What, we’re at the central bus station already? That went by in a flash! Can you turn here into Shapira? Oh, I see you’re stopping here. No problem, I’ll get off. I’m leaving a fifty-shekel bill here, okay? Do you hear me? I’m leaving it here next to the seat, okay? Well, never mind, I have to go. Worst-case scenario, you’ll see it tomorrow morning, and think it fell out of your pocket.

Lennon at the Central Bus Station

1.

ON ALVIN’S TENTH BIRTHDAY, the tall-woman-with-the-chin-hair brought him a white rabbit with a black ear. The rabbit was crammed inside a plastic Tupperware box, lying on a half-eaten lettuce leaf. Her eyes were open and her front legs kept scratching the box. Alvin pressed his face against the lid and listened curiously to the screeching sound of her whistle.

“Mazel tov, sweetie. Happy?” the woman asked, patting Alvin’s head.

He didn’t reply. Her hands were coarse but her touch gentle. She took a creased fifty-shekel bill out of her purse and handed it to Alvin. “Buy her a carrot if she gets sad,” she told him.

Alvin fondled the bill with both hands and shoved it into his left pocket.

The woman petted the rabbit on the back and she froze. Alvin looked at them both inquisitively.

“Pet her, sweetheart, pet, what are you so afraid of?”

Alvin reached out, touched, and recoiled. Dropped his hand to his side. Then he tried a few more times until he gave into the soft touch of the fur. “I always wanted a rabbit,” he whispered.

“This ain’t a rabbit, sweetheart,” the woman announced with a smile. “What’s this animal called? Uhm. I forget. Cova. Cava. Cavia. Oh, for fuck’s sake. You know what I’m talking about, right?” Alvin grimaced. The tall-woman-with-the-chin-hair sighed. “You need to learn more words, honey,” she said. “If it weren’t for words, I’d still be thinking you people and the Thai are one and the same.” She reached into her shirt pocket and fished out a lighter with a picture of a naked woman on it, and a poorly rolled cigarette. She was about to light the cigarette, but then looked at Alvin’s face and put it back in her pocket. “Well, did you ask your mother why she isn’t sending you to school?”

Alvin nodded.

“And …?”

“She says she loves me,” Alvin said, still stroking his possibly-rabbit and wondering if she liked it.

“What was that?” the woman asked, leaning into Alvin. “Explain, honey, so I’ll understand.”

Alvin filled his mouth with air and tried to hold his breath but gave in after a moment. “She said other parents don’t actually love their kids,” he said and tried again, this time taking in even more air.