Chapter 16
Blood Pact
That evening, Lily welcomed me with a Middle Eastern dinner she had prepared: Arab-style salad, scrambled eggs, several kinds of cheese, yogurts, and coffee.
“I had a tough day,” I told her during the meal.
“Me too,” she replied.
“So what happened with you?”
“Lily,” I decided to be direct and held both her hands. “You know that you…”
“That I what?”
“I don’t know how to put it, but anyone who doesn’t know you would never guess you’re sick.”
“Of course. I’m in remission. Did you forget?”
“No, but even in remission, there are usually limitations – and you don’t seem to have any.” I hesitated, debating whether to tell her about my conversation with David earlier that day at the hospital.
“I do.”
“I haven’t seen any limitations.”
“Oops – you forgot? Stairs are tough for me.”
“True, but you’re not the only one.”
“That’s from the arthritis I had. The doctors say it damaged one of my heart valves.”
“But you really don’t act like someone with heart valve issues.”
“If you say so, then I don’t…” She laughed – that same wonderful laugh that always captured my heart. This time, it made me forget all about the late Baron Münchausen.
“So what was hard for you today?” I asked.
Lily started talking about her struggle with her parents, especially her father, about the bicycle.
She had managed to convince him it was only for short rides, nothing too demanding, and that Tel-Aviv was basically flat.
In the end, he gave in, agreed, and contributed a reasonable sum for her to buy one.
When I said that didn’t sound so difficult – just a chat with her dad about a bike – she agreed, but quickly added that something else was bothering her.
Something serious. Something she wasn’t sure I’d agree to.
She preferred to postpone it for another day.
“You already know how curious I am, right?”
“Yes, but I’d rather…”
“And I’d rather know now.” I hugged her and looked straight into her green eyes.
I saw she was struggling to share, so I tried to coax her with guesses, each one followed by a kiss that melted us further into each other.
“So, is it about our talk yesterday? About studying?” I thought I’d hit the mark, since on Shabbat, I had tried to convince her to study art formally, and she had flatly refused.
“No.”
“Your job with your father?” I tried again.
“No.”
“Is it about me?” The guessing game went on.
“Yes.”
“You know I love you. If it has to do with our relationship, then the answer is YES!” I said.
“I know, but I’m not sure you’ll agree to this.”
“If it’s something you want, then even the sky isn’t the limit.”
“You’ll laugh at me.”
“Does it have to do with the bicycle?”
“Absolutely not.”
“So…?”
“I want … I want us to make a blood pact.”
“A … what?”
“A blood pact, yes! A blood pact…”
“You … what?”
“I want us to mix our blood together. I want…” At first she spoke clearly, but as the sentence stretched out, her voice faded.
“Wow. Never in my life have I thought of that.” The idea of mingling her blood with mine filled my eyes with tears.
It felt like the ultimate expression of our bond – a connection beyond time and place.
After we calmed down, Lily asked me to bring a blood test kit from the ward.
I told her there was no need to wait – there were needles and disinfectants in her dressing kit at home.
The candles flickering in the Finnish candlesticks added to the enchanted atmosphere in the darkened apartment. A blissful smile spread across her face, and the silhouettes of our heads, moving on the wall opposite, only deepened the mystical air. Her creativity never stopped surprising me.
The mutual pricks with sterilized sewing needles, the twin drops of blood on our fingertips, the careful merging of them together, making sure they didn’t break apart, and the electric current I felt at the moment of touch – all fused into what we called a “once-in-a-lifetime ritual.” My heart skipped a beat – maybe two.
I was overwhelmed. I’d never imagined how moving it could be to feel the touch of two pricked and bleeding fingers.
Finger caressing finger, as if each were its own being searching for its twin.
Lily glowed with happiness, surrounded by a mysterious aura.
She was so beautiful – more beautiful than ever, dazzling beyond belief.
Our fingers pulled toward each other like magnets.
The wild abstract patterns we painted on each other’s hands and arms added to the magical atmosphere in the dark room.
“A true pact,” she whispered in my ear.
“A blood pact,” I replied, with tears welling in my eyes.
We fell silent, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes.
I could see her heartbeat pulsing clearly in the veins of her delicate neck. When we finally calmed down, we wrapped each other in kisses, cherishing the experience – a moment that was entirely ours. We never told anyone about it.