Chapter 29
First Honeymoon?
David and Serge served as the witnesses at the rabbinate. I don’t know what questions they were asked, but I’m sure neither of them broke the ninth commandment: “You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.”
On Saturday morning, Lily painted. She completed a piece she was supposed to hand in on Sunday morning. We spent the afternoon at the United Cinema. Lily watched the movie, and I caught up on some sleep; all I can remember was the way home.
On Sunday, I returned to base.
“Michael,” I heard the squad commander’s voice.
We were in some lecture about the judicial system.
For the first time, half the platoon had fallen asleep on the floor, the accumulated fatigue taking its toll.
I hadn’t done much better. I managed to hold out only by putting drops in my eyes every hour or so.
“Yes, Commander,” I shook my head quickly, jumped up, and saluted.
“Come!”
I followed him out.
“You can take leave until the end of the week,” he said, surprising me.
“I don’t understand, Commander. Did something happen?” My first thought was of Lily.
“Didn’t you get married?”
“Yes, Commander … not exactly … but yes!”
“I heard from your friends, so you deserve a week’s leave.” He was determined and ignored my “not exactly.”
“But … but I didn’t ask.” I felt confused.
“I know! But I decided!” He emphasized the final words. “Don’t worry, this isn’t a dismissal.”
“If they’re giving, don’t refuse…” I faintly remembered my brother’s words.
“Move!”
I raced back to my room, left David a note on his bed, packed my things quickly, and rushed out the base gate toward the bus stop to Tel-Aviv.
“Do you know where Lily is?” I asked her mother on the phone from Tel-Aviv’s central station.
“Lily’s at Avni all day.”
“I’m in Tel-Aviv. If she calls, tell her I’ll stop by Avni.”
“Did something happen?” She sounded worried.
“No, I got special leave, don’t worry.”
I took the number five bus to the city center. From there, it wasn’t far to Avni.
“Do you know where Lily, fourth year, is?” I asked one of the secretaries.
“Are you her husband?”
“Yes.” I’m sure I blushed. It was the first time someone asked me that so directly.
“She doesn’t stop talking about you. She said you two got ‘married in quotes,’ is that true?”
“There’s some truth to it … but…”
“You’re a doctor, right?”
“I’m in officer training now,” I pointed, with some pride, to the white insignia on my shoulder and the beret tucked under the epaulet.
“But you’re a doctor?” she pressed, proving to me that even at Avni, where I thought they only cared about art, people weren’t entirely free of ‘Jewish mother’ nosiness. I nodded. After she gave me a once-over, she stood up and offered to show me the way to Lily.
“Don’t disturb her, I’ll wait,” I said when she stopped in front of a closed door.
“Don’t you want to see her? I’m sure she’ll be glad.”
“I’d love to see her, but I don’t want to interrupt.”
“I’ll go in, and when I come out, I’ll leave the door open,” she said, and went in, closing the door behind her.
I was left in the corridor, my heart rate rising.
Lily was just behind the partition. I wanted to kick the door open, rush to her, and hug and kiss her.
Only last week in training, we’d learned to break down doors – but not for hugging and kissing.
A minute passed. She didn’t come out. Then the door opened wide.
Lily stood there, more beautiful than ever.
A colorful scarf partly covered her tied-up hair.
She wore a strapless blue blouse that concealed a little and revealed a lot.
Her stomach was bare, her jeans stained with paint.
Her large eyes captivated me all over again. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
It felt like I was discovering her for the first time. She walked toward me. I thought she hadn’t recognized me, but she held out her arms to me and smiled.
Lovely. A shiver ran through me. We hugged.
“What are you doing here?”
“They gave me leave until the end of the week. We did get married, after all.”
“Come on … really … don’t step on my toes … come, I want you to meet my class.”
“I don’t want to interrupt,” I muttered, as Lily took my hand and pulled me inside.
“Come in, come in,” said the drawing teacher, pausing the lesson.
“I don’t want to interrupt,” I repeated.
“It’s fine. Lily told us about you and the wedding. We already know her, now we’ll know the other half.” Normally, I’d have reacted to such generalizations, but this time I let it slide.
“I’m Michael,” I said awkwardly to the students, who were examining me with curiosity. Lily pointed out each one and said their names. Most were young, between 20 and 30.
“I didn’t get into fourth year like Lily,” said someone who looked familiar, though I didn’t place him right away.
“That’s Rafi, from the day of the interviews,” she reminded me. In the center of the room stood a stand, on it a purple porcelain bowl with an apple, a pear, and an orange inside. Each student was drawing it from their own angle. Within minutes, they were all back to work.
“Stay here,” Lily asked. “I’ll be done soon.”
“I’ll wait outside.”
“No, no, stand next to me. Put the weapon and gear aside, take it easy, it won’t bother anyone.
” Only when I saw the students lose interest in the stranger who had barged in did I relax.
I put down my army gear and stood beside Lily.
I followed her gaze at the still life, trying to imagine the path from what she saw to the command to draw a line or to smear some charcoal.
She was so focused that I felt I could detach myself.
I wandered quietly along the walls, looking at the others’ sketches.
Even though they’d just begun, differences stood out – some drew bold lines, others delicate ones.
Some kept proportions, others didn’t, often making the apple the largest, especially the women students.
Maybe that was the teacher’s instruction.
Or maybe something to do with the original sin.
When the class ended, Lily took her coat, wrapped herself in it, and we left.
“So, as usual, we’ll go to Gordon Street?” she asked as we stood outside the institute. I nodded. We walked hand in hand toward Judah Street. The air was crisp and fresh.
“That was the first time I’ve ever been in an art class,” I said. “Thanks for letting me see what it’s like. I never thought the teacher would let me stay.”
“You were lucky it was still life. If it had been a model, they wouldn’t have let you in.” She smiled, and I laughed. We stood at the back of the bus, embracing.
It wasn’t far from the institute to the galleries, but I preferred to ride rather than drag army gear and a weapon down the street.
“Look how they’re staring at you,” I told her when I noticed some passengers’ eyes practically devouring her.
“I’m used to it,” she said, a little embarrassed. “But … I think they’re looking at you. Maybe at us.”
“Lily, to them I’m invisible. They’re looking at you!”
She kissed my cheek, maybe to show everyone we were together. For the first time, I realized she drew unusual attention in public places. Later, I’d learn that I had to get used to it. Not just had to – would have to.
We arrived at Gordon Street, and went from gallery to gallery. Most people there knew her. She studied the paintings, and so did I. She tried to analyze them, classify them, rate them, and above all, learn which ones might influence her – and how.
The difference between us was that she saw the art in three dimensions, maybe more, while I barely understood two.
She tried to talk about the works, to the works, and they spoke back to her.
Her gaze on the paintings changed her face – sometimes soft, understanding, sometimes sharp and aggressive, then back again.
I found myself watching her more than the paintings.
“You know, this was our first honeymoon,” I told her when we got back to the apartment, the one I’d missed while I was there. She looked at me, puzzled.
“Lily, this is the first time we’ve been out together, just the two of us, among strangers, no parents, no family, no friends.”
“I hope we’ll have a real honeymoon, maybe after the official wedding.”
Though no date had yet been set for the formal wedding, we were already dreaming of the honeymoon. It was so good to be together. We wanted to be far away, outside of the everyday norms that demanded we behave in ways we didn’t always agree with.