Asylum City Read Free Page A

think it had been in Hagos’s best interest.
    Itai thought he’d convinced her it would be a mistake to file the complaint, and now it turned out she’d gone and done it behind his back. He was furious with himself for not keeping a closer eye on her. He should have anticipated that she’d go ahead with her plan.
    ITAI declined the call. Michal had tried to reach him last night and several times today. He was screening her calls. He didn’t have the energy to fight with her again. They couldn’t even agree on Gabriel, their joint project. He thought he should be allowed to go on drawing and painting freely, to express himself however he wanted, and when the time came and he was ready, they’d help him take his art to the next level. But Michal wasn’t willing to wait. She was never willing to wait for anything. She wanted things to happen now. A few days ago she’d reamed him out for not using his connections at the Bezalel Academy of Art (his uncle was a professor there) to arrange a scholarship for Gabriel.
    He stood still for a minute and looked around him at the busy street. The cafés were crowded. The skies had cleared, ending a string of rainy days and drawing hundreds of Tel Avivians outside. He spent most of his time in a different part of the city. It was equally crowded there, but much less pleasant. So near and yet so far.
    The girl he was going to meet—Ayelet—worked in the architects’ office with Ronny’s wife. “She’s a great girl and she’s hot, so don’t screw up,” Ronny had said, sending him to check her out on Facebook. He liked what he saw. Ronny had always had good taste in women. She seemed nice when he spoke to her on the phone, too.
    â€œBESIDES the business with the bike, do you have any other advice for me?” he asked Ronny after taking a deep breath and counting to ten.
    It turned out his friend had a whole litany of advice, including a list of subjects he shouldn’t bring up: foreign workers, migrants, social protest, cartels, crooked politicians, affordable housing. “I swear I don’t get you,” Ronny went on. “So many women ripe for the picking. If I were in your shoes . . . I’ve got to say you’re an embarrassment to men everywhere. Instead of going out and having fun, you spend all your time dealing with the problems of people whose lives are so deep in shit there’s nothing you can do for them. What about it, Itai? Can you have a conversation without mentioning the women who are raped in Sinai? Think of it as a favor to me.”
    â€œHow about the weather? Is that okay?” He had to give a little after such a histrionic speech.
    â€œWell, I don’t trust you to talk about anything else, so the weather sounds like an excellent way to go,” Ronny shot back.
    â€œSo I can tell her how cold it is in Levinsky Park, how the asylum seekers stand around all day in the rain, shivering and hungry, and no one gives a damn?”
    â€œNo worries. You keep joking about it and I can promise you one thing: you’re not getting laid.”
    â€œOkay, fine. I’ve got it. I can only talk about how the weather affects people in north Tel Aviv.”
    â€œAnd take her someplace normal, a café or a pub,” Ronny went on, ignoring his last remark. “Not to a demonstration or some restaurant run by refugees. Can you do that?”
    â€œCafé. Cappuccino. White sugar, not brown. I ought to write this down,” he said, smiling.
    â€œAsshole.” Itai could imagine the smile on Ronny’s face at the other end of the line, too. “And if, heaven forbid, she orders chicken breast, don’t make a face. Just take a deep breath and think about the breasts on her, okay, bro?”
    HE walked to the end of the block and turned left into Melchett Street. Again his phone started ringing. Michal again. He resisted the urge to pick up. It’s just