'm going to spend three months alone on an island in the sea.'
	'All islands are in the sea.' Flexing her superior mind. 'How much does it cost, this island in the sea?'
	'Not much. I'll have plenty left.'
	He looked beyond her and out of the lounge window. He saw Erina, the Ethiopian woman, looking at them. She saw him looking at her but did not turn away. Her head was tilted slightly sideways, like a bird using one eye to get a better view of an ant it was about to eat. She had no husband. He'd been killed. She liked Asaf. Even more now.
	'Well, I think you can put that idea to sleep till we've had time to discuss it. I have to go to the dining room now. Sara's got a birthday. We'll talk tomorrow.'
	'Tonight?' Asaf. Pleading.
	'I might be late. We might go to Tel Aviv with Sara's brother, the dentist from Jerusalem. Don't wait up for me.'
	She wouldn't come home that night. 
	He never got used to that. All the money and she still hurt him.
	Yael was sure of Asaf. He was afraid of her. He would do nothing. He never did.


	Yael would always remember Sara's birthday. It was the day before Asaf left. 
	When she got home at seven the next morning, everything looked normal. Nothing unusual. The phone rang. 
	'Where's Asaf? He's ill? The factory lost power. Thirty minutes ago. They're going crazy.' Izhar.
	'I don't know. I just got back from Tel Aviv. We went to Sara's brother. You know him - Samuel. He's the dentist from Jerusalem. The one with the Benz. He didn't come to work? He's not here. Where's his tractor?'
	'No, he didn't come this morning. What about the factory?'
	'I don't know. You fix it, Izhar. Take Joe.'
	She looked in the cupboard. All his clothes were there. The suitcases were there. She didn't check for the wooden box with his mother's gold. Hadn't seen that for years. She didn't check for his passport. Why should she? He wouldn't leave her.