He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it. "We're both at peace with everything that happened, except there's one thing I probably should tell him. Making up feels so good and carefree. But... "Umm, Avi, I kind of lied to you back on base."
"About what?"
I clear my throat. As long as Avi told the truth, I might as well spill the beans. "Nathan and I have never been a couple. I kind of coerced him into pretending we were dating."
Avi winks at me. "I knew that."
Chapter 22
Forgiveness takes a lot less energy than holding grudges.
Three hours after leaving boot camp, we reach the hospital. Avi takes my hand after we pass through hospital security and steers me down the front corridor. The closer I get to seeing Safia, the more scared I get. What if she looks different? What if she looks weaker than she did last year? I hate cancer. It's as dangerous and deadly as a terrorist.
Avi asks the lobby receptionist something in Hebrew. She points to the elevator bank. The inside of the Baruch Padeh Medical Center hospital in Tiberias looks just like hospitals back home, with stark white walls and the scent of purified air bursting through the air conditioning vents.
"You okay?" Avi asks as we're riding up the elevator.
"Yeah. Why?"
"Your nails are digging into my palm." He loosens my hand and shows me the nail indentations in his skin.
"Sony. Truth is, I'm freaking out."
He puts his arm around me, holds me tight to him, and lightly kisses the top of my head. "I'm here for you. Always. You know that, even if you don't always want to believe it."
Whenever I've needed Avi for my minor but frequent emergencies in my life, he's been there for me. Whether it was on the base or on the phone or in person, he's always around when I'm desperate for someone to keep my spirits high and lift me up... even physically.
He slows his pace when we get closer to the room. "Remember, it's okay to cry." He shrugs when I glance up at him. "My mom told me that after my brother died."
"And did you cry, Avi?"
He bites his bottom lip and nods. "Yeah... I did." He clears his throat and lifts his head high. "Come on," he says, nudging me forward into the room.
I take a deep breath and peek my head inside. Sofia has an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. Her eyes are closed and it looks like she's sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed, her pale complexion making her look like an angel. My dad is sitting next to the bed. He rushes from the chair and opens his arms to hug me, but when he takes a closer look his eyes go wide with shock.
"Amy. Mah corah*. What happened to you?" He gestures to my arms and chin as he inspects my scratched face.
"Oh, that. Umm... I kinda fell on rocks. Well, I guess skidded is more like it."
"You look like you've been in battle."
"That's kind of how I felt. But it's better today. I've turned into a warrior woman." Sort of.
Back when I begged my dad to let me go on this trip, he warned me not to complain no matter how hard boot camp turned out to be. Either I could stay at my aunt and uncle's house with him on the moshav all summer (with possibly no chance of seeing Avi), or I could go on the army portion of the Sababa trip with my friends (and possibly see Avi). But if I chose boot camp, I'd better suck it up.
I'd like you to know that this is me sucking it up. Pre-army Amy would definitely be whining Aba, they make us get up before the sun is up, and run in the dark, and pee and poop in stinky holes, and sleep with our guns, and eat jam with bees in it, and do boy pushups, and march in straight lines, and scale walls, and sleep in beds with springs missing above our heads, and dig holes with big hairy spiders in them......but I don't.
"Is Sofia going to be okay?" I ask, because that's the only concern that I have at this moment. I cant lose my only living grandparent. God cant let that happen.
Although what really scares me is that God can let that happen. Rabbi Glassman says that death is a part of life. We don't have a choice to live, and we don't have a choice as to when we'll naturally die.
"They'll be taking her for a CAT scan in the morning. "We'll know more after the scan and when we get the results of her blood test. When she woke up she was in pain and disoriented, so they gave her a sedative. I don't expect her to wake up until the morning, so you might as well go back to the moshav and get some rest." He inspects me again. "Wait, you look different, and it's not just the scratches. Did you get a haircut on the base?"
"Yeah. It's a long story; don't ask."
"Okay, I won't." He knows better than to ask for details, because he's well aware of my special ability to get into trouble wherever I go. He shakes hands with Avi. "Thanks for bringing Amy here."
"Ayn by'ah --no problem. They gave me a forty-eight-hour leave."
I stand next to my safia, bow my head, and pray silently to God to take care of her--just in case He's listening and just in case He wants to answer my prayer.
I don't know what I'll do if I lose her. I didn't even know I had a grandmother until a year ago, and now here she is in a hospital. I feel like she's slipping away from my life already. She never let me tell her how much she's helped me spiritually. During my Jewish conversion classes, whenever I thought about the Jewish matriarchs, I always imagined they would look and act exactly like my safia. I read that Abraham's wife Sarah gave birth at the age of ninety and died at the ripe old age of 127.1 wish my safia could be like Sarah (obviously not the giving birth at ninety part... just the living until 127 part).