Sol watches the others come down from the bath house and says to me, "You still want to go down to the shore of the Dead Sea?"
"Yes, but since I refuse to put on a bathing suit in public, I won't go in"
"I put my reputation on the line as the tour guide to pledge that you don't go in. They say you don't have to pay the thirty-five shekels if you don't swim."
"I won't go in the water."
As the others stop beside us, I add, "I'll hold the cameras and jewelry so they won't get spoiled by the salt or the sand."
The two-car trolley pulls up beside us, and we climb on the open cars. Sol says to me, "Remember your promise."
The carrier moves away, and Rory asks, "What did you promise?"
"Not to go in the water."
"You can put a foot in, just to feel it."
"No. That's okay. I can look at it. Sol's very nervous, so I gave my word that I wouldn't even step in."
"Who's to know?" James says behind his camera. Megan and Elizabeth add in unison, "None of us will tell."
I can't allow them to expect all Americans to shave the truth. Megan and Rory are the age of my youngest. They don't need duplicity reinforced. I shake my head again and smile. "A promise is a promise."
And when the double trolley cart halts beside a row of benches on the sand, I take their towels and rings and Rory's saint's medal before they walk to the water and read the placard to me.
"You can't swim and splash minerals into anyone's eyes anyway. You have to just float."
"The water's hot, too," Rory adds.
The Dead Sea is an excruciating turquoise, and delicate waves peak in the roped-off area where tourists can't swim but bob to the surface and float. The distant horizon is a deeper blue, and at the blue-green shoreline, great mounds of salt glisten.
I sit on a bench and gaze across the hot sand at the sea that's actually a lake.
Abruptly Rory appears. "Are you sure you won't put even a toe in the water to feel it?"
"I'm sure."
"Well, then-" He exhibits a plastic bottle. "I found this, and I thought if you were going to stand by your promise, I could at least bring the Dead Sea to you. That's all right, isn't it? That wouldn't be going back on your word, would it?"
I smile. "If I don't go to the water but the water comes to me, that's all right."
He tips the bottle over my feet and water runs across my sandals in a lukewarm flow. He beams down at me.
