The Celestial Gate by Avital Dicker (red white royal blue txt) 📗

his panic making his voice shake. Sual knew he was right. What a world, she thought. One newborn without a mother, and another newborn without a father.

Later on that night, Aisha came to see her, bearing a basket of Sual’s favorite foods, but Sual only stared at the plate, incapable of eating. She looked at her mother who stubbornly refused to meet her eye. Tears streamed down Aisha’s wrinkled cheeks.

Her mother took her old black wallet from her handbag, grabbed a thick wad of cash and put it on the table, then pushed a battered old suitcase across the floor to the edge of Sual’s bed.

“Mother!” Sual grabbed Aisha’s hand and started to sob.

“May Allah have mercy on you, Sual,” said her mother, then turned around and left.

Sual looked at her mother’s heavy body disappearing past the maternity ward’s automatic doors. She knew she’d never see her again. Against all odds, she hoped she’d somehow manage to leave Jerusalem before they came looking for her.

The beautiful infant had finished his feeding and fallen asleep. She tried to put him back in Theo’s arms, but he wouldn’t take the baby. After what’s happened to him today, it’s hard to blame him, she thought, and decided to put Mor back in the nursery herself.

At noon, the hospital’s automatic doors closed behind her. Sual, holding her blanket-wrapped baby tight against her breasts, looked around cautiously. None of Mahmud’s brothers was around; only the Italian man from yesterday whose wife had died was sitting on an outdoor bench, his son in his arms.

Sual heaved a sigh of relief. She was still alive. She had no idea where to go from here; she knew no place except for the Muslim Quarter of Jerusalem’s Old City. She’d hardly ever left it. Maybe she’d go to the city’s central bus station and there decide which bus to take.

A black consulate limousine pulled up. The chauffeur got out and opened the rear door, waiting for the man on the bench to get in.

Sual looked at the man who seemed lost in his own thoughts and suddenly had an idea. The chance was slim, but she had nothing to lose. As it was, she had nowhere to go. She decided to try.

She approached the large black car with some hesitation, reaching it just as the chauffeur was turning the key in the ignition. The Italian was seated in the back. Sual took a deep breath, screwed up her courage, opened the rear door, and started to speak without giving herself a chance to change her mind.

“I’m so deeply sorry for what happened,” she said to the stranger looking up at her. “If you want, I can help you take care of the baby, even if only for the first few days. I’m already breastfeeding and have a lot of milk.” She hoped he couldn’t hear the pleading in her voice.

The man didn’t answer and Sual blushed with embarrassment. What was she thinking, accosting him like that? Her fear must have unhinged her. She was turning away, humiliated, when Theo suddenly motioned in her direction. Without looking at her, he moved over in the spacious back seat and made room for her and Anise.

For a moment, Sual was frozen in place, not believing her good fortune. Then, protecting her baby’s head, she ducked into the car and sat down. It will never occur to anyone to look for her at the Italian Consulate, she thought as the car started moving. She’d been granted a miracle. She would live.

Yam

Yam is already in kindergarten. Grandma Rebecca wakes him up with a good morning kiss and helps him get dressed. Afterward, on the way downstairs, he peeks through the crack in the door to his mother’s room: she’s still sleeping.

Grandma motions for him to be quiet. “Mommy was studying until late last night,” she whispers in his ear. “She has a big exam today.”

In the kitchen, Grandma puts a chocolate granola bar into his backpack, and then, just to make sure, adds a handful of sweets.

The kindergarten teacher has tried to convince Rebecca that it isn’t healthy and, anyway, the kindergarten serves breakfast, snacks, and lunch, but Grandma isn’t convinced.

“Happiness is the healthiest thing in the world,” she always says.

On the way to school, Grandma has to stop to rest and both sit down on a bench in the boulevard.

“Our bench,” Grandma calls it.

Grandma wipes the sweat off her forehead and gives Yam his water bottle. Then she says, “Today is a special day because your daddy is coming back to Israel.”

Yam doesn’t remember him. He has only one picture of his father holding him in his arms from when he was a baby, not even a year old. He gets up to look for a pebble to kick. He sends it flying far, far away.

Mom has told him that Daddy is a famous painter and that’s why he doesn’t live in the same country they do. Every few months, he gets a postcard from someplace else and he and Grandpa use a colored pushpin to stick it on the map of the world he has on the wall in his room, then Grandpa tells him a story.

Yam loves his Grandpa’s stories. Once, after Daddy sent a postcard from Shanghai, Grandpa told him about emperors and palaces and people with slanted eyes.

At school, there’s a girl in his class. Her name is Lee and she’s from China and she really does have funny eyes.

But Yam still can’t understand why his daddy has to be so far away when he has a son here who misses him. He doesn’t want a daddy who sends postcards. He wants a daddy like the other kids at school have, one who gives piggy-back rides and kicks a ball around with him. Through his thick curls, Yam scratches his head hard and tries not to cry, but it doesn’t help. Lots and lots of salty drops drip down his cheeks.

In the afternoon, Mommy picks him up from school