Foxtrot Page #2

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It's a different Jonathan Feldman.

Your son is alive.

Safe and sound.

Alma?

Hey, Dad. You called?

Dad?

Can you hear me?

Are you all right, Dad?

Get him up. Nice and slowly.

- Where's Jonathan?

- Jonathan's fine.

Come on. Sit him down.

Easy.

DAPHNA, wake up!

Jonathan's alive. Someone else died.

Jonathan is alive, Mr. Feldman.

- Where is he?

- With his unit.

- I want to see him.

- Tomorrow or the next...

I want him home now!

- Mr. Feldman.

- Don't touch me!

What's with you, Michael? Calm down.

I'll calm down when I get my son.

You made me think he was dead

and there was no body.

Who told you that?

What does that matter now?

He's alive! It's over.

How can you be sure? Because they said so?

First he's dead, then he's alive,

who are they?

They don't know where he is!

- Mr. Feldman, he's with his unit.

- I didn't ask with whom, I asked where!

Mr. Feldman,

you're suffering from an anxiety attack.

You listen to me!

You made a mistake!

The administration made a mistake,

not us personally.

Your son is in the Seam Zone

guarding a supply route.

Nothing combat-related,

only an isolated roadblock.

Here, Mr. Feldman. Have some water.

It's all right, Michael.

Drink something. Calm down.

Stop saying that!

I'm calmer than you.

Michael?

It isn't Jonathan. It's someone else.

They made a mistake. It's someone else.

That's it. It's over.

That's it.

Hey.

Enough.

Enough.

He's alive.

It's not him.

It's not him. It's someone else.

It's someone else.

Your son is fine, Mr. Feldman.

You don't have to worry anymore.

Where did you say he is?

At a roadblock, guarding a supply route.

Where exactly is that?

Near the border, in the northern sector...

Location.

Give me a location.

I'm not a field officer, Mr. Feldman.

I can't point out an exact location.

But I'll see to it that your son

comes home as soon as possible.

You haven't done that yet?

Your son will be home

as soon as we manage...

How soon is that?

Your "Seam Zone"

and all that military mumbo jumbo

can't be more than a few hours away.

He can't stop everything...

Stop what? Are you on his side or mine?

On yours. I just...

Stop touching me!

Why are you always touching me?

Michael, you're right.

- Mr. Feldman, it's an anxiety attack.

- But he's right!

Stay out of this.

- Let me give you a pill.

- To drug me like my wife?

You're still under the influence,

that's why you're euphoric.

Listen to me, that's enough!

Listen to me.

I know you've been through things

you haven't told me about. I know that.

These are your demons talking.

Not you.

Why talk to me like I'm crazy?

Are you with them, too?

Listen,

all that matters is Jonathan's alive.

The rest doesn't matter.

He's alive!

Alive.

Please drop it.

Please, for my sake, just this once.

For me. Please.

We'll have them leave.

Okay? Only you and me.

We'll order take-out, get drunk.

You're on drugs, DAPHNA.

You aren't yourself.

They woke you up too soon.

I demand you bring me back my son!

Not tomorrow, but immediately!

That's the least the army should do.

Just because I'm anxious

doesn't mean I don't make sense.

My son was dead for five hours.

Suddenly he's alive,

and you can't say where he is.

What's unreasonable about my request?

Tell me, what's so unreasonable?

You're wasting my time.

Get out.

Please.

He's in a psychotic state.

Keep an eye on him.

I'm sorry this is your attitude.

I won't judge you, not in your state.

"Psychotic state," my ass!

Bunch of impotents!

Losers. Nobodies.

What happened, Dad? You didn't pick up.

I saw soldiers. Is Jonathan alright?

Everything's fine, Alma.

I'm bringing Jonathan home. Right now.

It's all right.

- What are you doing?

- Hold on.

- Don't do that.

- DAPHNA!

- Hey, hey! Mom!

- Stop it now.

Erez? Erez, it's Michael.

I need a favor. It's urgent.

Give me that!

Stop that now!

What's with you?

You said you have a friend in the army.

A general, Eitan something?

Someone who can solve anything

with one call?

This morning I was informed that...

Did you know the foxtrot

is actually a dance?

The foxtrot steps are really easy.

Watch this.

Step forward, forward,

to the side and stop.

Back, back, to the side and stop.

Would you like another cigarette, darling?

Your eyes are filled with

puppy love refrain.

But I'm making music to... my heart.

When love goes astray

and the flame dies away...

you walk the lonesome night.

When dreams become old

and the thrill has gone cold...

you walk the lonesome night.

Yes, you walk in the lane

and you search for the lane

where you share

in an old love affair.

And you pray

that you'll find the little dreams

left behind.

But the lane is gone

and the trees are bare.

You can't help but cry

as the hours go by.

Because you know you can't make it right.

For when love is all through

there is nothing,

nothing to do...

but walk the lonesome night.

The container seems more

tilted than yesterday.

POTTED MEA Eight seconds.

If it takes less time tomorrow,

then the container is shifting.

ONE LAST BEDTIME STORY

The night before I enlisted, my dad

came into my room and told me a story.

He said I was officially no longer a child

and told me one last bedtime story.

He told me about his mom, my grandma.

She was a girl

when the Nazis killed her father

in Auschwitz during the Holocaust.

Right before they killed him,

he gave her an ancient Hebrew Bible

that had been in our family

for ten generations.

He said she should give it to her own son

when he became a soldier,

and to "never, ever...

sell it."

His last words.

Thirty years later, my dad was 13,

and the Bible that survived

the Holocaust with my grandma

was on a little shelf

in a German china cabinet

with her perfume and jewelry.

My dad knew all about the Bible,

that it was ancient, holy and rare,

that it had been her father's,

our family's most precious object,

and we must never, ever sell it.

"When you become a soldier," she told him

since he was little, I'll give it to you.

And you'll give it to your son

when he's a soldier."

That's me.

One day, coming home from school,

my dad noticed a new store.

It sold secondhand books

and magazines from all over the world.

Back then, there were few such stores,

so my dad went inside.

Out of the corner of his eye,

he saw a magazine...

with the picture of a pinup girl.

The January 1970 pinup.

She had X's over her nipples,

but he was blown away.

He'd never seen anything like it.

He didn't even know it existed.

She smiled at him.

Mesmerized, he reached out to open it

right at the centerfold.

So there she was: a double-page spread...

And get this:

without X's over her nipples.

He observed her for only a second

until the store owner burst in.

"Hey kid, no looking. 75 lira!

Buy it or get out."

Back then,

75 lira was a fortune for a kid.

He barely had five lira saved, so he left.

She haunted him.

He couldn't eat, drink,

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