The Others by Sarah Blau (best ereader for academics TXT) 📗

of our benefactors decided to donate a sculpture of Lilith to our collection. Unfortunately for Efraim, the girlfriend was a renowned New York sculptor who argued it was ridiculous not to include the first woman created in the Garden of Eden in the exhibition. Efraim tried to fight it, explaining that it was more homiletical exegesis than biblical figure per se, but as usual, the big bucks tipped the scales.

I was standing next to Eli when the truck arrived and unloaded the New York Lilith, and together we watched Efraim lose his cool. She was naked, Lilith, tall, gigantic, hairy and stark naked. (Later the sculptor explained that she actually did try to be considerate and glue on her long dark hair so it would cover the more risqué bits, but the glue wore thin along the bumpy journey and revealed the sculptor’s hyper-realistic styling of body parts.) And if that wasn’t enough, she had her teeth sunk into a tiny baby. She looked like a predator.

I wasn’t surprised, knew all the myths describing her as the enemy of mothers and devourer of babies, and even the sculptor explained, once the tumult died down, that her intent was merely to criticize the manner in which Lilith’s character had been vilified: that she would never dream of eating her young, and that her only crime was her unwillingness to become the mother of a controlling man’s children; but for Efraim it was a real lifesaver.

He knew that fighting liberal loons over exposed body parts was one battle he stood to lose, but over a woman devouring live babies? Come on.

Letters were sent, phone calls made and Lilith the cannibal was duly dispatched overseas to appear in the exhibition “The First Woman – The Last Mother,” the sculpture’s last known address.

But if you take a close look at the wax figurine of Eve, you can still see the crack that split open in her shoulder when she was moved in order to make room for Lilith, and got crushed against the wall. The shoulder area has since been restored, but the injury is still visible.

It’s just how it is with Lilith, always leaving a trail.

My phone rings. I look at the name flashing on the screen and my heart skips a beat. You idiot!

I debate whether to answer right away or prolong the anticipation, then remind myself this isn’t the usual tug of war we’re playing here.

“Hey, Micha,” I say, trying to find the right tone.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t arrest you right now.”

I freeze. From the corner of my eye, I notice little Miriam peeking from between the reeds.

“What… what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you bullshitting me about you and Dina not being in contact when it turns out you went over to her place the night she was murdered, that’s what I’m talking about.”

I feel the chill creeping through my entire body, how does he know? And that raw anger in his voice, with just a hint of violence. I was never good at dealing with direct accusations, always preferred the more indirect, roundabout way.

“I wanted to tell you,” I drag the words out, “but I was afraid it wouldn’t come off so well.”

“It comes off like shit.”

Okay, so definitely not the roundabout type. Little Miriam gazes at me with worry as I search for the right words, and keeps on gazing when they don’t come. I hold the phone silently, a horrible, never ending, radiation-riddled silence. Well, make something up already!

“Look, Sheila,” he says, and mentioning my name makes him sound a little friendlier. “What am I supposed to think? You didn’t tell me the truth.”

“Because I couldn’t.”

“Okay, so tell me now, slow and steady, why did you go to Dina Kaminer’s?”

“She initiated it.”

“Really?” he says, his tone once again devoid of sympathy. “Just like that? After twenty years?” He’s asking the same questions Eli asked, but he’s not Eli, he’s the opposite of Eli and you better keep that in mind. “Or did you in fact keep in touch all this time? Maybe you lied to me about that too?”

“Look, I have to go teach a class, can we talk later?” I take a deep breath. “You can come over to my place, if you want.” There, I said it. I feel the fear and foolishness jumbling in my stomach, like every time I make a destructive move. The wax figurine of Michal fixes her icy glare on me, the crown on her head sparkling.

“I’ll come over, but this time no lies, Sheila, because I don’t know where that will lead us.” And he hangs up, leaving me clutching my phone, surrounded by wax figures whose gazes all say the same thing: incorrigible.

I walk into the instruction room, and Efraim immediately blurts out, “Well, hello there, good morning! Look who decided to show up! We were afraid some murderer had gotten to you as well.”

Good morning to you too, Efraim. I know you mean well, or at least you think you do, but very soon I’ll make you stop.

From across the room I exchange looks with my colleague Shirley, her consoling eyes telling me that she’s already received her daily dose of “high risk single women” jokes.

Poor Efraim! If only he knew that Shirley was already making great strides towards getting pregnant via sperm donation, it would really have messed with his head, but eventually he’d reach the conclusion that it was a blessed event. Childbirth is always a blessed event. Obviously, if said baby came with a father, maybe even an observant father, it would make it all the more blessed, but Efraim has learned not to expect too much of his two spinsters – who also happen to be the best instructors on his team – so he’s careful with his jokes. However, this particular murder seems to be beyond his self-restraint.

“Here are the reports Eli sent,” I say, shoving them in his hands.

When Eli started working here, the