Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 29 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.
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Shimmy’s eyes opened wide. “The surveillance on me has gone up a level?”
“Yes. We have two assessments. Either the bat’s system has gone totally haywire…” It was strange to hear these words coming from the bat, as if it was complaining about its own messed-up system, though Shimmy knew that whatever the bat said was not a product of itself; it was only an audio translation of Yang’s words, coming from wherever he was sitting.
“Or?”
“Or its conclusions are correct. Do you have any idea which of the two it would be?”
Shimmy stared at the Tanchum doll standing near the wall and and then at the bat. “Maybe it’s because I’m here, on the premises of your factory, and that makes it suspect that I’m a spy.”
“No.” Yang Yang was definitive. “We input the information that you came here for research purposes in partnership with us.”
“You can’t simply ask the bat what it thinks I am? Who it thinks I am?”
“We asked. It calls you by a code name, but for some reason, it won’t give details beyond that. I told you from the start, there’s a bug in the system here. And we expect that you, working together with us, will help us reach a solution.”
“But I have no idea how to get to a solution!” Shimmy protested, and then immediately caught himself. If he had no idea, then why was he here? To take advantage of Yang Yang’s hospitality? “I mean, you already asked me to work with you, and I told you that my knowledge in robotics is very meager. I agreed to come here to be under surveillance by the robot and by you so that you could check its responses to me on a regular basis. But when you talk about ‘working together,’ I want to remind you that aside for letting the bat hover here in my room, in front of my face, there’s not much I can do.”
“It fascinates us,” Yang Yang murmured, almost to himself. “So, you have nothing to say about this interesting point? You have no idea why you are being sought out?”
“Me? Based on what I know, it’s just this robot that’s looking for me. And I will point out that it’s pretty repulsive to have to deal with this bat that right now, for example, is standing on my pillow. Quite disgusting—even though I know that it’s just a smart device, not a real bat. If it would look like my Tanchum doll, it would be easier for me to be in its presence for so many hours of the day.”
“Yes, except that your doll doesn’t know how to fly. Also, finding you after the robbery was not something it could do.” It was a barb, a sharp barb that was meant to remind Shimmy of his debt of gratitude toward…a robot?
Shimmy shifted uneasily in his seat, and the bat that was staring at the ceiling, seemingly in defiance, jumped clumsily off his bed and landed on the cold water machine.
***
“What’s doing, Yudi? Wait, it’s really late by you now, isn’t it?” I’m about to break a record in generating false calm, as I put the knife I was about to use to cut potatoes down on the counter. The mountain in front of me promises at least a quarter of an hour’s work. “Here it’s morning already! How are you doing?”
“Not so good,” he says in a low voice.
“Why, what happened?”
“Ruchi…Ruchi’s been crying for a few hours already. She says a lady came to our house today and yelled at her that Isamar is neglected and dirty.”
“That bad neighbor?”
“No, someone from Child Protective Services. That’s what they call it here in New York.”
I take a deep breath. “When was this?” Isamar! Neglected! My grandson! “Because it’s important to speak right away to someone from the community, someone who can handle these kinds of things, you know, so that…” I wonder if I should utter the frightening words. “That they shouldn’t say you can’t raise him.”
“I’m not sure she was really here,” he says very, very quietly. “The aide was in the laundry room for a few minutes, and then she came and saw Ruchi trembling terribly and crying on the couch, holding Isamar, and there was no other lady in the house.”
“You think that Ruchi…dreamed it?” I don’t dare say “hallucinated.” I have no idea what my daughter-in-law’s mental state is at this point.
Yudi is quiet. “I…I don’t know,” he says. “Because before that, Ruchi did yell to her that someone was knocking, and the door to the house really wasn’t locked. But maybe she thought someone was knocking, and then she sort of fell asleep…”
I pick up a potato and start to cut it with brisk strokes. Ruchi is crying, and Yudi is confused… At least I should try to maintain my equilibrium. “And what does Ruchi say?”
“That she’s afraid of this lady, and she’s afraid we won’t be able to take care of Isamar, because caring for a child post-surgery is very hard. And caring for a child who limps is also very hard. So maybe we can’t—that’s what the lady told her.”
“Of course you can!” I say vehemently, happy that my volunteering partner is late, as usual. “And don’t listen to any strange ladies, especially since the whole thing may have just been a dream…”
“Right,” he whispers, though he doesn’t sound convinced at all.
“She didn’t leave any paper? A form, something?”
“All Ruchi told me was that the lady was mean and screamed at her, and then she said she’s going to find out if we have everything that is needed for a baby, and she left the dining room, and Ruchi stayed to watch Isamar. The next thing Ruchi knew, the aide was standing next to her—not the other lady.”
“So maybe you need to look around the house and see if the lady left a letter or a report or something. What kind of business is this, that an official representative comes and then disappears without a word?”
“Ruchi refused to stay in the house for another minute. Her aide called my shvigger and told her everything, and Ruchi took Isamar and left the house. Then I came home, and her father came to take us to their house.” He sounds so meek. “And that’s it. I don’t know what will be now.”
“Let her parents call the Child Protective Services office to find out if a representative really made a visit or not.”
“They said it’s better not to call them. There’s one person in the community, an askan or something, who deals with these things, and that’s what he said.”
“Great. And it’s the best thing, in my opinion, for you to stay at your in-laws’ for a few days. So that if…” I wonder if I should actually say it. “So that if this woman was real, and she gives over her impressions, let them see that you’re spending most of the time at the Katzes’, and they help Ruchi.”
“Her parents say the same thing,” he says. Then his voice suddenly rises. “But it’s enough! I have no patience to be here all day anymore! I’m not a little boy, and I want to be in my own house. Especially since…” He is quiet for a minute and lowers his voice again. “Especially since maybe Ruchi only dreamed it.”
Or did she do it on purpose? I wonder to myself. Is it possible that my daughter-in-law is so wily and wanted to return so badly to her parents, that she made up this story of the strange visit? But to the extent that I know her, this notion just makes no sense, especially as both Ruchi and Yudi had been sounding positive in recent days, ever since they’d returned home. Independence does good for people.
So what was this?
“And you didn’t go in to at least close the windows? To make sure the fridge is closed?”
“The aide closed the window; she said there really was an open window. But she didn’t stay much longer, because the baby from the other building began to cry, and Ruchi was crying that she wanted to leave the house right away.”
“But what about the fridge? And the lights?”
“I don’t know…”
“I think that before anything, you should go there tomorrow morning, Yudi,” I say. “Check what’s going on at home, that everything is alright. Maybe the lady did leave a report or some instructions about who to contact. You just need to know where you are standing.”
“Fine,” he replies flatly. “I’ll ask my father-in-law to take me there.”
I understand that he’s afraid to go into the house himself, and I don’t know who to be angry at about it. At Ruchi for imagining stories—or not? At her parents? At the aide who wasn’t with her the whole time to negate or affirm the incident? Why was she doing the laundry by herself, anyway? Isn’t Ruchi supposed to be doing it while she only helps with it?
The eighths I was supposed to cut these potatoes into have long turned into sixteenths. They could make a nice kugel from these super thin slices, but not roasted potatoes.
I put aside the nearly translucent slices and tackle the potatoes that are left. Minda comes in at that minute with a cheery, “Good morning!” and I have to abandon my angry, tense thoughts and try to focus on her endless stories. After all, aside for the zechusim that I’m accruing—and it should go toward my son and his wife having siyata d’Shmaya and hatzlachah—it’s good for me that I’m here now. What would I have done at home after such a call, aside for wandering around from room to room and going out of my mind with worry?
***
“How is Turkey treating you, Zahava?” Yankel asked his sister worriedly.
“Fine, just fine, baruch Hashem.”
“How are you managing with money there?”
She laughed. “This is not America! The craziness didn’t get here. Or actually, didn’t get here yet. But it’s true, they refuse to take large sums on credit cards from us, only small amounts. The pressure is definitely affecting the whole world.”
“So how are you managing? How are you paying for your orders?”
“We borrowed some money,” she replied. “And we aren’t buying all that much.”
“Is Yaakov Shlomo continuing with his hotline in the meantime? It’s something American, isn’t it? Are they paying his salary on time?”
Zahava thought for a moment. “You know something, I don’t even know,” she said, sitting down on a chair in the small Turkish hotel. “I didn’t ask him. It’s so important to him, these shiurim, that even if he’s not getting anything from them these days—I prefer to let it go. Besides, he had a very painful attack this evening, and he’s in the emergency room now, with Tzippy.”
***
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