“Have you spoken to anyone about the plan to leave the workshop?” Her decisiveness surprised me.
“Yes, with Ali. When he came to thank me for the evening with John Bolton, I hinted to him that it was hard for me.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said he was sorry, but he wouldn’t stop me.”
“Did you tell him?”
“No.”
I raised my head and looked at her. She looked paler than ever.
“He told me that at City Hall they praise our activities, and that the evening with Julian Hartman was also successful. He also mentioned Elliot Crane’s last visit, said it went well, and that his lecture drew a large crowd again.”
“So what were the results of the last tests?” We returned to reality.
“I forgot to tell you, but the hemoglobin dropped, and there’s also a decline in kidney function.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I was upset at the bad news.
“I’m sorry, I forgot; we’re both up to our ears,” she apologized sincerely.
Only a week had passed since our home holiday, and already each of us was busy with our own tasks. We decided that first, Lily would move to her parents’ house, and I would commute between Eilat and Tel-Aviv. After we rented an apartment, I would arrange for a posting at a nearby base. We didn’t want to cause a stir. We thought that a gradual departure would make fewer waves.
“Before we go north, I want to go down to Solomon River again, to take one more photo,” she said after the decision was made.
“Whatever you want. When?” I thought her weakness would make her give up.
“Now,” she surprised me.
“What should I bring?”
“Everything’s ready, just take the camera.” We went down to Solomon River, to the estuary and found our spot. Lily pulled out a white flag tied to a wooden pole, with red stains on it.
“Where’s this red color from?” I wondered. That mattered more to me than when she had made or bought the flag.
“Ketchup.”
“It doesn’t look like ketchup.”
“You’re right, it’s blood.”
“Whose?”
“Mine.”
My eyes widened. I didn’t want to ask where she had gotten that blood. Maybe from one of her recent hospital visits? Maybe from another source? I didn’t want to know.
She placed the stained flag on the ground. To my surprise, she also brought a bottle of ketchup from the car and scatteredits contents, in measured movements, on the earth around the painted flag.
The “blood” stains looked as though they had dripped from the flag onto the ground, soaking it. Lily looked down at her creation. When she was satisfied, she began to photograph it from different angles. When she finished the film in the camera, she gathered all the materials and put them in the jeep’s trunk.
“Come to me, come closer,” she asked.
“This is probably the last time I’ll see this place.”
I was alarmed.
