“… She is the wife of Bilal Jalal AbuJabal, and the only prisoner for whom a demand was made for release to Jordan. This has led to widespread conjecture that the infamous terrorist is still alive. To Palestinians, AbuJabal is revered as a hero and beloved fighter. The general laughs at this. ‘His wife is a whore,’ he said.”

Nira looks at me.

“Continue,” I say.

“ ‘… His wife is a whore,’ he said. But when challenged that Palestinians consider her a revolutionary as much as her husband, the general laughs again and says, ‘A revolutionary whore.’ ”

I know now, as I have always felt, as this Israeli general knows, as Nira knows, as the world now knows, that Bilal is alive. I know too that even if I am freed, I may never see him again. I recline and lie flat on the bed, gazing at my concrete sky. Thoughts and questions and images and memories race and collide in my mind. Nira says she would like to read my writings, maybe publish them. She believes she could get permission to take them out of the Cube. She keeps talking. It’s too much sound. I turn on my side, my back to her, and I close my eyes. There is motion and voices. I am raised to shackle my bracelets and I stand facing the wall until I hear the clang of my prison door and my bracelets are released. Soon the red flash of Attar comes on. I turn around and watch the water fall from the shower, but I do not move. Fuck Attar.

Day One

DAY ONE

I WALK WITH cuffs and shackles to a waiting black vehicle. It is so far, the farthest I have walked since I first came to the Cube. My legs are quickly exhausted, and I must breathe deeper and faster. People in uniform escort me to people in suits. Men and women, tall and short, somehow they all look the same. I close my eyes wearily.

Finally I am in the vehicle, a large SUV. It is the fanciest, most unusual vehicle I have ever seen. The driver demands directions to the Jordanian embassy in Hebrew. No one answers, but a screen in the front lights up with a map, and I realize he is talking to the car. It is difficult to comprehend. The men and women in suits—one in the front, one on each side of me in the next row, and two in the row behind me—all have what I surmise are mobile phones. One of them puts hers to her ear and speaks.