The Silver Wedding Anniversary
By Nurit Henig
Avishag Gabai unpacks a handbag made of good leather in room 701 on the seventh floor. She glances at the watch on her cell phone. She still has time; she needs a cigarette.
Lately she has returned to smoking, so she locates the smoke alarm on the ceiling, pulls out a cigarette and a lighter and goes out on the terrace. The blue landscape revealed to her is filled with smoke. She fills up her lungs to capacity as she inhales, sighing with relief.
She does not like and does not allow herself to be pressured, but right now she is not relaxed.
Like all the gorgeous women of the old Meyuchas family from Jerusalem, her skin is olive and her black hair flows in wild curls.
Her beloved grandmother Miriam Meyuchas, whose roots are deep into the holy land, taught her that it was best to keep everything inside…”We, the Sephardic women, are proud and wise…” She whispered in her ear “You will be strong, Chikita, you hear?... La casa del jeque a la mujer.” (The home belongs to the woman.)”