Those Eyes

“Rebecca, would you like to join the others in a card game?”

Her gaze shifted from the blue sky through the window to the lady standing over her. Card game? What was she talking about?

“Rebecca? What do you think? Want to play some rummy?” she asked a second time.

“No.” She returned her gaze to the bluest of skies letting the voice float away. It was the perfect color, reminding her of that day so long ago. Where was she? Leaning back, legs outstretched holding onto those chains she saw that same blue sky, heard the laughter, felt the joy. She tried to put herself back in that scene to get a clue as to where she had been, but the memory flickered like a candle, burning out too soon.

Turning her attention back to the room, she heard the cackling of ladies playing cards nearby. It would have been nice to be included, she thought. She preferred her own company, but her feelings were slightly hurt at being left out.

The man with the kind face crossed the room, wearing his usual white jacket. “How are we today, Rebecca?” He sat down next to her. She looked around to see who else was there to prompt him to say ‘we’ instead of a simple ‘How are you?’

“I am fine,” she emphasized the word ‘I’ to show that he was addressing her alone. She looked to see if he caught the nuance and noticed for the first time those eyes. Those dark eyes, chocolate brown, warm and inviting. She had seen those eyes before.

“Glad to hear it. Would you like some lunch? We have your favorites today.”

How did this stranger know her favorites? This man with those eyes belonging to someone else from far away.

“Can I have a cup of coffee?" She surprised not only the aide but herself as well with the request. It was definitely not on her list of approved beverages.

“A coffee? Let me see what I can do.” He winked, squeezed her shoulder gently, and disappeared.

***

“Yes, I would like a cup of coffee please,” she repeated, smiling at the waiter amidst the giggling of the young women at the table. She ran her fingers through her long hair, hoping it wasn’t too out of control. The hotel shampoo was a big change from what she used back in Brooklyn to tame her curls.

He leaned over to fill her coffee cup as her heart rattled about. She had read enough corny romance novels to know the tired expression ‘my heart skipped a beat’ and had always scoffed at that as nonsense. It wasn’t until that very moment that she acknowledged it to be fact. Yes, a heart can skip a beat, and in her case, rattle about in her chest.

“Are you enjoying your stay in Tel Aviv?” he inquired politely, obviously well trained by the hospitality staff.

She smiled at him, knowing she was being flirtatious with that smile, knowing that her mother was sitting next to her, along with their entire tour group. Nevertheless, she smiled, locking eyes with him, enjoying their connection.

“Yes,” she finally responded, “very much so.”

One of the giggling girls at the end of the table held up her coffee cup and shouted, “I would like a refill.”

They looked at each other, instantly understanding their situation, before he left to quiet the guest.

She hardly tasted the fruit or the eggs, so caught off guard by the instant connection she felt with the stranger. Her mother poked her in the ribs and whispered, “Be careful.” The warning only prompted her to rise from the table and return to the buffet. She wasn’t hungry, but he was there.

She approached him boldly. “What do you recommend?”

“For breakfast?” Those eyes. He looked at her with those eyes.

“No. For sightseeing in Tel Aviv. Anything special that is a must do?”

***

“Here’s your coffee, Rebecca. I snuck it out of the kitchen for you. Enjoy it, sweetie.” Ben placed the small mug on the table.

“Rummy!” The sudden scream from the corner of the room startled her.

Blinking, she looked at the half-filled cup of coffee as the orderly pushed her wheelchair closer to the table. What was happening? She had been somewhere else just an instant before. Come back, come back. She searched her mind round and round, looking in all the corners but couldn’t bring the memory to the surface.

Taking a sip of the lukewarm coffee, she smiled. “Thank you, Ben.”

“Rebecca! You remembered my name. I’m honored!” He beamed at her, those dark eyes twinkling.

***

“My name? It’s Rebecca. Are you going to remember that?” she asked the waiter at the crowded buffet table.

“Rebecca from the Big Apple. The girl who likes her coffee strong and her eggs scrambled,” he replied, coffeepot still in hand.

“That’s me. And your name?”

***

What was his name? She knew it, thought it countless times, looked at that scrap of paper obsessively after dialing his number from her room at the kibbutz. Her mind’s eye saw the wrinkled paper but couldn’t bring it into focus.

“Ben, can you bring me home, please?” She kept the paper in her photo album tucked behind the one snapshot she had of him. She would feel better when she saw it again.

“You are home, Rebecca. Is there anything I can get from your room?”

“Yes, please. My photo album. The one from my trip to Israel.”

“Oh, honey. We weren’t able to find that one. Did you ask your daughter if she has it?”

Her daughter? He must mean her mother, who was on that trip with her; their special mother-daughter trip. She didn’t want to make Ben feel awkward about his confusion, so she let it go, once again looking out the window. Why would he possibly think she had a daughter? She was just a young girl herself.

***

Leaning back, she grasped the chains, hearing the rhythmic squeaking, feeling the wind blow through her long curly hair.

“Do you think he’ll call me back?” she asked, pumping her legs to go higher.

Her mother sat on the swing next to her, looking pensive. “Becky. You know he’s not Jewish, right?”

“So?”

“Please don’t get your hopes up. I don’t want to see you disappointed,” her mother said gently.

“I don’t care what his religion is.”

“But he might care what your religion is. Or his parents might care.”

She hadn’t considered his parents.

Looking around the kibbutz, she watched the children taking care of the vegetable garden next to the playground. They spoke Hebrew, a language she had learned well enough to get through her Bat Mitzvah, but not well enough to become conversational. She realized that, unlike in Tel Aviv, only Hebrew and English were spoken at the kibbutz.

What would he think, returning her call at a kibbutz? She had left a message with his sister when she called the night before. It was a long bus ride from Tel Aviv, and she had been relieved to finally check in to her modest room and see the phone sitting on the night table. After holding onto that folded piece of paper all day, she had quickly dialed the number, disappointed that he wasn’t home.

***

“Rummy!”

“Again? You’re cheating.”

“How am I cheating? Look, I have three tens and four sixes. I won fair and square.”

The women in their wheelchairs bickered on and on. The sound of their voices mixed with the forbidden coffee turned her stomach. She looked around for someone to take her home.

***

“You play rummy here in Israel?” she asked when joining the group of hotel staff.

“Yeah, why not?” a young woman answered, still wearing an apron after her shift.

Rebecca sat down at the table, excited to finally be with him after a long day of exploring local art galleries and boutiques. She had said good night to her mother before sneaking downstairs for wine and cheese left over from a catered event. Keeping their nightly rendezvous a secret made it more exciting, thrilling actually, she realized, as she sat close to him at the table.

***

“Becky, you look exhausted. What’s your story?” Her mother studied her when she arrived at the breakfast table their last morning in Tel Aviv.

“I guess the jet lag caught up to me finally.” She squirmed, realizing how ridiculous that sounded. After being in Israel almost two weeks, it was unlikely that jet lag would still have any effect on her. The first few days they spent in Jerusalem, sleeping late and poking around the old city at their leisure, had adjusted her internal clock to Middle Eastern time.

“Coffee, please!” The giggling girls shouted, bringing embarrassment to the entire table. “And that gorgeous waiter, please!”

She darted them a look, daring them to continue. It didn’t matter, she realized, he had no interest in them. She thought back to the night before, biting her lower lip to keep from smiling ear to ear.

He appeared by her side, filling her coffee cup before heading to the giggle twins. She felt the warmth radiating, was it from the steamy beverage or his attention?

After a few sips, she rose from the table, letting her mother know she had to finish packing before checkout. Looking around, she found him talking with the busboys who she recognized from the card game the night before.

“I could use some help with my luggage, please,” she approached the group of young men.

Setting down the coffeepot, he escorted her to the elevator.

***

“Does she remember me?” The unexpected voice brought her back to the present, where she lay in her narrow bed propped up on several pillows.

“Of course. Go on, say hello to Grandma.” The woman nudged the little boy through the bedroom doorway.

Rebecca had no idea who they were, thinking perhaps they came to the wrong room, but the child was so precious she felt sorry for him in his nervous state.

***

“It’s okay. You can come in,” she laughed as the young man stood in the doorway awkwardly.

He entered the hotel room, leaving the door open.

“You really have the most gorgeous eyes I have ever seen,” she boldly told him, finally admitting what she had been thinking nonstop since they met.

He blushed, reaching for the pad and pencil left on the writing desk for the guests.

“You’ll be in Israel a few more days?” he asked.

“Yes, at the kibbutz.”

Scribbling quickly, he tore off the sheet and handed it to her.

“Call me.”

He was standing a few feet away from her, being the gentleman that he apparently was. She folded the paper, placing it deep into her pocket for safekeeping and stepped up to close the gap between them.

***

“Ali,” she whispered in her bed, suddenly remembering everything clearly.

She remembered the young girl on the swing, realizing they would never see each other again.

She remembered blinking back tears after his father harshly told her not to call again when answering the phone, confirming her mother’s suspicions.

She lay her head down on the pillow, thinking of those eyes, while closing her own.