The Jerusalem Inception by Avraham Azrieli Read Free Book Online Page B

such books.”
    “Why?”
    “A good Jew devotes all his time to studying Talmud.”
    “Does Talmud forbid reading Ayn Rand?”
    “Not specifically, but—”
    “Aren’t we supposed to be a guiding light for the Gentiles?”
    He nodded.
    “How could Jerusalem Gerster be a guiding light to the Goyim if he’s not allowed to become acquainted with their way of life?”
    Embarrassed to keep staring at her, Lemmy examined the photo on the back of the book. “Is she a Gentile?”
    “Ayn Rand?” Tanya laughed. “Actually, I think she’s Jewish.”
    “Oh. Then I can read it.”
    “Bring the book back when you’re done. I’d like to hear your impressions.”
    Lemmy stuffed The Fountainhead in the pocket of his black coat and headed back to Meah Shearim.
    E lie Weiss sat in his gray Citroën Deux Chevaux, parked up the street from Tanya’s house. He drew on his cigarette, watching Abraham’s son. The black-garbed youth walked fast, his payos angled back in the wind like a girl’s braids. Elie held up a black-and-white photograph that showed Jerusalem Gerster, his hand raised in emphasis of a Talmudic argument, while his study companion buried his face in his hands in mock desperation.
    The second photo in Elie’s hand was smaller, its edges fraying, yellow with age. He had taken this photo during the war with a camera that had previously hung from the neck of a Nazi officer. Abraham had twisted the leather strap tighter and tighter until the German’s tongue grew out of his mouth like a baby eggplant and his black boots stopped twitching. In the photo, Abraham was already wearing the boots, which had fit him perfectly.
    Elie held the two photos together, the face of young Abraham in 1945 next to the face of his son in last week’s photo, which Elie had taken from a rooftop near Meah Shearim. The resemblance was astonishing, which meant Tanya was now very confused.
    He dropped the photos on the passenger seat, drew once more from his Lucky Strike, and tossed it out the window. A gust of wind blew smoke back in his face, and his eyes moistened. He closed the window and latched it in place. Pressing the lever into first gear, he made a U-turn and drove away, leaving behind a wake of blue engine fumes.

Chapter 6
     

     
    L emmy had memorized the landmarks along the way, which he now followed in reverse order. He thought of Tanya’s sculpted face, one moment serious, the next smiling. The Fountainhead , in his coat pocket, banged against his thigh with every step. Should he read it? Should he know more about the Goyim , as Tanya had argued? Father had once said that Talmud contained all the knowledge a man needed. But that obviously wasn’t accurate. Electric lights, for example, weren’t mentioned anywhere in the thousands of pages of Talmud. Perhaps The Fountainhead would also illuminate things that were not mentioned in the Talmud? He reached into his pocket and touched the book, feeling a quiver of excitement. He remembered a Yiddish idiom: Stolen water is so much sweeter.
    Along the way he passed through a secular neighborhood. A group of teenage boys and girls played soccer in an empty lot. They wore short-sleeved shirts, three-quarter pants, and leather sandals. The girls wore ponytails, but the boys’ hair was short, even where their payos should have been left untouched according to Jewish law. He stood at a distance, intrigued by the ease with which they played together, the girls as aggressive as the boys. The ball found its way into the goal, marked by two rocks, and the scoring team cheered and hugged. A girl locked her arms around a boy’s torso and hoisted him up in the air.
    They noticed Lemmy and stopped playing. He tipped his black hat and resumed walking. One of them started imitating the calls of a crow. Several others joined in, and a choir of crows sounded behind him.
    Lemmy paused and turned. He stretched his arms sideways like wings and mimicked a flying bird. They laughed, and the crowing