Lily 2
I don't have to travel to Ottawa for the medical; one of the doctors here in town is accredited by the Israeli Embassy.
His look says it all, refuses to meet my eye, mumbles something about forwarding the file. So, lemme guess, two strikes already. One, childhood bout with cancer. Two, the fact same left me incapable of having children. Israel has become a lot more fussy over the centuries.
From reading Haaretz web site, I know I'll get the lowest points in religious category. They don't take Reform seriously anymore, as if they ever did. To get real points, gotta be Orthodox or ultraOrthodox.
Add in my tech diploma will count for a lot less than a degree.
It'll be months before I hear, but it isn't promising.
And so it is I'm lying in bed Sunday morning feeling sorry for myself. Maybe I'll just lie here til I die.
My cell rings, call display shows Naomi, a co-worker.
Her first words are, "do your parents get the local Sunday paper?"
"Oh yes."
"Get the 'Name and Shame' section, then call me back."
The paper has about 18 sections, scattered over the coffee table. Taking Name and Shame, I head to the kitchen and pour coffee.
Seems the police went on a big drunk driving campaign. Nailed some 200 people. In Name and Shame, they show photo, name and blood alcohol count.
The legal limit is .08 here in Canada. I gasp to see the rabbi's photo, with a score of .19, highest of the lot.
I phone Naomi back.
She laughs, "to anyone else, he's just any Jew. They don't show occupation in there. However, I'm betting your recent troubles will be largely forgotten."
"Guess so, they'll have him to talk about."
"So cheer up and forget that gloom and doom."
I feel marginally better that week. Once, as an experiment, I drop in at JCC, to read the imported papers. I'm still getting funny looks, but nowhere near as much.
Next Sunday, my cell rings again. Naomi, more cheerful and chirpy than I've heard her in ages. In a tone like the cat who swallowed the canary, "look in Name and Shame, call me back."
We-ell, the police had a big John sting, nailed 400. Female police impersonating prostitutes, chatting up the guys, seeing which suckers can be arrested.
I gasp to discover six men from our synagogue in there.
I dial Naomi.
Cheerful laugh, she says, "from here on in, ain't a soul gonna remember your lousy choice of fiance. Now they got real stuff to talk about."
"Yes, maybe things will be better."
"Look Lily, you can't hide away forever. Next week, you and I, we'll go together."
"Ah no."
"We'll arrive at the very last moment, sit at the back. Please, try it, just once, for me."
"Ok."
I'm surprised to see it works. I have disappeared off the collective radar, am back to being plain old boring Lily.
As we leave, Naomi asks, "so, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
"Not at all."
"Hear anything back from Israel?"
"Not yet."
"Still, you know odds aren't good, I mean with everything considered."
"Ah yeah."
"You know, you're now outa the woods. Perfectly free to stay in town if you like."
It starts to sink in. Yes, ok job as a library tech at the public library, friends, good relationship with both parents. To be able to stay is a nice option.
I smile, "come on, let's go to the coffee house. Most decadent item on the menu and I'm buying."
She grins, "that's the spirit, let's go."
His look says it all, refuses to meet my eye, mumbles something about forwarding the file. So, lemme guess, two strikes already. One, childhood bout with cancer. Two, the fact same left me incapable of having children. Israel has become a lot more fussy over the centuries.
From reading Haaretz web site, I know I'll get the lowest points in religious category. They don't take Reform seriously anymore, as if they ever did. To get real points, gotta be Orthodox or ultraOrthodox.
Add in my tech diploma will count for a lot less than a degree.
It'll be months before I hear, but it isn't promising.
And so it is I'm lying in bed Sunday morning feeling sorry for myself. Maybe I'll just lie here til I die.
My cell rings, call display shows Naomi, a co-worker.
Her first words are, "do your parents get the local Sunday paper?"
"Oh yes."
"Get the 'Name and Shame' section, then call me back."
The paper has about 18 sections, scattered over the coffee table. Taking Name and Shame, I head to the kitchen and pour coffee.
Seems the police went on a big drunk driving campaign. Nailed some 200 people. In Name and Shame, they show photo, name and blood alcohol count.
The legal limit is .08 here in Canada. I gasp to see the rabbi's photo, with a score of .19, highest of the lot.
I phone Naomi back.
She laughs, "to anyone else, he's just any Jew. They don't show occupation in there. However, I'm betting your recent troubles will be largely forgotten."
"Guess so, they'll have him to talk about."
"So cheer up and forget that gloom and doom."
I feel marginally better that week. Once, as an experiment, I drop in at JCC, to read the imported papers. I'm still getting funny looks, but nowhere near as much.
Next Sunday, my cell rings again. Naomi, more cheerful and chirpy than I've heard her in ages. In a tone like the cat who swallowed the canary, "look in Name and Shame, call me back."
We-ell, the police had a big John sting, nailed 400. Female police impersonating prostitutes, chatting up the guys, seeing which suckers can be arrested.
I gasp to discover six men from our synagogue in there.
I dial Naomi.
Cheerful laugh, she says, "from here on in, ain't a soul gonna remember your lousy choice of fiance. Now they got real stuff to talk about."
"Yes, maybe things will be better."
"Look Lily, you can't hide away forever. Next week, you and I, we'll go together."
"Ah no."
"We'll arrive at the very last moment, sit at the back. Please, try it, just once, for me."
"Ok."
I'm surprised to see it works. I have disappeared off the collective radar, am back to being plain old boring Lily.
As we leave, Naomi asks, "so, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
"Not at all."
"Hear anything back from Israel?"
"Not yet."
"Still, you know odds aren't good, I mean with everything considered."
"Ah yeah."
"You know, you're now outa the woods. Perfectly free to stay in town if you like."
It starts to sink in. Yes, ok job as a library tech at the public library, friends, good relationship with both parents. To be able to stay is a nice option.
I smile, "come on, let's go to the coffee house. Most decadent item on the menu and I'm buying."
She grins, "that's the spirit, let's go."
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