Turn On The Light by Yael Shachnay

Author:Yael Shachnay
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2020-08-01T22:00:00+00:00

And so time passed, Judy. Three months that deepened my relationship with Avinoam, that ignited the flames of growing passion between us, during which my wall of lies grew higher and my normative life grew further and further away from me, until sometimes I didn’t remember who was Reuben’s Naomi and who was Avinoam’s Naomi.

My dreams were conflicted and my sleep restless and nightmarish. I woke up at night and didn’t know whose bed I was in and who was lying beside me. Reality and imagination meshed within me and I couldn’t let my powerful love for my two beloveds die.

How can I even start telling you about Avinoam, who filmed my life during my absence, unbeknown to me, that same evening I brought him the camera, and how he hid that from me, which infuriated me and ignited my fury at him? I’ll get back to that story soon, but in the meantime, we continued sneaking to each other’s apartments. We never had sex in Reuben’s and my bed. I refused to desecrate my bedroom with adultery. At my place, Avinoam, as a guest, had only been in the living room and he came over many times in the evening to watch TV with us, or for an evening snack with Reuben and myself, but it was in his house that the romantic encounters took place, the quiet conversations, the raging storms.

One time Reuben flew to Germany for three days for an architectural tour in order to study an important design he had been commissioned for in Israel and that was based on a specific structure in Berlin. One night I slept at Avinoam’s place, Judy. A whole, uninterrupted night during which we slept together and got up in the morning together, while Ayelet slept over at a friend’s and Uri was at music camp up north.

We had magical experiences and quite a few arguments. Occasionally, we fooled around with the camera. Avinoam took a picture of me in the bathtub, immersed up to my neck in bubbles. I photographed him naked, lying with his back to the camera, his long body the same length as the bed. Then, I printed the picture and drew his portrait with charcoal. My hands trembled over the page.

And as time went by, Judy, I started preparing for my trip to the desert. I called Ofra and talked to her about my participation in the workshop. I told her I was covering the workshop as a journalist and that I’d write about our experiences during our days in the hut. The article would reflect the atmosphere and her image. To my surprise, she was pleased. On the phone, her voice sounded friendly and confident and she said the workshop was open to me and she was sure I’d be impressed in a good way, and that the article would be an excellent calling card for her and for the activities she directed during her workshops.

The conversation instilled strength and faith in me and I waited eagerly for the beginning of my journalistic assignment.

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