Pages: 1 2

            Smiling, he answered, “No problem.”  Then he took another sip of his beer and turned to the soldier who had first approached him.  His name was David and he had been born and raised, like Benjamin, in the chaotic city of Gaza.  Benjamin looked across at him and while the others laughed and joked, David sat with a serious expression, listening quietly to the conversation, remaining silent, almost sullen, and self-possessed. The other soldiers laughed loudly and swallowed drink upon drink.  David clutched  his lone glass tightly, as if afraid someone might take it away.  On the way to the restaurant, David had told Benjamin that since he was a boy, he knew he wanted to be a soldier.  Benjamin now noticed David staring out the window. Leftover smoke from the car bomb floated in slivers of moonlight and streetlights.  David stared steadily outside, sighing occasionally, and when the last soldiers left and they were alone, he began to loosen his gaze.  He turned to face Benjamin.  “It’s very frustrating.” He threw his hands up in the air, then let them drop on the table, the leftover mugs briefly thudding.  “I’ll never get used to it, especially seeing a child, an innocent child taken away with a fucking car bomb.  You know, I hardly drive anymore.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  I walk or cycle.  I just can’t stand being cramped in a car or bus knowing how many lives have been destroyed by bombs.  If we could ban all vehicles, it’d be so much better for the environment and the conflict in the Middle East.”

Benjamin laughed but then stopped when he saw that David wasn’t smiling.

“I know I sound naïve and it’s unrealistic but when you’ve been through a lot of search and rescues, well . . .” he stopped and stared out the window again.

“I’m sorry.”

He turned his gaze away from the window and, pressing his thick eyebrows together, he shot a glare at Benjamin and muttered, “For what?  It’s not your fault.”

Then changing the subject, Benjamin asked, “What did you leave in the boy’s hand by the way?”  He didn’t mean to be so direct but his mind was churning with curiosity.

“Oh, you saw that?” he whispered, his expression softening.

He nodded.

“Cookie Monster.  The boy had . . .”

Benjamin interrupted.  “A t-shirt with the Cookie Monster.”  He glanced down at his beer then looked up into David’s watery eyes.  “Do you always carry a Cookie Monster figurine with you?”  A short laugh escaped his full lips.

David grinned widely.  “Not usually but my nephew gave it to me when I left for work.  Uncle, here, this is for luck, he said, slipping the figurine into my hand.  I’ll have to buy him a new one before he realizes it’s gone.  He loves that crazy, blue monster!”

“Don’t we all?”  They both laughed.  “Speaking about him is suddenly making me hungry for chocolate chip cookies.”

“There’s a great pastry shop around the corner.”  David rose from his chair and paid for his drink as well as Benjamin’s.  Benjamin pulled out his wallet but David held up his hand and refused the money.  “My treat.  A little token of my appreciation.  You didn’t have to help out today but you did.  I hope it wasn’t too difficult for you.”  His eyes darkened then lit up, the blueness of them still striking under the dim lights and tobacco haze of the restaurant.

“I must confess that I was slightly nervous but I’m glad I could help.  I’ll never forget that little boy.”  Benjamin took a deep breath.

“You’re pretty brave for a civilian.  Have you ever considered joining the Israeli army?  We could use a good man like you.”

“No, no, I’m a fisherman at heart but a dishwasher at the present time.  I live in Canada now.  I’m only here for a short visit then I’m heading back to Montreal.”

“I don’t blame you for wanting to leave this whole mess, but what can you do in Canada for Gaza?”

He thought about this for a while, rubbing his hands together.  “Nothing,” he finally replied.  “Absolutely nothing.”  David stared hard at him but Benjamin lowered his eyes.  They left the restaurant in silence and when they were about to turn the corner to the pastry shop, Benjamin said with a sad smile, “I’m a little tired.  Let’s pass on the cookies.”

“They make a great chocolate chip cookie.  Are you sure?”

He nodded.

“Okay, another time.”  But they both knew this was a lie; there wouldn’t be another time.  David stood in front of him and squeezed his shoulders.  “Thanks again.  Shalom.” Leaning against a building painted with graffiti, Benjamin watched him walk away, his uniform dirty and worn but his shoulders still stiff and straight.

Pages: 1 2