The Broadcast Page 2

  The head nun was well-equipped, while she demanded her subordinates to live a life of asceticism. The nuns lived in destitution after taking the vow of poverty and renouncing the pleasures of the material world. A few of them had even donated all their possessions to the monastery.

  The charm and appeal of the life that Sarah had just started to think was meant for her faded quickly. Furthermore, she found herself attracted to the few men who visited the monastery, guests and service personnel, and against her will, caught herself fantasizing sexual involvement with one of them.

  Then came the most difficult experience of her short life.

  The delivery itself, which took place in the maternity ward of a hospital in Phoenix, was not as hard and painful as Sarah had feared. A short time after giving birth to a healthy son, she rested in bed, embracing the baby who was put in her bosom. As she was recovering and feeling elated and amazed by the abundance of love she felt toward her newborn; she fell into a deep sleep, which was influenced by the tranquilizers that were given to her in order to ease the delivery.

  She suddenly awoke to find with horror that the baby was gone. Panic gripped her at once, along with an ominous feeling that rapidly spread throughout her body and mind.

  “Nurse!” she called, trying to maintain a normal and steady tone of voice. “Nurse, bring me my baby, I need to breastfeed him.”

  Into the room entered a nurse, accompanied by the convent’s mother superior, both of them carried a somber facial expression.

  “What’s going on here?” a frightened Sarah shouted. “Where is my baby? I demand that you bring him to me immediately!”

  “Your son has been given to an adoptive family,” said the nurse in a decisive and definitive tone, as she looked directly into Sarah’s eyes.

  “No way—adoptive family!” Sarah yelled. “I insist that you return him to me now! He’s mine—only mine, and not anybody else’s!”

  “We’ve acted according to the contract that you agreed upon and signed,” said the composed mother superior. “In your condition, you cannot give the child the life that he deserves,” she added emphatically, with an over-righteous expression on her face.

  Sarah got up from her bed, screeching; dressed in a partially fastened gown, she ran down the hospital’s corridors in a frantic state, searching in vain for her baby. Two male nurses were sent to bring her back, but they had a hard time restraining her. She wildly kicked and scratched them, like a wounded animal, until they managed to overpower her, forcefully holding her body against the floor while a nurse injected her with a strong tranquilizing drug.

  She woke up weeping in her hospital bed and remembered her dream, where she saw herself turn to God and ask, “Why?”

  When she returned to the convent, she felt like a changed person—lifeless, apathetic, disinterested, and disregardful. She felt as if the power of life had been sucked out of her. She refused to get up from the bed and lay there absorbed with self-pity for days on end.

  She was young and physically healthy, but her spirit had been wounded. For a whole month, she barely got up from her bed, refused to take part in the convent’s activities, didn’t wake up for the prayers, and didn’t participate in the choir. Thoughts of heresy flooded her mind—and not only heresy but also musings of rebellion and revenge, directed at the mother superior.

  But she didn’t do anything with the bitterness that bubbled inside of her, perhaps because she didn’t have the strength. The nuns allowed Sarah to spend her days lying down and doing nothing, and even brought food to her room, smiling affectionately at her. She spent much of her time thinking about the son that had been taken away from her, cruelly robbed from her bosom, before she even had the chance to know him. Daniel, she called him.

  Very slowly, the power of life returned to pulsate and flow in her. One morning, she got up early and went for a trip outside the monastery’s grounds. She spent the day in the surrounding nature trails, hiking aimlessly, immersed in deep thoughts. As evening approached, she climbed to the top of a rounded, grassy hill, where she sat on the ground for a long time, wrapped in contemplation. She looked at the mountains far away and the city in front of her and knew deep inside of her that she was not destined to be a nun.

  At her request, she was granted an appointment with the mother superior. When she walked into the office of the head of the convent, she saw that the place was decorated with crosses, statues, and ornate paintings. It all looked mendacious to her. Sarah looked at the woman with disdain and disrespect, and saw her as the responsible figure of the horrible despoilment she had suffered.

  “I’m leaving,” she stated feeling contempt for the nun.

  “Sarah, my dear,” said the mother superior, “this is not the time for critical and fateful decisions. You have gone through an ordeal, which you still don’t have the means to comprehend. One day you’ll understand that everything has a reason, and that God wants only what’s best for you.”

  “I didn’t come to argue,” Sarah said dryly. “It’s clear to me that this is not the kind of life I want.”

  “If you leave now,” the mother superior threatened, “you will never know the truth and the meaning of life, and you won’t find peace and harmony in your life.”

  “And you are finding peace and harmony in your life?” Sarah defied the nun, with a disrespectful expression on her face. Sarah remembered the Jacuzzi, the computer and the television, but she didn’t bother telling what she knew. “At least I am going to experience and deal with life,” Sarah continued, “not run away from it.”

  When Sarah returned to her city, St. Louis in the state of Missouri, she felt the need to leave her parents. She moved to a rented apartment and turned away from religion. But despite the harsh experience, she carried with her a subtle positive feeling, a tiny ray of light that endured from her time at the convent. She didn’t forget that at the nunnery she had met nuns with faith-filled hearts who embodied love, joy, and light. She wondered whether one day, she would also be able to taste that grace.

  And Jesus, who was he? She remembered that even when she lay in bed bursting with thoughts of heresy, she looked at his image on the wall in front of her, and for some reason, she never blamed him for the actions of the mother superior. In Sarah’s mind, he was not guilty of the wrongdoings of men.

  And he, in turn, didn’t harbor any resentment toward her—for her bitterness and frustration—and he continued to accept and embrace her with infinite forgiveness and compassion.

  Chapter 4

  The Broadcast

  “Good evening,” said Susan Riley, the popular TXB host, as she smiled at her viewers, who were tensely expecting the special broadcast. They waited for entertainment, for a voyeuristic opportunity to see the life of the rich and famous in order to catch them at their most wretched moment. The celebrated broadcaster had hosted news programs for over twenty years, and her beautiful and friendly face, which knew how to look solemn and severe, was recognized all over the country. She had matured during her many years on the screen but still managed to keep a young and vital appearance, probably due to professional makeup and carefully styled blond hair. Now she gazed at the camera, with eyes that conveyed understanding and empathy, and spoke with her low and warm voice in a supposedly sympathetic and caring tone.

  “This evening we will see an exceptional film, after which there will be a live discussion in the studio,” she promised her audience, who were sitting in their soft armchairs in the safety and comfort of their homes. “We all remember the Trial from the Movies and its controversial outcome,” the host continued. She recapped the chain of events that had taken place twenty-five years earlier, when many of her viewers were not yet born, while familiar pictures were projected on the screen: the car chase after Pedro Gonzales’s black SUV and the ensuing arrest. “This evening,” Susan Riley promised, “after watching the film, the controversy is likely to be resolved once and for all.”

  Without any commercial break, and after
only one sponsored announcement, the film began. A yard at the back of a house was seen. It looked like it was filmed from directly above, and from a long distance—perhaps from an airplane, or maybe a satellite. No explanation was given. For a few moments, no activity was spotted in the yard, a fact that might have increased the viewing suspense and expectation. Branches of the trees were slightly swaying in the wind, and a dog ran through the yard and disappeared from the picture’s frame. The film was in black-and-white, without sound, and had a mediocre picture quality. Yet, despite the far-from-perfect quality, the viewers could perceive minor details: several tables and chairs were scattered around, a broom leaned against the wall, and there were a few gardening tools and a water hose.

  And then two people came out of the house: a woman and a man. The woman—her bright hair gently blowing in the breeze—held a tray in her hands. The couple leisurely sat around a small, round table, and dispensed themselves what looked like ice cream or pudding into small bowls. For a few minutes they seemed to be talking peacefully and enjoying the deserts. At one point the man leaned toward the woman, as if to whisper in her ear, and caressed her shoulder in a friendly manner.

  A black SUV had passed in an adjoining alley right behind the house and stopped. A person came out of the car wearing a white baseball cap, so it was impossible to discern his facial features. He nimbly made his way along the fence that surrounded the house and yard, stopped at one place, and seemed to be peeking through a slit in the fence, examining what was transpiring inside. Immersed in their matters, the couple didn’t notice him. After a few minutes, the unidentified person leapt over the fence.

  The couple’s attention was immediately drawn to him as he swiftly made his way to where they sat. The woman got up from her chair, and made a few steps toward the intruder. It appeared as if an argument erupted between the two, and from the woman’s body language and hand movements, it looked like she was very upset as she ordered the trespasser to leave. This was evident even though the film was broadcast without sound or a narrator’s voiceover.

  The invader stood motionless for a while, as if listening to the woman. But suddenly he raised his hand, and despite the distance from where the camera was positioned, it was clear that he was holding a knife. In a swift move he charged forward and stabbed the woman in the neck, without hesitation. The woman collapsed, her hands clasping the point of injury and around her, a dark pool of blood quickly collected.

  The intruder turned his attention to the man and moved toward him with fast, confident, and forceful steps. The man got up in a hurry and lifted the chair he sat on, in an effort to defend himself from the fast-moving attacker, who now started to circle around him with the knife in his hand. The man took a chance and tried to strike the assailant with the chair, but the assailant managed to dodge the hit, lunge forward, and in a fierce movement with his right hand, stab the man in his stomach. The assailant then continued stabbing, aiming at the man’s upper body, until the man collapsed, drenched in blood.

  The murderer spun around and returned to the woman, who was still moving—trying to crawl in the direction of the house—and he stabbed her several times until her body was motionless. The dog circled around the killer, and appeared to be barking and running amok, but didn’t dare to get closer to the slayer.

  Afterwards, the murderer ran in the direction from which he came, effortlessly leapt over the fence, got into his SUV and drove forward, out of the film’s picture frame. Then the broadcast was abruptly cut.

  “We will be back after a short break,” Susan Riley promised her viewers, with tears at the corners of her eyes, and the program went to commercials.

  Chapter 5

  Jonathan

  Panic attacks would arise without warning and flood him with a deep-seated horror—fearing an unknown and indefinable entity that would strike him.

  He was alone in this world; that’s how he always felt. He had his loving wife, Sarah, and his big brother, Walter, who lived on the other side of the continent— but still, he was alone.

  For many years, Jonathan didn’t know if his big brother, Walter, two years older than he, was fond of him or was perhaps harboring a deep resentment toward him. Frequently he asked himself whether he bore any blame for the horrible car accident in which their parents were killed. It was a faraway event that he had almost entirely forgotten.

  Walter, who had been four years old at that time, hadn’t been in the car on that fateful drive, whereas Jonathan, who was just two years old, had ridden with them, fastened with a safety belt in the backseat. Maybe he had cried and distracted them, causing the head-on collision?

  He barely remembered the horrific crash. In fact, he wasn’t even sure whether it was a credible memory or an early childhood dream. In an image that was fixed in his mind, he saw himself sitting in the backseat of a car, when suddenly he saw a massive object getting closer at a very high speed. In a split-second, he heard his mother screaming in panic, and then a terrible blow, a sharp pain, awful and strange breaking noises, and voices of people—frantic, terrified, and agitated.

  He had emerged from the accident almost unharmed—just minor scratches—thanks to the specially made toddler seat in which he had been fastened, or so he was told. But he knew that wasn’t true. He carried the damage and the bruises all his life.

  At times, he was struck by a strange feeling, an ambiguous sensation that he had a hard time defining. An inner voice that was somehow related to the accident whispered that the mending of his body and mind was not complete. A tiny gap remained—a narrow crevasse through which he had access to something very different—a mysterious world that was hidden and secretive. On occasions, when the world was very still and quiet, he could almost grasp the intangible matter in his conscious mind, but it always evaded him.

  After his parents’ death, their grandmother had taken the two orphans into her house. She had lovingly taken care of them, and had made sure that all their needs were met. But she had passed away when Jonathan was seven years old, and the children had been taken to separate foster homes. Walter had been fortunate; he was taken to a supportive family that raised him with love and compassion and adopted him as their son. He was privileged to receive a quality education, and he also learned to play the piano.

  Unlike his older brother, Jonathan hadn’t been so lucky; he had the misfortune of being shuffled from one foster home to another, and found himself with people who didn’t love their lives and didn’t love him.

  How he hated the Fenwick family, who had been cruel and hypocritical. He used to run away from their house time after time, and he had even thought of throwing himself under the wheels of a train to put an end to his misery.

  The relationship between Jonathan and Walter was broken for many years. Both of them had held a deep resentment for one another. Jonathan felt that Walter didn’t defend him, fight for him, and come to his aid when the social workers had separated them and sent him alone to a foster home with evil people. Walter held a deep feeling of bitterness, but even he didn’t know where it came from. He assumed it might have stemmed from the accident, from the fact that Jonathan had been with their parents until the end, while he hadn’t been able to say goodbye.

  Jonathan had met Sarah when he was hospitalized in a mental institution for two months, due to uncontrolled panic attacks that affected his ability to function in the competitive world. Sarah, who was a clinical psychologist at the institution, had taken care of him and treated him with unhindered compassion and affection. During the therapy sessions, the two had felt a special bond emerging between them, connecting them with subtle and invisible threads. They sensed a great attraction to one another on a physical level, as well as on the mental and spiritual planes. They were two lonely souls who had found the union they had yearned for during many years. When he looked into her eyes, he would feel how his spirit was crying out to her, and opening toward her, and he wondered whether the feeling was mutual. He believed that thanks to her compas
sionate care, he had experienced a significant improvement in his condition.

  Sarah knew that it was wrong for a psychologist to have an affair with a patient. For several weeks, she had contemplated the issue, examined it from every direction, weighing up the possible penalties, and had consulted with her sister, who was her best friend in the world. After she had thoroughly considered the unforeseen development, she came to a decision that after everything she had gone through and after the heartbreak she had suffered when her son was taken away from her, she deserved to be happy. She concluded that she must further explore and experience the special attraction she felt toward her handsome and sensitive patient, regardless of what the consequences might be.

  After Jonathan left the institution, the two continued to meet each other and nurture their love, and before long, they had moved in together. When they saw that life together was valuable and beneficial for both of them, they decided to tie the knot in a modest wedding.

  Jonathan hadn’t known why she had decided to bond her life with his because he recognized that he wasn’t an utterly stable person. He wondered if she chose him for his good looks, as he remembered how the girls in high school were attracted to him even when they were worried that he was weird. They had told him that he was unusually handsome and they thought he had hidden strength.

  He loved to look at Sarah’s face, which conveyed inner wisdom and insight in a way he couldn’t explain. He loved her sexy body, her sensuality, and her eyes when they reflected the love and empathy she felt for him.

  Both of them wanted children in their life, but a long time had passed since their wedding—months became years—and Sarah still didn’t get pregnant. They went to see specialists that examined each of them separately and underwent several different fertilization treatments. The doctors determined that there was no physiological problem with either of them, but the years passed, and they remained childless. Sarah made it clear that she was willing to get pregnant via a sperm donor, but Jonathan adamantly objected to the idea. He so much wanted a child in his image, which would be wholly his own, so he could love and nurture, and give his son or daughter everything that he never had.