But You're Safe, Right? (No) | 2015

She'd woken up to twelve missed calls from her mother, and what was sure to be long messages. Something had happened, probably, but her parents hadn't found out about what Britain was like (there would be more phone calls, and probably the people she'd stayed with would have gotten her up already, or she'd've found some Cohen cousin three times removed at her door), so it wasn't to say that she needed to go home. She took a deep breath, about to listen to the messages when her laptop chimed.

She checked it warily, breathing a sigh of relief that it was Aviya. She accepted it, and her older sister popped up on the screen. "You haven't been answering your phone," Aviya stated in Hebrew that managed to sound exactly like their mother's. 

"I was sleeping," Ayelet responded cautiously. 

"You missed a lot. Our Shlomelet has graduated from her school, and now she's a doctor! And her friend-- you remember Itamar Cohen?" Aviya crossed her arms.

"I think so." Shlomit didn't have many friends, and Itamar was in the same year as her. 

"So. . ." Aviya drew the word out. Kaaaaann. "So they were graduating together, and we went out to dinner-- at La Escudilla, of course-- and at the end of the dinner--"

"It comes out that Itamar had some problems and didn't actually graduate? Or Shlomit failed a test and he changed the grade for her?" Ayelet guessed. That  was the only reason that she might be not called by her oldest sister; Shlomit must be so embarrassed.

"What? Of course not. He proposes and she accepts." Aviya grinned widely.

"Itamar proposed and Shlomit accepted?" That didn't sound right at all. She was . . .thrilled for her sister, of course, but Shlomit had never shown a hint of interest in anyone. 

"I know, I thought the same! But then they kissed, very chastely-- a peck and drew away as quickly as they could. All very proper."

"Was it at once? Did she, eh, accept at once?" What if Shlomit hadn't wanted to and felt like she needed to? The get would be difficult, if not impossible to get. There wasn't even the chance that Shlomit had been with someone non-Jewish, or with a married man-- last year, Shlomit had not so much as ever kissed anyone, and had never been divorced, so that wasn't an easy way out. 

"Calm down, will you? She knew it was coming, she told me so when I asked her the same questions."

"Why did she agree to marry him? Why would she? Shlomit has-- she's never--" She didn't understand.

"She told me he didn't love her either, not like that. So they decided to get married, because it would be simpler, and she could have people stop flirting at her. And they're both entering their late twenties, and Itamar's family is Orthodox, do you remember? They marry as friends."

"That makes no sense. She doesn't need to, he doesn't need to-- that's just traditionalist--" Things like that made people think the religion was more misogynistic than-- well, it as complicated, but that was an intercommunal issue. 

"Well, he's going to be a rabbi with a medical degree, he's decided, and she'd got a medical degree, so they're well-matched with that, at least. Ima and Abba are so proud of her--"

"Which are they prouder of? Getting married, or married to Cohen? Ima's family would be pleased, I guess." 

"Are you joking? She's a doctor. They're proudest of that."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah-- says the lawyer. You're really leaving no good careers for me-- how's Ran going to top you two?"

"He says he'll work at Levi, Shachat, and Children's--"

"And Ima says that he can't, right?"

"Of course, she uses the same excuse that she can because her mother is Levi, and it's not Cohen, Shachat, and Children's. Speaking of Ima. . ."

She noticed they'd switched to Spanish-- when had that happened? Probably back a ways. "What is it?" She tensed herself.

"There. . .is it true your Minister died?"

There was a moment of blessed relief that her mother was healthy. Then-- "What do you mean?" She tried to keep her face calm.

"Ima heard about it from-- I think it was the--"

"I don't care about the chain, I want to know  the ending names, and what she heard."

"Ben Haims, of course. They said the Minister was killed in the Ministry by those. . .este, Cannibalistic necrophiliacs? That's the name, something like that?" 

She felt her lips grow tight. "Something like that. But it's-- it's not too bad. Not now. And I'll go to Spain when the first sign of trouble hits." She was lying. But she needed to.

"You must. Ima says--"

The door to Aviya's room banged open, and their aunt strode in. Zahava Azoulay was late-born to her parents, much less than ten years older than Shlomit. Zahava Azoulay was also cursed with a young-looking face, so she was often thought to be the sister of her nieces and nephews.

"You're in Israel," Ayelet realized. "Why are you in Israel? When did you get there?"

"No greeting for me, Yelli? I'm crushed." Zahava settled herself onto Aviya's bed, next to the younger woman, pressing her face next to hers, her skin glowing with sun and health.

Zahava, thirty-two and the source for the gray hairs of her parents. Happily unmarried and likely to stay that way-- but for pleasure rather than dislike of men. Zahava, who wasn't quite aware-- well, as far as she knew-- that Ayelet was a witch.

"Oh, nice to see you, Zahavit, then." She pasted on a grin. "I'm asking Vavi to keep a secret for me. Just as I kept the fact that she has a secret tattoo--"

"Ayelet!"

"A tattoo?" Zahava's gorgeous face creased and she leaned away from Aviya. "Your parents will kill you. My parents will kill you if you're still alive."

"It was an accidental tattoo," Ayelet chimed in. 

"An accidental tattoo? How do you get accidentally get a tattoo? You are Jewish from a religious family, you do not accidentally get tattooed--"

"I said much the same when you got your belly pierced, Zahava!" Aviya mouthed a threat that Ayelet couldn't make out. "And do you remember, I still keep that secret. Yelli is trying to make me keep a secret that she's in a dangerous place from our parents."

"Why would you do that?" Zahava stood up, cutting off the camera on her chest. Aviya hastily adjusted the screen away. "You put yourself in danger? My God, Ayelet, you're mad. You must come back now."

"I'm not in danger!" She lied, crossing mental fingers. "I'm perfectly safe, I swear."'

Neither sister nor aunt looked convinced. "Fine, there's some. . .racism, let's say. It's not antisemitic in any way," she added quickly. "So, eh, it's . . .worrying, but it's still worth being away from my. . my ex-boyfriend." She wasn't out to her aunt yet-- who knew how she would react? She would tell her brother or her parents, and then she'd get several calls.

"It's a lot more dangerous for her than she's letting us know," Aviya snapped.

"It's been a year, has it not? That is enough. Even if he is a sports player."

"No, I-- I'm staying up to help."

"You're not staying, by God! I'll tell my parents, and Aviya will tell yours!"

"I'm fine!" She thrust her hand as if she was about to blow up an object, careful to keep the spell from her mind. "I am fine, can you remember that? Tell Shlomit I sent my congratulations."

Her sister's eyes followed her hand, wary. "Do you swear?"

"I swear," she responded. "By God, I swear. At the first sign of trouble, I'll leave."

Farewells were made, and Ayelet closed her laptop. Not until she was in complete, personal danger, might she flee.