For a few minutes I fidgeted in front of Rachel’s office. For a few months we had been lovers. Recently, I left my parents’ house and went over to live with her. I feared that a decision to handle the case on my own rather than as a team member might disrupt our friendship. Then I saw that the door to her office was ajar.
Rachel skimmed rapidly through the file. She did not take notes but flagged some pages in depositions and highlighted passages she considered important. When she finished, she closed the file and asked: “So why do you want my views about this file?”
“We are a good team. Your handling it as leader will be impressive!”
“Could be too impressive. I would drag Simha’s nose through the mud. I despise the Simha Balanis of this world!”
“How can you, Rachel? Don’t you think he’s been through enough as it is?”
“I’m not talking about the accident: he’s a poor bugger; no doubt. But I know the type and I’d like to cut him to size!”
“I don’t understand: honest!”
For a while Rachel’s eyes focused on a point above my shoulder. Her beautiful, usually serene face, lost its detached expression: she looked grim and withdrawn. It dawned on me that, despite our closeness, I knew little about her. All my probes into her past had been rebuffed. True, her surname suggested a Mid-European, Polish or Galician origin. Still, her features were not European.
For a while she hesitated. Then she told me her full story. Rachel’s mother was a Sephardic – a Middle Eastern Jewess. Rachel’s father, Jacob Zeitlin, deserted his Rivka shortly after Rachel had been born. Rivka had no option but to move with her baby daughter to Schechunat Ha’Tikva: the poorest neighbourhoods in Tel Aviv, populated mainly by migrants from countries such as Yemen, Morocco and Iraq. Regrettably, all Middle Eastern Jews were treated as inferiors by the European Jewish population, the Ashkenasies (or “Shiknasies”). The only jobs Rivka could find were laundry and house cleaning, mainly in wealthier districts of Tel Aviv. Jacob Zeitlin never showed his face and sent no money to support them.
“It’s an ugly story. Still, what has this got to do with poor Simha Balani?”
“There were many Simha Balanis in our neighbourhood, Eli.”
“Don’t tell me one of them molested you!”
“No, of course not, Eli. The Simha Balanis of this world do not molest little girls or do naughty things. To the contrary, if you carry a heavy bag, a Simha will step over to help. And if somebody bothers you, a Simha will shoo him away. Our Simha is a well behaved and responsible member of the community!”
“But then, what’s wrong with him? What do you have against his type?”
“Your Simha has a chip. He believes the world owes him! Sometimes he feels sorry for himself because he is not a ‘Schiknasi’: he says the European Jews have it all made for them. On other occasions, he feels ‘deprived’ because nobody offers him a home in a better part of town; or because nobody advised him to work hard at school and go to university; or because he had to support younger brothers and sisters. Whenever he can: he steals a march. He does as little as he can at work; shirks responsibility and goes through life sulking because nobody thinks much of him. Worse still: your Simha expects his baksheesh whenever he carries a heavy bag or does any other ‘good deed’ of the day!”
“Street wise – true! But why do you despise him?”
“The sanctimony and the shameful lack of dignity involved.”
Obviously, Rachel had succumbed to prejudice. Reasoning would be pointless. If she took the case, she would proceed on the basis that Simha was a rogue: a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Her cross-examination would be searching and might turn acrimonious.
“So you see, Eli: putting me in charge of this case is dangerous. I’m sure to use any chance I get to clobber Simha!””
“But where did he act wrongly in this case, Rachel?”
“What was a man of his age doing such a job? You have gone through the file. Don’t tell me you overlooked facts staring in your face!”
As always, she made her point bluntly and hit the nail on its head. Solbon’s records, copied onto our file, told their tale. Simha had turned down a comfortable office job because he ‘liked the fresh air’. Further, soon after he was constituted foreman of the gang, he insisted on reverting to his previous, less glamorous but equally well-paid, position. He lacked – so he had said – the leadership required of a foreman. Simha Balani had decided to remain a member of the floor, provided the annual pay increases remained forthcoming. Solbon – a model employer – let him have his way.
“He refused rank but wanted his yearly increments. What’s wrong with this?” I wanted to know.
“But why did he refused to remain foreman?”
“Why not accept his answer at face value?”
“Because if that post brought extra money he would have clung to it like a baby to its mother’s breast. No, Eli! Your Simha didn’t want to be seen to be the ‘boss’. He’d rather bully the foreman into doing what Simha advises. That, Eli, is Simha Balani in a nutshell!”
“If he is such an egotist, why did he risk his own neck to pull someone else out of danger, Rachel? Whatever the law says about such foolhardiness, it was a noble act!”
“I’m sure he had a motive. Simha wouldn’t risk life and limb for a mere fellow worker! He had a reason; it will be interesting to find out. Still, I’m not the right person for this case.”
“I’ll sure try to get to the bottom of things,” I promised.
“So, you’ll take the case on your own?”
“Well, yes. Solbon wants a friendly, out of court, settlement. But you’ll help me?”
“Sure. And now you better apprise Keren of the arrangement. He’ll be much relieved! He’ll know we are OK: his star team hasn’t fallen apart! No need for good old Jacob to return to his old rat race in the courts. He can continue to leave the dirty work to us!”
“An accurate but uncharitable summing up!” I muttered.
“But realistic, my pet. Why don’t you go and reassure him.”