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Authors: H. G. Adler

The Wall (68 page)

BOOK: The Wall
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“Arthur!”

I turned around. It was Oswald, who stared at my face.

“There he is!”

He yelled it, much too loudly it seemed to me, and so I looked away, not wanting to cause a commotion. The attendant behind the counter looked at me questioningly.

“I don’t know what it’s about!” I stammered to the man unsteadily. He turned away indifferently, pulled back from the counter, and didn’t concern himself with me anymore.

“We were afraid that we’d missed you, Arthur. Or, worse yet, that something had happened, perhaps difficulties at the border—you know all too well what I mean. But here you are, that’s what matters. We were worried that they wouldn’t let you into the country. Inge thought that, and Kauders was worried as well.”

“Where are they all?”

“Wait now, Arthur, just wait! I’ll get them all; they went to have a cup of tea.”

“And the luggage?”

“What do you mean, ‘the luggage’? What are you saying, Arthur? I mean, what are you proposing?”

I wasn’t proposing anything, but I wanted for something to happen.

“I’d just like to know what’s going to happen.”

“Of course, of course, naturally, that makes sense. I mean, whatever you wish, Arthur. You can of course leave it here. Nothing will go missing, neither big suitcases nor little ones. You can insure it. Whatever you like.”

“But what will happen with me?”

“Naturally, of course. You won’t be staying here. Just give me a moment
to get the others. Or, if you want, I’ll stay here and you can go look for them yourself.”

“I don’t know where to go.”

“That’s right, naturally. You’re completely right. I’d recommend, Arthur, maybe it would be best to wait here. I promise that it won’t take long. Not even five minutes. Or you can leave the luggage and we can both go. Does that sound all right?”

I found it hard to decide; Oswald’s talk didn’t make my situation any easier. It bothered him how indecisive I was. I noticed how he was straining to find an exit. He looked at me, concerned and confused.

“Everything must, of course, be according to your wishes, Arthur. We are here entirely for you. I mean, your situation, since it is so understandable. But perhaps you have a suggestion, particular plans. Perhaps you’d like a cup of tea.”

Oswald spit it all out in a harried fashion; it bothered me how hard he tried to please me. And yet it wasn’t up to me to solve the problem at hand. I spoke to him as sympathetically as I could, almost abjectly.

“I have to ask you to make a suggestion, Oswald. I’ll follow it—I just want to reach a destination somewhere.”

I added the last sentence when I sensed that Oswald was again ready to say something that would hardly clear up the situation.

“Well, well. A suggestion. Of course, if that’s what you want. But will you like it?”

“Just make one!”

“Okay, then I suggest that you stay put for now. I’ll get the others. Is that all right? I’ll be right back with all of them. Just wait patiently, it won’t take long. Shall I get you a newspaper so that you won’t be bored?”

“No, no!”

“Okay, then. Perhaps you can meanwhile think about what you’d like to do, or you can just rest. And then we’ll all be with one another and together at last. Does that sound good?”

Indeed, everything was fine by me. I nodded my approval and wanted only for Oswald to leave for a good long time, for I had not yet got used to his indecisive but overbearing onslaught.

“Wouldn’t you like a cigarette?”

Oswald held out an open pack to me. I reached mechanically to take one, but I couldn’t get it out, whether it was because I was so unsettled or because they were crammed so into the pack. Then Oswald handed me the entire pack and pressed some matches into my hand before he left.

I had to laugh a tormented laugh, and I felt more lost than ever, having surrendered myself with abandon to some people—who knew how many?—who were supposed to be my friends and yet knew nothing of me. It was not the same Oswald that I had known, or was it vice versa? I was not the same person that he had known, a wall having been erected between us—here the lost one, improbable and still doubtful in his reappearance, there Oswald Bergmann transformed into the famous archaeologist Mr. Birch. Perhaps he had anticipated me as I was, yet I had not yet reached him. Standing around me was my luggage; I recognized each piece, having brought them along with me, and I knew roughly how I had divided up the contents within them. Only Anna’s last apple had remained behind on the train and most likely was being scooped up by an attendant with a shovel and tossed into a rubbish bin. But otherwise everything was there, stacked and pressed together by a stiff outer shell, feeling sad for me and the senseless rush at our stop at an untimely place; and yet, even though all of it was mine, nevertheless nothing belonged to me, all those embarrassing remains abandoned by me, wasted relics, none of which I wanted. And yet I was responsible for them and had to claim them, because there were people coming who wanted to either pick up or get rid of their things and needed the space where my things stood awkwardly in the way. I reluctantly shoved my luggage to the side and sat down on a suitcase and lit one of Oswald’s cigarettes. It was strong tobacco, which I was not used to, yet the smoke was pleasing.

The time during which I waited went too quickly, for already Oswald was leading his companions toward me. There was Inge, stolid and much fatter than I recalled. A corner of her mouth was turned down inadvertently or mockingly, something that I had never seen in her before. And then came So-and-So, with his swinging arms and fidgety legs, much more nervous than before the war. My friend seemed older, dour or unhappy, his hair now thin, his skin slack and with deep wrinkles that were more pronounced around the mouth than around the temples and forehead. He had not brought along Karin, while there was a third person I recognized,
whom I had long forgotten—namely, Otto Schallinger, a classmate of mine in middle school, with whom I had lost almost total contact before the war. Hadn’t he become a pharmacist? I thought I recalled that he had moved from this profession to work as a chemist. I had never been close to Otto; in his character there was something of the lasting loyalty of old tailors, an always pleasant, though to me somewhat boring, companion whom I never quite knew what to make of. That he had been asked to welcome me here in the metropolis, where I never expected him, was a complete surprise that I obviously couldn’t take the time to mull over amid everything that was coming at me and making me feel yet more defenseless. My friends also had another strange man in their midst who blithely accompanied them and looked at me keenly. Was this perhaps one of the important connections that So-and-So wanted to bestow upon me? Already, from afar I could see how all of them devoured me with their gazes, sucking me up, myself complying almost unconsciously, which seemed the best thing to do.

I jumped up from the suitcase and took heart in order to greet the group in a manner as dignified and unforced as possible. All of them walked along at almost the same pace, a strange sad march, their gazes never shifting from me and seizing hold of me such that I had to make an effort to endure such an onslaught and not look at the ground as if being punished. No doubt it had to be a surprise to see someone whom you thought was dead suddenly appear, not trusting your own eyes or knowing if perhaps you were wrong. I would have been glad to take a step toward the group in order show them: It’s me, come closer, and don’t be afraid. But I let things be. I also felt that it wasn’t up to me to say the first word, and so I only felt compelled to laugh at the little band, whose strange hurry was remarkably slow and approached me like a moving wall. Then Otto the pharmacist jumped out from the group, a camera around his neck that bounced along pleasantly in its leather case on his stomach. “There you are, you old fellow!” he called out with sincere joy, stretching his right hand out to me, whereby our thumbs quickly folded over each other’s. But he held my hand for only a few seconds and then drew back. I didn’t know what was going on, as Otto waved to the others not to come any closer to me, at which, like a street photographer who suddenly snaps your picture and offers you a card that says, “You’ve had your picture taken!,” he readied his camera, lifted it high, pointed it at me, and snapped.

“We have a picture!” he yelled. “It’s a triumph! A real event!”

“Hopefully, you’re not a press photographer,” I replied timidly.

“No, no, what do you think I am!” Otto reassured me, and then he snapped another photo.

Then, for the first time, the others could approach. One after another shook my hand, also the stranger, who introduced himself as Dr. Jolan Haarburger from Budapest, even Oswald shaking my hand as well, since he had failed to do so earlier. The last was Fräulein Bergmann, who, if I’m not mistaken, had to be prodded by her brother. Only a few words were exchanged, more abrupt calls of sharp surprise than anything specific. I didn’t have anything to say in return and kept quiet until the others had nothing more to say but instead stood around me in a half circle and stared at me. I lit another of Oswald’s cigarettes. Then I wanted to give him back the pack, but he wouldn’t take it. As I held it out to him, he took hold of my hand and the pack and guided them into my coat pocket, and I had to just go along. Then I turned back and forth inside the half circle; I was curious what would happen next, but no matter what I did, nothing happened, only this half-astounded, half-shameless gazing at me kept going on, to which I responded by blowing smoke into their eyes, not even sparing Dr. Haarburger. At last he was the one to say how pleased he was to have met me. He thought it wonderful that I was now here, for I would no doubt be pleased. “The city of cities!” he whispered almost secretively, and winked as he said it. Then he pulled out his card and hoped that I would soon make use of his telephone number, for he and his wife would be especially pleased if sometime in the next few days I would contact them and pay them the honor of arranging a visit to them. I thanked him with a deep bow and promised that I would call soon. Then Dr. Haarburger explained that he didn’t want to take me away from my friends any longer—he had bothered me enough already and had to be going.

“It was truly a pleasure. It’s a wonder that you made it here, looking as good as ever after all that you’ve been through, and not even worn out by the journey. We are all here to help you. Think of me as a brother.”

I was embarrassed and shrugged. So-and-So turned away, Oswald stroked his forehead, Otto grinned as Inge cleared her throat. None of it seemed to affect Dr. Haarburger.

“I literally stole away a bit of time from my day because I simply had to
see you. I’m especially indebted to Dr. Kauders for having told me so much about you and letting me know what time you were arriving. So let me, in the name of all of my friends, say how happy we are to have you here among us. We need you. It’s a difficult country, but, for you, certainly promising, very promising.”

Dr. Haarburger underscored the last phrase emphatically, Oswald agreed with him approvingly, So-and-So smiled enigmatically, and I bowed once again. The friendly man was in a hurry to get away, but he hadn’t reckoned with Otto.

“Just a moment, Herr Doctor. We need to get a photo of this! The whole group, please!”

As Haarburger hesitated and the others remained standing where they were, Otto said resolutely that we needed to draw closer. Otto took at least eight shots. Inge didn’t like it, becoming ever more nervous and longing for it to end.

“That’s enough now, Herr Schallinger!”

Inge gave the photographer a nasty look, such that he lowered his weapon dejectedly.

Sadly he played with his camera, but didn’t put it away in its case, and when Dr. Haarburger was finally gone Otto turned mercilessly toward me and shoved me a bit to the side of the group.

“I need some more of you! I was stupid and only took two shots of you at the beginning!”

Then he took a number of shots until he had used up the roll. Only then did he seem satisfied, but not entirely, for he then took out the roll and put in a new one. I’d had enough of this, and the others came to my rescue.

“Now, let the beast give poor Landau a bit of rest!” said Inge. “Otherwise he will get a big head. Isn’t that true, Landau—aren’t you as conceited as ever? It’s no wonder, given what you’ve survived!”

I couldn’t believe my ears, but it was just as embarrassing for the others, especially Oswald, who didn’t want to see either me or Otto upset.

“Inge is so high-spirited. Inge, you shouldn’t talk so! Inge loves to joke, and, of course, she doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Otto only found it all a bit odd and wasn’t upset, nor was I. He seemed satisfied with his yield of photos, while to me it was all the same. I only
wanted to leave the cloakroom and the station, but, unfortunately, my friends did nothing to get me out of there. Had they come to no decision? They stood there as morose as before, awkwardly moving their arms and hands and looking at me almost ravenously. What did they expect of me? It was up to them to do something; they couldn’t turn over to me what was supposed to happen in the next minutes and hours. They murmured something, but didn’t seem to agree on anything, as I had hoped, because they went quiet again and kept shifting their weight back and forth on their legs as if they had worked out a pantomime with which to welcome me. I tried to encourage them by smiling, but they couldn’t free themselves from their torpid demeanor. Perhaps my attempt failed because I had not smiled enough in a natural way. They had become more serious and confused, only Inge seeming somewhat less timid and looking on more derisively, but it was also possible that this was only because of her own uncertainty. Therefore I resigned myself to break up their torpor with more smiles and looked sideways over at my luggage, which sat pitifully on the floor. Perhaps it would be better for them to grab hold of it and at least help me with that. But all of these attempts came to nothing.

“Now tell me, how are you all?”

“We’re fine, thank you!” Oswald assured me. “Of course good, very good!”

BOOK: The Wall
6.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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