At the family meeting that night, Yoeli had explained to them all that no, they couldn’t send out pictures of Tovi. That was off limits for Gedalya

“How do we know that time passes?”

Nechami’s about to enter the building when suddenly Ruti materializes right behind her. Who is letting this woman wander around at this time of night?

“Entropy,” Ruti answers her own question. “Light and sound waves spread out. Chemical changes take place in the brain. Why? You call them memories, don’t you? But why? Just because?”

“Time passes because that’s what time does,” Nechami answers, trying once again, in vain, to have a rational exchange with this woman.

“No!” Ruti is happily triumphant, like a little girl. “The trajectory of time is dynamic. The future already happened. We’re getting younger all the time. Maybe. And therefore, I say everything is fine. We forget what we knew before.”

“No.” Nechami argues forcefully. She has to. “We’re getting older all the time. The future didn’t happen yet. We don’t forget it, Ruti, we just don’t know it, because it hasn’t happened.”

“The future already was. The future is present,” Ruti says, stretching a hand out to indicate some imaginary point.

Nechami follows the gesture with her eyes. She sees nothing there but a neighbor’s laundry hung out across the street. Unmatched sheets on a squeaky line, and a semi-legal building extension.

“The past is what will be. It’s all in the same space. Do you hear what I’m saying?”

•••

At the family meeting that night, Yoeli had explained to them all that no, they couldn’t send out pictures of Tovi. That was off limits for Gedalya. And in fact, they couldn’t send out an appeal for donations in any sort of public forum.

“Only one-on-one,” he said, and for the umpteenth time, Nechami imagined a flute accompanying his musical voice. Only one, la la, on one, la, la…

“Dignity and privacy are very important,” one of Shifra’s brothers commented. “But sometimes pictures and information are what persuade people to give.” Both of Shifra’s brothers were paupers. Everyone knew that, and the brothers themselves said as much when it came time to set fundraising goals. Each of them took upon himself to raise ten thousand shekels.

“If you’ve got a really big donor,” said Yoeli, “let’s say someone who’s willing to give the whole amount you’re aiming for, you can show them pictures of Tovi and documents as verification. But only show, don’t distribute or publicize them.”

Only show, don’t distribute, Nechami played on her imaginary flute. She wished she could speak like that, slowly, with a lilting melody. La, la, la.