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

I was her mother’s best friend, me, not Ronit, and old rivalry that even death couldn’t end rears its ugly head. Me, not Ronit. Me. Me. Me.

Gali takes a step closer to me. “I didn’t come to you because I wanted you to come to me,” she says and flashes that beautiful smile again, and it’s only now that I notice one of her teeth is crooked, lending her an elf-like appearance. “And here you are.”

The memories pulse through my mind, the plump baby reaching out to me in the dark. “Who wants a hug? Who wants a cuddle?” That tight squeeze, and those chubby arms wrapping around my neck, and a milky scent engulfing me like a cloud, and my heart opening like a womb, and there’s that beloved smile, with the pink gums and that tiny crooked tooth, oh, my little, beautiful jellybean, you came back to me.

Three older instructors burst into the room in a frenzy of rippling scarves and rattling necklaces strung with chunky, colourful beads.

“That’s our national service girl,” the oldest one among them says to her friend, pointing at Gali. “She’ll show you.”

Gali raises an amused eyebrow at me and approaches the computer.

“Could you explain to me how to tag friends on Facebook?”

The woman making the request isn’t particularly nice, but neither is Gali. While drily explaining to the woman where to press, she looks up and throws a smile my way. I return a co-conspirator’s smile, but then remember that I get mixed up with those tags as well, that I’m not what you’d call tech savvy, and what’s more, I’m closer in age to the unpleasant asker than to Gali. That’s exactly your problem, you’re still clinging to youth.

I take a step nearer to the table and freeze when I see Lilith’s familiar face staring at me from the fact sheets. It’s an earlier version of her, hair wild and dishevelled, mouth agape, toned legs and hooves for feet. You actually thought you could get away from me?

“Nice drawing of her, isn’t it?” Gali’s voice floats over from across the room, and if earlier I wondered how much she knows, I just got my answer.

She truly was a good friend, Naama. She knew how to be one. She didn’t have Dina’s intimidating edge, or Ronit’s flirtatious irony. She was just Naama, kind and good-tempered, with auburn curls and a lisp, and that wide smile. But that’s life, the good ones are always the first to go.

I consider Gali, who’s explaining to the technologically challenged lady with the DIY jewellery why she “can’t find her photos in her feed,” and know that despite the physical resemblance, she doesn’t take after her mother. I recognize her subtle cruelness towards the older lady, her convoluted explanations, deliberately making it much more complicated than it needs to be. I know that any moment now the older woman will give up and rise from her chair, and Gali will flash me that elfish smile of hers. I wonder whether I should be afraid of her, and whether I should have been afraid of her mother.

Thrump! Thrump! Thrump!

Dina’s hands pound the tambourine, Naama’s face is twisted and wet from tears. She’s screaming words I can’t understand, and the knife flashes in her hand; is it possible that Dina’s laughing? No, she’s not, her face is pale like Ronit’s face, like my face, when Naama turns to me and screams, “How could you? Tell me! How could you?” and the voice isn’t Naama’s, but the hand holding the knife is.

“My group’s here, you want to join me as co-instructor?” Gali asks, and without waiting for me to answer, she hands me the stack of fact sheets and as we make our way to the exhibition gallery, I notice that our steps are completely in sync, and wonder whether she’s doing it on purpose.

This gallery is much more impressive than our sparse display rooms. Here they have giant vitrine cabinets exhibiting a vast selection of Judaica pieces, the neon lights lending them an eerie, otherworldly glow. The menorahs, shofars, candlesticks and Seder plates all glint in an ominous light, but the strongest light is shining from the direction of the amulet vitrine across the room. I don’t need to look, I already know what type of amulets are displayed there, and I want to turn on my heels and run. Is she doing this on purpose? Was it all planned? Gali looks calm and composed, leading a group of religious teens into the room with an authoritative air, steering them straight to… wouldn’t you know it, the vitrine showcasing protection amulets against Lilith.

The curator has chosen to position them by the fertility amulets. I’m surprised to find that there are significantly more protection amulets against Lilith and the possibility of her harming babies than fertility amulets that help produce said babies. But then again, fear will always trump hope.

“Girls, we’re in Lilith’s turf now,” Gali says. “Say hi.” The girls giggle, they clearly like Gali, who continues to explain to them in a pleasant and almost scientific tone about Lilith’s creation in heaven and her relationship with Adam, and I’m rather taken aback to hear her say that “To this day, Lilith is considered the enemy of babies and the star of men’s wet dreams.”

The girls’ ears perk up and the room reverberates with murmurs until one of them works up the nerve to ask, “What exactly do you mean?”, to which her friend elbows her in the ribs.

“I mean that Lilith is considered a sperm thief, teasing sleeping men into nocturnal emissions.”

Hmm. A national service girl talking about sperm theft? Nocturnal emissions? Very interesting. I catch her sneaking a side glance at the gallery door and realize this information doesn’t exactly appear on the fact sheets, and indeed, when one of the chunky-necklaced instructors appears at the doorway, Gali immediately switches subjects and presents a conservative exegesis of Eve and Lilith and female roles and