65
Palestine 1948
Someone lifted my head and stuck a straw in my mouth.
“Drink,” a voice commanded.
I drank, then opened my eyes. A blurred face swam into view.
“What happened and where am I?”
“You’re in a hospital bed in Tel Aviv, Mo. You were brought here three days ago.”
“Irit?”
Avi shook his head. “You did what you had to.”
“She ordered me.”
“Of course, she did. Look, her body was crushed. You saved her a great deal of pain and agony. I’d want someone to do the same for me in similar circumstances.”
“We were just married,” I said.
He nodded. “I know. I know.”
“How did I get here?”
Avi sat down and pulled a chair over. “You were in pretty rough shape. The docs removed at least twenty pellets from your abdomen, none penetrating, thank God. Three fractured ribs, broken ankle
