but she wanted so much for me to be satisfied with her and to be sure she was ready, so she didnât try to stop me from struggling in English.
âRachel sat and looked at the clothes piled on her bed. The television was switched on so we wouldnât be overheard and I checked everything she had and threw on the floor anything that looked to me too new, or too old, or not right for what she was supposed to be: a young Canadian woman who was born in England and who went back with her father to a remote place in Canada where he could spend his retirement years fishing and she could be bored to death.And now sheâs twenty-six and sheâs on her way to the Arab capital city to teach the natives English, to save enough money to travel the world and to defer her postgraduate studies a little longer. âDonât turn up there as if youâve been out shopping,â I said to her. âYouâre the one who sent me out shopping,â she said and smiled one of her tired smiles. âYou implied this was my opportunity to upgrade my wardrobe.â
âI had no choice but to give her the kind of send-off that soldiers get when they set out on operations. According to her story she didnât leave Canada until she decided she had to make changes in her life, and then she spent half a year in Europe before taking on the teaching job. But in reality, she arrived here from Israel after a vacation that I opposed. âI have to say a final goodbye to my boyfriend,â she said, and explained in very few words that he found hard to understand why she was about to go away on such a long-term assignment to Russia. Why it will be impossible to contact her by phone, and why all this secrecy she was wrapping herself in. I tried to explain to her that she was breaking the continuity of the operation and could lose focus, but she screwed up her nose and shed a few tears and got what she wanted. I was glad they were separating. I thought she needed isolation and the awareness that no one was waiting for her in Israel. Her friends were going to be
there
, and
there
would be where she must feel at home. I didnât know then even one percent of the things I know today. It seems that age has positive aspects after all. She flew to Israel, broke up with her boyfriend, said goodbye to her few acquaintances, and came back to me after collecting her old things from the baggage repository at the railway station. It was terrible, and I wondered again whether I should postpone the flight once more. But now it was already too complicated. She had the invitation from the language school, but they wouldnât hold the job for her indefinitely, and she had a plane reservation the next morning.
âI looked at the pile of things she had scattered on the bed. Rachel was disorganized almost on purpose. I think she thought this was an asset, it was hard to suspect someone so slovenly, someone who lost things and missed appointments and forgot peopleâs faces. But there, in the hotel, before traveling, lack of order was a hindrance, because a few moments after she arrived in the room all the items were mixed up together and I had to check that nothing from Israel had infiltrated her gear and that everything looked exactly as it should.
âAnd there were some who said this wasnât important, and there was no likelihood of anyone in the capital city checking every detail, and if despite this they took the trouble to do a meticulous check, they would always start with simpler things than these, like passports and the references that we prepared for her. I insisted that the preparations she was making were part of her transformation, vital for her sense of security, and they were as important as anything else. She has to feel that everything will be in order, and then everything will be in order. She mustnât hesitate to show everything sheâs bringing with her, she mustnât hesitate when sheâs
âRachel sat and looked at the clothes piled on her bed. The television was switched on so we wouldnât be overheard and I checked everything she had and threw on the floor anything that looked to me too new, or too old, or not right for what she was supposed to be: a young Canadian woman who was born in England and who went back with her father to a remote place in Canada where he could spend his retirement years fishing and she could be bored to death.And now sheâs twenty-six and sheâs on her way to the Arab capital city to teach the natives English, to save enough money to travel the world and to defer her postgraduate studies a little longer. âDonât turn up there as if youâve been out shopping,â I said to her. âYouâre the one who sent me out shopping,â she said and smiled one of her tired smiles. âYou implied this was my opportunity to upgrade my wardrobe.â
âI had no choice but to give her the kind of send-off that soldiers get when they set out on operations. According to her story she didnât leave Canada until she decided she had to make changes in her life, and then she spent half a year in Europe before taking on the teaching job. But in reality, she arrived here from Israel after a vacation that I opposed. âI have to say a final goodbye to my boyfriend,â she said, and explained in very few words that he found hard to understand why she was about to go away on such a long-term assignment to Russia. Why it will be impossible to contact her by phone, and why all this secrecy she was wrapping herself in. I tried to explain to her that she was breaking the continuity of the operation and could lose focus, but she screwed up her nose and shed a few tears and got what she wanted. I was glad they were separating. I thought she needed isolation and the awareness that no one was waiting for her in Israel. Her friends were going to be
there
, and
there
would be where she must feel at home. I didnât know then even one percent of the things I know today. It seems that age has positive aspects after all. She flew to Israel, broke up with her boyfriend, said goodbye to her few acquaintances, and came back to me after collecting her old things from the baggage repository at the railway station. It was terrible, and I wondered again whether I should postpone the flight once more. But now it was already too complicated. She had the invitation from the language school, but they wouldnât hold the job for her indefinitely, and she had a plane reservation the next morning.
âI looked at the pile of things she had scattered on the bed. Rachel was disorganized almost on purpose. I think she thought this was an asset, it was hard to suspect someone so slovenly, someone who lost things and missed appointments and forgot peopleâs faces. But there, in the hotel, before traveling, lack of order was a hindrance, because a few moments after she arrived in the room all the items were mixed up together and I had to check that nothing from Israel had infiltrated her gear and that everything looked exactly as it should.
âAnd there were some who said this wasnât important, and there was no likelihood of anyone in the capital city checking every detail, and if despite this they took the trouble to do a meticulous check, they would always start with simpler things than these, like passports and the references that we prepared for her. I insisted that the preparations she was making were part of her transformation, vital for her sense of security, and they were as important as anything else. She has to feel that everything will be in order, and then everything will be in order. She mustnât hesitate to show everything sheâs bringing with her, she mustnât hesitate when sheâs
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