Excerpt from "Bring Me Comfort"- Chapter One

I felt Ze’ev’s eyes following me and the first few steps I danced I felt very self-conscious, until I realized that I had lost sight of him in the crowd. When we made our way back to the bar a half hour later Ze’ev was deep in conversation with Arik, but he looked up and caught my eye and smiled at me again. I smiled back and wanted to light a cigarette but I didn’t think I could do it without burning somebody so instead I took my drink, which Ze’ev held out for me wordlessly. I thanked him and took a sip. Not long after we poured out onto the street again and discovered a surprisingly quiet little café nearby where we all sat down at a table and ordered coffee. I found myself sitting next to Ze’ev and as I got out the cigarette I had wanted to smoke for the last hour he leaned over to give me a light. I offered him one of my Kents but he preferred his own Marlboro.

“I try not to smoke too much,” he told me. “In order to save my voice for singing.”

I smiled at him again, holding his eyes, and took a deep drag on my cigarette. I wanted to say that I tried not to smoke too much either, to save my life, but I wasn’t sure it would sound very funny so I refrained.

“Have you been in ha’aretz long?” he asked.

“About eight years,” I answered. “And you?”

“I was born here, in Holon. What exactly made you decide to come here?”

“Well, my brother already lived here – he went to the University of Tel Aviv - and since the first time I visited him I knew I just had to come back permanently.” I paused, feeling self-conscious for the second time that night. Then I went on: “Israel felt like home the moment I set foot here.”

“I’ve heard that before,” he smiled his warm smile. “What do you do for work?”

“I'm a translator. I work with Spanish, English and Hebrew.”

“Spanish? I love that language. My grandmother spoke Spanish. I’ve always wanted to go to Spain.”

“It’s a beautiful country. I spent part of my childhood there. Was your grandmother Spanish?”

“No, Turkish. But her ancestors were from Sepharad, Spain.”

“Turkey is beautiful too. Have you been there?”

“Yes, I have, several times.”

“I was in Istanbul several years ago. It was breath-taking. I had dinner at this place called the Safran Restaurant, at the top of the Intercontinental Hotel, with a view of the whole city, including the Bosphorus and the Sofia and Blue Mosques. It was quite incredible. I loved the music and the belly dancers, and the people were so hospitable.” I paused. “I’m sorry, I’m talking too much.”

Ze’ev laughed.

“No, you’re not. Don’t stop, I like it,” he said.

Our conversation continued and I found myself very drawn to him. He was soft-spoken, with a slow smile and expressive eyes that were like twin pools of black liquid. He had a quiet air about him that seemed like a complete contrast to my own usually hectic way of moving through life. The more we talked the more we seemed to find to talk about and I almost forgot that there were other people sitting with us at the table, until Nurit leaned in close to my ear and whispered: “You two seem to be hitting it off.”

I smiled and nodded.

Ze’ev was lighting up another Marlboro and I reached for my Kent. He again gave me a light. I enjoyed the attentiveness that it showed. It was a gesture that never grew old, and it was made even more pleasant because it was coming from someone I was very attracted to.

People started to get up and make signs of leaving, but Ze’ev and I remained seated. Nurit made a telephone sign with her hand against her ear and I nodded again. Asher said he would see Ze'ev later and wished us both a good night. Eventually everybody was gone and just the two of us remained. As we finished up our drinks we smiled at each other over the tops of our glasses and Ze’ev asked me if he could walk me home. The bottom of my stomach seemed to fall out and I said I would like that.

We strolled down the empty, somewhat dirty, streets and continued to talk. Ze’ev told me how he and Asher had formed their band, Enfasis.

"A Spanish word. Emphasis," he smiled with a sideways glance at me. They had both been in a band together at school, but when they left school they decided to take another direction with their music and they were very excited with their recent CD release. It had been a long time coming.

When we reached my apartment building Ze'ev asked me if I would like to come to the bar where he worked the following night. I said I would enjoy that and he mentioned a bar that I had never entered but had passed many times while strolling down Ben Yehuda Street.

"Come anytime after eight-thirty; I will be there," he said and we stood looking at each other for a moment. I willed him to kiss me but he just smiled and looked like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. Instead he said good night in his low, deep voice and turned to start walking back in the direction we had just come from.

Saturday evening I walked into Schneider's at a quarter to nine. I saw Ze'ev standing behind the bar as soon as I walked in. He was wearing a black t-shirt and his hair looked a little damp, as if he had just washed it. The small dark pub was not full yet; just a few couples sitting at the tables. I took a seat on a bar stool at the end of the bar and Ze'ev leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. My face burned but luckily it was too dark for him to notice. He asked how I was and how my day had gone and I told him, taking pleasure in his attention and the novelty of the stirrings of emotion he provoked inside me. I felt a repressed excitement within that made it hard for me to concentrate on anything other than his close proximity to me. When he asked me what I wanted to drink I said grapefruit juice. I felt inebriated enough as it was so I didn’t think I needed any outside help in the form of alcohol. Although it might have helped me relax a little, I thought as I sipped the juice he placed before me. I lit up a cigarette and we chatted somewhat haltingly about this and that. Now and then we would be interrupted by customers who needed Ze’ev’s attention and as he opened the bottles and poured the drinks I would follow his deft movements with my eyes until he came back to continue our conversation. After I had been there about half an hour I started to feel myself relax. It was hard not to, with Ze’ev making sure we kept up a steady flow of conversation. I began to feel what we had felt the night before: as if we both wanted to discuss everything we were interested in, as if we had a time limit on how long we had to get to know each other.