Buffalo jump

CHAPTER 15

After dropping Jenn at the office, I drove home to shower and change out of my bloody clothes. Then I headed out to the Med-E-Mart to see Jay Silver in his work habitat. I took Broadview north until it became O’Connor, then crossed the Don Valley on the Leaside Bridge. I had the windows down and Uncle Tupelo blasting through its live version of “We’ve Been Had” when my cellphone rang. I looked at the caller ID, lowered the sound, raised the windows and mustered my chipperest voice. “Hi, Ma.”

“Everything okay, dear?”

“Sure. Why?”

“I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“We spoke last week.”

“Are we down to once a week now?”

“Come on, Ma. The last three times I called, you weren’t home.” A call to a Jewish mother must count whether she is there to answer or not. Elsewhere madness lies.

“When were these alleged calls?” she asked. “Give me days and times, mister. Let’s see how your story stands up.”

“Tuesday suppertime. Friday around seven. Sunday afternoon.”

“Tuesday, I was at the museum,” she said. “They had a members-only preview of the new Chinese ceramics exhibit. It hasn’t even gone to New York yet-we got it first. Friday was Shabbas dinner with the Golds. It’s one meal I hate to eat alone, and both you and Daniel were busy. Maybe this week you’ll come to me.”

“We’ll see.”

“Which means you won’t. And Sunday… Sunday I had a board meeting at shul,” she said. “Did I tell you I was re-elected president of the sisterhood?”

“Of course you did. I congratulated you effusively, as I recall.”

“All right,” she said. “So your story checks out. Doesn’t mean you can’t call more often but at least you tried. So how are you, dear? How’s your arm?”

“It’s fine, Ma. A hundred per cent.”

“I’m so glad.”

“You don’t sound glad.”

“Well, it’s just that if it’s healed, you’ll be going back out in the field, no?”

“Yes.”

“And the last time you were in this field of yours, you got shot.”

“Ma…”

“I saw you in that hospital bed, Jonah, and my heart was in pieces. It took so long for Daddy and me to conceive Daniel, we never thought we’d have another baby. When you came along, it was like a miracle. That’s why we made your middle name Nathaniel.”

Gift from God, it meant. Some gift. She was probably checking the returns policy as we spoke.

“All the women at the office, at shul, at the golf club, at openings, their sons either treat gunshot wounds or at least defend the ones who do the shooting.”

“Can we not veer into career advice?”

“Who’s veering? But you were such a clever child, every bit as smart as your brother, and from where I sit you’re still struggling.”

“So change seats. Pretend we’re in a restaurant and they sat you near the kitchen.”

“You probably don’t remember but we had you tested in Grade 3 and your IQ was exceptional.”

I didn’t remember the test but had no trouble recalling the thousands of times she had brought it up since.

“Your teachers always said, ‘Jonah is so bright, he just doesn’t apply himself.’”

“Well, I’m applying myself now.”

“To what? Really, dear, to what?”

“I like what I’m doing and I’m making a living.”

“Darling, a one-bedroom apartment and a used car is not a living. You have to admit, I never pushed you to choose a traditional profession. I gave you plenty of latitude, especially after Daddy died. True?”

“True.”

“I told you if you wanted to try the arts or something like that I would back you as long as…?”

“As long as I worked my butt off. Which I am doing, by the way.”

“I just want you to be happy, Jonah. Happy and safe.”

“Don’t worry. It’s a very simple case.”

“No gangsters?”

“No gangsters.” Not that I was going to tell her about.

“So are we on for Shabbas?”

Hmm. Shabbas. Friday night. What would I be doing that night? Throwing myself in front of a bullet meant for Lucas Silver?

“Can I let you know?”

“Yes. I’ll see if Daniel is free. And it wouldn’t hurt you to call him either. When’s the last time you spoke?”

“Not that long ago.” Or not long enough, depending on where you sat.

“Call me when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

“Just today or every day?”

“Some boys call their mothers every day.”

“There’s a name for them.”

“Smartass,” she said.

“No, that’s not it.”

I thought we were done but she said, “One more thing.”

What? A Jewish Beauty’s phone number?

“Are you coming to the Rally for Israel?”

First Mitchell, now my mother.

“You really should make the effort. Connect with the community a little. See some old friends. Things are terrible in Israel, today, and not so good for Jews in plenty of other places. We have to show solidarity.”

“I did my part for Israel, Ma.”

“That was a long time ago, dear.”

Not long enough.

I find it funny sometimes that our parents named us Daniel and Jonah, two men who are so sorely tested in the Old Testament. Maybe they were preparing us in a way for the trials that attend life as a Jew in a non-Jewish world. When we were kids, Daniel once told me, “If Mom and Dad had had another son, they would have named him Job.”

The Bible says Jonah was ordered by God to go to Nineveh and tell the sinners there to repent or face His destruction. Because the people of Nineveh were enemies of the Hebrews, Jonah didn’t see why they should be saved. Instead of heeding God’s word, he boarded a ship bound in the opposite direction. Displeased by Jonah’s disobedience, God whipped up a deadly storm that would not abate until the terrified crew cast Jonah into the sea. Jonah was swallowed by a monstrous whale and spent three days in its belly before he was spat back onto land with another chance to complete his mission. In the end Jonah learns that everyone-enemy or not-is entitled to salvation.

All the Bible says about Jonah’s background prior to his contact with God is that he was “the son of Amittai.” That’s it. Four words. Nothing about his mother, siblings, what he did before God’s call or whether he was any good at it.

The Book of Daniel, on the other hand, devotes six full chapters to his many gifts: how prodigiously learned and skilled he is in the arts and sciences, how unblemished in beauty and character. Living in forced exile, Daniel advises Babylonian kings with discretion and wisdom, masterfully interpreting their visions and dreams. Promoted above princes and satraps, he is cast into the lions’ den, ostensibly for refusing to abandon his God, but in reality because he has stirred such jealousy among his rivals.

Six fucking chapters.

He gets more buildup than he could possibly live up to, then not only lives up to it but exceeds it by a mile. The more I think about it, the more I root for the lions.

So there you have us.

Daniel: gifted to a fault, rising effortlessly to the pinnacle of his profession and beyond.

Jonah: obscure, obstinate, punished for not doing what was expected of him.

My mother wants us to be closer. “You only have one brother,” she tells me once a month. “Blood is thicker than water.”

But we could hardly be more different. Daniel is always sure of himself: intelligent, yes, but imperious too. If Daniel ever made a mistake in his life, you wouldn’t hear it from him. I knew only too well that I was capable of mistakes.

Just ask Colin MacAdam.