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

tensed and was filled with new energy. He removed his cell phone from his pocket and tried to place a call to his parents, but there was no reception yet.

“My name is Ali,” the old man introduced himself. He left the kitchen for a moment and came back with a first aid kit. Anise thanked him. She took out an antiseptic rinse and, with some gauze, thoroughly cleaned the gash on Mor’s leg and bandaged it.

“Why did you open the door for us? We’re not…” Anise stopped before completing the sentence.

“You are not Arab?” Ali completed it for her and smiled. “But you are human beings.”

“I’m a little bit Arab,” said Anise, “half-Arab, I think.”

“Do you know what’s happening out there?” Yam asked the old man.

Ali didn’t know much. “Before the television and telephones were cut off, there was an announcement that Jerusalem is under a rolling terrorist attack,” he said, “but I do not know who the attackers are or what exactly is happening.”

Ali fell silent. No one spoke. They could hear the echoes of shooting outside. Every few minutes, one of them would take out their cell phone and try to make a call, but there was still no reception. Ali turned on the TV, hoping that broadcasting had resumed, but the screen remained blank.

It was thoroughly dark by now, and all three kids were exhausted.

Ali led them to a narrow room with two single beds. “This is the best I can do. You will have to manage,” he said in a sort of apology.

They pushed the two beds together and, utterly spent, crawled in between the sheets.

Anise found herself in the middle, between the two boys. She really didn’t want to sleep next to Yam, but she was too tired to make a fuss. In any case, the situation was, to say the least, unusual. Within seconds, she was asleep.

In the morning, when Yam opened his eyes, he was sure it had all been a nightmare. Sunrays flickered cheerily around the room, and for a moment, it seemed as if everything was fine. He then looked at Anise sleeping next to him, her arm flung over his torso, her head on his shoulder. So it wasn’t a dream. Yam fought the desire to close his eyes and go back to sleep.

“Good morning,” whispered Mor who was already dressed. Gently, Yam moved Anise’s arm to the side and sat up, taking care not to wake her. Reality could wait a while, he thought. There was no need to rush.

When they entered the kitchen, Ali was already standing next to the ancient cooktop making omelets. The two boys ate with gusto.

“We’re so lucky you opened the gate,” said Mor, sipping the hot coffee.

“Every child has worried parents. Both an Arab child and a Jewish child,” the old man laughed softly and poured more coffee into all the glasses.

“I’m Christian,” Mor corrected, “and Jewish too,” he added after a moment’s thought.

“I’m Muslim on my mother’s side and Christian on my dad’s, but was raised Jewish,” said a refreshed-looking Anise who’d suddenly materialized in the doorway. Everyone laughed.

“I’m Jewish,” said Yam hesitantly. “Who was shooing at us yesterday?” he asked Ali. The old man shrugged.

“ISIS, Jabhat a-Nusra, Price Tag. The names change but the terror is always the same. There is no way of knowing really. Jews, Arabs… Everyone looks the same with masks and guns.”

“What about the army?” Yam asked, but Ali shook his head. “The army cannot go into the Old City. Too many civilians.”

“I totally don’t understand what happened,” said Mor.

“It is the same old story of the Temple Mount,” the old man sighed.

“But it’s only a pile of rocks,” said a puzzled Anise.

The old man laughed, this time bitterly. “Yes. You are right. This is an ancient fight over old rocks. The Jews want them, and the Arabs want them too.”

Yam took his cell phone out once again, but there was still no reception.

“Our parents,” whispered Anise, “they must be frantic. Maybe the TV works.”

The old man shook his head again. “No television, no internet. Everything is down.”

Mor thought about Dad and Sual. He knew Anise was thinking the exact same thing. “I don’t get it. Everyone has the same God. I think it’s the religions that exploit God,” he said, frustrated.

The old man smile. “You know, ya ibni, when I was a little boy, my father would tell me a legend about a gate in Jerusalem. A gate no one had ever seen.”

Yam, stunned, looked at Ali. “The legend says that Jerusalem is holy to all the religions and therefore God decided that the gate to heaven would be here, in this city. But then every religion wanted the gate to itself and everybody started to fight, so God became very upset and discouraged. He thought Jerusalem would unite all the religions because they all have the same God. But instead, they started to kill one another in His name. God started to cry and his tears became rocks that blocked the gate so it disappeared.”

“My father told me the exact same story! He even drew me a picture of the gate,” said Yam, still dazed.

The old man look at Yam, a strange smile on his lips. “Habibi, there is a reason for everything, even for you being here right now,” he said. “In any case, nobody has found the gate to this day.”

“I’m going to find it,” Yam declared.

“We’ll find it,” Anise corrected. Yam wondered what was wrong with her. Everything irritated her.

“You have to take care not to be taken hostage or killed. You do not look like you are from this part of the city,” said Ali as he cleared the table. “You look like tourists and terrorists like to capture tourists. It looks good on TV.”

Ali went to the dresser, opened a drawer, and took out an old map yellowing at the edges. He held it out to Yam.

“Be careful. There is only one copy of this map in the whole world.