Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 84 of a new online serial novel, Outside the Bubble, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every week. Click here for previous chapters.
Copyright © Israel Bookshop Publications.
“What did he tell you?”
“Nothing special,” Mike repeated for the fourth time. “He wanted to hear what had happened to his uncle, that’s all.”
“And where does he have a phone from?” Rob looked at the phone in his hand. The last call had ended the minute he’d tried to find out who was on the other end, and all his efforts to call the person back had been futile.
“I don’t know. I guess someone gave it to him.”
“There are only four calls here, and they are all to the same number. Who was he speaking to?”
“I don’t know,” Mike insisted.
“It’s a shame you’re not telling me everything, Mike. Dr. Jerry won’t be very pleased about this.”
“What do you want from me? You brought Perl’s…um, crazy nephew here, and he starts picking fights with me about stupidities every time he sees me. If you have complaints about him, then go deal with him directly!”
Rob sized Mike up, and Mike knew that if he would have been Josef, or whatever his name was, he would have stared steadily right back at the other guy. But he, Mike, wasn’t like that. He felt his cheeks flush, and in order to try covering that up, he said, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I notice that you’re blushing. Maybe it’s because you just lied.”
“When people lie, they touch their nose.” Mike had no idea where he got that from. But he was sure it was somehow connected to Becky.
“Touch their nose? What?”
“Yes.” Mike nodded knowingly, even though he had no idea if it was true.
Rob kept looking at him, his gaze a blend of amusement, suspicion, and irritation. FInally he said, “Okay, go wait near Perl’s room. We’re getting out of here soon.”
***
Martin only realized that someone was on his tail when he returned to the building that housed the Emergency Room, after walking there rapidly. He whirled around and saw Sandy with his green Crocs and hospital pajamas, on top of which he wore a short leather coat. “Why did you follow me?” Martin stared at him.
“You got a call,” the boy said, pointing to his phone. “A minute after you left. It was from the number that you tried to call, but when he heard my voice, he refused to tell me who he was and hung up. I tried to call back, but he’s not answering.”
“He probably doesn’t know what to think anymore,” Martin muttered. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going with you. It’s so boring there in the surgery ward, and it looks like interesting things happen to you.”
Martin laughed wryly. “Good way to put it,” he said. “But it’s probably not smart to stick around with me right now. I suggest that you return to your room, and I’ll call you to tell you what ends up happening.”
“But will those guys you were talking about—you know, to the people in Israel—kill you?”
Martin laughed again. “I hope not,” he said finally, glancing left and right as he ran inside. The red-haired nurse wasn’t there, and instead of the hulking guard in uniform, there were at least five security officers. He ignored them all and hurried through the corridor.
Sandy remained hot on his heels. “A little slower, please!” the boy pleaded, huffing and puffing. “C’mon, it’s not nice—I’m just post-surgery!”
“What do you want from me? Who asked you to come along, anyway?” Martin snapped.
“No one. Who are you going to visit now? Can I come with, or is it someone who is contagious?”
“No, he doesn’t have anything dangerous.” Martin stopped right before the entrance to the Emergency Room. He suddenly had an idea, and he turned around to the boy who was peeking over his shoulder. “Listen a minute, Sandy. Do you really want to help me?”
“If it’s something I can do, why not?”
“Okay. So I want you to walk straight down the hallway until you get to room 11. Then go inside and see if there’s an old man in the bed. If there is, ask him if he is Mr. Perl.”
“Perl?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” And before Martin could decide if it was the right thing to do or not, Sandy had darted forward and disappeared around the bend, leaving Martin to stand back alone and bite his nails impatiently. After less than a minute of tense waiting, he pulled his finger away from his mouth and walked toward the corner so he could peer around and see the central desk of the emergency department. Three people in uniform were leaning on the counter and listening seriously to Dr. Jerry Skulholt, who was speaking with his regular, somewhat smug, smile. Not far from them was a group of doctors talking amongst themselves, casting glances at the trio near the desk. There were so many people in the hallway that it was impossible to see Michoel’s room.
Sandy suddenly emerged from the crowd, grasping Michoel’s arm. The two walked down the hall, ignoring everyone’s gazes. No one walked over or said a word to them. But then, as Martin watched, one agent who was talking to the psychiatrist suddenly broke off and began to follow the pair.
Just then Perl noticed Martin. “Hey, you! Yosef, or whatever your name is—you’re still here!”
“Shhh…” Martin put a finger to his lips. “Mr. Perl, Shimon Weisskopf is supposed to come and get us. Let’s go out and wait for him, with the hope that he’ll know where to be.”
“One minute, young man. I already told you that I’m very confused right now and that I don’t want to be hasty about deciding anything.”
“So let him decide for you,” Sandy suggested.
“Quiet, boy, don’t be cheeky. You hear, Yosef? I decided that I need to start doing things myself, and not trust anyone else. I went out to the desk and told the nurses that I need help and that I don’t know whom I can trust. The next thing I knew, two agents came into my room and said there’s a big ruckus going on at the entrance, and they asked if it has something to do with me.” He fixed Martin with a piercing stare. “Does it have anything to do with you?”
“Could be,” Martin murmured. He saw the agent stopping behind them, listening to their every word. Rob was also approaching, and he stopped too.
It was hard to know who would prevail here, but it seemed that a lot would depend on Michoel’s sentiments. “So what’s your plan now, Uncle Michoel?”
“Don’t call me ‘uncle.’ I already told you that I don’t know what your intentions are!” the man said angrily. “Someone who comes into my house without permission, and does whatever he wants there…!”
“I tried to do the things that you would do,” Michoel said, his tone pleading. “I organized the clothing sale in your place, the distribution of the chicken and meat… I didn’t want your work to stop just because you’d disappeared, so I tried to function as your ‘substitute’—at least, to the best of my ability.”
“Huh! You! A young boy!”
“Of course, I couldn’t do everything like you, but I tried…” Martin spoke quickly as he saw the psychiatrist approaching. Dr. Jerry was being escorted by two security people, but he wasn’t handcuffed and didn’t look particularly nervous.
Just then, Sandy, who had been listening quietly to the exchange, tapped Martin on the shoulder and interjected, “Josef, it’s so boring here. I thought there’d be more drama… I’m going back to my ward, okay? But call to tell me what happens, because I don’t understand anything that’s going on.”
“Fine,” Martin said quickly. “And if someone Weisskopf—you know, the man who was looking for me earlier—calls, tell him we’re in the Emergency Room… I hope he’ll believe you.”
Dr. Jerry was standing very close by, smiling triumphantly. What had he told the police? That these were two of his patients, both of whom suffered from delusions, so no one should believe a word they said?
If Dr. Jerry would win…how would he be able to face Hinda and Dov?
Hinda! He suddenly remembered something.
“Your niece asked me to give you a message,” he said quickly, in Hebrew. He cast a sidelong glance at Dr. Jerry, but the psychiatrist continued to smile tranquilly.
“Hinda? What did she say?” Perl’s voice was tired.
“She asked me to tell you something that you once told someone yourself. That sometimes, it’s worth it for a person to force himself to leave his place of misery, even if it is comfortable there, so that he can get to somewhere that he’ll find much better.”
“You didn’t quote it quite accurately, but perhaps she’s the one who didn’t remember exactly,” Perl muttered. “You think that I’m in a miserable place now?”
“Miserable and dangerous.” Martin had definitely learned something in his months in Israel, and he felt a flash of pride at having made a play on the words he’d now used in Hebrew. Misken and mesukan—miserable and dangerous.Two good words to describe Michoel’s predicament.
“So tell me, what’s doing with my organization now? You know, most of this time, I hardly even thought about it at all…”
“I don’t know where it’s holding at now,” Martin said. “I mean, I tried to do what I could for it, but you are its real manager. There is no replacement for a professional.”
“The manager…” The old man was quiet for a long moment. “The manager. Nu, nu…” He fell silent again, rubbing his forehead. “Wait a minute. You said Shimon Weisskopf is expected to arrive here soon?”
“I hope so.”
“So we’ll wait for him. Even though the last time we spoke, we had an argument, he is still a real relative. Unlike you…” Perl’s eyes flitted between him and Dr. Jerry. The doctor’s smiled wavered just a tiny bit. “But if you took my place in the organization, perhaps I can trust you a little bit as well, and I can go put my things together for now, at least until I make a final decision. You brought my tefillin, right?”
“Yes. But I hope the people from the healing center won’t bother us…” Martin said uneasily.
“They won’t,” Perl said. “Officers! We need help! Who is escorting us to my room, please?”
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