Joy & Survival: From Siberia with Love Book, #1

From Siberia

With Love

BOOK 1

Joy & Survival

Ilana Cohen

From Siberia with Love: Joy and Survival / Ilana Cohen

All rights reserved; No part of this book may be reproduced, reprinted, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted or distributed in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or by any other current or future means without the prior written permission of the author or his representative.

Copyright © 2017 Ilana Cohen

Translation from the Hebrew: Yaron Regev

Contact: idkohen@gmail.com

This book is all love,

It is the only star above.

It never leaves the stage,

Not even for a single page.

From first to last,

My story is illuminated by love.

Burning love, aching love.

A love that shoots passionate flames to the sky,

A creative love,

Jotting down thought after thought,

Impressions of excitement,

Impressions of disappointment.

Insolently daring to shorten the limitless distance between birth and death.

A string of consciousness bursts from beneath my pen and is written onto the page,

Forms and rhymes into creation.

Chapter 1

Before going into the house, she raised her gaze to the sky. From the infinity, countless stars twinkle-winked at her—sparkling stars, thousands of stars. This time, she also counted the ones she’d never counted before. No wonder, for it was the holiday season and the skies were wide open, promising her renewal, promising her a different life, promising her love and joy.

Lemon on a New Year’s Eve dinner table? Whose idea was it to put lemon here? Edith examined the table she had set up an hour earlier. She returned to the living room after showering and refreshing herself at the end of a long day filled with cooking and preparations for the holiday meal.

I cut the lemon; I put some trout on the grill for dinner. What’s wrong with that? Alex wondered about his mother’s words.

My confused little pup, you can’t put lemon on the table for a New Year’s Eve dinner. A jar of honey is what’s needed so we’ll have a happy and sweet New Year.

Oh, yes, honey…so we’ll have a happy and sweet New Year, Yossi Weiss echoed his wife’s words and continued. Tomorrow morning you can all put some honey on your bread, but now I smell some real food from the kitchen. It’s time to sit at the table. Everything will be burned by the time you get a move on. Come on already, women. Mother, Edith, get up!

Amalia, Edith’s elderly mother-in-law, sipped the last of the red wine in her cup after the traditional holiday blessings. The thin crystal cup was part of a luxurious set the Weiss family used for blessing the wine on holiday evenings.

You get up as well, she ordered her daughter-in-law without looking back.

Edith kissed the silky soft-haired head of her little daughter who was sitting in her lap. She handed the baby to her husband, and without saying a word, followed her mother-in-law to serve the festive meal to those gathered around the family living room table.

Two to three hours later, everyone had gone to bed. Yossi fell asleep immediately next to Edith and within minutes, the regular sound of his breathing was heard. His monotonous snoring made her drowsy as well and she sank into a pleasant state of relaxation, free from any thoughts.

Just then, at midnight, music was heard. Loud, rhythmic dance music infiltrated the bedroom and the entire house from outside. The sleepy Edith opened her eyes and looked around her. Yossi didn’t wake up; he simply tossed and turned to the other side of the bed, his mouth mumbling a curse. Edith, on the other hand, woke up completely, elevated her head with an additional pillow, and folded her hands beneath her head. With wide-open eyes, she listened to the music emerging from the darkness—romantic contemporary hits of the eighties. Sweet songs where the word love was fit to each note of their melodies.

Such music had not yet been heard in this neighborhood. Tonight, a different type of opera was being sung. These were not the sounds of Middle Eastern music that always sounded foreign to her ears—music that could often be heard during the summer nights from the parties held by the Yemenite Jews who dwelled in the rural settlement. Nor were they heard from high school parties, as students didn’t indulge in ballroom dancing, waltzes, or capering to bossa-nova rhythms. And not just that, it was New Year’s Eve, a night of holiness. So what was with them? Why were they having a party? Who would indulge in such a celebration among the elderly neighbors in this small neighborhood, where everyone knew everyone else?

She looked at her husband, who was still sleeping beside her in spite of all the noise, carefully covered by a thin piqué blanket. The autumn nights were slightly chilly and wondrously pleasant following the footsteps of the steaming summer. Holiday nights were not yet cold, but brisk enough to allow snuggling beneath a blanket and sleeping calmly without perspiring.

Edith lay like that for fifteen minutes, and then realized the party had just started. She wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. The room was illuminated by pale starlight that angled and spilled into the room through an open shutter. She carefully rose so as not to wake her husband, gathered her clothes—spread on the backrest of a nearby chair—pushed her feet into light slippers, and quietly left the room.

Cheerful and wonderfully rhythmic dance music was heard throughout the darkened house. Strangely enough, no one else awoke except her. The night was luminous; she managed to find her way without turning the light on. The living room was lit by the bluish light of the night coming through the open window.

Edith wore the same festive dress from dinner—beautiful, sporty, and elegant, made from thickly woven cotton fabric. A bright dress in grayish hues, decorated with lace, with two large knitted pockets. A thick leather belt, like a gray snake, wound its way twice around her waist and closed with a massive buckle shaped like a snake’s head. The bright, well-fitted dress gave her a fresh look.

Edith hurried out to the yard to get some air. The atmosphere outside was drenched with the scent of fragrant blossoms and moist earth. There was hardly any rain in Israel, but during the nights that followed the hot and humid days, dew covered the face of the earth.

They played a tango and she smiled to herself. Yes, she loved to tango. She imagined how she would straighten up on the dance floor during the first few notes of the music, raising her chest and attaching her shoulders and the rest of her body to her partner’s. Wrapped in his tight embrace around her narrow hips, she’d raise her head and smilingly welcome the melody.

On the dance floor, she stretched her long legs in sensual steps, spinning in wide circles in the whirlpool of her skirts. Dancing and spinning, around and around, two steps forward, one step back. A light movement of the hips followed, tightly fitting her hips to her partner’s as he leaned over her. She’d close her eyes, flowing with smooth movements, her motions sudden and surprising, as daring and provocative as the sounds of the tango.

Oh, yes, she loved to tango and could not recall the last time she’d danced. Ahh, yes, in the distant past… At the ballroom dancing school’s graduation party, to the sounds of the Kiev Orchestra, who stayed with them in Berno. The world of high school graduates in a Communist country had passed and was now far behind her. Here, in the new country, everything was different.

She longed to dance at the cheerful party whose sounds invited her into the darkness. She hadn’t danced since her own wedding. Yossi wasn’t much of a dancer; he couldn’t dance well, even if he wanted to. On Friday nights and holiday evenings, they stayed home in front of the television. At best, they paid a visit to a close relative. She’d never been invited to a real dance party with her husband.

Edith approached the gate and peered into the street. The surrounding houses were dark and quiet. Only a single light from a window across the street could be seen, peeking through the branches that were swaying in the gentle breeze. There were others who weren’t able to sleep because of the party. She located the direction the sounds were coming from—a new cottage neighborhood, built in recent years next to their veteran neighborhood.

Edith opened the yard’s heavy iron gate, which made a loud screeching sound, went out into the street, and turned back to make sure the noise hadn’t awakened anyone at home. It remained as before, dark and silent. She didn’t lock the door behind her, leaving everything wide open. It was safe to assume that on such a New Year’s Eve night, no one would break in. She continued in the darkness down the street until she reached an empty lot, her footsteps cautious in the twenty-five acre lot that contained nothing but weeds and compacted soil. She had no other choice but to cross it because the lot connected the old neighborhood and the new neighborhood, where the party was being held.

Chapter 2

It was the first house on the street—a two-story cottage with a living room that opened into a porch and a garden. The house was powerfully illuminated and a large ceiling lamp spun around and around with flashing, colored lights. Edith saw people dancing, jumping to the sounds of bossa-nova rhythms, and heard the thudding noise of the partygoers’ heels, their cheerful chatter and loud laughter. Some joined the orchestra and the singer with their singing. Unbelievable! There was actually a live band, and the sound of amplified musical instruments rumbled through the settlement.

Edith approached the house. She didn’t want to be noticed. She moved to the sidewalk on the other side of the street and searched for a place where she could sit for a while, or at least lean against something so she could comfortably watch. Not far away, she found a construction site for a new villa. She sat on a small pile of bricks next to cement and sandbags and watched the wild party at the other end of the street. It amused her to observe the dancers in the beautiful, spacious living room that opened onto the first floor porch.

A few minutes later, the music stopped and one of the attendants took a microphone in his hand.

On behalf of all the friends who’ve gathered here and were invited to this beautiful house, I’d like to thank the Zuriel family, our royal couple—Janusz and Hannah. We are gathered here to celebrate the New Year and have a housewarming party for the Zuriels in their first house in Israel.

Thunderous applause was heard; everyone appeared to be happy and content. Even Edith, an uninvited guest watching from outside, smiled to herself. She was in an excellent mood.

We, the members of the Biology Department, have discovered our Hannah-banana is not only a first-rate chemist, but an excellent cook as well. We all agree the delicacies we’ve been devouring here tonight are truly mouthwatering.

Someone else took the microphone.

"By the way, Hannah, where were you educated in the art of this spicy Middle Eastern cuisine you’ve been serving us in all its glorious