“Why?” she asked.
“Because I want to propose something.”
“Nothing is impossible.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. If the proposal is attractive, I’ll consider it seriously.”
“Look – you’re very, very talented.”
Lily didn’t respond, but her face showed deep emotion, and her eyes looked moist.
“Now I understand what you told me about the Sharett Foundation scholarship, and about studying at Avni.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can see in your paintings the influence of Wechsler andStrichman,” he said, pointing to the bleeding hearts. “But I think there’s also a great deal of originality here.”
“Thank you.”
Lily flushed deeper. I thought she was about to burst.
“Do you know the groupNew Horizons?”
“Of course – Zaritsky’s.”
“You could join them without any difficulty.”
“I’m still young. Maybe in a few years.”
“Then may I offer you something?” He glanced at me and returned to the point.
“Yes,” I answered for her, then stepped behind her.
“I’ll build you a custom-made course of study,” he said. Déjà vu, I thought – we’d been in this scenario not long ago.
“What do you mean?”
“Every two weeks, you’ll come to the College of Art and Design for three days – Wednesday to Friday.”
“And then?”
“If you finish, you’ll receive a graduate certificate like the others. You’ll be exempt from some of the classes.”
“And how will you explain that to the other teachers?” she asked.
“That’s my problem. Remember, you already hold a certificate from Avni. Lily, you’re extremely talented. Your work proves it to me. I want you to be a College of Art and Design alumna as well.”
Lily blushed.
“The offer stands. You can join this year, even though we started two months ago.”
In the nights that followed, Lily couldn’t sleep. A yes would pull her away from the workshop; a no would harm her and her future. She hunted for a way to hold the rope at both ends.
“I’ll ask Dan,” she said to me on one of those sleepless nights.“Maybe he’ll agree to adjust the schedule,” she said – half to herself, half to me.
To her relief, Dan supported her and agreed to rearrange his own schedule so she could cluster all her courses and classes at the start of the week, freeing the end of it for studies at the College of Art and Design. Still, she didn’t know if she could bear the load. She was afraid. So was I. Despite the fear of the unknown – and particularly of overload and its effect on her – I backed the idea. By then, I knew better than to try to stop her.
