Eran Ofir Turner

Murad was the son of a unique family, a Muslim mother and a Christian father, both of whom had modern worldviews.

"So how are you different?"

"Among us Christians, girls are not bound by all the rules of 'Muslim women.' And in this matter too, serious changes have taken place. Many women go out to work and are partners in the family economy, and the young continue their studies in Israel or abroad."

"And your mother? Is she a working woman?" I asked. "Is she allowed to leave the house alone?"

"My father is a communist. In his view, women are equal to men in all areas. From his perspective, she can work, study, and travel wherever she wants on her own. It's just that as a school principal, she doesn't have much time," he laughed.

"If the house is so open, then why are you in the closet? Why don't you live your life and tell them you love men?"

"It's more complex. It's not accepted in our extended family and in the village, so I don't think it's right to confront them with this."

"Don't be angry, but you're not that manly. You can see right away that you're a different type. You don't represent the Arab man, at least not in my eyes."

"True, but you're judging this based on an Arab stereotype and not really through acquaintance. Most of us work in ordinary jobs, we don't have a military tradition, we didn't enlist, and only a few of us became police officers who are willing to serve the State of Israel. And in general, what is manly? I didn't expect you to be judgmental." He seemed offended by my words.

"Our children are the whole story," he said, and his voice changed, choked and blocked as if the words themselves were weighing him down. "I function for them, take on all the responsibility, try not to let them notice the storms. Try not to let them understand that we have become strangers within our relationship and within the house. I try to do everything to maintain an appearance of normality. But it is clear that with all my efforts, children eventually feel everything. They are not stupid."

“So you’re the backbone of the house?” I asked, gently touching an inner point near the malleus bone, an area linked to neck pain and herniated discs. He groaned slightly.

"I'll be done soon, take a deep breath," I told him. "Now turn around, please, we're done with this side." Regev turned around quickly, almost with surprising ease. "Wait, wait, don't fall for me here. My professional responsibility doesn't cover recklessness," I said with a light laugh as I grabbed his shoulder, supporting him and trying to keep him steady until he stabilized.

"Everything's fine, don't worry," he tried to reassure me, his voice soft again.

Suddenly she knew that this was the right thing to do, to move without listening to all the voices around her. Now she had to concentrate only on herself and the precious life growing inside her body. She imagined a thought of an innocent creation sprouting from within her, and felt a stronger connection than ever to the understanding that there was something whole inside her. Every day she felt him in her womb, got to know him intimately, knew and watched his reactions. When she ate spicy foods, she felt him playfully running from side to side. The aroma of the Indian tea she brought from her home calmed him, and he relaxed, spread his hands softly and let go. He kept trying to challenge her, especially in moments when she needed rest, but she learned to accommodate his desires with understanding and patience.

"So what if he doesn't belong to me genetically," she muttered to herself, "his character is mine, his outbursts characterize my personality." They were one in every one of her movements, day and night.

Since he had been inserted into her, her husband had avoided her. Sometimes she wondered if he had given her up for him, or if he had done so for the success of the 'procedure', as he called it, ignoring the accepted definition of 'pregnancy.' Or perhaps he felt that someone else had touched her, since a stranger's sperm had been implanted in her womb, and so he had moved away? It felt comfortable to her, even though deep down she feared that he would not return to her the day after.