Wicked Ch. 07

Thanks to rexbrookdale for helping with editing this story.

Glossary

darbukas -- goblet drums

franks - pejorative for Jews originating from Islamic countries

habibti (Arabic) - my love

kalb iben kalb (Arabic) -- dog son of a dog

vuzvuz - pejorative for eastern European Jews

ya binti (Arabic) - my daughter

yom asal yom basal (Arabic saying) - one day, honey; one day, onion

Wicked Chapter Ten

In good times and in bad; in sickness and in health, and ... in his parents' house. A lot, in his parents' house; because Ilan still lived there. There was something odd—if not totally fucked up—about a 36-year-old who still wanted his mom to cook him pancakes, iron his shirts, and fold his boxers. Even Ana agreed that Ilan's immaturity must be a sure deal breaker with any would-be Mrs. Ilan White. But apparently every pot has its gold-digger and Ilan was, after all, the vice president of White & Clean Industries. That, and his parent's house was a villa on the Mediterranean in Keisaria. A bride could do far worse.

Dan let the Mazda glide under the neon sign that shone purple and presumptuous: 'Garden of Eden, Events Bigger Than Genesis', below which a smaller sign pointed to 'Ilan and Efrat's wedding' A boulevard of giant pecans welcomed them to a road with a bridge that spanned an artificial pond. Candle lamps hung, swaying slightly, from every branch as they drove along it. The light poured and shattered on the water's surface, shining back in billions of sparkling winks. Even the valet, signaling them to an open parking space, looked inviting in his green suit. The effect was somewhat diminished upon closer inspection; the valet was pointing with the flashlight with one hand while with the other he fished treasures out of his nose.

"Look, a magic show." Liana clapped her little palms, and pointed. "Was I in Mommy's and your wedding too, Dad?"

"Sorry, sweetie, we forgot to invite you; maybe next time."

"When I'm a grownup I'll marry Tom, so we won't have to leave the house and go live somewhere else."

"As if." Tom was about to punch her, but Alice, who was sitting between them, tickled him under the armpit. "I'll only marry Mom ... and Dad," he added as an afterthought, because he didn't want to hurt Dan's feelings.

Liana's attention was already elsewhere. A happy Mickey Mouse and a bored parrot stood on a small stage outside the main gate, having just magicked a Bugs Bunny out of a giant stovepipe hat. The army of kids surrounding the entertainment partially yawned and partially indulged in more creative activities, like trying to kill each other. Dan shook his head when he noticed that the stage's curtain had blue and white 'If It's Not White It's Not Clean!' logos printed across it. His father-in-law never missed an opportunity to promote the family business, not even at his son's wedding.

"Look at that huge parrot, Alice," Dan pointed at the man in the parrot suit, "the Norwegian Blue. Beautiful plumage! I bet it's pinin' for the fjords."

He checked the car mirror. Alice's reflection glared back.

"'E's passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible!! This is an ex-parrot!!"

He checked the mirror again. Still glaring. Not even a smile? Come on, Alice. "You got to admit, Ana, it's a bit tasteless; provincial, nouveau-riche style."

"You know, Dan, for someone who grew up in a house the size of our kitchen, you are surprisingly snobbish."

"I'm not a snob, I'm just better than everyone else."

Ana leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Someone is in a good mood."

They parked and Dan pulled out Alice's wheelchair from the trunk. The doctor had recommended she go slower on the crutches before she over-exercised her arm and needed a cast again. Alice wouldn't even make eye contact while he carried her in his arms over to the chair.

One of the kids watching the show noticed the car, and screamed, "Dan! Dan is here!" The tribe of little people abandoned the show and mutual murder attempts, to come charging toward them with blood-curdling screams. A chaotic cacophony of hugs and greetings surrounded Dan and his family. Fond memories were dusted off, and a ton of new and important information was served, such as whose dad had bought a new car and who had aced in football.

"Dan, I wanna box with you."

"Dan, tell us the one about Cranky Shark and the school bus."

"Dan, Dan, see? My tooth has fallen completely off."

"Dan, look."

"Dan.... "

Everybody wanted a piece of him, if only to ride piggyback on his broad shoulders. He was, after all, Dan Jacobson; boxing champion, story-teller extraordinaire, and that unique, distant uncle who never felt it beneath his dignity to play with the kids.

"Hey, you already have dirt on your tux." Ana gently pried off the two little Indians hanging from his shoulders, one of whom was 'proud Tom, son of the boxing champion and don't you forget it, cousin'.

Dan picked up another munchkin, raised him above his head, flipped him, and pretended to drop him. The little guy shrieked; but when placed on steady ground immediately jumped up and demanded another go.

"All the little franks in my family adore you," Ana whispered in his ear, and nibbled it. "Yo, yo, Dan is in da house."

"Now who's being a snob?"

"Little racism never hurt anybody."

"Said the Jew."

"Amazing that you were willing to give up on all that love, just like that," she straightened his suit and gave him another kiss on his bull neck.

"Not everybody in your family loves me."

Ana glanced back at Alice who was keeping her distance behind them. "Nah, she'll get over it. She's just pissed because I made her come."

"What did you pull, to...?"

"I won't tell you," she said.

"It's a secret?"

"It was nasty and I'm trying to get back onto your good side. Don't worry; give her a day or two, and you'll be good friends again."

"I hope so."

Not if I can help it. Alice had never had a male 'friend', not even fuck buddies. Ana suspected there was more under the surface than Dan figured. Her marriage was too brittle right now to allow a wrecker like Alice to stick around.

"Dan, my kaparah." A tall, brown-complexioned woman leaning on a walking stick limped her way past Ana as if she was made of air, and hugged Dan.

"Hi, Aliya."

"That's it? I must be getting senile 'cause I don't remember sleeping with you last night."

"Sorry," he laughed, and kissed her wrinkled cheeks.

"Much better. Ach ya binti. Habibti."

"Hey, grandma." A smile finally touched Alice's doll face. "How's your leg?"

"Yom asal yom basal. Ya wel." She clasped her hands. "What have you done to yourself, darling?"

"It wasn't just me; I had help," Alice was looking at Dan.

@@@@@@@

Aliya's daughter and Dan's mother-in-law, Rachel White, was still a beauty at 58. She had won the Miss Israel contest in her youth, followed by a close run for Miss Universe. While she had never nailed 'world peace' she had succeeded in nailing a handsome millionaire for a husband. Dan thought she could have done better.

"So, how is Rachel Guttmann treating you?" Ana's father had a 'one size fits all' smile. "I heard she's a tough bitch."

"She's fair," Dan said. "People think that because she's old and a woman, they can stack the deck; I don't make that mistake."

"Well, I guess you shouldn't be picky; good thing you found this job. We were beginning to worry."

"I hope you didn't lose much sleep over it," Dan said.

"She pays you same as Amir Rosenberg did—what was it—34 K?"

"Sure." Always the tact of an atom bomb in a china shop, eh, Ofek?

"Good, good." Ofek noticed Alice talking to her grandma, and his face darkened. "You can come work for me in three months, you know. We're expanding. Ilan is opening an office in Ramat Gan."

"I'll keep that in mind." I'd rather stab my eye with a spoon and watch it come out of my nose.

"Can I ask you for a personal favor, Dan?"

"Of course, anything."

"You know, we put a lot of work and money to make this evening perfect. It's Ilan's and Efrat's special night; I'd hate more than anything to see someone ruin it for them."

"What do you need me to do?"

"He needs you to find a hole in the ground you can dump me in for the night," Alice's voice was cheerful, her face was not. "He'll even throw you a job in White & Clean Industries if you'll promise to cover it up and never tell anyone where it is. If it's not White it's not clean."

Jesus!

Ofek didn't say anything; he stared at his daughter as if he was willing not only to dunk her in a hole, but also to tie her tiny ass to an electric chair and pull the switch himself.

"Nothing, Ofek? Figures. I used to be so scared of you, and frankly, right now, I can't figure out why. This is awesome. We should have done this years ago."

It suddenly occurred to Dan that Alice coming to the wedding was entirely Ana's doing. Her parents would have been just as happy to not have seen her there, as would she to not have come.

"Dan, don't be your usual sloth; try to keep up. This is a big opportunity for you," Alice said. "He's rich and powerful; there are no limits to what he can do."

"Errr ... right," Dan grabbed her wheelchair. People around them had begun to pick up on the familial friction. "Let's go find our seats."

"I'm good over here."

"I bet that's what Charles Whitman said when he was up in the bell-tower."

"Come on, Dan, I didn't kiss his ass, yet. How was the taste, by the way? Let go of the chair, let go of the chair, you moron."

"Sure." He started dragging the chair away, well aware that people were staring.

"We're just having fun, it's a happy fun night," she said.

"Like a pogrom."

"Well, fuck you very much."

Dan turned onto the trail that led from the reception area and circled around to meet an avenue of midget cypresses. He looked back as he turned, hoping not too many people had noticed the little drama. Alice shouted something. The chair bumped into one of the guests, and the man crashed to the ground.

"I'm so, so, so, sorry," Dan rushed forward and gave him a hand up. "Totally my bad, I was looking the wrong way. Are you okay?"

"It's okay, no harm done." The man smiled. It was a good smile. He looked familiar, but Dan couldn't pinpoint him anywhere from within Ana's huge family.

"I'm so sorry."

"David," the man shook his hand, "it's nothing, really. You're carrying such a beautiful load, I should have been more careful."

"Are you a Squadron 206 pilot, by chance?"

"Was. They closed the squadron years ago."

"I knew you looked familiar. My wife was an operations officer in 206; I'm pretty sure I've seen your face a couple of times in her Army photo album."

"Where is Ana? I'd really like to say hi."

"She's at the reception with her parents; I'm really sorry, David."

David slapped his shoulder. "No problem; I should have been quicker on my feet."

He had intended to ask if Dave was from the bride's side of the family, but the man had already walked away. Upon reflection, it was odd that while Dan had remarked his wife's having been in 206, he hadn't mentioned her name; yet the man had asked for Ana's whereabouts.

A minute later, however, Dan had forgotten all about it.

@@@@@@

Israeli men, between the ages 18 and 21, during their mandatory IDF service call each other 'bro'. It makes sense, because the guys who sleep with you in the same tent, and eat dust and sergeants' crap with you, are no less your brothers than that little tick who used to barge into your room when you needed quality time with your girlfriend. The 'bro' usually fades a few years later, when they realize that the army, just like high school before it or college after it, is just a phase. An overture to real life. However, some people are slower on the uptake. The jerk seated next to Dan was a prime example.

"So she said --get this, bro, she said-- 'I don't want to risk our friendship'." Dan's compadre emptied a wine glass in one go. "And I said, 'Fuck friendship I wanna take you high'."

"Okay."

"I never saw you in the factory, bro, are you from the Askelon branch?"

"I'm not working with White & Clean Industries."

The seats that had the Jacobsons' names were located at the corner edge of the Garden, away from the family seats. It was understandable, considering Ofek wanted his daughter and her big mouth as far away as he could get her, from the main event; preferably in Alaska. Dan scanned the garden. Alice was chatting with the barman who was mixing drinks for her at the speed of slosh. For now, at least, it didn't appear as if she was set on doing more damage other than to her liver.

"Anyway, bro, Efrat, well she said 'no' but you know her kind, dontcha, bro; playing it hard to get. As if. Paris Hilton is Momma Theresa, compared."

Why does he think I want to hear his ass-conquering tales? No wonder they put him in the corner with all the other personas non-gratas.

"So I send her a text, get this bro, 'Yo yo Efrat, don't be a slut, you got a world class butt'. Nice, eh?"

"Yes, very poetic."

"But he saw it. That was goddamn unlucky, well not really. Turns out he's checking her text messages all the time. But she said it was another Arik, not me, and that it was a stupid joke. I'm not sure he totally bought it. Anyway, what did you do to piss off Ilan, bro?"

One of the girls was spinning Liana around at the speed of 'soon-to-bring-that-cake-she-ate-back-up' and Dan signaled her to tone it down. "Sorry?"

"What did you do to get Ilan's G-string in a twist?"

"I ... what? I didn't do anything."

"Then why did they put you in the corner seats with all the other rejects?"

"Why did they put you here?"

"Are you stoned? I just told you. Ilan caught me sending Efrat a cool text message."

"Wait, when you said 'Efrat' you meant ... like, Efrat over there? Wearing the white dress?"

"Duh! More focus, bro. I'm Arik by the way." He burped, winked at Dan, and leaned over. You could have started a car on the fumes coming out of his mouth. "My friends call me Johnnie."

Do you have any? "I'm Dan." He shook the offered hand nonetheless. "You know, Arik, this whole seating arrangement ... this is a wedding, not high school, the teacher won't bitch if you go and sit with your amigos from the factory." Please do.

"Nah, I hate them fuckers. I'm good here with my best buddy, Dan," he winked. "So the joke is on Ilan if he thinks he's busting my balls. And I didn't just go hot texting with Efrat; I'd hit home run, so the joke's on him, twice. High-five."

"Okay, maybe it's time to slow down on the wine."

"Cool your jets, bro, half of White & Clean Industries greased the bitch. Last week I caught her in the office behind the drying room with Yaniv, pounding the duck. But does he get the corner seat? No! He gets the 13th salary. You know why?"

"I've got a feeling you're gonna tell me."

"Because his tongue is up Ilan's crack so deep they'll need surgery to take it out." He popped a pill into his mouth, and offered one to Dan. "Want some Moses Datz for clarity?"

"You shouldn't mix MD with alcohol."

"Chill, bro, you're tighter than my grandma."

"She takes uppers with white wine?"

"Goddamn. This place is so loaded with hot chicks. It's like we hit the jackpot of ass-land. I wanna tap that ass, and that ass, and oh I could rip that tushie in two secs," he nodded in the direction of a girl who couldn't have been more than fourteen. "Ever seen so much beauty in one place, bro?"

Dan had to reluctantly agree with him. All of the women from the Moroccan side of the family had inherited Ana's and Alice's tall, lithe look, high cheekbones, and perfect bronze complexion. The wedding looked like a models' convention for exotic, raven-haired beauties.

"Shit, bro, you should go for it, I already picked up three numbers; even an old gamer like you can score."

Arik had that very tall, rugged, macho look and aura that could probably pick up any easy girl in a pub. Dan felt sorry for any woman who had ever given him her phone number. "No can do, but thanks."

"What's up with that, bro? You're stirring the croutons, eh? Snacking on muesli?"

"Watch it."

"Because you don't have the look. You're working the fields, for sure."

"I'm married."

Arik punched him on the shoulder. "Even so. A tied up cow still needs to chew grass, no?"

Dan thought of Ana and her 'grass chewing'. Too bad nobody had invented a memory-wiping machine yet; he would totally go for a spin, right now.

"She's pregnant, you know."

Hell. What if Ana hadn't been careful with one of the assholes she took to bed? Wait. There was no way Arik was talking about his wife. "Who's pregnant?"

"Efrat."

Dan stared at the happy bride. "Doesn't show."

"She and Ilan should name the kid 'The Guys', after the father," Arik burst out laughing.

"Hey, that's not cool."

"Everyone knows it's not his. Ilan's got no nuts. Why'd you think the bitch is riding half the factory in the first place?"

"Look, Arik --"

"I'm not making shit up, bro; Efrat told me herself he couldn't pick it up, even if you pumped him two tons of Viagra."

Ana once hinted that a motorcycle accident in his youth had had some implication in her brother's ability to function in bed. Apparently this discreet family secret was no longer either a secret, or discreet. "If you like the man so much, why'd you come to his wedding?"

"He's my boss; you can't cut the boss's wedding. And anyway I figured his hot sister is gonna be here."

Dan imagined his fist going through Arik's face and then reassembling the smug, macho smile into something less annoying.

"Do you know who she is, bro?"

One under the chin and that smile will be missing some teeth; then a left.... I can dump the body, later, behind the bushes.

"Do you know who she is?"

"I have a clue."

"Alice White."

"Oh." Dan relaxed.

"You're stoned, bro? Alice-fucking-White, the supermodel."

"Seven years ago, maybe. She doesn't model anymore." Kicked out of every agency.

"Look at her; she's still totally fuckilicious."

It was true. Even in a wheelchair, nursing a broken leg and cropped hair, Alice still managed to look ten times more beautiful than any other woman in the crowd.

"When I was fifteen I had a poster of her under the mattress; you know, the one with the apple and the snake."

"Yeah, I remember that one."

"I used it every night, you know, spanking the monkey."

"TMI, Arik, T-M-I."

"Look at her going with the vodka. That's right girl, down it goes. You know what, bro? I'm so gonna go out there and talk to her. "

"You do that, man." That's going to be painful and hilarious.

"That's right, a bro lives only once, no?"

"Sometimes even less."

"I'm so gonna ride that bitch."

"All the way to pain city."

"You dissing me, bro?"

"Not sure."

"You think I'm like Ilan, I ain't got no cojones?"

You won't in sixty seconds. "No, man, go to her; you live only once."

Arik stood up on not-so-steady legs and wobbled to the bar. The fun was about to begin; Dan waited, but apparently the man's nut sack was much smaller than his big mouth. He sat down near the bar, skipping tequila shots, and didn't even try to establish eye contact with Alice.

The ceremony was reaching its climax. Most people stood up, craning their necks to see; because there's something about a grown man stepping on a tiny glass. Dan had finally located Ana where she stood near the chuppah behind her mother, and was moving to join them when Ana's grandmother, Aliya, caught his sleeve.