Page 22 of Analysing Her Assets

“Pah!” said Savta Paulina.

His father was clearly hearing about this for the first time, along with everyone else. He regarded his wife. Then his face broke into a huge smile, and he burst out laughing.

“I think that’s marvelous.” He got up and, cupping Naomi’s face, he kissed her on her mouth passionately. His father had always made public displays of affection for his mother.

“I love you,” Yehoshua told Naomi. “I love that you’re always surprising me.” He hugged her again. It looked genuine, not an act. For the hundredth time, Gideon wondered at his father’s double life. His mother smiled in relief and gestured at Gideon to stay.

He lifted her chair. How could he leave now, after his mother threw herself on the fence for him.

“Gideon will continue to be my critique partner, no matter what genre I write, he told me so,” his mother lied shamelessly during dessert, a dark chocolate and orange zest mousse. “I have the first few chapters printed and ready for you.” Gideon stared speechlessly at his mother’s angelic expression. Savta Paulina cackled with suppressed laughter.

His grandmothers weren’t coming back with him. They each had their own room here. Gideon went to his father’s den to say his goodbyes to Paulina. She looked up from the sales reports. Yehoshua had often complained that she used his desk as if it was her own.

“I’m sorry about dinner, Giddichka. I shouldn’t have pressured you.” She looked small, sitting on his father’s large executive chair.

“That’s okay.”

“Go meet Old Doron, yes? Early next week, yes?”

He was an only child, an only grandchild, an only nephew. The focus of all his family’s hopes and dreams.

He nodded his assent.

He would meet Old Doron and ensure the newly hired people kept Berdiplast thriving. Of course, the surest and swiftest way to get everyone off his back would be to land the chief analyst position in Israel’s leading investment house.

“Good boy. You should cut your hair, it’s too long. Now, shoo, shoo, I need to finish reading this and it’s almost news time. Go to your mother. She wants to give you the leftovers,” Paulina ordered. “And the stupid story she wrote.”

Gideon packed Shemesh into his car and was back at his place twenty minutes later. He put the leftovers in the fridge, the small shopping bag with his mother’s chapters on his kitchen table, and leashed his puppy, going down for an evening stroll they both sorely needed.

On the sidewalk, by his building, he almost ran into a woman and her dog.

“Hi, Gideon.” Tamar Feynman’s chin rose, and she met his eyes. “Do you know where the dog park is?”

––––––––

14. Tamar

Gideon Sela, to use Marina’s words, looked delish. He tied his hair back in that sexy man-bun which underscored his high cheekbones. He wore dark jeans that made his legs seem longer, and a long-sleeved Henley that made his shoulders broader.

“Sure,” he answered in his polite way. If he were surprised, he didn’t show it. “The nearest one is five minutes from here. But you can go to the King George one. It’s the best, and it’s only a ten-minute walk.”

She zipped her hoodie and hugged herself. Noticed how defensive her position was, and dropped her arms.

“We can go together,” she mumbled. His eyes narrowed, then he nodded.

Giddy sniffed Gideon’s puppy, who sniffed him right back. They frolicked together until their owners pulled apart their leashes.

They walked down his street in silence, which wasn’t comfortable or companionable, not for Tamar, anyway. She had given much thought to the proposal she wanted to make to Gideon, but she didn’t know how to broach the subject. Never an easy small talker, she searched her mind, frantically looking for things to talk about. A person shouldn’t talk of financial analyses during the weekend, even to a fellow professional.

A second before the silence grew really unbearable, Gideon spoke.

“Our Shabbat dinner ended quite early, which Shemesh and I were very happy about. My grandmas wanted to watch the eight o’clock news. They each like a different channel, so they were already arguing. My father always resolves it in the same way–turns on two TV sets and we have the bonus of having them in different rooms.”

Tamar chuckled. He had a pleasant voice. Deep yet light, and she enjoyed listening to him.

“How was your Shabbat dinner?” Gideon inquired.

“Who is Shemesh?” Tamar deflected.

---