"Yes, it's true. You let me know."

"I was very loved as a child. I guess it wasn't hard for me to believe that you adored me, too. Your parents were a lot tougher with you. They're tough people, like everyone in this country. My parents were imports, they never fit in."

"I don't know what to feel."

"You made a mistake, Daniel. A very sad mistake, one which caused everyone a lot of pain. Touch me."

"Your skin was always as smooth as silk."

"Like that song."

"Yes, like the song."

"I think it's still smooth, you'll have to see for yourself." He placed his hand on my belly. "What does my hand feel like?"

"Like it used to, only better. Remember how you always came up to me when I was washing dishes, and put your arms around my waist?"

"At first it hurt me to touch people, after the fire. It felt like physical pain, but I think it was psychological. Anyhow, it passed. I don't mind now. I look up porn on the computer sometimes, but it's so unaesthetic, it gets in the way."

"Unaesthetic! You're so funny. Even porn has to be beautiful."

"Well, why shouldn't it be?"

"Glory be to God for dappled things," I quoted.

"What?"

"That's from a poem I like. Though the guy who wrote it didn't have porn in mind, to say the least."

"I've kept a diary, not that detailed, just basic things."

"I took photographs."

"If you show me yours, I'll show you mine."

"Okay."

"I'm starting to feel more relaxed."

"Me too."

"I'm starting to get excited."

"Good. I'm ready for some action."

BEFORE, MY LIFE WAS ORDERLY. I had my job, my friends, the sea. I took photographs, I wrote junk novels, I waited for my husband.

Now everything has changed. I live near the sea and I speak to Daniel on the phone every day and look for ways to see him. Maybe one day he'll move back here. Maybe one day the roads between us will be open and I'll be free to see him whenever I want.

Beatrice, Benny, and Vronsky have disappeared from my life. I told Beatrice I couldn't sleep with her anymore, and in honor of our new status as ordinary friends she invited me to her place for dinner. It was a strange, hectic evening. Dudu, who to his own amazement had made a fortune in real estate, was mildly stoned. With his hippie beard and a scrawny joint held precariously between his artistic fingers, he looked lost and dazed, as if he were still trying to understand how he'd landed on this planet, in this particular house and family. Beatrice was on the phone half the time, and the children bobbed incessantly through the evening with tenacious requests. When Beatrice and I said good-bye at the door, we both knew I would not be back.

Benny met a student, Rina, who hailed him in the middle of the night after walking out on her boyfriend, and the two of them connected immediately. Rina is skinny, high-strung, and chronically petulant, but Benny loves her, and he's happy. He moved in with her almost immediately, and I hear the two of them are now engaged. I smile in his direction when I pass him on the beach with his children and young fiancee, but we don't speak. He's still a little angry with me, or maybe just embarrassed.

Vronsky and I have lost touch.

Volvo is still here, and Jacky, and Tanya. Volvo has an American boyfriend, Tom, and he now wears long denim shorts and sleeveless tops. He and Tom fight regularly, and sometimes everyone in the building witnesses their stormy dramas, which they both appear to enjoy. Tanya's going out with the locksmith, and they seem to be getting along. Sometimes I hear the locksmith whistling in the hallway as he descends the stairs and heads out to work. Tanya says it won't last. "Still ... live for the moment," she adds.

I talk to Rafi on the phone, but he no longer visits; I need to be loyal to Daniel. Only once, when we were helping Palestinians pick olives and two insane settlers began shooting at us, and we all lay down on the ground, terrified, Rafi crawled over to where I was and we held one another. We curled up against the wide, gnarled trunk of the tree and he placed his arm around my waist. If we were going to die, we would at least not die alone. It took the army a very long time to come-nearly an hour. A few feet away from us, Odelia was trying to help a woman from London, who had been hit in the leg.

The army arrived, finally, but they let the settlers go free, and they refused to stay with us, so we had to abandon the trees. Rafi and I drove away from the olive grove in separate cars.

I am also expecting; I'm in my eighth month. Is it Rafi's baby, or my husband's? It doesn't matter. I love them both, I can have neither.

Still, I am lucky. I am surrounded by love. Even if I can't touch it or see it, I know it is there, waiting for me.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

FOR THEIR HELP AND SUPPORT in the writing and publication of the Tel Aviv trilogy, I am deeply indebted to Meir Amor, Yudit Avi-dor, Yardena Avi-dor, Miki Bitton, Alison Brackenbury, Alison Callahan, Stacey Cameron, Nada and Jihad Charif, Marwan Charif, Anne Collins, Pam Comeau, Richard Cooper, Jay Eidemiller, Rezeq Faraj, Rachel Goodman, Mary Harsany, Christopher Hazou, Eric Hamovitch, Michael Heyward, Malcolm Imrie, Matan Kaminer, Ruttie Kanner, Yitzhak Laor, Shimon Levy, Kfir Madjar, Mark Marshall, Michael MacKenzie, Rachella Mizrahi, Moshe, Adrienne Phillips, Beverley Slopen, Ken Sparling, Gila Svirsky, Yafa Wax, Claire Williamson, Margaret Wolfson, Miriam Zehavi, the Headline crew, the staff of the Metropolitan Hotel in Tel Aviv, and the many fellow activists who have given me the strength to maintain hope in the midst of tragedy. Filling my life with fun and love, my daughter, Larissa, continues to inspire and enchant me.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.

EDEET RAVEL was born on an Israeli kibbutz and completed graduate studies in English at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. She now divides her time between Canada and Tel Aviv, where she is involved in peace work. She has been publishing stories and prose poems in English and Hebrew since age sixteen, and is the recipient of several writing awards, including the Hugh MacLennan Prize for Fiction, the Norma Epstein Award for her poetry and a Quebec Council for the Arts writing award. She holds a Ph.D. in Jewish Studies from McGill University and has taught creative writing, English literature, Holocaust studies, and biblical exegesis. She has one daughter. Edeet Ravel's website is www.edeet.com.

VINTAGE CANADA EDITION, 2005.

Also by Edeet Ravel.

Ten Thousand Lovers.

Wall of Light.