"He kept strumming the strings and his guitar was crying"

47 days to the war.
Sometimes I was tempted to think that if we just leave here, if we just leave the difficulties, we can leave them behind. In my other work hat, as a feng shui consultant, I saw in others and personally experienced that every problem at home, which I did not solve while living there, continued with me to the next house. The thing with ants, for example, once made my friend laugh, who said that only after me they can chase even when it doesn't make sense for them to. I still deal with the occasional invasion of the hardworking fees, but in my third decade of living outside of my parents' house I am finally seeing improvement. They come, but less.

In these days of war, it became even more clear to me how impossible it is to escape. And maybe I could put aside many things, but not this... I can't put my thoughts about what happens to those who were kidnapped from us 47 days ago. It catches me in the middle of the night, while summarizing an article for the university, while reading and most of all when I do the trivial daily things - washing my hands, taking a shower. That's exactly where it's a box in the stomach. 

This morning (23/11/23) it was said in the news that there is a good chance that some of the abductees will return to the bosom of their families and maybe when you read these lines, there will already be some who will get to hug and start healing their loved ones. Amen. Still, I won't be able to take a full breath until they all come back. In this week's episode, in the book 'Bat Number Four', John discovers that even if he sails far, he will not be able to escape.

pleasant reading,
Lily 

Chapter 41

If Cherkes was surprised to see John on the Windy when he arrived at the dock at four in the morning, he didn't show it. He glanced at the backpack and guitar, and a scrutinizing look at John. "Why do I think you're leaving, and not just for a few days?"

John nodded in reply, exhausted. His heart had never been so torn between several places. But who is he deceiving? He was ready to leave England for good and stay in Israel if only he could guarantee himself a life with her, by her side.

Cherkes opened the lock on the lower part of the boat. A place to sleep, to hide, was waiting for him there. He did not want to see Haifa move away. He wanted to close his eyes and open them only when they were in the middle of the sea and it would be impossible to return. He wasn't at all sure that if he saw the city that captured his heart, and in it one woman with cat-like earth eyes, he wouldn't jump off the boat and swim back to it.

"You can take the back compartment, Doctor, the front one is already taken."
"I can sleep on the bench, Cherkes. I'm not spoiled."
"I'd rather you not be in my face when I'm preparing to sail, unless you're going to help?"
"If you're okay, I'll stay in the cell for now." Cherkes raised his eyebrows and John shrugged. "Wake me up when we're in the middle of the sea and I'll replace you at the wheel." He didn't think he would really be able to sleep, but he preferred to bury himself in the small cell until Israel came out of it, by force.

Nevertheless he fell asleep, although not a restful sleep, so what, the main thing is that this sleep took him for a few hours. When he woke up, sunlight had already penetrated the small cabin and warmed it, even though it was the middle of autumn. Autumn in this area is not an English autumn, that's for sure. There are warm days in the Middle Eastern autumn that were not in London even in the height of summer. He thought they had gone far enough. This. In a short time he was torn from a place that contained a whole world for him. He would rebuild his life, again, he told himself. Maybe he will volunteer at some local hospital in Cyprus, maybe in Greece. He did not want to return to England for the time being. He still has some time left until the year of vacation he took is over.
He heard quiet chatter upstairs and decided to join his host.

"Good morning, Doctor," Charx laughed at him. "You fell a thief, huh?!"
"Mmm," he forced himself to smile at the dear man he considered a friend. "Hello," he said to the couple sitting with the skipper, and his heart sank. The last thing he needed right now was a couple in love in front of his face. They introduced themselves and immediately forgot their name, as soon as they said it. He knew he was not behaving politely, on a boat like this friendship is more important than anything, but he needed another moment to himself. He will correct the impression shortly. a few more hours. "You need a change, mate?"
"Are you insulting Cherkes?" shot him a teasing look. "It's all right, doctor, you'll recover, smell the sea. Then there will be time to take the wheel."

John was relieved and he went down to get the guitar from the cabin. Without apologizing too much he moved to settle in Khartoum, distancing himself from the whole world. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that they were still close to the harbor. According to the distance, it seems that he slept only a light hour, and not as many hours as he thought when he woke up. No, he will not look at the city of Carmel and the monastery. With determination he turned his back and began to strum the strings with all his heart. "while my guitar gently weeps,"^[1] It was accurate. Only yesterday Hila was still in his arms, and now she is like a dream that he didn't want to let go of and wasn't sure if it existed, and the guitar is crying.

He dropped his head as he played the last notes. He could not stop the tear that rolled down his cheek and fell on the body of the guitar. God, how is he supposed to go on now? He kept strumming the strings and his guitar cried.

Cherkes yelled into the walkie-talkie words that John didn't understand and then cursed. The boat slowed and Cherkes called to John to take down the pioneer. In view of his nerves he did not dare to ask him what happened. The silence with the engine off gave way to another noise. John turned to the source of the sound that sounded like a police horn. He rushed to Cherkes. "What happened, my friend?" In response, the man of the sea uttered another bunch of words that he assumed were curses and finally answered him with a shrug, folded his hands and waited for the approaching police boat.

At Charaks' request, John went down to the kitchen to get a drink, to bring something to calm his nerves. He never saw him angry and hoped it wasn't something serious but just a misunderstanding. He was debating between the bottle of beer and the water and decided to take both. He heard laughter from above and calmed down, things seemed to be working out. When he got on board he saw the policemen raising their hands in greeting and walking away. "What's all the fuss about?" He handed Cherkes the bottle of beer. 

Charkes looked at him with a beaming smile, the opposite of the man he had left a few moments before on the deck. "Oh, it wasn't anything serious, I just forgot something important on the beach." 

"Something that the police took the trouble to get out of the harbor and bring to you? It seems like it was really important, or you have connections in the police." For the first time since he left Hila in her sleep he almost smiled. He didn't know how long it would be before some smile really touched his heart. 
Circassian laughed and then got serious. "There are things you can't go on without. What about you, Doctor? Did you take everything you needed from Haifa before you left?"

"No, my friend," he answered after a long silence and turned to the bow again. "I had to leave what I needed there," he muttered and returned to his guitar. When Circassian wants to raise a sail, let him call. This stop did not suit him at all, he wanted to be on the move, he wanted the policemen to take him back to Haifa.
When he sat down, he took the guitar in his hands again, except without words she cried, she cried. He heard the pair join him, but did not turn to them. They must think it's romantic to sail in the calm sea while someone plays and sings. But he was far from romantic now. He didn't think that a day would come and he would feel in the right direction at all. With Hila he was ready to be romantic. With Hila he was ready for everything.

"Can I ask for a song?"
Jeez, why can't people just leave him alone. For a moment he wished there were more English than Israelis, that basic etiquette would prevent them from bothering him.
moment. John straightened up in his place. what was that?

"There is a song by John Lennon, which came out exactly a year ago. It's called 'Imagine'. Someone once told me that I might connect with it." His fingers trembled on the strings. If he turns around now and she is not there and everything is in his head, he jumps into the water, and not to swim back to Haifa. "You left me, Dr. Bell," she said and sat down next to him. "You promised me a year and left a month and a half before it was over. Now I came here angry, I thought I'd push you off the deck. I have Argentinian blood after all, you know. But considering you're sitting here suffering…”
Like this, with the guitar on him he pressed her to him, cursing the instrument that separates them. Hila laughed and he left her for a moment, just to put the guitar aside.

"My God." He ranges from hugging her, caressing her hair, kissing her forehead. "Little Darling, My Good." Hila let him relax in his own way and he thanked her for that. Because it takes time for him to believe that she is here and to stop verifying her existence.

^[1] "While my Guitar Gently Weeps", George Harrison, 1968.