Chapter 46
A Surprise Visit
In the summer months, Eilat emptied of its residents. Unlike the steady work in the army, the hospital, and the clinics, activity at the workshop went on break until after the holidays. I wanted to fulfill my promise that we’d travel to the United States for a real honeymoon.
“We’ll use the summer break at the College of Art and Design and the workshop and go to America,” I told Lily after confirming that I could take extended leave. One of the reservist doctors was eager to spend the summer in Eilat with his family, and the hospital director also agreed to let me go.
“Are you sure?”
“Remember, when we got married, I promised you a honeymoon in America?”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Long ago, but I haven’t forgotten.”
That conversation planted the seed of the trip, and I left for base.
When I came home in the afternoon, Lily greeted me at the door.
“I ran into Judah in one of the malls – one of the doctors from the New-Hope Medical Center ward. He’s here on his honeymoon and was shocked to see me.”
I thought to myself that he must have calculated it had been nearly three years since he’d last seen her, and was surprised not only that she was alive but that she was flourishing.
“So, do you want to invite them over?”
“It would be nice. You’re supposed to start your residency there in about a year. Think about it.”
“You’re right. Maybe we should have them.”
Lily called the hotel.
Judah and his young wife, like many other guests who visited us, treated our apartment like a museum.
It was impossible to ignore the paintings hanging on the walls.
Lily had also begun experimenting with photography, distorting her body and face in ways that she arranged into series – sometimes in columns, sometimes in rows, sometimes a combination of several rows.
Each picture differed from the others: the “normal” photo was always in the top right corner, and the most distorted one at the far opposite end.
Her abstracts had also become increasingly expressive. Recently, Lily hadn’t created a single lyrical abstract – everything looked so turbulent, even the colors.
The force that burst out of her works – her creations – intensified constantly.
At times, I would sit alone in front of one and weep.
The works simply screamed pain. I couldn’t stop her, nor did I try.
It was clear to me that she was confronting things I couldn’t understand, much less feel.
A person can know the sudden fear of death for a moment, but it seemed Lily lived that fear constantly – yet felt she could master it through art, until the next cluster of fears came along.
Those who knew – and there were only a few – connected the works to her condition. Those who didn’t know were puzzled, confused, maybe pitied her – but they reacted. It was impossible not to react.
“How do you deal with this?” I was often asked. I didn’t always answer – sometimes I didn’t know what to say.
Judah, who knew, reacted. He moved from picture to picture, asking about the materials, where the works had been photographed, who had collaborated with her on the photography, and when they had been taken. The questions didn’t stop.
Lily’s answers opened a window into her world, but only so much. The hidden outweighed the revealed. Knowing her questioner, she knew exactly how to respond.
Even I didn’t always get to the bottom of her thoughts. I was a partner, but not a creator. A technician, not an artist. I knew my limits well. She knew them too.
When he finished asking about her works, Judah turned to her health.
“Who’s treating you now?” he asked with interest.
“No one’s treating me. I don’t want to be treated because I feel wonderful,” she said proudly, as if declaring her health was firmly in her own hands.
“I have no problem at all, except for climbing stairs – and here he helps me,” she added, spinning sharply and pointing at me. Suddenly, her face went pale, and she looked like she was trying to hold on to something.
“Careful,” all three of us said.
“Just a little dizziness, it’ll pass.”
“Lily, I’m not worried, I’m concerned.”
“Look, I’m fine.”
“You must be monitored – at least with blood tests.”
“Judah, I love Michael, and I love what I’m doing. Look.” She pointed to the new pictures. “That’s what gives me energy.”
“Forget energy. What if the disease inside you is on the verge of flaring up?”
“If it were, I’d feel it.”
“Not necessarily. A flare can come on with no warning.”
“Like what, for example?”
“Massive bleeding from one of the organs,” he answered.
“Can we change the subject?” Lily lost patience.
“Lily, I won’t let you off the hook. Michael, help me,” Judah turned to me.
“No matter how much I try, it doesn’t help. She won’t listen to me. Her mother warned me even before the wedding,” I said, throwing up my hands helplessly.
“You know what,” said Judah, “we’ll change the subject. Just tell me what you’re taking.”
“All right – 10 mg hydrocortisone every other day.”
“What?” he raised his voice.
“Almost three years now.”
“Did you hear that?” he turned to me.
“I know,” I answered with a trace of fear. After all, he had been my teacher – and would probably be again.
“You’re killing yourself.”
“For now, it feels to me like I’m living just fine.”
“I wonder what your bones are saying.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re surely full of holes, thinned out. They won’t hold you.”
“What?”
“They’re saturated.”
“How do you know?”
“That’s what steroids do – to everyone. You’re no exception.”
“I know. But I don’t feel like I have a problem.”
“If you don’t want trouble, at least cut down to five milligrams every two days.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. But you’ll come to our clinic for tests,” he ended the conversation. “I won’t let this go!”
“I promise to be disciplined, commander,” she said with mock obedience. “From today, write me half the dose,” she turned to me in his presence.
When our eyes met, Lily nodded, and her look said: You’re right.
Two weeks later, we flew to America.