{"id":4410,"date":"2023-10-18T09:54:06","date_gmt":"2023-10-18T13:54:06","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/?p=4410"},"modified":"2023-10-18T09:54:11","modified_gmt":"2023-10-18T13:54:11","slug":"an-unwelcome-guest-by-jon-papernick","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/an-unwelcome-guest-by-jon-papernick\/","title":{"rendered":"“An Unwelcome Guest”\u00a0by Jon PaperNick"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Introduction<\/strong> by R. B. Wood<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The world is burning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Professor Papernick is a teacher, an author, a mentor, and a friend. I met him during my tenure at Emerson College studying for my MFA. When I first met him, his intensity and focus scared the living hell out of me. Which, of course, meant that I had to get to know this man. Since I graduated, Jon and i became friends–I love passionate people and Jon is both passionate and pragmatic. We would talk for hours about writing, movies, television, the writing industry, and so much more. The story that follows is one he wrote years ago, but will resonate with what’s happening in the world today. Among Jon’s many passions is his Jewish faith and I felt that An Unwelcome Guest<\/em> would be a way to showcase my friend’s passion and pain regarding the state of the world in the fall of 2023.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An Unwelcome Guest <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi Bar-Yosef felt his young wife Devorah stir in sleep. He rolled over in bed, felt her warm breath against his face and lay watching her until she was still again. Then she slept quietly. A large round moon hung low over Jerusalem, its white light spilling into their Muslim Quarter apartment. He sat up in bed, reached for his kippah <\/em>on the nightstand, and placed it on his head. The night was silent in contrast to the chaos of the day; Arab merchants hawking fruits and vegetables, pilgrims shouting prayers and curses, army patrols strolling through the narrow stone streets. Now he could only hear his wife\u2019s even breathing and the two soldiers joking quietly in Hebrew beneath their bedroom window. In a few hours the muezzin would call the Ishmaelites to prayer for the first time in the new day. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He got out of bed and made his way to the kitchen by moonlight, nearly skipping all the way in his bare feet. It was the month of Tishri and the stone floors were chilly even for early autumn. He filled a pot with water, lit the gas with a match, and stood by the stove for a moment thinking of his wife, his Devorah Bee: her soft olive skin, her curly brown hair, her green eyes, the way her body felt beneath his. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou are welcome,\u201d the Arab man said, startling Yossi. \u201cWelcome. Have a seat,\u201d he said gesturing to the empty chair at the kitchen table. \u201cWelcome,\u201d the Arab man said again, smiling. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi did not wonder how the old man had crept past the soldiers in the street, nor did he wonder how he had found his way through the locked door. He had waited every Passover for Elijah the Prophet to arrive and drink his cup of wine, and he prayed daily for the coming of the\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Messiah. Yossi knew that many people wandered the dreamy moonlit paths between sleep and prayer in this golden city of light and stone. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Arab may have been sixty-five or seventy years old. His face was cracked like a wadi in the heat of summer, his nose round, bulbous, and pocked like a Judean hilltop, his thin salt and pepper mustache ratty, careless, a goatherd\u2019s mustache. He wore a black and white checked kaffiyeh on his head and a filthy striped caftan that reached almost to his slippered feet. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSit,\u201d said the Arab man in English. \u201cWe will share some tea and nana.\u201d \u201cWhat do you want here?\u201d
The Arab man said nothing.
\u201cMy wife. She\u2019s sleeping.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe sleeps like a baby.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The thought of someone invading his new wife\u2019s privacy, someone even imagining Devorah asleep infuriated Yossi. He took a step forward and whispered through his teeth, \u201cGet out! Why are you . . .\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe water is ready,\u201d the Arab man said, cutting Yossi off. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi turned his attention to the pot. The water bubbled over, hissing against the stove\u2019s flames. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy name is Ziad.\u201d
\u201cWho\u00a0are\u00a0<\/em>you?\u201d Yossi asked.
\u201cI am Ziad Abu Youssif.\u201d
\u201cYou are in the wrong place. This is a private home,\u201d Yossi said, returning with the pot of\u00a0water.
The old man only straightened his kaffiyeh on his head, smiled, and reached for a glass. He\u00a0poured himself some water and said, \u201cYou are a rabbi?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo. No. I am studying. Near the\u00a0Kotel<\/em>.\u201d
The Arab man smiled a brown-toothed smile. \u201cSo you are a rabbi.\u201d
\u201cI\u2019m not a rabbi yet. I am studying,\u201d Yossi said, and then asked, \u201cWhy are you here?\u201d
\u201cThis is my home, rabbi,\u201d the Arab man answered in an even tone. \u201cA tea bag, please.\u201d \u201cYour home?\u201d Yossi said, surprised. \u201cThis is\u00a0my\u00a0<\/em>home.\u201d
\u201cHow long have you stayed here?\u201d the Arab man asked.
\u201cEight months.\u201d
\u201cYou are just married?\u201d the Arab asked, taking a tea bag from a tin on the table. \u201cWhere are\u00a0you from?\u201d
\u201cNew York,\u201d Yossi answered.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI was born in that room, where you sleep. My first son, Youssif, the dark one, was born in the same room. My father was born where you are sitting. This was not always a kitchen.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf this is your house what color are the tiles on the floor of my bedroom?\u201d
\u201cThe Jews are always changing things.\u201d
They sat in silence while their tea brewed in front of them. Then they drank. After a moment <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi bit his lip at the corner, about to ask, \u201cWhy did you leave?\u201d but before he had a chance, the old man said, \u201cThere were wars.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi knew that many Arabs had fled Israel in 1948 and again during the Six-Day War. He had seen the squalid refugee camps and the anguished faces on his TV set, but he also knew the names Khmelnitski, Babi-Yar, and Auschwitz like a mantra. After a moment he said, \u201cAbraham is your father as well as mine.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The old man did not seem to hear as he bent over to pick something up off the floor. It was a small wooden box. The Arab carefully placed it on the table between them. Yossi swallowed hard\u00a0and thought about calling to the soldiers outside the window, but knew it would be useless. The bomb would go off before they could make it halfway up the stairs.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It had only been eight months since he and Devorah had stood under the huppa<\/em>, only eight months since he had first kissed her after stomping the traditional glass representing the fragility of life, eight months since he had first touched his virgin wife. That was supposed to be the beginning; a family, a Jewish family in the heart of Jerusalem, and now, they were about to be blown to bits like that bus he had seen smoldering in the spring rain on Jaffa Street. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Arab man undid a small latch and folded open a backgammon board.
\u201cYou play\u00a0shesh besh?<\/em>\u201d he asked.
Yossi looked out the window and could see the moon higher over the city now, its light so\u00a0bright, the face of the moon almost pulsing. \u201cIt\u2019s the middle of the night.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Arab began setting up the board, the white stones first, then the black stone disks in their places. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The old man took the last sip of his tea, \u201cI will play you for the house. If you lose, I will live here again. If I lose, I will return to the Street of Chains begging for baksheesh.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi was not interested in hearing about a broken man begging for shekels. He said, \u201cNo,\u201d and then said, \u201cno,\u201d again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI am joking, of course,\u201d the Arab man said. \u201cWe will play for the right to speak.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi would not get back to sleep now. He could feel his blood boiling through his body, his hands shaking, the small hairs at the back of his neck standing on end. \u201cOkay. I\u2019ll play. Just let me check on my wife.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut, it\u2019s your turn to roll.\u201d The Arab man had already rolled the first die: a four.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi imagined his Devorah Bee curled up in bed, wetting her lips in sleep, kicking her leg against a bad dream. He thought of her slightly rounded belly and the child swimming within it. He stood halfway up from his chair, then picked up the die and rolled a three. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy move first,\u201d the Arab man said. \u201cSome more tea.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The old man rolled a six and a one. He moved the black stone to his side of the outer board, covering it with the one. Yossi rolled a two and a one. Already, one of his stones was unprotected. The Arab picked up the dice in his large hands and rolled. Then Yossi rolled. Only the sound of the dice clicking against the wooden board could be heard above the old man\u2019s labored breathing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you speak Hebrew?\u201d the Arab asked.
\u201cTo read the Torah,\u201d Yossi answered, head down.
\u201cTell me, Rabbi, how did you get here?\u201d
Yossi tried to move his two white stones from the inner board but could not. His pieces\u00a0were almost entirely blocked in. \u201cWhy here?\u201d the Arab said.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2018If I should forget thee, O Jerusalem, may my right hand forget its strength.\u2019 Tehillim<\/em>. Psalm One thirty-seven,\u201d Yossi said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI do not forget,\u201d the Arab man said, holding out his right hand. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi did not look up from the board and said matter-of-factly, \u201cThis land was given to us by God. It was given to us in trust to take care of. We are here because we are Jewish. Because the land was promised to us by God.”
The Arab rolled again, saying, \u201cBut we are both sons of Abraham.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi rolled quickly and made his move. His mind was not on the game now. The Arab rolled the dice again.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAbraham was the best of men,\u201d Yossi continued flatly, \u201cBut he contained some bad elements as we all do and those elements came out in his son Ishmael. He was the son of a slave girl. A wild man.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The old man\u2019s stones were all strongly in place on his side of the inner board. Yossi rolled but still could not move his two white stones trapped deep among the Arab\u2019s black stones. The Arab rolled and began removing his pieces from the board. \u201cBeit \u2018Itab,\u201d he whispered. \u201cBeit Mahsir,\u201d he said on his next roll. \u201cDeir el Hawa,\u201d he said, removing two more pieces. \u201cJarash.\u201d \u201cLifta.\u201d \u201cEl Maliha.\u201d \u201cSuba,\u201d he said, winning the game. Yossi cleared the board and began to set up another game. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDeir Yassin!\u201d the Arab said loudly. \u201cDo you know Deir Yassin, Rabbi?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi motioned for the man to be quiet, he did not want to wake up his wife. The Arab lowered his voice. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you know of Deir Yassin? No. It was a beautiful little village of orange and lemon trees, almond trees, and date palms on the outside of Jerusalem. Like the others, it is also erased from the face of the earth. Now it is called Givat Shaul. I\u2019m sure you know Givat Shaul.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He did know Givat Shaul; his wife\u2019s aunt and uncle lived in an apartment not far from the mental institution. He had visited once or twice, but never saw a sign of Deir Yassin. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou came to Deir Yassin one morning . . .\u201d
Yossi interrupted, \u201cI\u2019ve never been . . .\u201d
\u201cIt\u2019s my time to speak. I won the game. Now you must listen.\u201d
Yossi shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
\u201cYou came to Deir Yassin, a small quiet village at dawn. You were three hundred men with\u00a0guns and mortars. You broke into homes, shot whole families, women and children, threw bombs into houses, machine-gunned us, butchered us, raped us. You took prisoners into the streets\u00a0blindfolded and shot us dead. You left our bodies on the ground. You bound our hands, stripped us naked, put us in trucks, and drove us through the streets of Jerusalem. We were afraid and some of us ran.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nonsense! Yossi thought. He had not even received his military training yet. He rolled the wooden die. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou tried to scare the Arabs out of Jerusalem,\u201d the old man said and straightened his kaffiyeh. Then he rolled a three. It was Yossi\u2019s turn to roll first. The moon had moved behind some clouds, leaving them in almost complete darkness. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you have a candle?\u201d the old man asked. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi stood up in silence, walked to the pantry, and returned with two Shabbat candles. He lit them. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll play until the winner of three,\u201d the Arab said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This time Yossi was determined not to get caught in the back of the board. He would rush his two white stones out from the very start and race the rest of his stones around to his side before the Arab could do the same. Yossi rolled, and then the old man, and then Yossi. They moved quickly, sliding their stones around the board, hypnotized by the rhythm of the rolling dice. He was so busy concentrating on the board that he did not notice the old man had been speaking in Arabic. Smelling tobacco smoke, Yossi looked up from the table to find three more Arab men sitting on the kitchen floor beside the old man. He grabbed the table, nearly knocking the board to the floor as he tried to stand up. But he was unable, paralyzed in his seat. Two men slightly younger than Ziad wore kaffiyehs and took turns smoking from a tall gold-plated water pipe, a third ancient man with a battered fez planted on his head awkwardly fingered a set of worry beads. Yossi could still hear the soldier\u2019s radio crackling faintly outside his kitchen window.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo not worry,\u201d Ziad said. \u201cWe are old men. There is nothing to fear. They are only my brothers and our blind father. Do not worry. Please. Please play.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The four men continued to talk in Arabic. Yossi, not understanding Arabic, did not know what to do. He took a deep breath but still could not fill his lungs. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ziad asked Yossi, \u201cDo you smoke the narghile?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo. No.\u201d Yossi said coughing. Then he remembered his pregnant wife as smoke filled the kitchen. Yossi excused himself. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

From the bedroom doorway he saw Devorah asleep as before, her long hair splashed out onto the pillow. Yossi sat on the bed for a moment looking at her. Moonlight shined through the window and lit up her face. He kissed his index finger and touched it to the end of her nose. \u201cSleep tight, my Bumblebee,\u201d he whispered and opened her night table drawer, removed his wife\u2019s mini 9 mm pistol, and placed it in his side pocket. Then he closed the bedroom door tight and hurried back to the kitchen half afraid of the encroaching Arabs, half determined to prove that he could win the game. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe is sleeping?\u201d Ziad asked.
Yossi nodded his head and sat down at the table.
\u201cI shared that room with my brothers as a child,\u201d the old man said.
Yossi rolled the dice, ignoring him.
\u201cThere was a pomegranate tree at the window. My son Youssif liked to climb in it.\u201d
\u201cIt isn\u2019t there anymore,\u201d Yossi said, rolling a three and a one. He moved his first lone stone\u00a0four spaces and said, \u201cThe tree is gone. There is no tree.\u201d
\u201cI am just remembering,\u201d the old man said.
Yossi\u2019s white stone was open at the edge of the outer board one space short of safety. The\u00a0old man paused a long time before rolling the dice again. With the moon high above the apartment\u00a0the three Arabs sat cross-legged on the floor; two of them passing the water pipe back and forth between them, the older man continuing to fumble with his worry beads. It was only now with the moon out of the clouds that Yossi noticed the blind father\u2019s empty eye sockets.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow would you feel if someone took that glass of tea from you?\u201d Ziad asked. \u201cThis glass?\u201d Yossi said.
\u201cYes. That glass,\u201d the Arab said, rolling the dice.
\u201cI would get another glass.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The old man rolled and promptly hit Yossi\u2019s single stone, removing it to the center bar. Yossi rolled, and entered in the fourth slot, moving his other lone piece from the first to third slot. His two stones were now open at the back end of the board. The Arab rolled again and Yossi found his stone back on the bar with the fourth and sixth slots occupied. He rolled a two and a three. His stone came off the center bar, but Yossi\u2019s stones were still hemmed in. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Arab asked, \u201cHow old is your wife, Rabbi?\u201d
\u201cNineteen,\u201d Yossi answered.
\u201cAnd what is her name?\u201d the Arab asked, rolling and knocking Yossi\u2019s stone to the bar\u00a0again.
Yossi did not answer.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The game continued, and Yossi\u2019s stones were alternately knocked onto the center bar as the old man removed his pieces from the table two by two, whispering in Arabic. The Arab men on the floor clapped their hands on each other\u2019s shoulders\u2014the blind old man mumbled something in Arabic that could have been a prayer. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve had enough of this. I\u2019m going to sleep,\u201d Yossi said. He had not removed any of his stones from the table. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut you can\u2019t. Nobody has won three games. Sit. Sit. I won the second game.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of the Arab men got to his feet, a silver sheath shining among the folds of his caftan. Yossi fingered his wife\u2019s pistol in his pocket and said, \u201cOkay. We\u2019ll play another game.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The old man picked up the stones in his hands and began chanting quietly the names he had just whispered, \u201c\u2019Allar; \u2019Artuf; Beit Naqquba; Deir Aban; Ishwa\u2019; El Jura; Kasla!\u201d Do you know of the village of . . .\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll right. It\u2019s time to play,\u201d Yossi said.
Yossi began setting up the board.
They played on, the dice rattling against the old wooden board. The men on the floor were\u00a0anxious, groaning in discomfort with every move, shifting from one knee to the other. Yossi blocked the men from his mind, focusing only on the board. When he had established a lead he looked and flashed a confident wink at Ziad. The old man sat calmly, pondering his next move. Then he called out a question in Arabic and was answered by a woman\u2019s voice.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Four Arab women dressed in black stood over the kneeling men. One wore a hijab <\/em>over her face, the other three sternly looked on. One of the women spoke loudly in guttural Arabic. The old man listened and turned to Yossi, who was beginning to remove his stones from the board. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy wife, Zahira,\u201d Ziad said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi continued to play, ignoring her. His only interest now was to beat the old man, throw the Arabs from his home, and return to bed with his wife.
\u201cThese are my brothers\u2019 wives. And,\u201d he said, pointing to the tiny woman in the hijab, <\/em>\u201cthis is our mother.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s your move,\u201d Yossi said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The old man rolled. He had twelve stones left on the board. Yossi had six and rolled low but still removed two stones. The woman who had spoken to Ziad, pushed her way forward and placed her hands on the table. Yossi saw the black under her fingernails, her eyes cold as the chipped stones\u00a0on the board. Her face had the worn look of an old leather saddle. He rolled double four and won the game. The woman grabbed up the pieces and began to quickly reset the board. Yossi tried to place his hand on top of hers. She pulled away.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHevron!\u201d he said, making eye contact with all the Arabs except the blind father. \u201cWe were neighbors in Hevron and you came to our homes,\u201d Yossi said, borrowing the tone of the old man, Ziad. \u201cAnd you raped us, burned us, chopped off our hands.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat is not true,\u201d the woman said.
\u201cIt is true,\u201d Yossi said.
\u201cLiar!\u201d the woman said louder.
\u201cYou were not born then,\u201d Ziad said.
\u201cYou came to our homes in the City of the Patriarchs . . .\u201d Yossi said. \u201cIsra-ay-lee pig!\u201d the woman yelled. \u201cLiar!\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c. . . and tore us apart like fresh bread,\u201d he added. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cArrogant Jew. Liar. Zionist,\u201d the woman shouted and the men joined in shouting, knocking against the table. The woman stood face to face with Yossi and said, \u201cYou have no place here. Pig!\u201d Then she spat in his face. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi reached into his side pocket, pulled out his wife\u2019s pistol, and jammed it hard beneath the woman\u2019s ribs, doubling her over momentarily. He felt her soft stomach rebound against his hand. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cQuiet!\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The men moved back, but Zahira, the wife of the old man Ziad, stood her ground. \u201cPut your toy away, yeled<\/em>.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt was a long time ago,\u201d the old man said. \u201cIt was only sixty years ago,\u201d Yossi said.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou were not born. You were not there,\u201d the old man said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMemory is in the blood,\u201d Yossi said. \u201cI was there as I was at Sinai to receive the commandments. I was exiled from Spain. I wandered. And I remember pogroms beyond the Pale and the killing. I remember. And the camps, I remember that, too. Jews have been in Hevron since the time of Abraham. You have only lived there since the thirteenth century.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He waved the pistol at the Arabs and tasted blood in his mouth, sour and metallic. He wanted to lay the Arabs face down on the floor with their hands behind their backs, and fire a bullet into the brain of each. He would clean the floor with the old man\u2019s kaffiyeh and return to bed with his wife. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Zahira stepped closer, her weathered face inches from his. \u201cOkay, boy,\u201d she said. \u201cShoot me.\u201d She pulled his pistol closer to her stomach. Yossi\u2019s hand was compliant. \u201cI am all used up,\u201d she said. \u201cMake me a martyr of the great battle.\u201d The men looked on impassively, the women stood stone-faced, Ziad, too, stared expressionless. \u201cI am the mother of generations. But now I am finished. I am the husk of a pomegranate, my seeds have been scattered and grown. Shoot me. I am only a husk.\u201d Yossi pushed his pistol into her stomach and then pulled it back. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSit. We\u2019re going to play again,\u201d Yossi said.
The men sat, and the women did too.
Zahira reached forward and touched Yossi\u2019s cheek and said, \u201cYou are weak and sad.\u201d
\u201cWe will play?\u201d Ziad said.
\u201cDo not fear us,\u201d Zahira said. \u201cWe are old and not to be feared. But fear our children. Fear\u00a0my son Youssif. He will burn your crops, tear down your home, and eat the flesh of your children.\u201d Yossi rolled the dice.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe will eat the flesh of your children,\u201d she repeated.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They began to play again, the Arab leading two games to one. The sky was turning from deep black to dark bruised blue. The moon was gone. Yossi slipped the pistol back into his pocket. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe tea. It is cold,\u201d the old man said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi stood up to boil another pot of water, then returned to his seat and rolled the dice. He opened with a solid four and two, occupying the four slot on the inner table. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy sweet wife was beautiful as a flower,\u201d Ziad said. \u201cWe married when she was fifteen. Her lovely name means flowers.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The old man rolled and Yossi turned to the woman. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI brought her to the place to take her gift, and my father and uncles waited outside the room with stones and knives\u2014if she was not a virgin. But there was blood.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi remembered his wife\u2019s red blood on the white bedsheet and the feeling that she was truly his. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt hurt her and she cried and cried for days, did not stop.\u201d
Yossi rolled again.
\u201cAnd we prayed that,\u00a0Inshallah,\u00a0<\/em>we would have a strong boy who would not cry,\u201d Zahira, the\u00a0old man\u2019s wife, said.
\u201cAnd when he was born he cried,\u201d the old man said. \u201cHe cried for Palestine, and the\u00a0bloodstained mountains, and the crying seashores. And I slapped his face and shook him and said, \u2018Do not be weak! You are an Arab!\u2019 And Youssif grew to be an angry barefoot boy.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The old man rolled and Yossi watched him slide the stones around the board with his rough fingers. The smell of hashish mixed with the smell of tobacco filled the room. Yossi was afraid to look up, feeling the weight of claustrophobia on him. He just stared at the board and at the old man\u2019s chipped black stones. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s your turn,\u201d the old man said.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The room was jammed with Arabs. The children had arrived. Eight young men with thick hair and mustaches crowded around the table with the others. Yossi could feel one of the newcomers breathing at his neck. Some drank beer from brown bottles, others smoked. They were all slim and strong and Yossi was afraid. The kitchen was so crowded that the Arabs pressed right up against the table and chairs. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI need room,\u201d Yossi said and the woman called out \u201cLebensraum?\u201d and laughed. \u201cI need room,\u201d Yossi said again, but the Arabs either could not or would not move. Then he thought of his wife alone in the bedroom and wanted to run to her. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s your turn,\u201d the old man said. Yossi stared blank-faced. \u201cMy sons,\u201d the old man said. \u201cAnd my brothers\u2019 sons.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want to play.\u201d
\u201cBut you must. We are the majority,\u201d the Arab said.
Yossi wanted to call the soldiers down below, but couldn\u2019t raise his voice to speak. His\u00a0wife\u2019s pistol in his pocket comforted him, but he knew he would never use it. He rolled again. Then the old man rolled. The young Arabs pressing in toward the table kept a running commentary of the game in Arabic. One imitated the sound of the clicking dice with his tongue. Yossi rolled again and he was leading. He removed his first stone from the board. The old man held up his empty cup and said, \u201cYour pot is burning.\u201d Black smoke rose from the stove.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYour house is on fire,\u201d the woman said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi pushed his chair back into one of the Arabs, stood up and forced his way to the stove. The Arabs laughed, and as he waded through them and tried to pull his kippah <\/em>from his head, one reached into his pocket. Someone had thrown a dish towel into the flame. Yossi dropped it into the sink with the blackened pot and turned on the water. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSome more tea,\u201d the old man said in a cracking voice.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When Yossi returned to the table his white stone was on the bar and six or seven of the Arab\u2019s stones had been spirited away without even a single roll of the dice. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere is the tea?\u201d the old man asked.
\u201cThere is no tea,\u201d Yossi said. \u201cPut the stones back or I won\u2019t play.\u201d
\u201cAll right. I will put them back and you will play.\u201d
\u201cWhere is your toy?\u201d the woman asked.
Yossi felt his side pocket. His wife\u2019s pistol was gone and had been replaced with a slab of\u00a0olive wood. Yossi\u2019s head felt light and then heavy.
\u201cYou will play now,\u201d the old man said.
Yossi\u2019s stomach churned and his mouth tasted bitter, acidy. With the pieces back in place, he\u00a0rolled again, more determined than ever to beat the Arabs. \u201cWhen I win you\u2019ll give me back my gun,\u201d Yossi said.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou still don\u2019t understand. We make the rules,\u201d the old man said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi bit his lip and rolled again\u2014double four. A lucky roll. Five stones left. The room still smelled of hashish now mixed with body odor and Yossi\u2019s head felt too heavy for his neck. The Arabs rolled. Then Yossi\u2014two more stones off the board. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhich one is Youssif?\u201d Yossi asked.
The young Arabs laughed and one called out, \u201cYoussif no home.\u201d
\u201cYoussif is not here yet,\u201d the old man said.
Yossi put his hand to his forehead and rolled again\u2014two more stones.
\u201cYou have won,\u201d the old man said, picking the last stone off the board with his battered\u00a0fingers. \u201cNow tell me of the six million, or some other lies, rabbi.\u201d
\u201cTell me, Jew,\u201d the woman said. \u201cTell me some more fairy stories.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi remembered the burned out carcass of the bus on Jaffa Street, the shattered glass, the body parts scattered in the street. The bomb blast had woken him and Devorah in their apartment within the walls of the Old City. He had rushed from their bedroom to see, arriving while the acrid smell of burning flesh was still thick in the air. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBus number eighteen. I was there when the second bus blew up.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood. We have a bomb-maker here,\u201d the woman said, pronouncing the second \u2018b\u2019 as she pointed to the young Arabs. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s a terrorist and should be killed,\u201d Yossi said, remembering the Hesed shel Emet <\/em>workers cleaning flesh from the statue of the winged lion who sat perched atop the Generali Building. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat is not very humane. Does your Torah allow that, Rabbi?\u201d the old man said, setting up the board. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe Torah of Israel has nothing to do with being humane,\u201d Yossi said. \u201cThis is the land of Isaac and Jacob. This is the land of my fathers and the land of my children and it will be the land of their children. This is our land. The land of Israel. The land of the Jewish people. I don\u2019t give a damn about your orange trees and date palms and pomegranate trees. You do not belong here. You are Amalek. I should have poisoned your tea.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou should have,\u201d the old man said. \u201cBut your right hand forgot its strength.\u201d
\u201cWhat?\u201d Yossi said, stunned.
\u201cI have read your books, Rabbi. Does it not say, if someone is going to kill you, it is your\u00a0duty to rise early and kill him first? Yes, I am Amalek and you are not welcome here. You have scattered my children, chopped down my trees, thrown me from my home,\u201d the Arab said. \u201cI am a son of Ishmael and you are a son of Isaac. But for that, we are not enemies. We are enemies because you came to make a family in Al-Quds. The land of Palestine is an Islamic holy possession, given to\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

future Muslims until Judgment Day. You are a cancer and you must be cut out.\u201d The Arab paused for a moment. \u201cNow it is your turn to roll again.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before Yossi had a chance to reply, he heard what sounded like a window smashing in his wife\u2019s room, the glass shattering onto the stone floor. Yossi\u2019s stomach turned. He tried to stand up but was forced down by his shoulders. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHelp!\u201d he called, before the old man pulled off his checked kaffiyeh and stuffed it into Yossi\u2019s mouth with the help of his laughing nephews. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf I forget thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth,\u201d the old man said, shaking his head. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPsalm One thirty-seven,<\/em>\u201d Yossi thought, sickened. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi could hear someone stepping through the broken glass. His wife, in a panic would rise in search of her gun, pull open her night table drawer and find it empty. The taste of the dirty kaffiyeh in his mouth made Yossi want to throw up. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHacol b\u2019seder?<\/em>\u201d a soldier called from beneath the kitchen window.
\u201cB\u2019seder,<\/em>\u201d one of the Arabs answered.
\u201cLo b\u2019seder,<\/em>\u201d Yossi thought in Hebrew. \u201cIt\u2019s not okay. There are Arabs in my kitchen!\u201d \u201cTov,<\/em>\u201d the soldier said. Then there was silence.
The old man placed the dice in Yossi\u2019s hand. He dropped them onto the board.
\u201cA good roll,\u201d the old man said moving Yossi\u2019s pieces around the table. \u201cDo you have\u00a0mazel\u00a0<\/em>tonight?\u201d the Arab man said mockingly.
The sky outside the window was turning quickly from a deep blue to a glowing purple. The\u00a0bald old man reached into his caftan, removed Devorah Bee\u2019s mini 9 mm. pistol and placed it onto the table. Yossi struggled but could not move. He was held in place by three of the young Arabs. \u201cMy children studied at the revolutionary school. They drank anger and ate fury and threw stones.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But they are not just bomb-makers and pickpockets. They will be the leaders of this land.\u201d The old man prodded the pistol with his index finger and spun it on the board. There was an inscription on the handle. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d the old man said, \u201c\u2018DARLING DEVORAH: FOR A SAFE LIFE IN JERUSALEM. LOVE DADDY.\u2019 A thoughtful gift, and practical, may it protect her from all harm. And a very pretty name. What does Devorah mean?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi blinked his eyes hard and fast as if he were trying to say, \u201cFuck you. Fuck your mother you filthy Arab.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The woman picked up the gun and held it against Yossi\u2019s temple. Then she pulled his kippah <\/em>from his head and dropped it to the floor. \u201cIt is almost time to pray,\u201d she said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi prayed to his God, wishing Moses had never led his people out of the wilderness, wishing that he had never come to this violent desert land, wishing that he and Devorah were safe in bed back in New York. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The old man looked on, his big eyes pitying, his pink peeling head almost glowing as the sun continued to rise. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yossi looked at the woman, her face as hard as fire-forged steel. And then the muezzin cried, calling the Arabs to prayer. \u201cUll-aaaaaaw-hoo-Ak-bar! Ull-aaaaaaw-hoo-Ak-bar!<\/em>\u201d And the unwelcome guests, as surprisingly as they had arrived, began disappearing into the blue morning light. The blind father, the wives, the mother, the woman, the sons, and the nephews dropped to their knees, foreheads on the floor. And were gone. The old man, too, climbed from his chair and vanished. Yossi pulled the dirty kaffiyeh from his mouth and ran to the hallway, his heart breaking in his throat. The bedroom door opened and out stepped Youssif, a tall handsome Arab in a sweater and slacks. He held a broken bottle in his hand. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Youssif stepped past him, dropping the bloodied bottle to the floor.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe is not dead,\u201d Youssif said. \u201cShe is only crying for the ghosts of her children and their children, too.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The sun continued to rise, the muezzin wailing in Arabic, \u201cThere is no God but Allah and Muhammad is the messenger of Allah.\u201d <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Introduction by R. B. Wood The world is burning. Professor Papernick is a teacher, an author, a mentor, and a friend. I met him during my tenure at Emerson College […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4241,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":true,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":""},"categories":[5,16],"tags":[143,141],"class_list":["post-4410","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-s6-myblog","category-c40-myblog","tag-jon-papernick","tag-short-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4410","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4410"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4410\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4411,"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4410\/revisions\/4411"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4241"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4410"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4410"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rbwood.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4410"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}