7. Janitor
I asked for help from Mirddin, the god of high places,
for he never denied it to people in love or in other adventures.
Mary Stewart. Hollow Hills
My construction job didn't last long. One morning I came to work and saw that the largest pavilion we still had to take apart had fallen by itself during the night. It took us only a few hours to cut the metal frame and load the pieces in a truck.
I was unemployed again. Now my place was at the official bottom of the society, at The Patch. That's how locals had nicknamed a place in front of a supermarket, where people in need of jobs gathered every morning. Hobos, unlucky immigrants, alcoholics, drug addicts, and wintering hippies all came there. For reasons unknown, a large tree in the middle of The Patch was chosen for a roost by a huge flock of Tristram's grackles, noisy starling-like birds. They nested in Negev canyons, and wintered in Eilat. Morning slave auctions were accompanied by deafening chorus of the birds. Potential employers arrived in their trucks, filled them up with bums, and departed for construction sites, landfills, and warehouses.
Due to its warm climate, Eilat was a favorite wintering site of countless vagabonds, but there was enough work for almost everyone. The city was young and expanding, so unemployment was less of a problem than in other parts of the country. The wages were also better. Besides, English was more widely spoken in that international resort than elsewhere. The only problem was lack of an Arab market, major source of cheap food in other Israeli cities.
In my very first morning at The Patch, I was picked out from the crowd by Eli, the boss of all street janitors in Eilat. One of his employees, an American student, was about to return home, so Eli offered me to take over his territory in the upper part of the city.
Over many years of working with mostly immigrant stuff, Eli had learned some Russian, but usually his speeches were a mix of Hebrew, Yiddish, Arabic, Polish, Russian, and English four-letter words. Training for the job didn't take long. My area was an upscale block, made up by expensive private homes, with tiny gardens and almost no litter except flower petals. Only around two tall apartment buildings there was some garbage, but street beggars usually were the first to pick it up. Whatever was left was carried away by the wind. It usually took me less than an hour to sweep all streets. On the second day of my work Eilat was soaked by the first rain of the winter. It was very brief but intense, and the streets remained clean for a long time afterwards.
The last street uphill had houses only on one side. The other side was facing the mouths of five or six canyons. It was a huge labyrinth, stretching for many miles across the mountains above the town. I seldom had time to hike far inside the canyons, because Eli could arrive at any time to check on me, and I'd have to swing my broom, pretending to be working hard. But eventually I managed to explore most of the labyrinth. Few canyons had any vegetation, and only one had a few trees, inhabited by a family of rock hyraxes. One canyon had a tiny puddle of fresh water. On some evenings, rocks around the puddle were packed with visiting birdwatchers, coming from all over the world to see Lichtenshtein's sandgrouse. Dozens of those rare, beautiful nocturnal birds used the puddle as a watering hole. There was also some rare fauna in the remote upper reaches of the canyons: Hume's owls, Persian horned vipers, weird-looking slit-faced bats, Blanford's foxes, and occasionally striped hyenas.
The city itself had many more interesting birds than the canyons. My roommates in the shelter sometimes managed to spot rare species while drinking beer in outdoor bars. See-see partridges lived in a tiny park near the bus station, rose-ringed parakeets could often be seen in date palms along the waterfront, reef herons cleaned the litter from beaches every morning, and no less than eight species of falcons watched them all from TV antennas.
One day, walking to a supermarket, I heard loud cries overhead. Looking up, I saw a Barbary falcon attacking a flock of parakeets. It rose up almost vertically, like a helicopter, then froze in the air for an instant, and dive-bombed the prey, fast as a speck of light on a falling battle-ax. Sharp slapping sound - and a cloud of green feathers floating in the air.
It was my search for the nest of rare sooty falcon that led to the abovementioned amazing discovery, providing me with the opportunity to get Anka silver jewelry for free.
City residents were generally very protective of their birds - one of Eilat's major tourist attractions. Every day my roommates toured local foodstores, and owners provided them with bagfuls of out-of-date food "for sick birdies". My share in our dinners was mostly gazelle meat taken from Hai Bar freezer during my weekend visits, and cabbage from the fields of a nearby kibbutz.
One day I got to work and was happy to find that the adjacent territory had been given to Pavel, Anka's uncle. He came to Eilat from the Republic of Georgia to make some money during the winter. He had no chance of getting citizenship: Anka's only Jewish relative was her grandmother on mother's side; others were Georgians, Russians, and Curcassians.
Now Anka knew what my job was, so my chances got even closer to zero. But Pavel and I became good friends, and over beer he occasionally provided me with insider information on the family affairs. The only time I could see Anka herself was on Saturdays, at free dancing parties for Russian immigrants in Emperor Hotel. I also met Levi, the millionaire's son. He looked much better than I'd expected. Officially he was in the Army at the moment, but his father got him assigned to a checkpoint just outside the city, and he only had to go there once a week.
After a couple visits to the parties, I decided it would be better to stay away from them. The clothes I'd brought from Russia didn't look good anymore; besides, Beni did a lame job when he tried to give me a haircut with a machine for shearing sheep. And it wasn't much fun to watch Anka dancing with Levi.
So I borrowed a mountain bike from Ruben, and drove to the mountains every evening. It took more than two hours to climb to the plateau, but only twenty minutes to get back. Now I could explore the more remote canyons along the border with Egypt. The most beautiful of them, Red Canyon, was a slot canyon, similar to the ones of Colorado Plateau. It was so deep and narrow that at hundred meters above the bottom its walls were still less than a meter apart. Another canyon had a freshwater spring, often visited by Nubian ibexes at dusk.
One evening I was flying down the road, hurrying back to the town to tell my roommates about a particularly rare bird at a roadside garbage dump. It was Verreaux's eagle, a huge African raptor that only occasionally came to Eilat area to hunt hyraxes.
I also saw something less encouraging that day. There were two other birds at the dump - golden eagles on their way to the North. So I knew that the major eagle migration was to begin soon, and I'd have to move out from the shelter.
Still thinking about raptors, I made a sharp turn, slowed down in front of a barrier at the city entrance, and suddenly saw a group of familiar people: Levi with his Army friends in uniforms, and Anka with another girl. The boys were shooting their Galil assault rifles at tin cans.
I stopped, greeted them, and watched for a while. Once-a-week service didn't do the guys much good. Their shooting skills would be too poor even for the infamous Soviet Construction Troops. I'm not much of a sharpshooter, but I usually hit the target if I really need to; besides, it would be physically impossible not to show better results than these guys.
"May I try?" I asked Levi, pointing at his rifle. He stepped back.
"Don't be afraid," I said, "I won't steal it."
Anka said nothing, but the other girl giggled. Levi blushed and gave me the gun.
"How do you switch the firing mode on this one?" I asked, trying to look professional.
"What?"
"How do you switch from fully automatic to single shots?" I wasn't sure it was called firing mode, but I could bet Levi didn't know either.
Anyway, I figured how to switch the firing mode or whatever it's called, shot a few cans, patted Levi on the shoulder, gave Anka a pair of silver earrings worth my monthly salary (I was always carrying them in my pocket in case of suddenly meeting her in the street), took my bike and rolled away. I had a feeling that my first duel with Levi had ended with a knockdown.
The next day I discovered that in one of the tall apartment buildings on my territory, the door leading to the roof wasn't locked. It was the highest point of the city. I found an old mattress, dragged it to the roof, and sunbathed there naked for hours, enjoying the view. Black mountain ridges sloped down on both sides of white-and-green city, all the way to the dark blue Gulf of Akaba. Across the gulf were the red mountains of Jordan. Far to the south, brown peaks of Hijaz could be seen in purple haze. To the north, broad yellow Arava valley was dotted with glittering salt lakes. If Eli decided to check on me, I could spot his truck well in advance. By the time he'd arrive, I'd be already down in the street, swinging my broom.
At noon I always left my perch and went to a small street nearby. At that hour an old lady who lived there took her two Great Pyrenees for a walk. The dogs were so beautiful that I wouldn't miss a chance to watch them.
Once I noticed a girl on the other side of the street - she was also watching the dogs. She was an absolute knockout. I forgot about the Pyrenees, approached her with the broom over my shoulder, and asked if she could speak English. It's the best way to start conversations with girls in Israel, with its cult of all things American. She flapped her long eyelashes, smiled and said:
"Of course I do! Nice dogs, aren't they?"
"Gorgeous. But I have to talk to you about some other matter."
"Really? What?"
"Well," I said, "I am responsible for the neatness and order in this part of the city, so I must be informed of everything that's going on here. Among other things, I have to know the name of the most beautiful girl in Upper Eilat."
It wasn't just a compliment. In all my life, I've only seen faces like that two or three times. Velvety-black eyes of a gazelle, graceful features, tender in every detail, from tiny but perfectly shaped nose to even tinier ears, long hair like a cascade of black resin. And her silhouette was every bit as good as her face - pure elegance and femininity. Add a soft smile, sparks of laughter in the eyes, magical charm - no wonder my brain instantly went into overdrive, desperately looking for some way to continue the conversation, to keep this thin thread of connection from breaking.
And the girl - what a miracle! - didn't try to end it; she seemed to enjoy our little talk. With me? With a janitor? Residents of that street had incomes of at least ten thousand dollars a month. Why didn't she turn away, back to her world of luxury and comfort? We kept talking for a few more minutes, but I realized that it couldn't last forever, and decided to raise the stakes.
"I have something interesting to show you, if you don't mind."
The best girls are always brave and inquisitive. Or may be I simply like brave and inquisitive girls. Without a second's hesitation, Miriam (that was the name of my fairy) followed me into the apartment building, to the elevator and up to the roof. It would be unthinkable for a girl from almost any other city to enter an elevator with a stranger. But, except for Arab terrorism, Israel is a surprisingly safe place, and Eilat is probably the safest place in the country.
In silence, we looked around from the roof. The city resembled a large Alpine garden, surrounded by rocks of all colors. Then we started talking, telling each other about ourselves.
The girl lived in Jerusalem with her husband, who worked part time there and part time in Eilat. He was from Morocco, she was from Italy. When she married him, he seemed very civilized, but immediately after the wedding she had to face all the horrors of traditional Middle Eastern lifestyle. The man not only treated her like a boot camp "maggot", he was also obsessively jealous. Their relations deteriorated even further a year later, because the poor girl couldn't get pregnant. Stuttering from embarrassment, she told me that her husband had beaten her up a few times.
Fortunately, Israel was not Morocco. Miriam was getting ready to file for divorce, but she kept delaying it in hope of getting pregnant after all. If she succeeded, her husband, a co-owner of Eilat Auto Terminal, would have to support her for many years.
At some point she started crying. I hugged her and tried to comfort, first with tender words, then with kisses to her eyes, to dry the tears, then... No, I didn't tear off her clothes or squeeze her in passionate embraces. I almost had to force myself to do what I was doing. She was too perfect, too magical to touch with unwashed hands, to undress under the hot desert sun, to lay on a dusty mattress, to touch her delicate body with mine. I didn't feel much lust, only tenderness and fear to hurt her with an occasional word or move.
But I knew that only love of a real man could help her restore her strength and balance after a year of life with her scum of a husband. Besides, although in childless families of the Orient the woman is always the one to blame, the medical statistics say otherwise. I probably could help her get some money from the fat jerk, to have a happy life for her and for our baby. If only the baby would have its mother's beauty and its father's optimism...
Soon it became obvious that Miriam's husband wasn't much of a man even formally. She gave herself to me with such passion as if she'd spent many years in a nunnery. I didn't expect to find such gift of sensitivity in this heavenly creature, and even got confused for a second. But after the first wave of pleasure had passed, I met her eyes - shining, full of joy and impatient desire, wonderful eyes. And I knew that I'd be able to give her everything she needed, not only for her young body starving for love, but also for her soul, tormented by solitude.
Such elevated style might seem inappropriate for feverish adultery on a sun-bleached mattress. But I was determined to turn the dirty bitumen roof into paradise on Earth.
And I was right in what I was doing. A few hours later, when it was time for her to leave, she was a different person - strong, calm, self-confident, but still tender and beautiful young woman.
Five days passed like a dream. I taught Miriam everything I could - not just the art of love, but the art of believing in herself. Fortunately, I had enough of that skill to spare. We enjoyed the winter sun, soaring above the city, almost in the sky, alone but not lonely, like Adam and Eve. It was too good to last long.
We were already making plans for a weekend trip to Hai Bar, to try making love in a normal bed with a nearby shower. But Miriam's husband got suspicious and took her back to Jerusalem. The poor girl managed to sneak out for a minute to call me in the shelter.
"I'll never forget you," she said.
"Don't cry. You can forget me, just don't forget what I told you."
"I remember. I'll be strong. And I'll get a divorce."
"And don't forget that you deserve the best man in the world."
She told me that it was me who was the best man in the world (I hope she was wrong), and started crying again, and... Well, it's nobody's business, just ours.
That night I had a dream. I met her husband, pulled a huge oak tree from the ground, and crushed him. Although pretty obvious from Freudian point of view, the dream later proved to be prophetic in an amazingly literal way. But at the moment I was sure I'd never meet Miriam again, and never see her degenerate husband, not to mention laying my hand upon him, as they used to say in Biblical times.
Next weekend Beni and I got so drunk that we didn't wake up when a bunch of Swedish volunteers from Yotvata kibbutz arrived in an autocrane, pulled out a vending machine from Hai Bar visitor center, and took it away with all cash and Coca-Cola. Later the police arrested the thieves, but released them after a lecture about the the Ten Commandments.
On Sunday I climbed to the roof and sat their alone, watching yachts in the gulf, white cubes of Jordanian houses, and early eagles circling overhead. How could I know that on that particular day Eli was driving not his own old truck, but his wife's car? He arrived and didn't find me. Instead, there was a lot of garbage that I didn't have time to remove that week. He made an ugly scene, but he didn't fire me yet, only called me "fucking kus ummak krev potz huy".
I was still spending my afternoons sleeping at the beach or patrolling city streets, hoping for an encounter with Anka. No such luck. Finally, I asked Pavel to give her my letter. The envelope contained a silver ring with a large emerald (isn't it nice to be able to get those things for free?) and a short serenade.
Serenade
Like silver
shekel, shines the moon,
The sea is smooth
at night,
The city will
be quiet soon
Under its shawl
of light.
And, like a
moth, I'll walk in vain
In circles,
mumbling rhymes,
To see your
house once again,
Or twice, or
hundred times.
May be I'll
meet you in the street,
As if just passing
by,
You looking
oh so nice and neat,
You won't return
my "Hi!"
I have no chance,
I realize,
Whatever tricks
I use:
You normal girls
don't like us guys
Who have no
strings in shoes.
I am below,
you are above,
But probably
some day
The coin, old
shekel for my love,
Will fall the
other way.