Page 100 of Analysing Her Assets

A Heart-To-Heart

(31 days to end of year)

48. Gideon

“I’m cold, Gideon,” his father said. Hospitals were cold. Winter or Summer the air conditioning was frightening, as if they were trying to freeze the germs.

Gideon stood up and stomped his feet to make the blood flow again. His neck was sore from sleeping on the armchair next to his father. His beard itched. He brushed his teeth, but he needed a shower, badly.

He added an extra blanket atop his father’s prone form. Yesterday they did a diagnostic cardiac catheterization on him, and this afternoon his father would undergo open-heart surgery.

They were such a tiny family. His grandmothers and aunt weren’t encouraged to come to the hospital. It was just him and his mother. Gideon had spent the night in the hospital, sending Naomi home to rest.

Tamar texted him yesterday, and this morning, asking after his father, telling him she was sorry, pleading for him to answer. He stared at her texts, hating that he was ghosting her, yet unsure how to respond. His anger with her had abated, leaving the sour taste of disappointment.

“Gideon...” his father croaked. “I’m thirsty.”

“You can drink a little, but that’s it,” Gideon said and helped his father sip a little water through a straw.

“Straighten my bed. I want to sit.” Gideon touched the electric button that moved the head of the bed. He placed a pillow behind his father’s back to help him sit more comfortably.

“Listen, I need you to contact Adva.”

“Who?”

“Will you do that for me? Her contact name on my phone is Aaron, Beer Sheva.”

His father’s other family. They fled right out of his mind.

At the end of trading day yesterday, Berdiplast released another immediate notice, notifying investors that the CEO and main shareholder Yehoshua Berdichevsky had been taken ill. Tamar checked these, learning of his father’s health this way, but would Adva, the other woman, think of doing it?

“Aaron? Oh, so Imma wouldn’t suspect.”

“Yes, please Gideon, I want to tell you the whole story. Before it’s too late...”

“Abba, you’re going to be okay, you’re going to make it.” The defeat in his father’s eyes shocked him to his core. Yehoshua was always boisterous and full of life.

“Please, just let me talk.”

Gideon’s mouth dried at the fear of losing his father. He loved him. Despite everything he loved him.

“Twenty years ago, your mother and I, we were going through a rough patch, arguing all the time. Her new book got lukewarm reviews. She used to be much more sensitive back then. She was on a deadline to write more books and stressed about it. I’m not making excuses. I’m just telling you how it was for me. I was in Beer Sheva quite a lot, we were being helped by ICL’s R&D and that’s where I met Adva. We hit it off. She was smart, compassionate, she wasn’t a writer... The affair continued for a year, and then she gave me an ultimatum—either I would give her children, or she would end it. I always wanted more than one child. But your mother never did. She has always said you and her books and her dogs are enough.”

“And you,” Gideon finally intervened. “She always mentions you when she makes this list.”

His father continued as if Gideon hadn’t interrupted him.

“I desperately wanted more children. For years. I grew up an only child. Like you. Paulina used to say she neglected one kid in favor of her firm, she wasn’t going to serialize it. But I didn’t want that for you. Your mother and I had huge arguments over it. We nearly broke up, except... well it’s complicated. I love your mother so much, I can’t picture my life without her. Adva was nearing her forties, her biological clock was ticking. She is just five years younger than your mother. She knew I was married, that I would never leave Naomi. She knew I couldn’t acknowledge our children in public. Yet she went for it. She said at her age, it would snow in Beer Sheva before she found a real partner. It was me or the sperm bank. And she preferred me. I pay my share in their upbringing, and the children know everything and accept that I can’t attend their birthdays, their Bar Mitzvahs...They have their mother’s surname.” His father’s voice broke. Yehoshua Berdichevsky sired three sons, yet none of them carried his name.

“I’ll call her.” Was it okay to worry someone like that over the phone? And what if she wanted to come visit his father? What a mess. Tamar was the only one who knew about this, and he wished he could talk this over with her.

His father closed his eyes and spoke.

“If something happens to me, I need you to take care of them. I set up a trust fund for your brothers, and other than me, you’re the only trustee. In case of my death, you need to make sure the money goes to them. I don’t wish your mother to learn any of this. Or your grandmothers.”

“I promise,” he told his father, and Yehoshua exhaled, his relief obvious.

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