H. Adler - The Wall

All the travelers ahead of me had gotten out and had engaged porters or had swiftly hurried off, only a few greeted by loved ones and triumphantly whisked away. It was nice that the platform next to the track was smooth and flat, such that leaving the train with my four bags was not too strenuous. A porter offered his services, but I had no desire, much less courage, to pay him to help, my means having shrunk, nor did I know the currency very well and I could so easily be taken advantage of. If my friends were nearby, I wouldn’t need anyone, and, besides, the left luggage couldn’t be that far off. The porter shrugged and looked at me suspiciously, as if he wanted to say, “Foolish, chintzy stranger, to the devil with you!” Before I readied myself to move on, I once again looked around carefully. It could in fact be that So-and-So had changed a lot, and I strained to imagine what his face might look like. Yet how easy would it be for him to recognize me if he also didn’t have a good memory of how I looked? To recognize someone in a train station after many years is indeed difficult. You stare at many faces, observing people’s gait, too many of them hoping to find one another and already shaking hands and kissing before the vague delirium of seeing one another sets in and, after losing themselves in rapid chatter, again separating from one another. The air is tense with the tangled threads of expectation; you are separated and wander off, having indeed missed someone, and, with a creeping feeling in your stomach, you stand mistakenly in the weather along with everyone else, abandoned at the dirty exit of the train station.

Yet I was fairly certain that So-and-So was nowhere in the vicinity, nor was I standing within the circle of Oswald’s gaze, and other friends were certainly not on the platform. I lifted my luggage, taking a few steps with two suitcases, and then returning for the others, it thus going very slowly as I shuffled on, while most of the travelers were already far ahead of me, the latecomers having also overtaken me. Soon the platform was almost completely empty of people. Only the little automatic trolley laden with huge pieces of luggage hummed past me as I continued to trudge on and I was shocked to realize that the exit was a lot farther away than I had expected. After pausing several times to rest I had made it as far as the engine, and yet I still had not discovered anyone I knew. There was no real checkpoint, which explained my ticket’s having been taken on the train, but instead a wide outlet, behind which a teeming mass of people moved about. Among them were hardly any who were waiting for a traveler from abroad. When I first reached this throng, I felt that I had arrived. I set down my things and wanted to rest before launching into my strange new venture. As I did this I looked in every direction, not wanting it to be my fault if I missed So-and-So. Soon I felt better, and more ready to risk the adventure, only my hurt foot feeling painful and burning, it being an annoying obstacle to feel at all restrained while taking one’s first steps in a new land. But I only squatted on my suitcase for a little while, lifting myself up and looking for a trustworthy face to ask the way to the left luggage, a man soon obliging me. I worked my way through the crowd, resigned to the fact that my friends had other things in mind than to pick up a lost one. As I went to place my things in left luggage, an uncertain greeting reached me from close by.

“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.