Jupiter’s Bones

“It’s not dangerous!” Sammy insisted.

“Why? Just because a couple of immortal, teenage boys say so?” Decker said. “Look, maybe I’m just being a stupid American, believing all this press about the area being a hot zone. Maybe the Arabs really do love us and want peace and if you’re stuck out there on the road at three A.M., they’ll be happy to help you—”

“It’s not safe to be stuck on the road at three A.M. here either,” Sammy shouted.

“Difference is you’ve got a car phone and you can call me. Who are you going to call over there, Sammy?”

Sammy put down his fork and slumped. No one spoke for a minute. Finally, the boy said, “Abba went there.”

Another period of protracted silence. Then Decker said, “I know he did. Do you think he’d want you to put your life in danger—”

“My life wouldn’t be in danger! You’re overreacting. As always!”

Decker started to speak, then stopped. He pushed his plate away. “Fine, Sammy. You asked for my opinion. You know how I feel. If it would be up to me, you’d go to Yeshiva University directly—”

“I told you, I’ll get credit for my year in Israel.”

Decker bit his lip. “I’m staying out of this one. It’s your decision.”

“Fine, so I’ll go to Gush.”

Decker shrugged. “Can I ask you one thing?”

“What?”

“If Gush wasn’t an option, where else could you go?”

“Kerem b’Yavneh,” Rina said. “Shalavim.”

Decker looked at Rina. “Are those bad places?”

“Bad?”

“In dangerous areas?”

“They’re inside the green line.”

“Are they good yeshivas?”

“They’re excellent.”

“As good as Gush?”

“Definitely,” Rina said.

Decker turned to Sammy, the obvious unspoken. The teen threw up his hands. “If you’re going to forbid me to go to Gush, I suppose I could go to Shalavim.”

“Isn’t David going to Shalavim?” Rina asked.

“I don’t have to do everything David does, Eema. We’re not joined at the hip.”

“I was just saying—”

“Look, it’s up to you,” Sammy burst in. “You’re paying for it.” He stood. “I’m going to take over for Yonkie. Let the good son eat his dinner.” He walked away.

Silence hung in the air. Then Decker whispered, “Where’d he get this good son, bad son bit?”

“He probably feels like a bad son—both to you and to Yitzchak,” Rina whispered back. “He wants you to make the decision for him.”

“I’m not going to do it.” Decker nibbled on a floret of broccoli. “I’ve had my say. Rest is up to him … or you.” A beat. “Do you have any feelings about it?”

“I’d like him behind the green line.”

“So why didn’t you say something?”

“I figure one of us is enough. Why overwhelm him?”

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with being loyal to your husband’s memory, would it?”

Rina was taken aback. “Peter, you’re my husband. Your opinion is paramount over anything else. I thought we were over this.”

Decker rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry.”