Read Online When We Danced on Water by Evan Fallenberg - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Evan Fallenberg
Ads: Link
volunteer from Germany, to the Seder on our base, thus violating regulations and breaching security. You probably understand that Martin is more than just a friend, and I am certain this will cause you more grief than my imprisonment.
We are allowed visitors every afternoon between six and seven oâclock. I will understand if you do not wish to see me under these circumstances, but I hope nonetheless that you will see fit to write to me.
I remain, as always, your loving daughter,
Vivi
Sealing the letter she felt surprisingly strong, as if a burden had been lifted and she had recovered her energy. She sat to write another.
Dear Martin,
I am in prison for breaking the rules and breaching security. I realize now that I never should have invited you to the Seder at our base, but Iâm not sorry you got your wish and enjoyed yourself so much. It really was a special evening.
I am certain when you read this you will feel horribly guilty, but please donât. The decision was mine and the action was my responsibility. Besides, the girls here are nice and Iâll only be here for twenty more days.
The only bad part is not being able to see you. I miss you already. From this safe distance I can tell you the truth: I love you, too.
Please wait for me with patience,
Vivi
Three days later Martin showed up at prison, disheveled and in tears. The trip had taken most of the day, nearly making him too late for a visit. Vivi comforted him, held his hands under the careful stares of several guards. She wondered if they thought of her like the girls she would glimpse at the Haifa port whenever a big ship docked, on the arm of a beefy Scandinavian or a boisterous American.
Vivi begged Martin to return to the kibbutz, but he rented a cheap room in Tel Aviv and came back the next day and the next to sit with her for the allotted hour. There was no response from her parents. Martin returned to Ein Gedi but rented a room again the next weekend and visited Vivi on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. At first his attentions were awkward, but the longer he stayed, the more grateful for his company she became. By the third and last week of her imprisonment she was dependent on his visits.
Four days before her release her parents arrived during the visiting hours. Vivi was startled to find them waiting for her, and even more apprehensive that Martin was due to show up at any minute. She sat facing Leah and Amatzia on brown plastic chairs. No one spoke, and Vivi kept one eye on the door at all times.
Finally Amatzia looked at his daughter. âIâm sure you understand how disappointed we are. About this goy ,â he said, sputtering, unable to continue. Leah pursed and gnawed her lips but said nothing. Vivi shifted uncomfortably in her seat, crossed and uncrossed her legs. Would Martin comprehend, would he leave when he realized they had come? Vivi was not quite sure she did not prefer a confrontation.
At ten minutes past the hour, with little said and Vivi hoping that somehow Martin had miraculously gotten stuck in traffic or lost in Tel Aviv, the door creaked open and he burst into the room. His hair was freshly washed, wet even. He wore jeans and a creased cotton shirt, and sandals on his feet. Vivi felt a rush of love as he entered, and a huge smile blossomed on his face before he realized she was sitting with her parents.
A look of stupefaction and horror rose to Leahâs face the moment she understood that this was Martin, the Martin who had stolen her daughter and sent her to prison. The Martin who, no doubtâit was there in their cozy smiles, in the heat they radiated, for everyone to seeâwas sleeping with her daughter, her precious Varda, her delicate rose. In one glance, Leah took in the whole picture, the six months of friendship and passion, before either Martin or Vivi, or poor Amatzia with his back to the door, could react. In that instant, Leah was out of her seat and at the door, her hands reaching
We are allowed visitors every afternoon between six and seven oâclock. I will understand if you do not wish to see me under these circumstances, but I hope nonetheless that you will see fit to write to me.
I remain, as always, your loving daughter,
Vivi
Sealing the letter she felt surprisingly strong, as if a burden had been lifted and she had recovered her energy. She sat to write another.
Dear Martin,
I am in prison for breaking the rules and breaching security. I realize now that I never should have invited you to the Seder at our base, but Iâm not sorry you got your wish and enjoyed yourself so much. It really was a special evening.
I am certain when you read this you will feel horribly guilty, but please donât. The decision was mine and the action was my responsibility. Besides, the girls here are nice and Iâll only be here for twenty more days.
The only bad part is not being able to see you. I miss you already. From this safe distance I can tell you the truth: I love you, too.
Please wait for me with patience,
Vivi
Three days later Martin showed up at prison, disheveled and in tears. The trip had taken most of the day, nearly making him too late for a visit. Vivi comforted him, held his hands under the careful stares of several guards. She wondered if they thought of her like the girls she would glimpse at the Haifa port whenever a big ship docked, on the arm of a beefy Scandinavian or a boisterous American.
Vivi begged Martin to return to the kibbutz, but he rented a cheap room in Tel Aviv and came back the next day and the next to sit with her for the allotted hour. There was no response from her parents. Martin returned to Ein Gedi but rented a room again the next weekend and visited Vivi on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. At first his attentions were awkward, but the longer he stayed, the more grateful for his company she became. By the third and last week of her imprisonment she was dependent on his visits.
Four days before her release her parents arrived during the visiting hours. Vivi was startled to find them waiting for her, and even more apprehensive that Martin was due to show up at any minute. She sat facing Leah and Amatzia on brown plastic chairs. No one spoke, and Vivi kept one eye on the door at all times.
Finally Amatzia looked at his daughter. âIâm sure you understand how disappointed we are. About this goy ,â he said, sputtering, unable to continue. Leah pursed and gnawed her lips but said nothing. Vivi shifted uncomfortably in her seat, crossed and uncrossed her legs. Would Martin comprehend, would he leave when he realized they had come? Vivi was not quite sure she did not prefer a confrontation.
At ten minutes past the hour, with little said and Vivi hoping that somehow Martin had miraculously gotten stuck in traffic or lost in Tel Aviv, the door creaked open and he burst into the room. His hair was freshly washed, wet even. He wore jeans and a creased cotton shirt, and sandals on his feet. Vivi felt a rush of love as he entered, and a huge smile blossomed on his face before he realized she was sitting with her parents.
A look of stupefaction and horror rose to Leahâs face the moment she understood that this was Martin, the Martin who had stolen her daughter and sent her to prison. The Martin who, no doubtâit was there in their cozy smiles, in the heat they radiated, for everyone to seeâwas sleeping with her daughter, her precious Varda, her delicate rose. In one glance, Leah took in the whole picture, the six months of friendship and passion, before either Martin or Vivi, or poor Amatzia with his back to the door, could react. In that instant, Leah was out of her seat and at the door, her hands reaching
Similar Books
