A Room of Their Own by Rakefet Yarden (best summer reads of all time .TXT) 📕

the other young. Pointy red hats on their heads, sporting dark fabric shoes with little bells, creating a soft melody. They come out of the tower and pull a metal triangle that is attached to a rope that’s tied around my waist. The younger one pulls the triangle and the older one pulls him. The rope winds around my head, turn after turn after turn. When I reach the ground, the older guard sits on me and shouts into my ear, “I’m on a tea break right now, do you hear me?” And I shout back that he should end his break and get off me already, and I wake up from my own shouting.

The clock showed 7:30 a.m. Damn it! I had turned the alarm clock’s sound into the alarm in the dream, and had even orchestrated it to suit the bells on the guards’ shoes. What a clever way to not wake up − really creative! Again everything has to be done under pressure: wake up Yotam, get him ready, drive him to preschool, rush to the clinic, get to the 9:00 session on time. Who’s coming at nine? Actually, I had swapped sessions as Yoni’s away for the week and I’d scheduled a new client instead. A very first meeting then, double damn it. Breathe, Rotem, breathe. I had to remind myself that everything was going to be fine because it always is − eventually.

I arrived at the clinic at 8:50. I don’t like not having enough time to get the place back together the way I like it. On the round table between the two armchairs, behind the box of tissues is a little hidden clock so I don’t have to look up at the big clock on the wall to check how much time is left during sessions. It was on the wrong end of the table, since my clinic partner sits on the other side. So annoying!

Amazing how little things can drive me out of my mind and make me angry over nonsense. What’s even more incredible is that no one ever notices it. I put on a smile, and that’s what the world sees. Almost everyone. I can’t fool Snoopy, though, and Yotam reads my mind too, an overly-attentive child of a single parent. So with him, I really try to say what I feel, in order not to leave him in the dark to try and read my signs.

At 9:03 there was a timid knock on the door. Dani walked in with a big dog, assessing my reactions. She couldn’t read the relief on my face. I hadn’t brought Snoopy to work with me that day. He loves people, but I’m not sure he’d appreciate another dog in his territory. In his mind, there’s only room for one therapist here, and I’m not it.

Dani didn’t want to sit and didn’t want to be here. Did everything in order to make that clear to me. After a few minutes, I gave in to my aching knees and sat down on the rug with her dog, Miko, and she eventually agreed to join us. I think I’ll have to wait with the intake report until at least the third session. Never mind, I’ll just jot down a few words and note to myself, “under observation.”

I meet Eyal once a week for mentoring. He approves my referrals for health services coverage. He always understands the situation, and he’ll allow me to begin. There was no point in rushing her; she was just waiting for an excuse to get away from the clinic.

Another day reached its end. Yotam and I had a pleasant afternoon together, dinner, a walk with Snoopy, shower-time, bedtime story, and tucking in for the night − the usual ritual, and the remainder of the evening was all mine but my mind was still processing the day. Eight sessions, eight worlds, images running through my head, slipping into drawers and making room for new ones. Dani’s embarrassed smile, Jasmine’s rolling laughter as she talked about the last argument she had with her lecturer. Strange that she calls it an argument, I think to myself. It’s not that they’re equal, but with Jasmine everybody’s equal and that’s what drives her, after all. “Some tides are higher than others” doesn’t fly with her.

That reminded me of something, but I shifted it aside. You’re not thinking about her now, I commanded myself. I got off the couch and went over to the fridge to see if anything new had happened within it, despite my not having managed to go shopping. In the corner of my eye, I saw photo magnets from the last family get-together stuck to the fridge. Omer’s wedding − my older sister Emily’s son. And the thing I’d managed to shift aside immediately returned to center stage.

Emily’s only five years older than me, but it feels as though there is a full generation between us. She’d galloped ahead to the grown-up world while I was daydreaming. That’s still what I do, staring, processing data. I returned to the fridge, and Emily was still there, smiling with Omer. I remembered that Omer had sent me a message that morning and I hadn’t yet answered him.

I have Yotam. He’s five years old and all mine. With no man, nor God-man, involved. Just me, a doctor, and a test tube. Three partners to one human being. I arrived at the sperm bank without any special requests. Appearance-wise, I wanted someone of average height, so that if I have a girl, she wouldn’t inherit tall genes from both sides, because unless she then chooses a modeling or basketball career, it could potentially complicate matters for her. I marked a preference for green eyes in order to preserve my own without any other dominant genes.

There was just one thing I refused to compromise about: his IQ. The lab technician looked at me. “Yes, we have a lot of cards with high IQ levels, a lot of medical