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In back, Becky prattled on about an ice cream shop. At last, five minutes from the city, she fell asleep, and Eli felt free to guide Michael's hand toward his zipper. The activism hand crawled into Eli's underwear and rocked gently. They rounded a curve and hit the blinking lights and purple hills of the capital. A white banner suspended over the road declared that Peugeot welcomed them to Jerusalem. Becky woke up with a start: "We're here!" The hotels activism Michael had phoned were full, activism so they stayed in the apartment of a friend of Eli's, whose parents had gone to Austria on vacation. It was a small place, with a slender hallway that connected three tight rooms stuffed with pressed wood shelves and a collection of African masks and sculptures. Becky got the children's room. Eli had never slept in such a big bed as the one he and Michael shared (with a bamboo frame and canvas sheets), like the one his parents had.
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