When I was released from the Sourasky Ichilov Medical Center for the second time in two weeks, the nurse handed me my personal effects. A wallet, a leather jacket, pants, an empty bottle of Cuervo and a burrito I did not remember buying. The look she gave me reeked of judgment and suggestions of rehab. I slinked away and changed into my old clothes, my shirt was no where to be found so I just zipped up my caramel colored leather jacket as far as I could.
An officer named Jarid Aviv was waiting for me in a car out front. It was a nice surprise; I had been expecting to take the bus home. He worked in research and mostly developed connections and found sources to gather information from. It wasn't the most fun thing to do, but he secretly aspired to do real field work that wasn't based in Tel Aviv. He was in his mid-twenties at that point and very tall, his knees practically touched the steering wheel and he was reading what appeared to be a Home and Garden magazine.
"What happened?" I asked nervously, sliding into the passenger seat. He turned the engine of the Mercedes on.
"We told him you were very sick. He believed us. I have to meet someone this afternoon so I decided to pick you up. How about breakfast?"
"Thank you." I groaned. "I've gone two days with nothing but tasteless hospital food. I forgot how much I love the people in Research department, especially you!" I kissed him on the cheek and we sped away. We had brunch at a pleasant diner in Dizengoff Center and then went to kill time in front of the fountain.
"Do you remember a few years ago when the suicide bomber hit this place?" I asked suddenly.
"How could anyone forget?" He sighed. "We heard it from the building in HaKirya."
"I was there." I reminisced. "I was inside… I wasn't anywhere near the blast but everyone felt it. Wasn't it on the eve of Purim?"
"It was." Jarid confirmed dryly.
"How ironic." I laughed in spite of myself. "On the same day the Jews were saved from extermination by the Persians…"
He shook his head. "We all see the irony, Tali." He sighed.
We both paused, letting the sound of the fountain fill the silence.
"Rena told me you had a bad tequila experience." He began tentatively.
"Well that's the understatement of the century." I said dryly, tossing a coin into the fountain.
"She also said she has your shirt when you want to pick it up."
"Is it blood stained?" I asked, lifting my hair to reveal 17 stitches just behind my ear. "And did she mention anything about my shoes?"
"I didn't ask." Jarid said apathetically.
I sighed, sitting on the stone rim. "My father just believed I was sick?"
"Well we told him you were in the hospital at one point so he exempt you from training and stuff. He wanted to be informed if you were going to need any surgeries… and that was it."
I kicked my scrub-bootie covered feet back and forth. "I feel like I should be irritated by that… but I'm not at all."
"I have always wondered if that bothered you."
"What bothers me?"
"Being neglected."
I looked at him curiously. "My father is a busy man. My mother is dead, Ziva is working- there's no one to care about little old me anymore." I shrugged. "It's been that way for a long time. When I was younger I didn't really understand but it has never bothered me, Jarid. Besides, I have a family! We look out for our own!" I smiled half-heartedly and stood up.
"Do you want me to take you home now?" He asked, looking down as though he were ashamed to listen to his superior's family issues.
"Well where are you going now?"
"The Lahat Promenade."
"I could do with a stroll by the beach. We still have time right? I'll just scurry off when your appointment comes." I winked at him.
"Sure, lets go." He smiled at me reassuringly, but I had already looked away.
Yes, the Aviv mentioned is the one who eventually dies on the Damascus, I just gave him the first name Jarid. He was the Mossad guy who was always in the background during "Good Cop, Bad Cop" … I'm sure not many of you noticed him! All the places I mentioned are real places, too. That bombing at Dizengoff Center (a mall) did indeed happen.