Shalom banged the receiver back on the hook.
"Stupid," he muttered. "Stupid life."
He kicked the garbage can, then a wooden chair, and stormed
out of the lobby.
He ran to the empty fields and flung himself on the tall
grass. He breathed deeply. The smell of moist earth and
sunflowers brought the tears to his eyes.
"A lonely field in a large camp can make me feel safe," he
thought with an aching throb in his chest.
He lay still. The crickets chirped and the bees buzzed in his
ears. How he wished that he would never have to leave, never
have to go home.
What was home anyway? he thought, as he stared into the blue
heavens. To him home was a place of depression and anger, of
loneliness and pain. That wasn't supposed to be the meaning
of home. He let his hot tears slide down his cheek and fall
to the ground. No wonder the earth was always moist, his
tears were doing a wonderful job, he thought with a wry
smile.
"Hey, Shalom!" Mordechai's face appeared large and blocked
the sun. "I figured that I'd find you here. You okay?" he
asked as he sat down beside Shalom's reclined form.
Shalom didn't answer.
"Something going on at home?" Mordechai pressed gently.
Shalom shrugged. After a minute of stillness he turned on his
stomach. He held a blade of grass between his thumb and
forefinger. He slid his finger up and down.
"My mother was hospitalized today."
"Oh no," Mordechai said.
"Now the family is really falling apart. I'm not sure that I
can handle any more."
"Sure you can," Mordechai tried to sound encouraging. "Hashem
gives only as much as you can handle."
"Easy for you to say," Shalom retorted with bitterness and
envy. "You have a functioning home."
Mordechai didn't respond. He knew that it was the truth. It
was easy enough to encourage somebody who had it really
tough, but what did he understand, anyway?
He waited a few minutes before he opened his mouth again.
"Rabbi Levi just told me that we're going boating this
afternoon. Sort of a goodbye trip for everyone. You
coming?"
"Yah, I guess," Shalom said without much enthusiasm.
Shalom held his hands out to his friend and Mordechai dragged
him up.
The water shimmered and danced in the sunlight. They were in
a three-to-an-oar boat. It was Shalom's turn to relax his
muscles while Mordechai and Avi propelled the boat forward.
Shalom gazed into the blackness of the lake. It looked so
tempting. All he had to do was tip and then there would be no
more emotionally disturbed mother, no more abusive father, no
more looney sister. He'd never again have to worry about fear
and pain and hurtful whispers. His chin was propped in his
hands. He didn't have much of a future anyway. Who cared
about him? Who worried where he was or what he did?
Nobody.
"Your turn, Shalom," Avi broke the stillness.
Shalom reluctantly stood up and as the boat shook, he took
over Avi's oar.
He dipped the oar into the wetness and the tiny boat surged
forward.
Swoosh, plunk, swoosh, plunk, went the oar. Shalom paddled
until the sweat soaked his T shirt. Swoosh, plunk, swoosh,
plunk. He leaned toward the swirling water. Then it happened
so quickly that he didn't know what hit him until the
freezing water whacked his face.
His body dunked beneath the surface. His nose filled with
water; he tried to breath. The water lashed angrily at his
mouth, prying it open. His lungs felt like ice as the water
seeped in, his chest felt like it was on fire. Curiously, he
was calm. So this is what it feels like to die, he
thought. I'm getting what I wanted.
Suddenly he panicked. Do I truly want to die? Once I'm
dead there's no going back. What will be later? Maybe things
will improve? He tried to move his arms and legs. His
limbs felt heavy, oh so very heavy. Furious with himself, he
forced his legs to kick, to shake.
"Oh Hashem, this is really not what I want." he cried in his
heart, in his brain. "I just wanted an easy way out. I want
to live. Please Hashem, I want to live. I've still got so
much to do. I'm so young. Please Hashem, help me. I want to
live!"
He struggled to reach the sunlight, his head bobbed around
the filthy water.
Suddenly, he heard yelling. He felt strong hands around him,
pulling, pulling . . . They were hurting him. Why didn't they
just leave him alone?
When his eyes finally opened, he was lying in a hospital
room. Mordechai's face lit up. "You all right?" he asked
kindly, relief in his voice and heart.
"What happened?" Shalom asked weakly.
Mordechai filled him on the Hashgochah of the near-
drowning. Avi was a certified lifeguard. He had just finished
his course two weeks ago. When they had Shalom in the
boat, unconscious and blue, they yelled and waved to the
nearest boat. A paramedic was on board.
"Hashem must really love you." Mordechai said.
Shalom tried to digest this information. He tried to recall
what had happened before he fell in. Did he do it on purpose?
What had really happened?
The doctor came to check on him. "One more minute, my man,
and you would be six feet under."
Shalom shivered.
The neurologist visited him next. He did all the standard
tests and Shalom passed them all with ease. "You're lucky,
sonny," the doctor said. "I've seen people losing their
brains with a lot less time in the water."
Lucky? Shalom thought. Hashem had taught him a good
lesson.
He was kept overnight for observation and released the next
day. The following day was the last day of camp. He came home
to an eerie house. The situation hadn't changed any, but he
had. Because things were difficult now didn't mean that it
would be this way forever.
On Rosh Chodesh Elul, he began Yeshiva. He learned with a
zeal and a bren. When he stood in shul on Rosh
Hashonah, he read the words carefully. "Mi yichye umi
yomus . . . mi bamayim . . . " He let the tears fall.
"Please, Hashem, pen me in for life. I haven't yet begun my
life," he cried, as the baal tefillah continued on.
"Thank You, Hashem, for saving me. Thank You for giving me a
new life and a fresh start. Thank You for making me want to
live."
