Daughters of Iraq by Revital Shiri-Horowitz

his insignia and smiling. She wondered what the two of them could possibly have in common.
    “Are you married?” she asked, hoping he would say no.
    “Not yet.” He raised his eyebrows.
    “Me neither.” She smiled. “Are you here alone?”
    “Yes.” He didn’t elaborate.
    She took a deep breath and said, “Do you want to go somewhere? I know a few cafes around here . . . but only if you’re in the mood.” Her brazenness surprised her.
    “I’m meeting someone at the base. Perhaps another time?”
    “Okay.” Noa looked into his eyes and was overcome by a wave of nostalgia. She remembered why she had fallen in love with him. He was tall and quiet, a born leader. She admired his intelligence, and loved his daring but distant smile. It paralyzed her, that smile, seemed to twist time and space, so much so that at times he seemed to be getting closer and further away at the same time. Noa was desperate for him to stay. She craved him the way an alcoholic craves liquor. If he were to take her in his strong arms and kiss her lips, if he were to stand cheek-to-cheek and whisper that she, Noa, was still his only love, she would have followed him anywhere.
    “Well,” he said, and the wave of nostalgia washed away. All that remained was a slight tightening in her heart, and the feeling that she had missed out on years of love. “So I think I’ll buy this one,” he said, pulling a book from the shelf.
    “Can I see?” She looked at the cover. “ Things ,” she said, “by Yona Wallach. That’s such a coincidence. I was just thinking about my seminar paper . . . never mind, it doesn’t matter.”
    “What doesn’t matter?”
    “Give me the book for a minute. One of my favorite poems is here. Can I read it to you?”
    “Why not?” he said, looking at his watch. “I still have a few minutes.”
     
    He walks from one edge of my fate
    To the other
    In a single step
    From the edge of the day
    In a single step
    From the edge of many days
    From one edge of years to the other
    From one of my edges to the other
    From the edge of my light
    From my beginning to my end
    He walks inside me
    From the edge of my body
    He sees from one edge of my life
    To the other
    From my soul to the end of my soul
    Knowing me better
    Than I could ever know myself.
     
     “Nice,” he said, and seemed to mean it.
    He’s not all superficial , she thought, there’s something deeper there . “I love this poem. I think it describes a complete love, a love that almost touches God . . .” Noa was shocked to hear herself sharing her philosophy of love with him. Even worse, she was describing what her febrile mind had imagined for many years: that she would find true love, the kind she read about in the poem. All those years, she had imagined Ehud walking from one side of her soul to the other, that it was he who would know her better than she knew herself. She had explained away his reticence, telling herself he was too shy, or that his life was so complicated he never had an opportunity to reveal his true feelings to her.
    “That really is a special poem. You’ve convinced me, I’m getting it,” he said. “Okay, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you another time.”
    “I don’t know. Would you want to see me again?”
    “Maybe.” He sounded impatient. “I really have to go.”
    “So I’ll see you soon,” she said.
    Ehud didn’t respond. He left the store without buying the book. Noa watched him recede into the distance. She stood there, not moving, hoping he would turn around, return and get the book. Perhaps she would have another chance to understand the wild feelings erupting inside her. But he didn’t come back, and as soon as he was out of sight, she left and tried to find him among the crowds of people on the street. Noa and Ehud had known each other since their youth group days, and they had served together in the army. He had been her first kiss. She’d been walking him to the midnight bus that would take him to the