A Spy in Exile

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Ya’ara said to Michael. They were sitting opposite each other in Ya’ara’s hotel room. Even before she spoke, Michael had noticed her suitcase in a prominent place on the floor. Ya’ara had already packed the few clothes she had.

“I need to get back to Germany.”

Michael looked at her pale, drawn face.

“I don’t think you should go,” he said. “You’re traveling on empty. You need to rest.”

“You’re not my father, Michael.”

“I don’t know where you went this afternoon, but you were wiped out when you got back here. Let’s stay in the hotel for a few more days. We can sleep late, we’ll find nice places for lunch, we’ll go to shows in the evening. This place is full of music spots; maybe we’ll discover the new John Lennon.”

She smiled at him wearily and a wave of affection washed over Michael.

“Listen,” he said, “whatever’s waiting for you in Germany can wait a little longer, can’t it? And if you need to do something to postpone things, perhaps I can help . . . Ya’ara, your eyes are telling me that you need to stop for a while. Do you know who you remind me of?”

She looked up and gazed at him questioningly.

“You remind me of myself. This itinerary of yours, from Oxford, to Liverpool, to Germany. That’s what I used to do when I was in service.”

Ya’ara tensed up, wondering just how much Michael knew about what she was doing. She allowed him to continue nevertheless.

“And I remember something else.” Michael knew she was listening to him, but also noticed the hint of an arrogant smile, the shadow of the condescending look she was giving him.

“I remember, too, that each and every one of them needed something from me. And everyone I met with took whatever they needed. A piece of my experience, a piece of my courage. A piece of my optimism. And then there’d come a moment when I’d feel drained. That I had nothing more to give. And the worst part of it was the sense I got that they could see it, too. That their faith in me and regard for me were faltering. And then I had to take a time-out. Had to take a step back. Had to stop giving of myself. Even for a limited time only. But I needed that space to myself. Because in those moments, I no longer had anything to give.”

He knew Ya’ara thought that she wasn’t that type of person. That her reserves would never run dry. That was the source of her strength, but a source of grave danger, too. It was plain to see that something had sapped her of her strength and left her vulnerable. As if her core temperature had dropped drastically and she wasn’t aware of it, despite the intense distress signals her body was trying to convey to her.

“As I see things,” he continued, despite getting no response from her, “the right thing to do now would be to cover you with a thick blanket, turn out the light, and let you sleep. Tell me when you were planning to fly out tomorrow and I’ll cancel your ticket for you. If you need to let anyone know, I can do that for you, too. Don’t worry.”

Ya’ara reached out to him, touching his fingertips. “Maybe you’re right. Even though you and I are very different people. But I really don’t have to leave tomorrow.” She gave him the details of the flight she had booked to Cologne. “I’d appreciate it if you could let them know about the cancellation,” she said.

“Can you sleep with me tonight again?” she asked quietly. “Like at the hotel in Oxford?” He wondered how many nights he could sleep in the same bed with her without feeling humiliated. But he knew she needed him, and knew, too, that he was making progress, even if he wasn’t aware of where it would lead. He knew that Ya’ara was struggling with strong forces, and thought he was beginning to understand.

“Yes,” he said to her. “I’ll be with you. Don’t worry.”