It was spring. The windflowers, the primroses, the red currants, the rag worts were all blooming in concert. Between them, the grass was bright green, lush and soft. After a harsh and gloomy winter the conciliatory sun sent pacifying rays to the soil, caressing the naked trees with a promise. The flowers were erect and fragrant, the birds sang.
We were back to the summer clothing that we missed — smelling like the soap bars that had laid amongst them all winter long. A new page had turned.
Yaron, with the first signs of a moustache, wore his white tee shirt and khaki short pants revealing his wintry pale limbs. In an unexpected burst of kindness he asked me to come along with his friends Beni and Victor to catch monarch butterflies or maybe a Painted Lady. I grabbed my magnifying glass in a hurry and stood quietly at the door hoping that there wouldn’t be a change of heart.
He brought his net and a brown bag and said as a leader delegating tasks, “you can carry this.” Empowered and reassured I held onto the accessories as if holding a ticket for the day. He scanned his room making sure nothing was forgotten and with an elegant jump leaped down the stairs out to the garden.
Avi was waiting outside with a rope wrapped diagonally around one shoulder and his waist. He wore a khaki shirt with two pockets in the front filled with stuff. His loose khaki shorts were held up by a belt with a dangling pocketknife on the side, his light brown socks drooping loosely, and on his high black boots were still traces of winter mud.
It was Shabbat morning and the day seems to burst with endless possibilities.
We walked briskly out of the neighborhood towards the mountains. On top of the second hill, about a mile in, was an abandoned old structure, built by the Turks; our meeting place. We called it the ‘white house’. Scattered around it were nails, screws, corks, cartridges, paper clips, clothespins, and pieces of hand grenades from the last war, all painted by the winter in rust colors.
There, I could see Beni with his brother Victor waiting for us.
Beni was tall, handsome and serious — six years older than me — as old as my brothers. Every time I saw him my stomach would sink inside in an odd mixture of pain and pleasure. “He makes me fly,” I wrote in my first journal in scripted letters. At times, his serious expression would melt into a sweet shy smile, which seemed hidden from all and directed to no one but me.
Victor, who had had polio as a baby, had to use crutches to walk. His legs would fold like rag dolls hinting at a metal structure under his pants. Victor would lift his unruly legs with his hands to the desired direction in an uninvolved manner.
When we arrived, Yaron asked Victor “how did you get here so fast?” and Victor, looking at Beni with admiration, said, “He carried me.”
In the same breath Victor continued, “I brought two match boxes.” After what seemed a long pause, he said dryly, “We can build a bomb with it.” Avi’s eyes and mouth opened up as he was leaning over towards Victor, as a snake would to a flute.
Yaron, holding his excitement pending practical investigation asked, “What else do we need to really make it?”
Victor, although three years younger then my brothers and Beni, became the center of the circle.
In a spontaneous act of selflessness, to help Beni, I broke the conditional rule for my partaking – to be mute and invisible – and I said glumly, “but we came to catch the Painted Lady.”
Yaron, gazing vacantly in my direction, too excited to get angry at my audacious comment, asked Victor urgently, “But can we make it today?”
Leaning his crutches on the half wall of the “white house” then sitting on its edge, Victor took his time to answer, “All we need is a small metal container. We cut all the match heads and push them tightly into the metal container… we then drop a big rock…” His speech got faster and higher, losing his poise as he continued, “…and the whole thing blows up with enough force to make a rocket reach the outer atmosphere.”
Beni seemed to contemplate the situation. He stood outside the circle staring at the ground, kicking a rock out of the hardened mud with the tip of his tennis shoes.
“Say something Beni” I said to myself the way my mom would encourage my dad to be more vocal.
“Lets start with a search for a metal container,” Yaron said full of zeal.
Beni, still looking down said quietly but firmly, “And what if it explodes in your face…?”
Yaron replied quickly, making eye contact with everyone around – even with me – “Well, we’ll make sure it won’t… come on… lets start”
“I want nothing to do with it” Beni said looking at Victor, “I am leaving.”
“Me too,” I said almost to myself, but was caught by Yaron’s piercing look conveying the ultimate threat: I am never taking you again.
“But it is too scary” I said to him trying to justify my betrayal.
It was Avi who wanted to keep the group together and dissipated the building tension with a new idea. He suggested an experiment– a way to determine how smart the ants were. Everyone was listening. As he noticed the others’ interest, his voice turned into a series of whimpers, his face scrunched up while his fists curled in. Often, I had to repeat what he said to people, but not for Beni and Victor, they understood.
“Let’s make a triangle with two slopes one made of sugar one made with salt. We’ll put some ants inside the triangle and the rest outside. Lets see how long it takes them to get out or break in. Then we’ll repeat the same thing and measure their time again. See if they can improve. I brought both salt and sugar. If they pass this test…” He continued struggling with his speech; breathing and swallowing his saliva at the same time “We can put a pile of sugar and surround it with a circle of fire … I also brought matches and rope to create a circle.”
Beni said, “I can see a nest near the pine tree.”
Victor said “lets not get too close before we have everything ready”
Yaron insisting on the leading role said, “O.K but first let’s search for the biggest nest around and map all the holes they can run into.”
Avi, exhausted yet elated, wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt and struggled to release his tight fists. He was rarely acknowledged for his ideas due to his laborious delivery.
As we were scanning the area, learning about the underground interconnection of the ant’s tunnels, I yelled with excitement and pride “Look… look what I found … a metal container…” As I was saying it I realized the immensity of my mistake.
It was too late. Victor, leaning on his crutches as closer to the ground as possible examining my finding said, “This is perfect … look at this…”
Yaron mumbled “whoa” and even Beni stopped and stared at it intensely.
“It’s a bombshell!” Avi said, stretching his hand towards me, begging for the shell. It was an empty bombshell the size of a tall cup. I dropped it into his hand reluctantly.
“This is a sign from God,” said Victor, “its perfect”.
With no further discussion Victor and Avi got their matchboxes out and everyone, even Beni, but me started cutting off the matches red heads, filling the shell up.
“We need to be further away when it goes off” Beni said in a conditional and yet conciliatory tone, looking at Yaron.
“But what about the ants?” I asked with a plea but was totally ignored.
Avi said, “I have an idea” almost choking with excitement. “It will make it really safe…” The match he held fell a few times from his hand. He finally gave up curled his fists in, and spoke:
“Lets fill it up and place it under the tree, take a big rock and then tie it to the tree exactly above the shell. We all hide behind the wall and with a long rope release the rock which will fall on top of the shell…”
Everyone was listening raptly suddenly looking all alike, open jaws, big eyes, and vague smiles.
Avi did not bother to wipe his mouth; he gulped some air in and released his fingers one by one.
In a few minutes Beni was on the tree tying the rock up while Yaron drew on the ground the circumference of where the rock would land. Victor moved his crutches behind the wall while Avi tied a few ropes together into one allowing it to reach our hiding place.
Finally, the full bombshell was placed in the middle of the circle. We ran and hid behind the wall. Victor counted down from ten and Yaron released the rock.
Nothing happened.
On the second time, in spite of some adjustments, nothing happened.
The third time Avi suggested we tie a bigger rock to a higher branch, which Beni did quietly and efficiently. Another count down, short but intense stillness, and the whole wall trembled with a huge explosion.
A cloud of dust landed on us, which added an extra layer to the already pale faces. After a long moment Beni led us to see what had happened to the shell. At the center of the blurry circle laid the rock, dark and burned, with a few metal pieces scattered about.
Mixed with the light of the setting sun and the echoing hollow blast, an unexplained but tangible sadness connected us all. Almost silent we walked home as I was wandering where do the butterflies go at night.