Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 17 of a new online serial novel, If Anyone Is Listening, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every week. Click here for previous chapters.
Copyright © Israel Bookshop Publications.
Gedalya sounded very skeptical. “I can get you thirty thousand dollars, if you need it. The question is if you’re sure you want it. How did you get to him in the end?”
“His bat approached me again, and I simply spoke to it. Within a few minutes, he called my number.”
“And is his name really Yang Yang?”
“Apparently not. But now I know the address of his office.”
“Did you consult with anyone about this, Shimmy? With your father, for one?”
“With my father?” Shimmy slowly repeated the words. “I really love my father, Gedalya, but what does he have to do with anything? He’s not involved in the business world in any which way.”
“I think that taking such a big loan is not a decision that relates only to the business world; it’s mostly about the right outlook on things, experience, and common sense. So in essence, you’re going to take this step based purely on your own opinion?”
“I spoke with Katznelson, the one who made the computerized model of Tanchum for us.”
“He’s a great public relations guy.”
“And being that he’s always busy with such things, he also understands a lot about the field, no?”
“So, what did he say?”
“First he asked what’s with our Tanchum; he was curious about what came out of it all. When I told him about this flying robot, he said it’s obviously the new generation of the technological world.”
“Fine, we all know that. What was he mechadesh for you?”
“He wasn’t mechadesh anything. He just said that anyone who jumps onto the bandwagon in time can be a millionaire down the line.” Shimmy leafed through the document with the terms and conditions that Yang Yang had sent him. “And I think I want to take the risk. Don’t you take risks all the time, Gedalya?”
“I take risks, sure—but mostly with my own money.” Gedalya sounded irritated. “And even if I need short-term loans here and there, I do it only when it’s clear to me what I’m giving them back from, in the event that the deal fails.”
“That’s nice, but there are lots of people who don’t work that way. Some people, if they would calculate every step that way, would just stay small businesspeople.” Shimmy didn’t say, Like you, who at the end of the day, stayed just a small businessman.
But despite the fact that his cousin hadn’t said the words outright, Gedalya heard them. “Okay, be matzliach,” he said coolly. “Do you want the thirty or not?”
“I’m looking into all my options,” Shimmy said cautiously. “If I need it, I’ll call you.”
“I can release the money from tomorrow morning for forty-eight hours. If you want it, the loan is yours. And that’s only because I already said so, and I try to keep my promises.”
“Thanks,” Shimmy said, trying to sound warm and polite enough. “Really, thanks a lot.”
He glanced at his watch and called Shio Ching again. He promised to be there in three minutes, and indeed, he was. Together, they drove to Yang Yang’s office, located on the twenty-seventh floor in one of the most impressive buildings on the outskirts of Beijing.
The sign at the office was written in English, with some Chinese symbols on the side. The name was simple and unpretentious: “Advanced Technology.” Shimmy rang the bell and the big Chinese man he’d met yesterday in the hotel lobby opened the door himself. Beside him was a small toy dog, jumping up and down vigorously.
Shimmy lowered his gaze to the dog, studied it for a few seconds, and then looked at Yang Yang. “So, what’s his name?” he asked. “Also Christopher?”
“No, he’s Trump.”
Even without Shio translating the answer, Shimmy recognized the name. “And what does he do? All that Christopher does?”
“His actions are very similar to those of Christopher, except that he’s not good at aerial surveillance, obviously.” Yang Yang led them to his office. “In general, our company prefers to manufacture animals more than humanoid robots, because with animal-robots, you have less expectations of human behavior. And human behavior is something that all the experts in the world still haven’t been able to imitate to perfection.
“This little puppy, by the way, is connected to lots of financial databases, so you can also consult him about your business choices, if you want. He makes pretty good connections on his own, and draws excellent conclusions. There are lots of businesspeople who are interested in such a thing.”
“And it can replace investment advisors and actuaries?” Shimmy chuckled and glanced at his phone. Oy, it was Batya. He’d spoken to her for a few minutes and told her he’d call her later and tell her about everything. But as long as he didn’t have all that much to tell her, he preferred to remain quiet.
***
I flip through the catalog that Sara’le left me. Some of the jewelry is nice, though most of the items are not cheap. I wonder how suitable this kind of work is for me. It would be hard for me to persuade people to do something I would never do, like blow good money on costume jewelry. On the other hand, there are lots of women who love costume jewelry—and the fact that they don’t have to pay the really steep prices that real gold jewelry costs.
I continue to leaf through the catalog and remember Yudi’s wedding. There, I did wear a fake diamond necklace. My girls told me that I needed something to go well with my gown, and my jewelry box did not contain the perfect necklace. During those pre-wedding days, I had too much on my head to manage a trip to a costume jewelry shop, so Sara’le and Minna had gone out and bought the necklace for me themselves.
It had cost only fifty shekels, and two days after the wedding it was totally tarnished, but in the pictures, it was sparkling and pretty. Anyone who wasn’t a maven might have deliberated whether the diamonds in the necklace were CZ or real.
I turn the page and discover that I’ve reached the back cover. I wonder what to decide, what to tell Sara’le. Maybe when you know ahead of time that you’re not coming to buy real gold jewelry, everything goes more smoothly? The question was what price you were paying… It was a shame that Sara’le’s neighbor wasn’t selling real jewelry with scratches and blemishes, sort of second-rate jewelry, because I’d probably handle that better. Real gold, after all, is real gold.
I leave the catalog on the table and get up to make a call. It’s ten in the morning now for Yudi. He’s probably at work, and sometimes he has a few minutes there to talk to me.
“Yudi?” There’s noise on the line, and I’m not sure he hears me. “Yudi?”
“Hi, Ima,” he says after a few long seconds; it sounds like he’s moving away from the sources of the noise and the chatter. “How are you?”
“Baruch Hashem, and you? Where are you now?”
“At home. I mean, in my shver and shvigger’s house.”
“You’re not at work now?”
“No, I stayed here with Ruchi today.”
“Why?”
“We’re listening to Moni’s shiur together.”
“Moni?” My forehead creases. “Oh, the one from those lectures?”
“Yes, yes, good for you that you remember!” he compliments me. “It’s that one. And he said some very important and encouraging things last week, which we didn’t hear because of the bris and everything. So we’re listening to it now again and again, and trying to understand.”
I try not to get angry. Where are Ruchi’s parents, and who is taking responsibility for what this unknown person is saying? “And your boss agreed that you shouldn’t come in?”
“Yes, just today. I told him that it’s important.”
“So, what’s so encouraging and important about what Moni says? Maybe tell me also.” Perhaps I’ll also feel encouraged.
“He says that he has one crooked leg and that he limps.” Yudi lowers his voice. “And he talks about all kinds of things he went through since he was in an accident when he was younger. And he talks about how he grew stronger from those hardships and wasn’t broken by them.”
“He has a crooked leg…” I say, and my brain does some fast calculations. “So Ruchi wants to hear this because of Isamar? But Yudi, you haven’t even been to the orthopedist yet!”
“Makes no difference,” my son says firmly. “She’s encouraged by Moni. And we see that even if in the end Isamar will limp, chalilah, he can still become a very good and special person.”
Good and special, aha. If I understand correctly, and Moni is “the man with the crooked leg,” that the waitress at the bris had mentioned, I wouldn’t wish my dear grandson to grow up to be a person like him. I daven that Isamar should be one to gather crowds, but crowds of a different kind.
And I think the time has come to speak delicately to my mechuteiniste about this. They need to do some homework to find out who this anonymous guy is, the guy who at this very moment is molding the hashkafah of our young couple. I don’t think that Yudi needs to lose out on a precious day’s work—precious in a few ways—in order to sit and listen over and over again to speeches about who-knows-what.
“And he also sang for us, accompanied by his guitar,” Yudi said suddenly.
A guitar, wonderful.
“He sang the words from the sefer…Mishlei, I think. Or maybe Koheles? About the reward that a person gets, not in This World but in The Next World. He sang the words in English.”
Maybe this person is even a Christian? Does anyone know?! Don’t they think they need to find out who he is?!
***
For now, I’ve received only one response to my question about the songs and the guitar playing, from a person who claims he really enjoyed it. Fine, if even one person listens and enjoys, I’ll continue to sing. But if there’s someone who is bothered by the idea, please write to us or leave a message on the line.
thenextpage-israelbookshop.com 