Nuremberg Tour 11

Next morning at work I'm summoned to the office of the plant superintendent Mr Fraser. As always, he greets me cordially. Once I'm settled, with coffee, he drops the bombshell, "so far this is just between you and me. I will be off medically for a month."
"You need not worry about me sir, I will happily cooperate with whomever you choose."
"I'm asking you."
"Me? Surely Mr Sanderson or Ms Ahenakew or Mr Gilbert?"
"No. All are way too crusty, cause no end of problems. You have the smoothest, most peaceful department in the plant."
"Sir, surely all three would then come gunning for me."
Chuckle, "there is a reason they fight so much when one of them is left in charge. The others are afraid of drastic changes, a shift in the balance of power. I will announce to each privately that you have no authority to make any changes, will be doing day to day admin work only. They may be unhappy, but at least no one will feel threatened."
"Do you think it would work sir?"
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't believe it workable. So, month's budget laid out in advance, no changes without first phoning me? Think you could handle that?"
"Give it a try sir."
All three are bigtime sniffy at first. Soon they see I have no agenda, no plot, am doing day to day schedule coordination only. The antagonism vanishes.
Still, I am hugely relieved to see Mr Fraser return.
Mother phones, informing me I have a duty to convince father not to go to Israel.
"Ma, listen, if I were King Canute commanding the tide not to come in, I would have the same odds of success as convincing him on anything.
She laughs, but agrees with my pragmatic response. Then, "you never tell me anything. One rumor says you passed the officer exam; another, radar. Yet another, you and Ariel are engaged. Which is true?"
"Ma, passing an exam does not mean you will go for sure. And no, we are not engaged."
"Why on earth not? Surely he's a good catch?"
"Ma, I would not want just fame and money. Surely a little respect, maybe even - gasp - equality."
"You've been hanging out with those westerners too long. Are you and that Arab bimbo having a lesbian fling?"
"She's not Arab, not a bimbo and we're not having a fling. Just friends, a lot in common."
"But Rachel honey, why not Jewish friends? Or at very least Christian whites? Why her?"
"Why not? Is she any less of a person?"
"Rumor has it she's bigtime bad news, two brothers are over with Hamas right now."
"Ma, she is an individual, has no ability to compel her brothers what to do or not to do."
"At some point, you ceased being a Jew, became a Nazi. I'm ashamed of you," slams the receiver.
Oy! And now I'm a Nazi? She is so mixed up, probably from reading too many of Ariel's books, sees Nazis behind every haystack.
To get her out of my mind, I think of my book. Should I throw in a token Jewish family? Not on your life. Child(ren) would fit famously with the Guyanese kids, but parents would be as big a misfit as my own. Still, if I needed extra comic relief. Hmm.
I'm killing time at JCC til course time. A name jumps out of Haaretz page, as if in bold print. One of those killed in the shootout with Israeli border police. Philosophically I note I now only have one of Farzana's brothers to worry about.
Naomi sits, "you feeling ok??"
"Touch of indigestion is all."
"That idiot has collected over two million dollars in royalties. He could retire tomorrow. Yet what does the moron do? Mope about being a failure."
"Just because Gentiles didn't like his book? He still has his Jewish reader base from before."
"But he feels it's over. Lost the muse, never get it back."
"Every artist feels so from time to time," I pass her the paper, "now, you give him that story. Think he could run with that?"
Her eyes widen, "wow, I could write a book off that." Wicked smile, "in fact, that's what I'll say. Got one month to get off that ass, stop feeling sorry for yourself and produce. If not, story belongs to me."
A few days later, Ariel on the phone, cheerful tone, "I really want to thank you for the story lead. Naomi said it came from you."
"She means well, wants you to be happy and successful."
"I know. Look, I've had time to think. I was really obnoxious to you. Here I have a PhD and a dozen books. What right to sit in judgment if you choose a lighter story line?"
"Thank you."
"Do you suppose we could do coffee?"
"Yes, that would be nice."
He sounds cheerful as he bubbles on about his story lead (not Farzana's bro of course). What research he'll do, characters and setting.
As we leave the coffee house I am relaxed. Seems he's getting on track. Ironic, before we were worried about him being too on track.
I soon discover his good cheer came from more than just a lead.
Farzana pulls a face, "the rat is cheating on you."
I gasp, "you're joking?"
She lowers her voice, looks me straight in the eye, "one of the sessionals in history is an Afghan girl I knew from high school. He and she ..."
"Oh come on, someone is feeding you a garbage rumor. He is so old style Jewish, he'd never, that is he'd ..."
Sympathetic look, "and now that the tirade is over, you believe me."
I take a napkin, dab at my eyes.
Gentle smile, "I can assure you, it's a lot more than just sex. To her, the sex would be meaningless. She is so hot, so stacked, she could have any guy she choooses."
"So why him?"
"Her purpose, what she brags to the Afghan community, is to keep him so totally occupied in bed that he ceases writing."
And now, I'm laughing.
Eyebrow raises, "you actually find that funny?"
"We-ell, it's not like he and I were well ah. So, that means he is up for grabs. And quite frankly, it's all for the best."
Serious look, "and now you have lost me, little one. For the best?"
"His sister Naomi and I were bigtime worried about him, edge of suicidal. Look, I'd rather see him alive and happy, even if it means with someone else."
"You really are a generous soul, not many like you."
"And when she tires of it or finds a hotter guy, he'll write again. Though of course, after her, he'll view me as a colossal bore." I can't help it, I'm crying.
I'm at JCC. Naomi sits, "you haven't shot her yet?"
Drily, "I prefer non-violent solutions."
"Come on, you know what men are like. Once that thing gets hard, their IQ shrinks in half. Anyone can tell what that bimbo is up to."
"What?"
"Don't be such a moron! Sex morning noon and night to keep him from writing. Obvious!"
"You really think so?"
"Yes!!"
"Naomi I'm not worried about that. If he wants sex, let him get it. Far better than worrying about him being suicidal. I'm so totally out of his league, he and I would never work out anyhow. At least, he and she have similar academic interests."
"Yeah, you're right. He does need a break from all that heavy writing." Pause, "there is a way to get him back."
"How?"
"I'll spread the rumor you started proceedings to return to Israel, now that you passed the exam and have learned some Hebrew. Put pressure on him, force him to decide."
"That is dishonest."
"You just are not paying attention. Most of life is dishonest. Come on now."
"No, I'd rather lose than win dishonestly. If he ever found out after, he'd go right homicidal."
Sigh, "yeah, guess you are right. Could be ten years later, some accident happening, and he discovers. Wiser doing things your way."