“Of course not,” I answered quickly, worried he might have noticed something unusual about Lily.
“Rachel told me she’s really talented.”
“Anyone who knows what they’re talking about says she has a bright future. She just got accepted straight into fourth year at Avni.” Before he could respond, I saw Lily and Joan walking toward us.
“I hear you’re studying art,” Eli said to her.
“Yes, at Avni.”
Seeing that their conversation flowed naturally, I relaxed a little and went to the kitchen to speak with my mother.
“She didn’t eat anything,” my mother pounced.
“Lily?” I asked with feigned innocence.
“Yes, Lily. What, my cooking doesn’t taste good to her?” She had plenty of practice in taking offense this way.
“We were just at her parents’ house, and she had a bite of something there,” I offered a flimsy excuse.
“Tell her that if she doesn’t eat here, she might as well not come.” My mother’s words were final.
“Mom, does everything always have to revolve around food?”
“Not everything, but most things … actually yes, everything. Remember: ‘If there’s no food, there’s no Torah.’”
I’d heard that line more times than I could count.
“Isn’t it enough that I eat?” I tried another angle. “I also didn’t see Joan gorging herself on your food, but you’re not complaining about her.”
“I’m used to Orit by now. But to start out this way – with your mother?”
My father stood silently washing the dishes. He knew better than to argue; nothing he said could ever steer my mother off her course. He gave me a smile of full understanding. The truth was, he didn’t understand anything yet. Only I knew that I was physically present at that dinner, while my soul wandered elsewhere. I wanted to, but couldn’t bring myself to say out loud the plan I had already sketched in my imagination. Nobody around that dinner table could have guessed what I was planning for the next day – November 22, 1975, exactly one week before the first night of Hanukkah.
Chapter 25
If I Forget You, O Jerusalem…
Sunlight streamed through the slats of the shutters in the bedroom and woke me. It was nine in the morning; at the base, we were up by five, in total darkness. Lily was still asleep. I didn’t want to wake her. I walked into the living room and quietly opened the shutters. The light that flooded the room blinded me. The winter sun hung low in the southeast, the sky was blue from horizon to horizon, not a single cloud above. I smiled to myself because I knew what was going to happen today. Lily had no idea.
Even though David had delivered the “message” from our friends – their opinion about what I was about to do – he was still the first one I called that morning to tell him: today is the day.
“You’re the first to know that this isn’t new.”
“I just want to say you’ve lost your mind. Does she know?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
“You know the answer.”
“So maybe she doesn’t…”
“No chance,” I cut him off.
“There’s always a chance.”
“I know her. She’ll say yes! I even think she’s expecting at least a proposal. So today I’ll propose, and we’ll do it, today. We’ll see how it unfolds. I’m not a fortune teller.”
“And what about the parents?”
“Whose?”
