Tuesday, October 10, 2023

If felt good to be back on American soil. Congressman Moore watched as the giant Airbus pulled up to the gate at JFK. A subdued Larry Sanders was by his side. Getting back to the States wasn’t easy, requiring multiple flights. Finally, they were home. The same couldn’t be said for Larry’s girlfriend, Robin, who was known to have been taken hostage by Hamas. The congressman didn’t even want to think of what she was going through.

The whereabouts of the rest of the Arens family, including Robin’s father and two sisters, remained unclear. They were guests at a bar mitzvah and had been ambushed along with the rest of the bar mitzvah party. It wasn’t yet known if they too were taken hostage. More than likely, they’d been killed. The congressman realized it would take days or perhaps weeks before Israeli officials could identify the bodies. Israel’s top priority seemed to be mobilizing for war. One of the first tasks the congressman faced would be arranging to obtain DNA from the Arens family home to assist with identification.

On top of everything else, Frank was dealing with the fallout from a letter, signed by the leadership of several student organizations at Harvard University, that placed the sole blame for the Hamas terrorist attack on Israel itself. Already, his staffers had fielded hundreds of angry phone calls and responded to thousands of angry emails from his constituents – both Jewish and non-Jewish. To Frank, the lack of a response from the administration spoke volumes. It was evident that an undercurrent of antisemitism had been building at universities around the world. That was particularly true at the elite universities in the United States, as borne out by documented incidents reported to the Anti-Defamation League.

Truthfully, it had always been there, but anti-Zionist sentiment had seemed to make antisemitism acceptable. Congressman Moore was a Democrat, but it was evident to him that universities had become hotbeds of leftist revisionism. Long-held historic perspectives were being abandoned, often at the expense of the truth. It was so much easier to blame Jews en masse than to look at the role the world had played in leaving millions of Jewish refugees with no place else to go.

The congressman couldn’t condone the Israeli treatment of Palestinians. That said, the idea that barbarism was a legitimate means of protest was appalling. Zionism was a response to antisemitism and not the other way around. Congressman Moore served a district that included large numbers of both Jews and Muslims. He had to walk a fine line that balanced the interests of both communities (along with all the others).

His son was a student at an Ivy League university, and his son-in-law was a student at what was often referred to as a near-Ivy. They had many Jewish friends, including the boy sitting in the seat on the airplane right next to him. They would both undoubtedly be caught up in massive clashes between pro-Israeli and pro-Palestinian demonstrators. The future would be especially hard on the young, who were easily influenced by their peers. Jewish students were caught in the middle, between the extreme left and the extreme right. Muslim students were under attack too, but at least they seemed to have the support of the left — for now.

The congressman thought about the incredible strain America would face as it stood alone with Israel. The world had become increasingly hostile toward Israel as it moved away from any form of Palestinian self-determination. Gaza in particular had been subject to a brutal blockade that was intended to cut off access to weaponry. Obviously, it had failed. The brutality of the attack on October 7 had proven that.

Of course as a congressman, he recognized the need to support Israel in spite of its shortcomings. As the sole democracy in the region, it was a critically strategic ally in the fight against terrorism. Perhaps the original partition of 1948 was ill-conceived. However, it was an attempt to provide self-determination to two peoples that shared the same land, much as was done with India and Pakistan.

Palestinians had endured a brutal occupation since 1967. They had every reason to fight back. Yet it was the Palestinians who walked away from a serious peace initiative at the turn of the millennium. Frank couldn’t help but imagine how different things might have been if a way had been found to bridge the divide between the two sides. If somehow a way could have been found, there wouldn’t have been a second intifada. There wouldn’t have been an Israeli backlash against a two-state solution.

Today’s students were born after the start of the millennium. To them, the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin was a long-forgotten memory. Sadly, it was their professors who were complicit in failing to teach about the failed attempts at making peace. To the congressman, it seemed that ‘enlightenment’ was coming at the expense of accuracy. Nothing could justify the brutality with which Hamas had attacked innocent Israelis. Nothing could justify the torture, mutilation and sexual assault that took place. Ironically, the people in the towns and kibbutzim near the Gaza border were said to be among the most pacifist in Israel.

Not anymore.

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For Larry, the trip home was more than just an ordeal. He was thankful that Congressman Moore had taken charge in making all the arrangements. The congressman stayed with him during the flight home. Larry desperately needed that. He wasn’t thinking clearly at all. He’d left his wallet and passport at Kibbutz Be’eri while he was at the festival. The terrorists had either stolen them or they were destroyed in one of the fires they set to flush the residents out of their safe rooms.

The congressman was able to cut through a lot of red tape for the return trip. He obtained an emergency passport for Larry in less than a day. However, the reaction of the Immigration Control agent at Kennedy Airport nearly sent him over the edge. Seeing where the passport had been issued, the agent asked, “Were you near where the terrorist attack occurred?” It was such a simple question, but to Larry, there was nothing simple about it.

At first Larry shook violently as the horror of it all came back to him. Not even he understood where that had come from.

Finally, he composed himself and said, “I was at the Re’im music festival, near the Gaza border. I was on stage, playing with one of the featured bands. The band members tried to help me escape, but they were all killed when terrorists fired their weapons right into our van. I survived by hiding under one of the corpses.”

“I’d like to say I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like, but I can,” the agent replied. “I did two tours in Afghanistan and saw a lot of horrible things. I’ll never forget any of it. At least the VA’s been great at helping me to get through the PTSD. I know you’re not a vet, but there’s help available. There’s no shame in asking for help when you need it.”

Larry wasn’t ready to think about any of that and nearly told the agent to fuck off. Then his sanity returned and he realized the agent had witnessed plenty of atrocities. He spoke from experience and he was right.

The images of what Larry had seen wouldn’t leave him alone. They weren’t going to go away. Not ever. He’d been forever changed by the events of October 7. Somehow, he was going to have to deal with that. Of course the first priority was saving Robin. Once they were reunited, they’d both need to undergo intensive therapy.

So instead of telling him to fuck off, Larry told the agent, “The voice of experience. Thanks, man.” Then he proceeded on his way.

It felt weird for Larry to pass through customs without any luggage. He didn’t even have any carry-on items, let alone checked luggage. The clothes he’d brought with him were left at the kibbutz. The clothes he’d worn to the festival had been covered with blood and soaked in urine. They’d had to be thrown out. Congressman Moore had helped him pick up a few basic items to wear on the flights home.

Although Larry had left his wallet and passport at the kibbutz for safekeeping during the festival, he still had his smartphone with him when he was rescued. However, he’d been so traumatized by the attack that he’d completely forgotten about it until someone asked him if he needed to borrow their phone to call someone.

Not knowing what had happened to Robin was the worst thing. He’d yet to realize just how bad it could be until he contacted Robin’s brother. It was Josh who told him about the Instagram video showing Robin being taken hostage. Larry felt terribly alone at that moment; then Congressman Moore reached out to him. A state department car was sent to pick him up and the congressman kept him by his side. With a teenage son of his own, the congressman treated Larry as if he was another son.

However, for Larry, the nightmare had just begun.

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Seth Whitmore waited with his husband, Asher, in the arrivals area of the International Terminal at JFK. There were hundreds of other people waiting for friends and family members to emerge. Waiting with them were their longtime friends from high school: Freck, Kyle, Josh and Dave. They went to different universities now yet remained very close.

Josh Arens in particular was hurting. His youngest sister had been taken hostage by Hamas. Worse still, he didn’t know if his other two sisters or his father were even alive. At least he had his boyfriend, Dave Schuster, at this side. Seth and Asher felt strongly for Josh. They were very concerned for Robin and the rest of the Arens family. They’d known them since they first moved to the Lower East Side of Manhattan nearly four years ago.

Seth was also worried about his dad, who’d been in Jerusalem when the Hamas attack began. Although the President himself had seen to the arrangements for Congressman Moore’s safe return, Seth wouldn’t feel satisfied until his father was in his arms.

The one person who couldn’t be at the airport was the congressman’s wife, an oncologist at the Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. She’d tried to take time off, but many of the physicians in her practice were Jewish. Some of them had lost family in the attack. A few of them had even volunteered to meet the critical need for physicians in the IDF. Hence, Julie Moore could hardly take time off when there were others with a greater need.

As the arriving passengers exited Customs and Immigration in small batches, Seth had little trouble spotting his dad. Seth Whitmore shared his father’s blond hair and vivid green eyes. Whereas his father’s hair was short and neatly styled, Seth’s hair was so wavy that no matter what he did, he ended up with an unruly mop of golden curls. The congressman was also several inches taller than his son, who took more after his mother when it came to height. The resemblance was otherwise unmistakable.

Larry Sanders had a slight build and had yet to fill out with the muscles to match his teenage frame, though his jet-black hair and golden eyes made him stand out in any crowd. Yet now there was something different about his appearance as he entered the arrivals lounge. It wasn’t just that he had a gaunt appearance or that there were dark circles under his eyes. In many ways, he looked like a walking corpse. At first glance, Seth didn’t even recognize his friend.

In what could have been an awkward moment, Seth didn’t quite know how to respond to Larry’s appearance. Then it quickly resolved itself as Josh drew Larry into a tight embrace. Seth could only imagine how much the two boys were hurting. For Josh, it was his sister and the for Larry, his lover that had been taken hostage.

Seth knew the kind of pain they were experiencing. Just a few months before, Asher had been brutally attacked and come within a millimeter of losing his life. His thoughts were interrupted when his father engulfed him in his arms. For a brief moment, Seth was a little boy again without a care in the world. It felt good to be in his father’s arms. Too soon, the reality of the moment came crashing back.

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Simon and Craig hadn’t been directly impacted by the events in Israel. Although they both knew Robin, they’d not been following the news that closely. They’d not seen the video of her abduction. It hadn’t even registered on either boy that she and her family had been in Israel at the time of the attack. Larry Sanders was little more than an acquaintance. They’d not realized he was at the site of the music festival when the massacre occurred.

Neither boy had been raised with religion and Craig hadn’t even learned Hebrew, nor had he undergone a bar mitzvah. He wasn’t even aware that Saturday had been a Jewish holiday, let alone that people traveled to Israel in celebration of it. They’d spent the weekend planning their Halloween costumes and making plans for a Halloween party in Craig’s apartment.

Simon would be dressing up as his hero, Steven Hawking. Following a similar theme of famous physicists, Craig would be dressing up as Albert Einstein. Much of their weekend was spent looking for materials for their costumes on the internet. They’d need to rent wigs locally, but everything else would be assembled from things they would purchase online.

The school week started off much as any other. Although Bronx Science had a significant number of Jewish students, the vast majority were Asian. For them, the events of the weekend were in the background.

Simon and Craig were indifferent to it all. Violence in the Middle East was nothing new and there was little doubt that nothing would change in the end. That illusion was shattered on Tuesday evening, when they sent off invitations to their Halloween party by email. Scarcely three minutes passed when they got their first reply.

It was Tanner Epstein who answered first, and he didn’t mince his words. ‘How the fuck can you even THINK of having a party?’

That certainly startled them, so Craig responded, ‘WTF! Why not?’

Moments later, he received Tanner’s reply. ‘Don’t you know what’s happened? Robin Arens was taken hostage by Hamas. We don’t know about the rest of her family. They were either taken hostage or killed. Her boyfriend, Larry, barely got out alive!”

Suddenly, the events in the Middle East were no longer something that happened ‘over there’. Suddenly, the events of October 7 had come home to affect the boys personally.

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Wednesday, October 11, 2023

Congressman Moore drove down to Washington in the early morning hours. Once he awoke, he couldn’t get back to sleep, so he brewed a fresh thermos of coffee. His body told him it was time for lunch. However, it was pitch black outside. Packing his things, he rode down the elevator and got in his car. While it probably wasn’t wise to drive while still jet-lagged, what else was there for him to do?

Congress was back in session. Today would be the first of many votes to elect a new speaker. He was a Democrat in a House where Republicans were in the majority but held only a razor-thin margin. His party wouldn’t be able to choose the next speaker. However, his vote might make a tiny difference in helping to prevent the election of someone from the extreme right wing.

Upon his arrival, he met with his staffers. The first thing discussed was a communication from the Israeli authorities in Ofakim. Sadly, three bodies had been recovered matching the description of Josh’s father and older sisters. The description of one of the girls in particular, with her piercings and purple-tipped, yellow hair, left little doubt.

That the girls had been sexually assaulted and beheaded would not be shared with anyone else. The terrorists had attempted to burn down the houses where the bodies were found. However, the concrete block construction prevented the fire from spreading. The Arens family’s passports were recovered from the scene.

The congressman would wait to inform Josh of the findings until the identities were confirmed by DNA. For that, his staffers would make arrangements with the local FBI field office in New York. Samples collected from the Arens home would be sent to Israel. Josh would be notified only after testing was complete. There was no point in putting the young man through the agony of loss more than once.

Also on Frank Moore’s long to-do list was to ask Josh the name of his father’s attorney. Perhaps he’d have his boyfriend’s mother ask him. The congressman would contact the attorney to initiate the lengthy process of dealing with the deaths of Josh’s family.

First and foremost were to claim survivor benefits, dependent Social Security benefits and the proceeds of the any life insurance policies. The proceeds and benefits would be divided evenly between Josh and Robin, assuming she survived. The apartment and any savings and investments would also be divided between the two surviving children. Of course, that would be after all debts had been paid. Hopefully, there was enough life insurance to pay off the mortgage. Otherwise, the apartment would have to be sold.

When — not if — Robin came home, she’d likely be an orphan. At sixteen, she’d still be a minor but able to live on her own if she so chose. However, that would mean being under the watchful eye of CPS. Hopefully, the father had designated a guardian. Perhaps there was a friend who’d fill that role. If not, the congressman and his wife could take her in until she graduated from high school.

Congressman Moore would have his staffers make the arrangements to bring back the bodies to New York. Undoubtedly, the father already had a burial plot next to his wife. It was doubtful any arrangements had been made for the children. No parent ever wants to think about the burial needs of their children.

Sighing, the congressman realized he was getting way ahead of himself. At least Josh had a loving boyfriend and a cadre of close friends, his son included. Still, there was nothing any of them could do to prevent the anguish young Joshua was soon to know.

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Seth Whitmore could ill afford to take time away from his classes at Columbia. He’d taken Monday off, thinking his father would be arriving home that day, but the congressman wasn’t able to return until Tuesday. Traveling with his father was Larry Sanders, Robin Arens’ boyfriend. Seth met the two of them in the arrivals lounge at JFK. Larry looked positively horrible. It was probably not all that different from the way he’d looked when he learned of the attack on his husband just a few months before.

Fortunately, Kyle and Freck came down from Boston to be with Josh and Larry. They were in a much better position to take time off from their classes at MIT. They were true geniuses who were in their fourth year of study at MIT at the ages of fourteen and sixteen. Given their close ties with people who’d been affected by the Hamas attack, no one could fault them for wanting to be with them.

Seth was smart enough to get into an Ivy League school. However, he hoped to get into law school at Columbia or alternatively, at NYU, which were among the best of the best. More importantly, he didn’t want to be separated from his husband, who was tied down by his family’s restaurant in New York. Fordham was also highly regarded, but it wasn’t in the same league as Columbia or NYU.

For Kyle and Freck, getting into graduate school at MIT was a given. For Seth, getting into Columbia’s law school would be the biggest challenge of his life. Hence, Wednesday morning found Seth heading back to class at Columbia University.

Exiting the subway and entering the campus, he passed by crowds of hundreds of protesters. There were Jewish students waving Israeli flags, showing their solitary with Israel at its time of sorrow. Surprisingly, at least to Seth, there was a large contingent of Palestinian students and students sympathetic to the Palestinian cause, waving Palestinian flags and chanting slogans in support of the citizens of Gaza. Seth thought their demonstration was in particularly poor taste.

Not that he agreed with the way Israel had dealt with the Palestinians on the West Bank and in Gaza. Still, Israel had just endured the unimaginably brutal massacre of more than a thousand of its citizens. More than two hundred people — Israelis, foreign nationals from around the world and even Thai guest workers — had been taken hostage.

He was peripherally aware that Israel had been bombarding Gaza ever since the attack, but he assumed they were targeting the missile launchers from which Hamas had been firing rockets on Israeli cities and towns. He could hardly fault them for that. He didn’t realize that the rockets had been launched from within densely-populated areas and that as a result, apartment blocks were being reduced to rubble. He expected that the Israelis took every precaution to avoid collateral damage but didn’t realize that to the world, it appeared as if Israel was targeting innocent civilians.

Taking his usual seat between his longtime friend from high school, Clarke, and his new friend, Ahmad, Seth prepared to endure another day of lectures. His heart wasn’t in it, though. The mere thought about what Robin Arens must be going through sickened him.

Clarke had met Robin, and she’d attended some of the parties he’d hosted at his family’s house on Staten Island, but he hadn’t realized she was one of the hostages. “Where have you been the last couple of days?” He asked his friend. Then noticing that Seth seemed to be down, he asked, “Seth, are you okay?”

“Is it that obvious?” Seth asked.

Suddenly remembering that he’d seen Seth’s dad being interviewed on CNN, he asked, “It just dawned on me, your father was in Israel over the weekend. He was there during the attack, wasn’t he? Is that why you were out the last two days?”

“It’s more than that, Clarke,” Seth answered. “Yeah, I was worried about my dad. I picked him up at the airport, but I had friends in Israel too. Larry Sanders — I don’t think you know him, but he’s a music prodigy. He’s sixteen and goes to LaGuardia. He was at the Re’im music festival. That’s where the biggest massacre occurred. He survived by hiding under a dead body until he was rescued by a Bedouin. My dad helped him get a new passport. He made arrangements for him to come home, but that’s not the worst of it.

“Larry’s girlfriend, Robin Arens, is a very good friend of ours. You’ve met her — she attended your pool parties. She goes to Bronx Science. She and her family were attending a bar mitzvah in Ofakim, in Israel. Robin was taken hostage. There’s even an Instagram video of her being forced into an SUV. We don’t know what happened to her sisters and father. They’re probably dead.

“Robin’s brother, Josh, stayed home and he’s a basket case. You might remember Josh. He and his boyfriend, Dave Schuster, graduated from Stuyvesant last spring. They’re now at Stony Brook. You can imagine what Josh and Larry are going through, knowing Robin’s in the hands of the terrorists. Josh doesn’t even know if the rest of his family’s even alive. I’ve known them since they moved to our neighborhood almost four years ago. They’re very good friends.”

“Oh man, Seth. I had no idea,” Clarke responded. “I do remember Robin Arens and her boyfriend, Larry. I remember Josh and Dave too. They were at the Memorial Day pool party I hosted for your eighteenth birthday. That was just before you left for your internship in Washington.”

“Right, of course they were there,” Seth related.

“Listen, man, if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

“Thanks, Clarke. I appreciate it,” Seth replied.

Just then, the lecture started, precluding any further discussion until later. Seth noticed that his other friend, Ahmad, was uncharacteristically quiet. He wasn’t sure why.

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Ahmad left the lecture hall as quickly as he could at the end of the morning’s classes. Although they’d talked quietly, he heard most of what Seth and Clarke said to each other. Frankly, he was conflicted and needed to be by himself. He needed time to think.

The pro-Israeli and pro-Palestinian protests had grown significantly since the morning and the last thing he wanted was to be drawn into the mess. Clearly, he was drawn to the Palestinian cause, but the brutality of Hamas’ attack wasn’t something he could ignore. Although he’d been born and raised in the U.S., he’d spent his critical teenage years living in Nablus. He’d witnessed Israeli atrocities firsthand. Seth and Clarke had no idea what went on over there. They couldn’t possibly understand how that kind of oppression could lead one to lose their sense of humanity.

Grabbing a halal beef shawarma wrap and a can of Coke from a street vendor, Ahmad crossed Broadway and walked along 115^th Street. Crossing Riverside Drive, he sat down on a bench overlooking Riverside Park. With some time before his next class, he thought about the situation in the Middle East as he ate his lunch. Did what he heard Seth say change anything?

No American could understand what it was like to live under a brutal occupation. For four years, he’d lived and gone to school in Nablus. Two illegal Israeli settlements were visible from his bedroom window. Incidents between settlers and Palestinians were common. He’d known people who lost family members. Innocent teenagers died at the hands of settlers who had nothing better to do than to harass the local residents. The Israeli soldiers looked on and did nothing as the settlers shot them in cold blood.

Then there was the daily life under siege. Ahmad and his family couldn’t be considered poor by any means. Having money allowed them to live in a luxurious flat. They had servants who attended to their every need. They drove nice cars. However, no amount of money could make up for life under occupation. They couldn’t leave Nablus without passing through a series of checkpoints, any one of which could result in hours-long delays.

Even within Nablus, there was the perpetual feeling of being watched. No matter how low a profile they kept, they could be stopped for questioning at any time. Ahmad’s parents were highly-educated — full professors — yet it didn’t matter to the Israeli soldiers. They were treated as if they were terrorists by default.

With Nablus being a college town, there were protests. Frequent protests, and it didn’t take much to set them off. Palestinian students in Nablus didn’t enjoy the freedom of expression American students took for granted. Yet that didn’t stop them from protesting. At times, it seemed a protest could grow into a third Intifada. There was little question that the IDF would crush such an effort as soon as it began.

And then there was Ahmad’s extended family spread throughout the West Bank and Gaza. He couldn’t imagine what the people of Gaza were going through. They didn’t ask for the Hamas attack, but they were the ones paying the price for it. And if Israel invaded Gaza as it seemed they were intent to do, the death toll could number in the tens of thousands. He didn’t want to even think of that.

Although not raised with religion, he did learn about Islam during his time in Nablus. He certainly understood the allure of Jihad. However, he was under no illusion that any kind of war could ever be holy. War meant killing or being killed. There was nothing holy about that. Still, people could only be downtrodden for so long. They could only take so much abuse before they rose up.

He couldn’t imagine strapping explosives to himself and detonating them in a crowd. However, he understood the mentality of those that did. He doubted there was any kind of paradise that awaited them. Still, it was easy enough to convince children that they were more valuable as martyrs than alive with no future.

He had no love of Hamas. They were funded by Iran and promised prosperity and an end to Israel while delivering neither. Their resources might have been used to remake Gaza as a Mediterranean Mecca of vast wealth. Instead, they built a network of tunnels and amassed a vast stockpile of weapons.

They hid underground and disappeared after firing their rockets. They left the civilian population to take the brunt of the Israeli reprisals. They were cowards to the core. Yet he had to admire the way they’d taken the fight to Israel, no matter how barbaric their attack had been.

Ahmad shuddered at the thought of what Seth’s friend was going through as a hostage in Gaza. For better or worse, the taking of some 250 hostages gave Hamas real leverage. Israel had previously shown a willingness to exchange hundreds of Palestinian prisoners, just to get one hostage back alive. He could imagine what kind of concessions Hamas might get for the safe return of so many hostages. Even so, he suspected they’d overplayed their hand. No matter what they might accomplish, it would only come after a bloodbath.

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Saturday, October 14, 2023

One week. One fucking week! Just one week ago, Larry had been a happy teen with a wonderful girlfriend, a promising career in music and a bright future. But then the rockets flew and everything changed.

Upon returning to the States, Larry spent nearly all of his time holed up in his room. His parents stayed home with him, but he pushed them away. He told them he was fine but they didn’t believe him. He just wanted to be left alone. Other than eating lunch and dinner with them, he didn’t wish to see them at all. He didn’t wish to see anyone.

His friends, Freck and Kyle, who’d taken time off from their studies at MIT, lived on the next block. In fact, their brownstone was back-to-back kitty-corner to his and there was a doorway through the concrete privacy walls that enclosed each yard where the two yards overlapped. During the summer three years ago, when Robin was staying with Freck and Kyle, that doorway facilitated many a late-night encounter. He didn’t want to even think about that. As he did with his parents, he pushed his friends away.

But then, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling was starting to get to him. Every time he closed his eyes, he relived the horror of October 7. Even with his eyes open, he couldn’t help but think about Robin. The video of her abduction was etched into his brain. He kept seeing her being stuffed into the back seat of an SUV. It was all too much, so he came to a decision. He just didn’t tell anyone about it until yesterday morning.

He got up at the usual time and took a shower – the first shower he’d taken since returning to New York. He brushed his teeth and shaved. Getting dressed, he headed downstairs to the kitchen, where his father was already reading the New York Times and drinking his first cup of coffee. They actually subscribed to the print edition of The Times, not just the digital edition, seven days a week. Larry just couldn’t relate to that.

“You’re up awfully early,” his father exclaimed as Larry poured himself a mug of coffee, added milk and sugar, and prepared a bowl of granola with bananas and yogurt.

Sitting across from his father, he replied, “I always get up this early when I have school.”

“You aren’t thinking of going to school, are you, Larry?” his father asked. “No one expects you back so soon after what you went through.”

“Staying home all day is driving me crazy!” Larry explained. “When I close my eyes, I see rockets, explosions and guns pointed my way. When I open my eyes, I see Robin being taken hostage. It’s all I can think about. I need something else to occupy my thoughts.

“No, I’m not sure I’m ready to go back to school. But I need to be doing something. I doubt I’ll be able to do shit when it comes to making music. At least I gotta try. School’s familiar. There’s a routine and a sequence to it. School will keep me busy. I won’t have the time to think about what happened.

“I know I’m gonna hafta face it all eventually. I know Robin and I are gonna need a shitload of therapy. Until then, school will keep me occupied during the day. My assignments will keep me busy at night. Something other than thinking about what happened or what Robin must be going through.”

Even with such a well-thought explanation, his father tried to talk him out of going back so soon. In the end, it was Larry’s decision to make. Of course what he failed to realize was that school would be anything but routine. Not on his first day back. The first day back at school was bound to be an unmitigated disaster, and it was. Larry hadn’t prepared himself for it. The constant stares of his classmates nearly put him over the edge. It was obvious people had questions they were too polite to ask. Kids he thought of as friends seemed to be positively afraid of him. At lunch, he sat alone.

By the time he got home, there were posts about him all over social media. Rumors abounded about how he’d survived the massacre. Some even suggested he picked up a machine gun and fought back! It was a feeding frenzy. Of course he told none of that to his parents. As far as they were concerned, his day went fine. It was only when he went to bed that he realized he’d chosen to go back to school on Friday the thirteenth.

Sleep that night was particularly fitful as he kept reliving the attack in his dreams. In the morning, he felt as if he hadn’t slept at all. He just couldn’t go on like this. Grabbing his phone, he saw it was only 7:14, but he couldn’t get back to sleep. At first, he thought maybe he’d go for a run in Central Park. A quick glance out the window showed him it was raining quite heavily. So much for that.

Thinking about the friends he’d pushed away, he realized how much they’d tried to be there for him. He thought about how shitty he’d been in return. He realized Freck and Kyle were probably still asleep like any respectable teenagers on a Saturday morning. However. he didn’t want take a chance on their making plans.

Therefore, Larry texted them:

It was scarcely a minute later that Kyle replied:

Larry wasn’t sure he wanted to go anywhere near the synagogue. He could scarcely believe it had only been three weeks since he performed at the Kol Nidre service. The problem was that he’d be recognized for sure. With what happened to him in Israel, it could be awkward, especially if the rabbi gave a sermon on the attack.

Almost as if reading his mind, though, Freck sent him a text clarifying Kyle’s offer:

Larry texted back:

OK see you then. Dress?

Jokingly, Freck texted back:

Larry couldn’t help but laugh. He only hoped he wasn’t making a big mistake, especially after what happened at school. He showered and grabbed some toast and coffee to tide him over. At the appointed time, he headed for the back gate behind his house.

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“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Freck asked as the boys were seated in a booth at the City Diner, at the corner of Broadway and West 90^th Street.

Still a bit shaken by the episode, Larry merely nodded his head.

“I thought you handled it well,” Kyle added.

“What choice did I have?” Larry responded. “How could you have known that one of the kids had an uncle who was taken hostage? The thing was, it just came out of the blue. As much as I tried to hold it together, I couldn’t.”

“You did amazingly well,” Kyle reiterated. “I would’ve been a basket case.”

“I was a basket case,” Larry countered, “but I had some practice at school yesterday. That helped me pull it together.”

“You went to school yesterday?” Freck responded in shock, perhaps a bit too loudly. Dropping to a whisper, he continued, “Why the fuck did you go back to school? You’re not ready for that!”

“I had to, Freck,” Larry answered. “Spending all my time in my room was drivin’ me crazy. If I closed my eyes, all I saw was the rocket attack and the gunfire and a head exploding right in front of me. If I kept my eyes open, all I could think about was what happened to Robin. I had to do something.”

“Knowing kids, I bet everyone stared at you, yet no one dared to talk to you,” Kyle interjected.

“You got it in one,” Larry replied. “It was like I was some sort of freak with a contagious disease. Everyone was curious. No one wanted to get close enough to take a chance on catching it.”

“You gonna go back on Monday?” Freck asked.

“Yeah,” Larry answered. “Now that I put my toe in the water, I might as well dive in.”

“It probably won’t take long for the novelty to wear off,” Kyle added.

“That’s what I’m counting on,” Larry replied.

“We’ll need to head back soon,” Freck commented. “From what we’re hearing from our friends up at MIT, things have gotten a bit dicey up there. Not as bad as at Harvard or even here at Columbia, but it’s still become a hostile place for Jewish students.

“It’s become fashionable to champion Palestinian rights. So if a terrorist group, funded by Iran, carries out a heinous attack on their behalf, then it’s what the Jews had coming. Those kids need to visit Auschwitz. They need to see the scope of the place… to see the ovens that are still smoldering after all these years.”

“That doesn’t excuse the way Israel has treated the Palestinians,” Kyle countered.

“I know that,” Freck replied, “but even the professors seem to think the Israelis are colonists who’ve stolen land from an indigenous people. Zionism wouldn’t even exist, had it not been for centuries of persecution. We were a people who had nowhere else to go. The world was all to eager to take land from the Palestinians. Better that than take in thousands of Jewish refugees themselves in the wake of the Holocaust.”

“Like the Gypsies or the Kurds, we were a people without a land of our own,” Larry added. He couldn’t help but be awed by the way Freck, who’d been raised a Roman Catholic, now identified so completely with the Jews.

“Except that it’s complicated,” Kyle interjected. “The partition of India and Pakistan was such a bloody mess. Why should we expect better from the partition of Palestine?”

“Like it or not, Israel is real, now,” Freck added. “There’s no undoing that reality without creating a new refugee crisis. The trick is to find a fair resolution, with proper restitution to the Palestinians for what they’ve lost.”

“Good luck with that one,” Larry said. “Look at how contentious the concept of reparations for slavery in the US has been. Imagine if we tried to give restitution to the native Americans for taking their land. Try as we might, you can’t undo the past.”

An older woman approached their table and asked, “Are you boys ready to order?”

“Sorry, we haven’t even opened our menus yet,” Freck responded. “Could we have, like, five minutes to decide?”

“Sure thing, honey. I’ll come back in five.”

“Would you mind getting us all some coffee,” Kyle interrupted.

“Certainly, sugar,” she said, returning moments later with a carafe of coffee and pouring each of them a cup.

They opened their menus, which were extensive, and started to flip through page after page of entrées. Larry asked, “By the way, is there any word on Robin’s sisters and dad?”

“Please don’t say anything to Josh,” Freck answered, “but I have it from Seth that they’ve recovered their bodies.”

“Oh shit!”

“His dad’s waiting for confirmation from DNA before he tells Josh. They recovered their passports from the houses near where they were found. With her died hair and piercings, Stacey’s identity is pretty firm.”

“Good God. I just want my Robin back,” Larry responded with tears in his eyes.

“We all do,” Kyle replied. Then noticing the server coming their way, he added, “We need to get ready to order.”

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Tuesday, October 17, 2023

Seth opened the door to his apartment, only to find that his father was sitting at the dining room table, peering over some papers and working on his laptop.

“Hey, Dad,” Seth began. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I got the DNA results back today, confirming the identity of the bodies of the Arens family,” Congressman Moore related. “I wanted to tell Josh personally, so I drove up.”

“Oh man,” Seth related. “How’d he take it?”

“About as well as could be expected. He’d pretty much already accepted that it was likely they were killed. I didn’t tell him the details, even though he asked. At least he had his boyfriend with him and his boyfriend’s mom. Both boys went through losing a parent when they were young, but loss is never easy.”

“Do you know when the funeral’s gonna be?” Seth asked.

“We’re making arrangements for Thursday,” Frank Moore answered. “As you know, burial has to be done as soon as possible in the Jewish faith. I pulled some strings with the State Department to expedite the transfer of their remains via military transport. They should arrive by tomorrow afternoon, and the family’s attorney has made arrangements with a funeral home to pick up the bodies and prepare them for burial.

“The father has a plot in Washington Cemetery, in Brooklyn, next to where his wife is buried. Of course he never expected to have to bury his daughters and there isn’t any space on either side of them. The cemetery’s overcrowded as it is. They’re going to do what a lot of older cemeteries are doing now. Due to space constraints, they’ll stack the coffins on top of each other and use a common headstone for the parents and their two daughters.”

“I didn’t know such a thing was even possible,” Seth responded.

“Apparently, it’s kosher and it’ll keep the family together. With the two plots next to each other, there’s actually room for nine burials. God forbid they should ever need that many.”

“Ashe and I will make it a point to attend,” Seth added. “Actually, we’ll make it a point to help Josh and Larry as much as we can. From what Freck tells me, Larry has a serious case of PTSD. At least he’s letting Freck and Ky in now. He’s gone back to school, which I think was a big mistake. He felt he needed to be doing something to take his mind off what happened, and off of Robin being a hostage.”

“The boy needs professional help,” the congressman observed.

“That he does, but he probably won’t get it because he doesn’t want to face what might be happening to Robin.”

“Josh may be in even worse straits, in spite of having a boyfriend,” Congressman More suggested. “Not only does he have to deal with Robin’s captivity, but he’s lost both of his parents and his two older sisters. He’s likely to have serious survivor’s guilt.”

“Survivor’s guilt?” Seth asked.

“Had Josh gone to Israel, he’d have probably been killed too, but he probably doesn’t see it that way. As far as he’s concerned, had he gone, he might be dead but his sisters and father would have been safe.”

“But that’s preposterous,” Seth responded.

“Of course it is, but by its nature, the subconscious is known to interpret things in strange ways… Anyway, I’ll be here for a couple of days. You got any plans?”

“Ashe and I are gonna go see the new Wegmans at Astor Place,” Seth replied. “It’s in the old K-Mart building. It’s supposed to be huge. It’s their first store in Manhattan. The grand opening’s tomorrow. We’re gonna meet there for lunch.”

Laughing, the congressman replied, “Wegmans only opens one new store per year, nation-wide. They’re all over the D.C. metro area. Their stores are nicer than most, but there really isn’t much to distinguish them from Giant or even Whole Foods.”

“This one’s supposed to be really upscale,” Seth added.

“Just what Manhattan needs — another high-end grocery store that only the rich can afford,” the congressman quipped.

“Getting affordable groceries is a big problem in New York City in general, Dad,” Seth responded. “Most groceries are either crappy and expensive, or high end and outrageously expensive. There’s nothing in between.

“The major chains won’t go into the poorer neighborhoods. Most people are forced to drive miles to the closest grocery, if they even have a car. Otherwise, they hafta buy their groceries at the neighborhood corner store or bodega. That costs way more than going to Wegmans!

“For a lot of folks, the best option is to pay for delivery from Walmart or Amazon. They both operate out of warehouses in New Jersey and the cost savings pay for the delivery cost or membership fee.”

“Son, we’ve been wrestling with the grocery desert issue for years,” Seth’s father replied. “Perhaps when you’re the mayor, you’ll finally be the one to solve it.”

Both men laughed at that.

<> <> <>

Thursday , October 19, 2023

The memorial chapel was packed. Josh had wanted to keep it small. He’d even asked for a graveside service, but that was not to be. The arrival of coffins from Israel ended the congressman’s attempt to keep things quiet.

Poor Larry was suddenly in the spotlight. As a local survivor of the Re’im massacre, every news organization wanted to interview him. However, he was a minor. His parents intervened on his behalf.

Josh was another matter. He was an adult and bore the full brunt of the news media’s interest. His father and two older sisters had died in a very public way. His sister was one of the hostages. Everyone wanted a piece of him, but he had little left to give; his soul was shattered.

Just dealing with the loss of his family was overwhelming. Dealing with his younger sister’s captivity was even worse. He was grateful for Congressman Moore’s help with everything — and for Mr. Kolinsky’s assistance. Mr. Kolinsky insisted that Josh call him Jason, even though he was older than his father had been.

Jason had been his father’s attorney from the time his mother died. Josh hadn’t even known his father had an attorney. Thank God for Jason, as Josh could have never handled everything on his own. His father had trusted Jason, and so he trusted Jason.

Josh was shocked by the cost, though. Jason was up front about the need to cover his expenses. More than that, he had a family to feed and kid to put through college. As a favor to Avrahm Arens, who’d been a longtime client, he was only charging $450 an hour.

Josh couldn’t believe that was very much at the low end for New York! Plenty of attorneys charged well over a thousand an hour. Josh was also on the hook for filing fees and other incidentals. Then there was the cost of the funeral itself in addition to the burials.

At least his father had taken out the maximum amount of life insurance available under the university’s faculty policy. He’d even taken out insurance on each child. He’d done that after losing his wife at such a young age to cancer.

For the pittance it had cost as a university faculty member, he was able to rest assured that his kids would be taken care of. Unfortunately, Josh was going to have to fight for it. The policy had an exclusion clause for death resulting from acts of war or terrorism.

New York law placed the burden of proof on the insurance company. The exclusion could only be applied if an insured person knowingly entered a war zone or an area where terrorism was rampant. One could argue the case that terrorism was rampant in Israel.

However, prior to October 7, death was less common from terrorism in Israel than from random acts of violence in the U.S. The same company had settled claims after 9/11. Jason would fight them, if necessary, to force them to settle the Arens’ family’s claim.

The university’s credit union held the mortgage on the apartment. They provided mortgage insurance that wasn’t contingent on the cause of death. Hence, the apartment would belong to Josh and Robin, free and clear.

He and Robin were the sole beneficiaries of their father’s 401k retirement plan. It had to be handled very carefully, however, or they’d end up paying a shitload in taxes. They’d both be eligible to continue coverage under their father’s health insurance plan and for free tuition at any of the state universities.

As a surviving minor, Robin would be eligible for a pension benefit from the university as well as Social Security until she graduated from high school. Jason was handling the paperwork, thank God! Josh wouldn’t have known where to begin.

The only wrinkle was that some things couldn’t be finalized until his sister was freed. When that would be was anyone’s guess. Josh wasn’t even going to think about the possibility that she might never come home.

The congressman saw to it that the news media were excluded from the funeral service itself. He could do little to keep them away from the graveside. Even without the media, each of Josh’s sisters had dozens of friends and hundreds of classmates, colleagues and acquaintances.

Stacey had millions of fans, worldwide. His father had thousands of former students. Then there were the mayor, the governor, both senators and several congressmen, as well as several state senators, assembly members and city council members. Not everyone could come on such short notice but even so, they filled one of the largest Jewish funeral homes in Brooklyn.

The funeral service was presided over by one of Avrahm Arens’ former students, who was now the chief rabbi at a Reform congregation in Riverdale. She was the same rabbi who’d presided over Freck and Kyle’s double bar mitzvah back in July. It was Freck who’d known about the past connection to the Arens family and who suggested she officiate.

Although closed caskets are usual in Jewish funerals, seeing the three coffins in front of him was devastating to Josh. It was so final. So real. Although the congressman had always changed the subject whenever Josh asked, he’d read enough accounts online about how the victims were raped and tortured. He didn’t want to think of what had happened in their final moments, yet he couldn’t get such thoughts out of his head.

He knew he would need to see a shrink. He’d been warned that he would feel survivor’s guilt, and he did. Strongly. He was a smart young man who’d always tried to rationalize adversity, but there was no way to rationalize this. Right now, however, the only thing that mattered was getting his one surviving sister back. Everything else paled in comparison.