I’m coming to your city. I wasn’t here for years. I’m Looking at the towering boxes rising up high, drawing a graceless skyline. We used to live there together. We had our daughters. We raised them together. Now they are only yours. How many years have I not seen them? You? Will we ever meet again? The taxi passes Netanya intersection. I Remember our first dates. Now I was supposed to call you, inform my location so that you would leave your home to pick me up on time, so I wouldn’t wait too long. Looking at the mobile. Wireless Silence… You are not calling to ask where I am.
I’m getting off at the Kibbutzim College stop. Remember we used to meet there? Looking around. Looking for you. Yearning for you. Maybe you’ll suddenly emerge from somewhere. Maybe you’d travel specifically on this way, maybe you’d notice me and stop your car, calling me to come back into your life… I’m cleaning my sunglasses. The light is so dazzling. I don’t sense you. Maybe you’re not here at all. Maybe you went on a new job again and you aren’t in the country.
I’m meeting Aviv at Azrieli Center. When he offered this place, my heart missed a beat in the memory of us. Opening my bag for the security inspector. I imagine you next to me, then, in those times. You always had some comment to make to him. What is his fault that this is his job, I used to ask you, why are you making it more difficult for him? Open your bag quietly and move on, I would ask.
You moved on, I guess. I don’t think you remember, like me, what was between us. I don’t think that you avoid visiting our “places” or getting excited about them. They were yours before they became “ours”. You probably returned to the routine of your life, the ones you were full of before you met me, before you shared with me your private space, before the girls, before you expelled me from your life, before all the mess…
Aviv comes and bends down to kiss me on my cheeks, pausing and smiling at the sight, how I stretch myself on my fingertips to reach him. Using the short distance between us to stroke his cheek before he straightens. Good boy, Aviv, caring, thoughtful. Both him and his brothers, my biological children, you have banished, cut them off from their sisters, preventing the children from being an extended family. A shame, but that’s how it is. The biological mother has rights and I, as the extra mom, who raised them for ten years, has nothing to say in the matter. Just to replace the bandages in my heart, bleeding constantly from where you tore the girls from.
Aviv is in a hurry for his shift, and I’m going to a work meeting. Perhaps I’ll manage to make some business from it. I want to pour new content to my life. Nurit said it would distract me from being stuck with you. I don’t think so. If I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind so far, I don’t think I’ll ever succeed. Although there are surprises in life…
Walking slowly through the streets of the city, looking at the display windows and my image reflected on them. Craving for you. I didn’t think the wounds would open again. I thought I was over you already. Though, actually, not so bad. At least they don’t bleed much. A small consolation?
I finished my business. I’m taking the bus to Ramat Aviv Junction, that is opposite to the Kibbutzim College. I remember how you used to drop me off in the mornings a half hour walk to here. I would walk slowly, biting my lips with longing at you (yes, already!), trying to distract myself from the heavy load hanging on my back.
Waiting for a taxi to take me home, to my hills. How did you name the place I live – Jazmin’s mountain. Not really a mountain, Hagar, just a few scattered hills on which my settlement lies. Probably to you, my dwelling looks like a mountain. And Hagar didn’t want to come to the mountain…
Standing at the bus stop, looking at the road, hallucinating. Maybe you’re passing by in your car, maybe you’re standing at the opposite traffic light, sending an indifferent gaze at my direction, maybe your eyes are passing on me and moving on, maybe you’re seeing me suddenly, maybe your brain is enclosing the bits of information it contains and you realize it’s me, Jazmin, who was once yours… But the traffic light changes to green and your amazed eyes are forced to detach from my direction against their will, as the shriek of the car behind you speeding you to drive on… The sound of the horn catches my attention, maybe through the taxi windows that takes me away from here our gazes meet… Maybe.
Leaving your town. Looking back from time to time, as if I’m engraving your city into my memory. Your memory. Shutting you down. Locking my heart from you. Should I drop the key?