Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 39 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.
“Thanks for being here with me, Bayta,” Tzippy said. She put her Tehillim into a bag as her sister-in-law came back to sit next to her, after disappearing for a few minutes. She looked with distaste at the croissant that Batya offered her. “What’s this?”
“This? It’s yeast dough, rolled up and baked,” Batya said with a little laugh. “Maybe there’s some chocolate filling inside—I have no idea.”
“You just bought it at the cafeteria?”
“No, my mother sent some food along with my father.”
Instinctively, Tzippy looked behind her, where she saw the profile of the mechutan, Batya’s father, sitting in a corner far across the room.
“I hope it doesn’t bother you that my father came here,” Batya said, playing with the paper bag that held the croissant. “My parents don’t think it’s appropriate for two young girls, even if one of them is married, to be sitting alone in the family waiting room.”
“That’s true,” Tzippy said. “And it’s really nice of your father to come. Chumi’s friend’s mother offered to come, but I didn’t feel comfortable being here myself with her. And it’s for sure not a good thing for Chumi herself to be here—she’s too sensitive.” She leaned back, her eyes fixed on the corridor that led out from the huge room. Was that where the doctor or nurse would come from, to update them about the progression of the surgery?
Over the door was a large screen, with constantly changing numbers. Every patient had a number, and that was the only update she had right now about her father’s status. Until half an hour earlier, it said that S67 was in preparation for surgery, and now he appeared on the list of those who were already in the operating room. The next stage would be recovery, but she had no idea how much time would pass until her father’s number would be transferred to that column. Or rather, until her father would be transferred into recovery.
“Here? Fine, so I’ll sit here. Thank you!” The voice that was growing louder as it approached made Tzippy jump to her feet. “Just tell me, please, where is my daughter? She’s also supposed to be here. Are you sure this is the right place?”
Tzippy and Batya spun around at once.
“Your mother!” Batya exclaimed, wide-eyed.
Tzippy couldn’t utter a sound. She just nodded and waved to her mother, who was talking to a nurse, to catch her attention.
“Tzippy! Batya!” Mommy waved back and then hurried over to the row of chairs where her daughter and daughter-in-law were standing. “What’s going on? Any updates with Tatty?”
“Mommy!” Tzippy stammered. “What…how did you get here?”
“I was finally able to find a flight out, baruch Hashem. Don’t ask what I went through to get it, but the main thing is that I’m here now. Okay, what’s the story? Who do I have to speak to, to find out how the surgery is going?”
“Right now, no one,” Tzippy replied. “Come and sit down, Mommy. You came straight from the airport? You didn’t even let us know!”
“I didn’t want to say anything before I was sure I’d actually be able to get here.” She found a place to sit. “And the battery on my phone was dead. It’s okay, I love making surprises—you know that. But what does that mean, you don’t have anyone to talk to? I’m going out of my mind with worry!”
“Tatty went into surgery half an hour ago. They said toward the end of the procedure they’ll update the family. And here, on the screen, you can see he’s still in the operating room. See his number—it’s S67.”
“Okay, so we’ll wait. Girls, do either of you have some cold water?”
“Yes.” Batya opened her mouth for the first time since her mother-in-law had arrived. She reached into her bag and took out a bottle of mineral water. Either her mother had sent it, or her father had bought it as per her mother’s instructions.
“Thank you,” her mother-in-law said, then made a brachah and took a sip. After finishing two-thirds of the bottle, she screwed the cap back on with a sigh of relief. “Really, thank you. So, tell me, Batya. What’s with Shimmy?”
“Shimmy? He’s still in China, to the best of my knowledge. Unless he’ll also suddenly show up here.”
“No.” Her mother-in-law waved off the idea. “From China, it’s not so simple. Not that Turkey was simple, but at least it was possible. Where is Chumi, Tzippy?”
“At her friend.”
“She didn’t want to be here when Tatty was in surgery?”
“She was scared.”
“Okay.” Her mother shrugged. “I guess it does make sense. She’s really young, after all.” She suddenly looked at her daughter, as if seeing her for the first time. “And so are you, actually.”
Tzippy blinked. She didn’t want to start tearing up here, because then Mommy would want to talk about what happened, and it would definitely make her really break down crying. Then Mommy would look for a tissue for her, and a few little tears would become a bigger deal than what she had intended. “Right… But I’m okay, Mommy.”
Batya stood up, murmured something, and moved away. Which was nice of her.
“What does ‘okay’ mean? You’re a young girl, and being here these past few days all by yourself was no simple thing. Do you think I wasn’t thinking about it all week?” She suddenly stood up and stopped a passing nurse. “Excuse me, can I ask you a question?”
“I’m not authorized to give information about patients,” the nurse apologized.
“It’s not personal information—it’s a question about knee replacement surgery in general. How long is such a thing supposed to take?”
“I don’t know,” the nurse said, and continued on her way.
“She can’t even answer a simple question like that?” Tzippy’s mother murmured, going back to her daughter and sinking back down onto the chair. Her eyes closed for a minute, and she opened them. “If I fall asleep, Tzippy, wake me up. I haven’t slept in twenty-eight hours, but I want to be with you.”
“It’s fine. And the surgery takes about an hour and a half,” Tzippy replied. “But the surgeon said to take into account that it sometimes takes longer, especially when there’s an infection involved.”
“Oh! So why didn’t you tell me that before?”
“You didn’t ask me.” Her daughter sounded apologetic. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy, chas v’shalom, that her mother had arrived. That was a huge relief for her. But something about it also made her tense. She’d become so used to being the one who interacted with the hospital staff; suddenly giving over this place to Mommy, and observing from the side how they listened to her mother’s heavily accented Hebrew, patiently or not so patiently…it wasn’t easy for Tzippy.
And that was even before she thought about Tatty. After the surgery, Tzippy was supposed to go into him, of course. Now, obviously, Mommy would be the one to go be with him, without him even knowing that she’d found a flight and had gotten back. Would he be confused? Emotional? How would he react?
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Batya talking to her father at the entrance to the waiting room. Technically, there was no reason he couldn’t leave now. Too bad it was not polite to suggest to Batya that she could also leave. She’d prefer that only Tatty, Mommy, and herself be partners in this whole incident.
*
“Yudi? How are you?”
“Baruch Hashem, fine.” He sounds like he’s walking briskly, and that makes me happy. His voice is also much more vibrant than it has been in recent conversations.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m just making sure the gate to the backyard is closed.”
“The backyard? Yours?”
“No, we don’t have a yard. It’s Ruchi’s parents’ yard. I’m here alone at their house, and it’s a good idea for everything to be locked. My shver called and told me to check if the gate is closed.”
“Why are you there alone?”
“Because everyone else went to get their government vouchers.”
“Vouchers?” I know things are happening in America. I know that the stock market is half—or more than half—paralyzed, and that little looting and robbery incidents, like the one with Ruchi’s jewelry, are nothing compared to the black market and counterfeit-money rackets that are spreading. And that the government has imposed semi-martial law in certain areas, with soldiers patrolling the streets.
But all this boils down to one small and focused point: Where is Yudi in all this? “The vouchers?” I repeat.
“Yes. The government is giving out vouchers worth money to citizens. It’s impossible to manage without bank accounts and just nothing, nothing, nothing.”
“So you have to go get them? Where?”
“At the post office. Oh, good, the gate is locked.”
“And Ruchi also had to go?”
“Yes, and so did Isamar. Because there were lots of cases of fraud and forgeries, and people who presented social security numbers of other people. So now there’s a rule that only anyone who comes himself can get a voucher. They make exceptions for those who have medical issues, but only with a note from a very senior doctor that the person physically can’t come himself. For such people, they allow a relative take the voucher for him.”
“Wow. So I’m happy that Ruchi felt well enough to go.”
“Yes. The doctor’s office here is closed anyway; it only opens twice a week, and only for emergencies.”
“What? And if the baby or someone suddenly comes down with a high fever?” I try not to sound panicked, or to pressure.
“So you go to a private doctor and pay a ton of money, like we did for Isamar’s orthopedist. Or you go to the hospital. But it’s better not to. There’s a huge balagan there, and they don’t accept everyone who comes.”
I take a deep breath. “And besides for that? Are you short on food?”
“Ruchi’s parents are managing. They don’t buy everything she likes, but there are lots of things that they can still get. And the frum community here sometimes distributes some products, like vegetables, fish, and chicken.”
“Is Ruchi worried?”
“She’s only worried about what will be with Isamar’s surgery.” He laughs. “But for now, they aren’t doing any surgeries that are not urgent, because the government is getting involved in the appointment systems in the hospitals. Otherwise…” He takes a deep breath. “All kinds of criminals pay for treatments and surgeries with money and with jewelry and houses, and it becomes a mess.”
“And does that scare you?” I ask gently. I didn’t realize the situation had gotten so serious! Another reason to get them out of America as fast as possible and bring them here.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m not so happy to be here myself.”
“So—” He feels so alone there! And we are so far from him.
“But I’m a foreign citizen, so I’m not allowed to come to the distribution points, where they give out vouchers. The crowds are too much as it is. So I’m waiting patiently here for everyone to get back…”
*
-No new recordings-
