The third big affair of her life and the third washout. Another man who doesn’t want her, while so many others grovel at her feet.
“I’m just cursed,” she sighs out of the blue and without even having followed her train of thought.
“Come on, stop the bullshit!” Manu says.
A funny Shabbat, no breaking bread or blessing wine, just drinking a glass of dry white in the melancholy of this windy night in Tel Aviv while Paris counts its dead. On Facebook, French tricolor flags are beginning to cover the outline of all the photos, and the slogan of solidarity—“I am Paris”—is proliferating on the social networks. But Juliette’s head is elsewhere. She doesn’t even know about the Paris massacres. As soon as she gets up the next day, she begins watching the people entering and leaving Elias’s building. For three hours, her staring eyes don’t leave the door that opens and shuts regularly, releasing its batches of the faithful with tallits on their shoulders, its yuppies with round Ray-Bans, its tattooed girls and guys in flip-flops despite the cold, families of Tel Avivian bourgeois bohemians with their dear blonde heads and their dogs. There are so many people in a high-rise like that.
Sitting on her little balcony, Juliette doesn’t miss a trick, but she feels herself turning into a surveillance camera, not even daring to go pee for fear of missing Elias. Her patience is finally rewarded in the middle of the afternoon, when he arrives at last, with Olga. So she’s the one, the girl he’s crazy about! Another blonde, but taller and more languid. A rich man’s daughter, you can see it in her walk. Yet they had separated, according to Manu. So they got together again! Or it’s someone else. Juliette feels like shouting his name, just to make him flip out. But nothing comes out of her throat. No, decidedly, she’s not ready yet to see him going by without breaking her heart. What’s more, going by with another girl!
CHAPTER 16
The next day is Sunday, the first business day of the week, and the press is talking only about the Paris attacks. From Israel Hayom to Haaretz, almost every page is devoted to that. The Promised Land has tears in its eyes, and Tel Aviv is dumbfounded. Despite the unkind way the French often view their own country, Israelis have a weakness for France, that unfaithful friend. And they tremble for her, as if they knew she is too fragile or too innocent to survive such ordeals. After the Charlie Hebdo massacre, the Bataclan. An editorialist in Yedioth Ahronoth even wonders how their friend France is going to get out of this situation if it doesn’t get rid of its colonial guilt toward Arabs.
That morning, before going to H24, Elias and Olga create a group on WhatsApp to make their relationship official. At least that way there’s no more need to curb their gestures or sneak around, and they spend a great part of the morning thanking coworkers who come over and congratulate them. The Shabbat holiday allowed people to get back to a normal state of mind after the previous day’s attacks. Even if they’re still talking about it a lot that morning, one hit drives out the other, and the news of the day is the officialization of the Olga-Elias couple. Danielle Godmiche hugs them both in her arms, already proposing to be a witness at their wedding. She even declares, “You’re really made for one another, I knew it, it’s just incredible!”
They all go ahead with their little compliments, their good wishes and even blessings, despite the little pangs and inevitable regrets of the men and women who easily could have seen themselves in Olga’s place or Elias’s. In order for this new situation not to get in the way of the proper functioning of the newsroom, Marcel installs the two lovers at two ends of the room. And then to work! The Paris attacks become the burning topic of the day again.
Just before lunch, Elias gets a call from Illan, the Golani officer in Nahal Oz, telling him that the Shabak interrogated the two Bedouins at length and concluded it was not a terrorist attack. So the affair is going to be redefined as a criminal affair, and the two guys will be handed over to the police.
“What does that change for me?” Elias asks, worried.
“Well, it’s another judicial procedure, and you’ll be questioned too. So that’s what changes. I just wanted to warn you.”
From her workstation at the other end of the newsroom, Olga sees Elias going pale and vaguely guesses he must have heard something serious; she hopes it’s not bad news from Paris. She walks over to check, but when he senses her approaching, Elias manages a spectacular change of mood in a fraction of a second, an inner revolution at the speed of light, and raises his head with a marvelous, loving smile on his lips. Olga immediately gives up questioning him. She’d tried again last night to learn what really happened with the two Bedouins on the dune, and after a while he got impatient. No point going there. If he’s smiling, everything must be OK.
Still, in her heart, she’s convinced he hasn’t told her the whole truth. What can she do to make him trust her completely? She’d so like to be at his side whatever adversity he might face, united like fingers on a hand. But he has an insatiable desire for freedom, and she knows that will limit their mad love.
At the end of the day, Elias meets Manu at Florentin 10, and they make up.
“We’ll forget everything, OK?” Elias suggests.
“OK, we’ll forget everything.”
“But I still can’t fucking believe you took her in for two weeks without telling me.”
“Yeah, well, I really felt sorry for her.”
“Just imagine I take in your ex on the sly!” Elias yells, ready to start all over again.
Diabolo comes in time to stop the argument from resuming, and they order a bottle of Merlot.
“I have some good news and some bad news,” Elias then announces.
“First the good news,” Diabolo says.
“I got together with Olga again, and we’re… well, we’ll definitely get married.”
“Mazel tov!” says Manu.
“Nice!” says Diabolo.
“But I’m getting ahead of myself a little. In reality, I don’t know. We’ll see… I’m not ready.”
“And the bad news?” Diabolo asks.
“The Shabak says it’s not a terrorist attack, that business. So they gave the case to the cops.”
“You need a lawyer, I’m calling Jérémie Azencot,” Diabolo says.
He walks off to make the call, while Yoni comes to sit down at the next table with his yarmulke on his head and his PowerBook under his arm. Elias introduces him to Manu and pours him a glass of Merlot, but Yoni doesn’t engage in conversation. He just tells Elias he bumped into Juliette two nights ago at Cofix, and she was looking for him like a madwoman. Elias says, “Yes, yes,” with irritation, and Yoni concentrates on his screen. Leaning discreetly over the screen, Manu sees Yoni opened a page called “A Euro for the Gaza Zoo,” and he raises his eyebrows.
“You working for the S.P.A. or what?” he asks him jovially.
“No, I need money,” Yoni retorts.
“What is it?” Elias says.
“A fund-raiser for marmosets,” Yoni says, showing him the page he designed.
They crack up. On the internet, nothing looks more like a charity than a big swindle. But this one has definite comic potential in the way it makes a mockery of the naive optimism of charitable souls.
“You’ll earn big with that,” Manu predicts.
“I just need seven hundred bucks,” Yoni says.
Then Diabolo comes back with a message from his lawyer to Elias. “It’s not sure you’ll be summoned, but if they do, Jérémie will go with you. You can call him tomorrow.”