Flying along the silky Mediterranean sky, the bird creaked and whistled as wind whipped against her crescent shaped wings, leaving a distinct thermal jet-stream behind. The 747 gleamed against the fading orange horizon. The light blue, shallow sea grew silently in each direction, filling the wide, seemingly endless gap between the continents of Europe, Asia, and Africa. To the left of the 747, the eastern bank of the Mediterranean sported a dark green color, flush with plant life and spotted here and there with dimly lit villages.

Gad Berkovic stared motionlessly out the window toward the southern banks of Lebanon. The Middle East, Gad thought, infamous for it’s lack of infrastructure, was mostly comprised of small ambiguous farming towns which, over the last fifty years, have eroded into quarreling, under-managed nation-states. Gad always understood this and often dreaded the aftershocks of this faulty political system. His eyes fixed on a single wheat farm in the midst of several other rural installations. It’s simple stone facade shone through the barrier of walnut trees surrounding the property. He eyed the rusting agricultural equipment gathering dust in the blooming yellow field.

“At first blush it may seem fantastic, but I really feel like this dress brings out the colors in my highlights,” Jesse Berkovic stated.

Gad turned to look at his fiance. As a young Jewish betrothed, she had taken his name when they became engaged. But his gaze passed through her to the bustling activity on board the plane. A man dressed in traditional arabic garb, which included a brightly felted fez, sat only a few feet away smoking a Cohiba cigar and filling the tight cabin with his sweet smelling tobacco. He stroked his braided facial hair and made light conversation with an attractive, yet modestly dressed flight attendant. A nearby woman wore a bright orange sherwani, and made little movement except to turn off her reading light.

Even at the front of the plane, Gad heard the coach cabin spout noises of crying children, laughter, and the shuffling of cards. Almost no sound escaped the first class section, except for the Arabic man’s wheezy inhale and exhale. He silently envied the loud exterior of the plane. The rushing wind hitting the wings at six-hundred miles an hour seemed like a heavenly escape from this smokey tomb.

“Yes dear.” Gad replied.

Jesse sat up in her reclined seat, wincing at the sound of her husbands shrill reply, “Don't be so dismal, please.”

“I’m not! It’s a lovely dress.”

“Oh really? What color is it then?”

“Auburn?” Gad guessed without contempt or emotion in his voice.

“It’s ruby.”

“My mistake darling.”

Gad payed little attention to the frustrated groan his wife let loose. He instead looked back out the small, rounded window searching for the farm he had seen before. He sat puzzled. The once lush, rural landscape below had turned meekly brown and without diversity. The dusty, barren land gave off little color except for sparsely placed Cypress, Acacia, and Carob trees.

Gad’s train of thought was momentarily interrupted by the plane’s intercom, “Ladies and Gentlemen, please return your seat-backs and tray tables to their full upright position for landing.”

Gad knew they were entering Israel.

As the plane touched down in Ben Gurion International Airport, a soft and purple mist like a vaporous amethyst filled the air around the plane. Creaking at the hard impact, the plane steadied to a slight rumble on the tarmac and came to a halt behind several parked aircraft.

“Feh! The airport is backed up again!” Jesse spurted.

A passing flight attendant heard Jesse’s comment and remarked, “I’m sorry Ma’am, the tower is dealing with a few delays at the moment but we’ll be arriving at the terminal shortly, have faith!”

“Yes of course.” Jesse replied.

In one swift motion, Jesse turned to Gad and whispered, “Can you believe the help on this plane?”

“No darling,” Gad sighed.

“You’d think they would be more appreciative to their customers. I didn’t pay for a first class ticket to be treated like some...shlemiel!”

The flight attendant, still listening with her head cocked sideways stormed off in frustration. Gad felt slightly relieved as she stormed away, knowing his fiance had one less thing to complain about.

After passing through customs, and two waves of intense IAA security, Gad and Jesse Berkovic found themselves staring into the familiar, thick Mediterranean sun known only to the Tel Aviv coast. Wading against oncoming traffic, the couple crossed the street and slowly made their way to a parked Bentley patiently waiting on the curb. As the couple strolled to the car, Gad took note of how differently the bustling airport had become since their last visit earlier in the year. He tallied up two more office buildings, a new control tower and several more levels in the parking garage.

Gad Berkovic grew up in Coney Island, New York. His parents, both Orthodox Jews, raised Gad and his three younger brothers in a traditional, religiously governed home-school. There, Gad learned the rules and applications of the Torah, Jewish Apocrypha, and other ancient religious texts. In an altercation with another boy who was preaching anti-semitism near his house, Gad inadvertently threw a cement block through a convenience store window, breaking the glass and pulverizing merchandise. After this incident, his parents were convinced the city “got to him,” and in response shipped him off to Culver Military Academy in Indiana. At Culver, Gad lived a structured life of discipline. The military will do that to you, Gad thought. He studied and became fascinated with strategic analysis and geopolitics at Culver, and ended up getting a job in New York working for the Department of Defense as an Instructional System Specialist. After a lifetime of solitude, Gad met Jesse Kempler in a local biker bar known as “Breaking Down” in Brooklyn, New York. They chatted for a bit, exchanged numbers, and parted ways. It was only several days after they met that Gad called Jesse and arranged a date. Nine months later, Gad proposed to Jesse and she took him to Israel to celebrate their engagement. This was his third trip to the country and he already felt like he had lived there his whole life.

The pair weaved through the crowd of sweat drenched travelers. Banking left and nearly colliding with a blonde woman pushing a stroller, Gad made eye contact with the man sitting in the driver seat of the Bentley. He immediately recognized the man as Abda Levinson, Jesse’s family driver. He released a slightly angled grin and made sure Abda saw his happiness. Jesse continued walking towards the car, opened the passenger door and quickly shuffled inside. Gad opened the back door of the sized-down sedan and climbed into the the black interior. He was blasted with a cold rush of air and immediately felt queasy at the smell of perfume and leather wafting from the luxury car.

“Shalom Mrs. Berkovic! How are we today?”

“Wonderful Abda. Shalom.”

“And shalom to you too, Mr. Gad.”

“It’s a pleasure Abda, thanks for picking us up today. The airport is unusually busy.”

“No problem Mr. Gad. Hey! How’s life in New York?”

Before Gad could open his mouth, Jesse interjected, “It’s wonderful Abda, but the big city isn’t anything like Tel Aviv. You should visit sometime! Father would buy you a ticket I’m sure of it.”

Gad slumped in his seat and rubbed his large, hairy hands along the smooth skin of the car. He looked out the window and marveled at the egg white city scape of central Tel Aviv. High rise financial buildings turned the skyline into a snarling toothed monster biting a piece in the bright sky.

“Of course Mrs. Berkovic!”

“Please Abda, call me Jesse, remember?”

“My apologies Jesse, you know my formality often supersedes me.”

Jesse delivered a slight chuckle and said, “It’s perfectly fine Abda, I’ve known you for my entire life. Formality is important for many people, but not in the eyes of family.”

The car drove for awhile, spitting white dust as it passed by eclectic Bauhaus buildings, the Musuem of Art, and the Azrieli Center. Making their way toward the coastal rim of the city, the streets grew brighter as the sun etched its way across the western skyline. Teens dressed in brightly colored European fashion flooded the streets, lines spilled out of bars and night clubs. A group of young, drunk Israeli men ran across the street in front of Abda’s car to meet their female counterparts. Abda furiously swerved into oncoming traffic as to not hit the men, and screamed out the window yelling inaudible yiddish profanities. They drove on like this for what seemed like 20 minutes, passing through the Old Jewish Quarter and the high rent districts. Lights in houses everywhere turned on, and people shuffled in from the darkening streets. A double-decker city bus pulled up next to the sedan. Laughter and conversation filled the atmosphere around the vehicle and seemed to engulf Abda’s Bentley.

Gad’s attention returned to the heart of the Bentley as he watched his fiance suddenly break out into a frantic search through her oversized Gucci purse. She opened up every zipper pouch but couldn’t seem to find her prize. Jesse turned around in the passenger seat to face Gad and asked, “Honey do you know where my cream is?” Her face was scrunched with concern.

“Yes. I had to throw it away at JFK, the cap was broken and that TSA asshole wouldn’t let me keep it.”

Jesse’s face turned a bright red as her expression turned from fret to anger.

“You threw it away? That was a prescription cream, Gad! They don’t sell it in Israel!”

“Darling don’t worry so much, over the counter hydrocortisone is just as good. I promise.”

Jesse wrenched her head back in disgust at Gad’s suggested replacement. “You don’t get it, that was my cream! You had no right!”

Abda awkwardly looked out his side window, not knowing whether to intervene or remain passive. He chose the latter.

“I’m sorry Jesse, I didn’t know it was that important to you.”

Jesse didn’t answer but instead pulled out her smartphone and buried herself in a game of “Bejeweled.” Gad didn’t understand his fiance’s aggressiveness but also didn’t dwell on it.

In a desperate act to cheer up the couple, Abda said, “You know, my wife is taking the kids to Luna Park tomorrow, maybe you’d want to go Jesse?”

The anger in Jesse’s countenance immediately dispersed as she said “Oh Abda I don’t want to intrude on your family.”

“No Jesse! I have to work for your father tomorrow but my wife already bought a ticket, so you should go! You could catch up with Miriam and the kids.”

“Ok! That actually sounds like a wonderful plan, I haven’t been to Luna Park since I was a mentsch.” Jesse smiled at Abda but refused to send any emotion towards Gad.

“Wonderful, I’ll tell her when I get home tonight.” Abda smiled into the windshield, content with having cheered the mood of the car.

Gad tried to fall asleep but before he could close his eyes, the Bentley pulled into the Kempler driveway and skidded to a stop. Abda pulled the keys out of the ignition and sat in the driver’s seat for a moment to recuperate from the long drive. Not sure whether or not to get out, Gad waited for someone to make a move. Impatiently, Jesse opened the car door and stood up and stretched in the driveway. Gad mimicked her movement and opened his door. A familiar smell of peach trees flooded the property. The house, Gad remembered, was organized in a classic European style and had two floors and a garden filled with white flowers of all types, most of them bought internationally from exotic botanists. Gad remembered something Jesse’s father had told him. The flowers had no smell.

Gad walked around the front of the car and saw Jesse still leaning against the car. He knew she missed her home and placed his hand on hers. He felt for her fingers, trying to interlock them with his own.

She recoiled at his touch and said, “We have to greet my parents.”

Gad recognized this hostility and said, “I know.”

Gad and Jesse Berkovic made their way across the lawn as Abda stayed behind to unload the luggage. Gad didn’t expect Abda would take very long, as the couple usually travelled light. They walked across the freshly mown grass to the wooden deck and knocked on the door. After a few seconds the door was opened by a small, thin man around five and a half feet tall.
Mr. Kempler had grown a light beard since their last visit in May.

“Bubala! Give your father a kiss!” Jesse’s father stated ecstatically. His eyes teared with excitement.

“Shalom father, how are you? Where’s mom?”

“Oh you know, slaving away in the kitchen.” Mr. Kempler turned around and yelled into the house, “Elke! The kids are here!” A voice soft and sweet shrieked in joy at the opposite end of the house. Seconds later Mrs. Kempler came running to the door and had to catch her breath before she could say anything to her daughter.

“Jesse! We’ve missed you so much!” Elke Kempler puller her daughter into a big hug.

“Mom it’s just me, don’t have a plotz.” Jesse said, pushing away from her mother’s firm grasp.

“And a pleasure to see you as well Gad.” Mr. Kempler said. He held out his hand. Gad shook it firmly while staring into his soon to be father-in-laws eye’s. Mr. Kempler had an unspoken power to his persona, despite his size. Gad often felt diminished in his presence. Mr. Kempler was an important man. He made his living operating a demolition company in downtown Tel Aviv. After the Second Intifada, many buildings in Israel lay in rubble from Palestinian rocket attacks. Mr. Kempler took advantage of this opportunity and expanded his business to handle more demo projects. After making a fortune, he sold his company in 2005 for half a billion dollars and settled into a nice house on the Tel Aviv coast with his wife.

“Shalom Mr. Kempler,” Gad replied.

“Come! It’s getting dark outside, you must be starving!” Mrs. Kempler stated.

The group gathered in the dining hall and conversed over drinks and tapas. After Abda brought in the luggage, Mrs. Kempler offered dinner to Abda, who kindly declined.

“I’m taking my wife and her mother out to Abu Hassan for dinner tonight, it’s her mother’s birthday tomorrow,” Abda explained while walking out the door. “However, thank you for the invitation Mrs. Kempler.”

“Of course Abda, shalom!”

“Shalom everybody, and mazel tov to the happy couple!” Abda said

For dinner they ate potato bourekas, eggplant salad, hummus with pine nuts and Ptitim. Although they had planned to go out later for drinks, the Berkovics decided to call the quits early and recover from their long day of travel.

“It’s quite a time zone difference from New York! I’m suprised you haven’t passed out already!” Mr. Kempler stated half-heartedly.

Gad and Jesse laughed, looked at each other, and proclaimed it was time they retire to their room. Mr. and Mrs. Kempler obliged, gave Jesse a kiss, and set them on their way.

The next morning, Gad awoke to silence. He opened his eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the faint rays of light passing through the skylight above. He rolled over, expecting to find his wife. He hit the ground almost instantaneously. Picking himself up, Gad rubbed his squinting eyes and it took him a second to read the time on his digital watch. Eleven o’clock? How did he sleep that long? Gad walked over to the mini fridge and pulled out a half-frozen ice pack. He secured it to his head with some medical tape in the bathroom, and realized he was alone in the room. He went over to the bed and collapsed on the dark green bedding. He sat up, looked at his night stand and grabbed his phone. He had one text from Jesse. It read, “Hey you were asleep but I left with Abda’s wife and kids to go to Luna Park for the day. Make yourself comfortable. There’s food in the fridge and if you need anything Abda can drive you anywhere. I’ll be back later. Text me if you need anything.”

Gad took a long luke-warm shower. He felt relieved washing away the rancid smell of the arab man’s Cohiba. He put on a fresh pair of clothes, grabbed his phone and wallet and went downstairs. Gad was in the middle of making himself some coffee when Mr. Kempler and Abda walked into the kitchen.

“Good morning young man!” Mr. Kempler said.

“Good morning sir!”

“Did you sleep well?” Abda asked jokingly. He poked Gad in the stomach with his fist.

Gad recognized the humor, “Got to love that jet-lag, It’s seven hours earlier here!” The men agreed.

Gad suddenly remembered, “Hey Abda, would you mind taking me into town in a little bit? I need to get something at the pharmacy.”

After a quick drive through town, Abda dropped Gad off at the local Super-Pharm.

“I’ll be back in an hour, if you need me to come earlier or later, just call.” Abda said.

As he walked into the bleach white building, Gad desperately tried to remember the name of the cream his wife needed. It definitely wasn’t prescription, and he didn’t understand why Jesse insisted it was. Even if he knew the name of the drug, it would still be a hunt to find it. Gad didn’t know much Hebrew, except from what he remembered as a kid going to Saturday Hebrew classes. He walked around the store quite a few times before he found what he was looking for. Gad headed over to the checkout counter and gave the cream to the clerk. The clerk wore a long white doctors coat, took the cream, and looked at him disapprovingly.

Gad said, “It’s for my wife.” The clerk nodded and scanned the item. He put the cream in a plastic bag and handed it to Gad. Gad gestured to the clerk and walked out the sliding glass doors.

He still had a lot of time, Abda wasn’t coming for another forty five minutes. He thought about calling him, but remembered how busy Abda’s usual schedule was. Instead Gad scanned the street for something to occupy him. He saw a small cafe a few blocks away and decided he’d walk to it. Gad crossed the busy street, nearly tripping over a toppled garbage can. He paused to observe a white Maserati GranTurismo parked on the side of the street. It looked considerably sized down, as most foreign cars needed to be small to drive on Israeli streets. He continued on down the road and reached his destination promptly. The eatery’s name was Cafe Parar.

He opened the door of the cafe and walked inside. The tiny room was packed with what seemed like a hundred people yelling out orders, reading books, and having conversations. Gad felt oddly at home in this small space. He felt like he was back in New York, picking up coffee or pastries on his way to the office on 66th street. He edged his way through the crowd of Israelis attempting to find somewhere to stand, and if lucky enough, to sit. The room was red in color, large Spanish Modernist paintings adorned the walls, graffitied in hebrew. The floor was tiled with symmetrical tan triangles, and there was an oak rotunda in the middle of the cafe where people placed orders. There was a deli and wine bar at the back of the cafe.

Gad squeezed through the crowd and found a table at the back of the restaurant. Five older Hasidic Jews sat at the back of the cafe sipping wine and laughing in their bekishes and kippahs. They allowed Gad to take one of their chairs.

“Shalom!” Gad told them.

The men nodded their heads in respect and continued talking amongst themselves.

Gad sat down in his chair and looked out the window towards the intersection. American drivers, he thought, would never survive here. The tiny cars drove with each other in fluid motion, narrowly missing collisions. American drivers were simply too rigid. Gad ordered a coffee, his second in several hours. He sipped it down fast, suddenly wanting to get out of the cafe, repulsed by the hyperactivity around him. He placed his empty cup on the table, and walked past the group of men whom he greeted; they waved at him. He opened the door of the cafe, and walked into the intense sunlight. Gad checked his pockets to make sure his phone and wallet was still there.

A sudden thunder of light rippled through Gad’s peripheral vision. A wall of powdered glass, sharp like steak knives hacked into his skin. All sounds were lost in the whistle of air, humming by like the flight of a million arrows. Fire burst from all directions, engulfing the street corner in a single inferno. A mixture of blazing wood, concrete and human matter hurled into the busy road. Minutes went by. Gad climbed out from under an overturned car, blind as a mole. He scrambled across the smoke stained cement, pale with disbelief. The coffee shop sat in charcoal black ruins. Nothing remained of his table by the window, and the Hasidic Jews were nowhere to be seen. Everything broke at once, and all his thoughts ran into tears like sunshine into rain.