“Sure am,” said the guard. “Sure am.” He was opening the bag of cookies. “Take one,” Garfield said. He tried to dislike the man but couldn’t. He wanted William Carver to have a cookie, to enjoy it, and that was crazy. But he couldn’t help himself. One night at a meeting of the Habonim,*** thirty-­odd years ago, he’d had two cigarettes left and a man asked him for a smoke. The man had been in a camp, too, his false teeth fit badly, and even though he was still young, he was already getting bald. Garfield took out his pack of Camels and while his comrade Tepel watched in amazement, he gave the man his last two cigarettes, lit one for him, and thought, as the man drew the smoke deep into his lungs, that he enjoyed that smoke as much as the man with the cigarette. Tepel shook his head. Extreme generosity, Tepel had said, was the first sign of insanity.

Meyer was waiting; he smiled and kissed his brother. He opened the lunch box, took out the plastic container of ikra at once, opened it, and breathed in the smell of garlic, olive oil, green peppers, and eggplant.

“A mechaiah,” Meyer said, “a mechaiah.”†††

He closed the container. “Later,” he told Garfield. Next to him on the table was a large box of Hershey bars. Garfield smiled.

“The inspector has been here.”

“Yeah,” Meyer said, “faithful as always; every sixth Sunday.”

“Someday I must meet him.”

“Why?” Meyer asked. He wasn’t being contentious, he really wanted to know, and Garfield said, “Because you love and respect him.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Meyer said. “He tried to save David’s life, so I owe him. That’s all.”

Garfield decided to drop the subject and he asked, “What else is new?”

Meyer laughed. “This is the slammer, Chaimele. What could be new? I didn’t take it in the ass, I didn’t give no blow jobs. . . .”

** Beauty.

†† The end of the Sabbath.

‡‡ Good week.

§§ Eggplant caviar.

¶¶ Chiseler.

*** Youth organization of the League for Labor Palestine.

††† Joy.

3

Chapter 3

The doorbell rang.

“Don’t answer,” Allan groaned. He held her down on top of him; he was so close to finishing he barely moved. “Please . . . Rachel, Rachel . . .” He kissed her, the bell rang again. Leah woke upstairs and started to cry. Rachel tried not to laugh and Allan moaned, “Shit . . .” It rang again and they both laughed. “Oh God, answer it,” he said.

He held her another instant, still not moving, then he let her go.

She straightened her skirt and looked back at him from the living room door. He was lying on his back on the couch grinning at her, his erection pointed up, shining in the sun.

“Hurry,” he whispered. “For God’s sake, hurry,” but she had to run back to him to kiss him.

“Don’t move,” she said.