Chapter 19

  Eve of the Officers’ Course

  The last day of my internship had arrived. That was it – from tomorrow on, I would be a doctor. It felt strange to think that from now on, the weight of responsibility would rest squarely on my shoulders. Even though I knew it would take time before it truly did, I couldn’t help but feel anxious about the unknown. That anxiety almost made me forget about the officers’ course I was supposed to leave for two days later.

  “I already miss you,” I heard Lily’s voice as I entered the stairwell. She was waiting for me with a bouquet of flowers in her hands.

  “Miss me? Why?”

  “You forgot? The officers’ course.” It seemed the course was troubling her more than it was me.

  “And what about you? Aren’t you starting school?”

  “Big difference – I’ll be coming back every night to an empty bed.” Dozens of colorful balloons dangled from the ceiling, swaying in the breeze.

  “What’s going on here?” I asked, surprised.

  “A party!” she grinned, ear to ear.

  “At ten the gang is coming over. We’re celebrating you guys leaving for the officers’ course. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “I’m not sure there’s much to celebrate. This course means being separated from you, my love.” Already, my heart ached with longing – before I had even left.

  “So tonight, we’ll stop at your parents, then at mine.”

  “You think it’s wise to visit my folks right before I leave for the course? You know how nervous my mother is. She’ll probably start crying and not stop.”

  “Relax – I already met them, and I think they liked me. At least your dad did.” She tried to calm me.

  Like the first visit, the second went smoothly. As we were leaving my parents’ place, my mother slipped a cake into my hands.

  “So you’ll have something sweet,” she said. I hugged her. To my surprise, this time she didn’t burst into tears. Maybe Lily’s presence had something to do with it.

  “Mom, you’ll need to bake twenty-five cakes – enough for all my friends.”

  “You’ll know who deserves a slice,” she replied with her usual seriousness. For years, during my studies, my mother made me sandwiches every morning. Not just for me, but for David and two other friends I studied with. She wanted to make sure her beloved son – her “angel,” as she called me – never had to share his portion. Another twisted byproduct of the Holocaust survivors and the lives they led.

  “If everyone has their own sandwich, you’ll eat all of yours,” she used to insist. Of course, everyone was happy about her obsessive dedication to eliminating “hunger” from our group.

  That night, the cake she baked was devoured at the party before it was even over. Even I managed to forget, just for a little while, that in a few hours I’d have to part from my beloved.

  Lily, who had been the life of the party all evening, turned somber once we said goodbye to the friends. Before David left, we agreed to pick him up on the way to Parkview Medical Center, where we were to report for the army. Once the apartment was empty, I stood in front of her and looked into her eyes. I thought of the blood pact. She gave me the same look back.

  “My Lily, this is it. Tomorrow, we part physically, but I’ll be with you everywhere. You’ll be with me in places I can’t even imagine yet.” My throat tightened with tears.

  “Take care of yourself – for your sake and for mine. I need you.”

  “I’ll do my best, as much as I can.”

  “And take care of David too,” she added suddenly, just before we fell asleep. Two months later, during a night exercise at the officers’ course, those words came back to me. David and I were crouched in a trench, waiting to charge a fortified position. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of gunfire. Instinctively, I ducked and shoved David’s head down. A tracer round from our own machine-gun crew whistled inches above his skull. Our eyes met, filled with a mixture of shock and fear. It took a while before we could breathe again.

  Chapter 20

  First Parting

  After countless hugs and kisses, we finally parted. David was already inside the base waiting for me. When I caught up with him, I turned around and waved goodbye to her. For the first time in our life together, I didn’t know when we’d see each other again. The army has its own rhythm.

  The meeting with the young second lieutenant sitting across from me was straightforward. A few personal questions – about family, a girlfriend, maybe future marriage, risks of dismissal for improper conduct, leave days – and the strangest one: which member of the group I would want to room with. It seemed clear that the question was a way to preempt difficulties that might cause dismissal; friendship could help prevent that. So I wasn’t surprised when David, who was interviewed after me, asked immediately afterward:

  “Who did you say you wanted to room with?”

  “With you, of course!” I replied.

  “Did he ask you about marriage during the course?” David asked pointedly.

  “I told him I was about to get married.”

  “Michael, you’ve only been with Lily for three weeks, and you’re already saying you’re getting married? Does she even know?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want to marry you?”

  “Maybe. I never asked her.”

  “So what exactly did you say to him?”

  “That I was getting married soon.”

  “How soon?”

  “A week, two weeks,” I said with confidence, as if facts couldn’t bother me.

  “How are you going to get married in a week?” David pressed.

  “You’re not even going home for the next three weeks.”

  “Who says?” Three weeks without Lily? I wouldn’t survive, I thought.

  “Michael, you’re dreaming. Get it into your head: there is no leave for the first three weeks of the course.” David tried to bring me down to earth. I told him I’d find a phone to let her know it would be a while before I could leave. David laughed and asked if I wanted to share my despair with her too. To my misfortune – or maybe not – a phone was out of the question; none of the phones on base were working. When I returned to the group, I told David that the officer had said that if I got married, there was a chance they’d dismiss me.

  “Do you want to be dismissed?”

  “Is that how you know me?” In truth, the thought of marriage first began to sink in during that conversation with the officer, but I wasn’t willing to pay the price of dismissal. That seemed far too high a cost. We were the first class of medical-track cadets who were required to go through officer training. We had no one to ask for advice, no older students to prepare us. Our high school classmates had been discharged long ago; some had even left the country. We had been chosen to blaze a new trail for the Medical Corps.

  “You’re the spearhead of the corps,” the IDF Surgeon General told us before enlistment.

  “All eyes are on you, and I hope we’ll be proud when you stand on the parade ground at the end of the course.” Toward evening, on the night of November 9th, we reached Mitzpe Ramon. Only then did I understand how easy it would be to slip onto the path of dismissal, a road I was determined not to take.

  Chapter 21

  Soldiers

  I believe that no one who was on the bus has any memory of the trip to Mitzpe Ramon. Everyone, without exception, passed out, exhausted from the day before.

  “What’s the army postal address here?” I asked the company clerk right after the induction process at the base.

  “It’s written on the intake sheet you got, down at the bottom in the notes,” she answered.

  “And just so you know, every letter you get comes at a price – and a package costs even more…” she answered and chuckled.

  “How much for a letter and how much for a package?” I asked seriously.

  “Not sure you really want to know,” she replied. A rookie who overheard smiled. He already knew the “price” was measured in push-ups.

  Later, David and I received confirmation that the young second lieutenant who had recruited us – and who was also our class instructor had kept his promise. There was something reassuring in knowing you weren’t just not alone, but actually with your best friend. It made us feel secure.

  The last item we were issued with was an M-16 rifle. Clutching them, we went up to the barracks, where there were three bunkbeds. David asked to take the bottom bunk, and I chose the bed right above his.

  Four other medical trainees arrived after us and filled the room.

  A few minutes after everyone had staked out their territory, a sharp command rang out:

  “Attention!”

  Even though we were caught off guard, everyone snapped to attention. The instructor walked in, circled the room, told us to stand at ease, and scanned each of us from head to toe. Then he turned and walked out without saying a word.

  Our first night march started on the right foot – literally, as per the instruction sheet, section 20.

  “I don’t think I’ll make it through the course,” I told David after we had walked about three kilometers into the night.

  “Why? Because you’re getting married?” His eyes widened and his teeth flashed.

  “Who’s got time to think about marriage?” I complained. “My feet are killing me. I’m sure I’ve got Achilles tendonitis in both.”

  “We’ve only walked three kilometers… and you’ve already got tendonitis? That’s not like you!”

  It turned out the boots I’d been issued when I was drafted seven years earlier – before medical school – had completely dried out. And there were no proper replacements in the base supply room. The unit doctor confirmed my diagnosis on the spot and advised me to call someone back in Tel-Aviv to buy and send me suitable boots. He even let me use his office phone – but stressed, “Make it short. Very short!”

  He gave me three sick-leave days, which I didn’t use, and the chance to call Lily.

  She was surprised to hear my voice, even more so by my request. By the end of the call, I found myself kissing the receiver. I wanted so badly to tell her about my first day without her, and of course to hear all about her first day at Avni. But the army was the army, and a promise to the doctor was still an order to follow.

  When I got back from the infirmary, I collapsed on my bunk, dead tired. Still, I pulled paper from my locker and began writing Lily my first letter. Turning on the light so late was considered a serious offense, so I used my flashlight instead.

  “My Lily,” I began, “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since we parted, and already so much has happened…”

  Come morning, my head was still resting on the unfinished page. Luckily, I was able to join most of the activities in the following days, and to my relief, the elastic bandage and the new boots that arrived two days later got me back on the regular track of the course.

  Chapter 22

  Letters, Thoughts, Deeds –

  “Behold, You Are Betrothed to Me”

  I’m not sure Lily would have written me even a single letter if she had known the price I’d have to pay to receive it. There was an actual price list: it started with simple exercises and always ended with push-ups – two digits for a postcard, three for a letter, and for a package… well, only I and the devil knew the number. As it happened, I was the unlucky recipient of a package in the very first week.

  I learned from Lily’s letters that Strichman’s declaration had caused an uproar at the Avni Institute. The director, who revered the great artist, didn’t fully understand what he had meant but promised to carry it out to the letter. Meanwhile, Lily wandered the institute freely and was even given permission to join any studio she wished until the paperwork was sorted out.

  By the time I received the letter describing what was happening at Avni, I already knew what David and the rest of my closest friends thought about me marrying Lily. On our first weekend leave, on the way to the base canteen, David pulled out a piece of paper. He had clearly written notes on it, probably because he was too nervous to say it all from memory. His “speech” was meant to lay out, realistically as he saw it, a picture I didn’t want to face.

  He started with her current condition, which, while not the worst – and maybe even good – still pointed to darker days ahead. He told me, “While you were in Finland, the department head gave a seminar on diseases like hers. Based on what he said, it’s just a matter of time. Within months, maybe a year, she’ll get worse. In two years, you’ll be a widower.”

  “What do you expect me to do?” I shot back, though the words felt automatic. “I still think their diagnosis is wrong.”

  “I think you need to take the department head at his word,” David pressed, his voice unusually stern. “He never would have dared to say what he said unless he knew you were a doctor. I’m serious. He wouldn’t have done it.”

  “So you’re telling me I just have to accept the verdict?”

  “No,” David said. “But you need to know this is what people believe. I gathered the courage to tell you, and now you know. And so do the others.”

  His words rattled me so much that all I wanted at that moment was to quit the officers’ course and run back home to Lily.

  “But she’s in remission,” I insisted, almost begging. “That can last for years.”

  “Yes, she’s in remission,” David agreed, “but according to the head of department – and his experience – it’s not going to last. Sooner or later, the disease will flare up again. She could lose consciousness, lose strength, become paralyzed, need dialysis – God only knows what else.” He didn’t spare me a single horror. Death was the only thing he didn’t mention.

  “Wait, you’re not leaving any room for doubt,” I said, desperate. “What if it takes five years? By then, maybe there’ll be a cure!” I begged for a little optimism.

  “He said there’s no chance. Which means by the time you’re twenty-seven, give or take, you’ll be caring for a disabled wife. She’s going to need care, the kind that some of our friends’ grandparents who survived the Holocaust needed. You’ll only be twenty-seven!” David was trying to force me to see reality.

  I was in shock. My head dropped and tears welled up in my eyes. With just a few words, my closest friends shattered the dream that had taken root in me the moment I first saw her – no, the moment we became one. I couldn’t even be angry. They were just looking out for me.

  “So you’re against the wedding?” I asked quietly.

  “We love Lily,” David said gently. “She’s one of us now, like she’s always been here. We love you too. But we’re worried for you both.”

  By the time he finished, I was crying uncontrollably.

  “So what do you suggest?”

  David put his arm around me.

  “Stay with her, if it makes you happy,” he said. ‘But why do you have to get married?”

  “You don’t understand what’s happening to me, within me,” I told him with all the passion I had left. “From the first second I saw her, I wanted to be with her. And now, I want to marry her.”

  “You’re stubborn. I know you’ll do it anyway. Just remember, we only want what’s best for you both.”

  I remembered what her father had told me when I first met him. Without even knowing it, David and the guys were echoing her parents’ warning. They were all trying to guide me. But as confused and overwhelmed as I was, I knew one thing clearly by the end of that night: I would propose to her, no matter what. No one – not her parents, not my friends, not even well-meaning doctors could deter that. The decision was ours to make.

  “Behold, you are betrothed to me,” I said aloud to David as we walked out of the canteen.

  Chapter 23

  First Leave

  On the way from the bus station home, I remembered the photos of soldiers returning to their families at the end of World War II. And then Lily leapt out from a corner where she had been hiding, jumped on me, and brought the memory to life. It didn’t help that I asked her to calm down – not because I wasn’t happy to see her, but because that level of exuberance was dangerous, even for healthy people. She refused to let go.

  “My soldier is back from the war…” she whispered in my ear.

  “What war are you talking about?”

  “Let my imagination run free – I missed you so much.”

  “I missed you too, no less than you. But … let’s go upstairs.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too. But, Lily, these are our moments, not the whole neighborhood’s,” I murmured with a forgiving smile.

  “You’re mine, and I don’t care what they see or think.” So, in a kind of helpless surrender, we hugged and kissed like crazy outside the building. Only when she calmed down did we finally go upstairs. Every corner of the apartment was filled with flowers. Judging by the intensity of her feelings in the street, I thought she’d drag me straight to bed. But to my surprise, she pulled me instead to her studio.

  “Look.” She showed me a charcoal sketch of a nude woman.

  “This is the new drawing I’m working on at Avni.”

  “From imagination, or real?”

  “We have a model at Avni. She’s wonderful. Maybe I’ll invite her over when you’re not home. She’s a dancer at the opera, and she said she’ll invite me to one of her performances of Showboat.”

  “You can invite her even when I am here – I promise not to interfere.” Lily looked at me, surprised for a moment, then burst out laughing. I joined her. The worry and tension that had filled me on the way, because of my talk with David, began to fade.

  “Take a shower. Give me your clothes – I’ll wash them later.”

  “I have to call my parents. They don’t know I’m home. My mother must be pining away.”