Sammy reached out to her with both hands, pressed his head against hers, and gently stroked the lines on her face. Then he whispered to her, “What’s left for you there?” without expecting an answer. He closed his eyes, tried to imagine the two of them alone on her beach. Standing naked and wrinkled on the shoreline, she with her saggy brown breasts, he with his hunched back and pallid face. He imagined the horrible cold, and her convincing him to go into the water even though he wouldn’t want to. Stepping in slowly and feeling the cold sand between his toes. And after they were already in up to their waist, he imagined Lilian turning to face the beach, resting on the waves. He would rush to grab her, while she floated on the cold water.

He opened his eyes, saw the synagogue in front of him, and looked at the small sandy field again. He quickly rose from the bench and helped Lilian up.

“Are we going home?” she asked; he didn’t reply. He guided her slowly across the field, kicking the small pebbles out of their way.

“Where are we?” she wondered, and he stopped in the middle of the field, bent slightly, and kissed her left hand. Then he pulled away from her and heavily knelt on one knee. He remained in the same position for a few minutes, trying to catch his breath. With enormous effort, he bent his other knee and finally lay on his back on the thin sand. He remained still for several moments and then reached his hand up to her. She took it, placed her other hand on the ground, and leaned back. They lay side by side, panting. Only a small distance separated them. Sammy gazed at the darkening sky.

“It’s the beach,” he announced. “This is Jerusalem’s beach.”

She didn’t say a word. Sammy stretched his arms and started moving them clumsily up and down.

“Soon the snow will be here,” he said. “We need to practice.”

She didn’t understand, but immediately joined him, moving her arms back and forth.

“Now your legs too,” he said, once she caught the hang of it, and she complied. She spread her legs and immediately pulled them back together, over and over again, with wider and gentler strokes than Sammy’s.

Worshippers exiting the synagogue stared at them in confusion, but they kept at it—Lilian maintaining a steady rhythm with her arms and Sammy listening to her breaths. They didn’t smile or look at each other; they simply moved their arms and legs slowly across the sand, fashioning elderly angels on the snow of Jerusalem’s beach.

Neptune

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