H. Adler - The Wall

“What’s taking her so long?” he asked, turning to So-and-So.

“I don’t know. Should I go look, Birch?”

“No, no, you should, of course, take Arthur in to Schallinger. I’ll look down below myself. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable, Arthur. We’ll be right back.”

With that, he disappeared. So-and-So led me into a large, sparklingclean room with little furniture in it but many books, all of them organized in standard fashion, but feeling cold. Otto stood before the shelves and perused them, curious and dumbstruck.

“Look, Arthur, just look!” he exclaimed. “I also have a few books and even some lovely ones. But look at this! It’s wonderful that anyone can afford such a library. Classics, philosophy, the moderns, and so much art. It’s magnificent! Birch must be a fine fellow! Sylvia should see this. I wonder if I could maybe bring her along sometime? Such good taste. I wonder if he’d lend any of them?”

“You can give it a try!” said So-and-So.

“You don’t think he would?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

I didn’t look at any of the books and sat down as fast as possible. My stupid foot; now it felt better. So-and-So was surprised that I ignored the books, but he didn’t dwell upon it, whereas Otto behaved like a giddy schoolboy and could not stop being astounded at my limited interest.

“You’ve changed, after all! Books used to—”

“That I don’t know. I don’t exist anymore.”

“Kauders, listen to what he’s saying! If someone else said that to me, I’d say he was crazy.”

“You’re probably right, Otto, and I am crazy.”

“Always the same old ironic Arthur Landau! Just like in school. Kauders, you knew him better. No one knew just what was up with him.”

Otto looked wounded. I had to reassure him.

“It was really nice of you to come today.”

“But now I should disappear! That’s what you’re thinking, right?”

“It has nothing to do with you. Please don’t misunderstand me. I just need a bit more time to recover, and I’m asking you to be patient.”

“Forgive me, it’s so easy to forget! It must have been horrible and awful. We heard so many things and read about it in the newspapers, but it’s still hard to imagine it all. You know, it would be best if sometime you told us about it all. In an appropriate way, but like it really was. It will do you good, and we will learn a lot. Then you can write a book about it. People have to know, so that nothing like it happens again. Then you’ll be free of it and be your old self again.”

“Yes, I’ll tell you about it all. As much as you’d like.”

“But not today!” So-and-So countered.

“Certainly not today,” I said, reassuring him.

“No, not today,” Otto agreed. “Today is for celebrating. We only want to remember something lovely. Do you remember our old school days? Kauders, you were also with us at school. All three of us in the same school, how remarkable! Do we know if our old teachers are still alive?”

“Prenzel is. He sends his greetings, So-and-So.”

So-and-So didn’t respond, and laughed to himself in satisfaction.

“Prenzel!” yelled Otto with glee.

“Not so loud!” So-and-So said.

“Professor Hilarius Prenzel, what a name. Man, was he odd, but not terrible! Whenever he would say, ‘Cicero says, and Catiline says, whereas I say!’ ”

We all laughed, but Otto whinnied such that it put So-and-So’s teeth on edge. I saw the immensely aged, yet still strapping old man before me when I said goodbye to him a week earlier. Despite his baroque manner of speech, both So-and-So and I had him to thank for a good part of our education, and an appreciation of history that, far from being just a bunch of strung-together facts, was really based on living people and the construction of society. I had had enough of the poor imitation of the man and turned to So-and-So.

“What’s taking Oswald so long with Inge?”

“He’s not with Inge,” So-and-So said. “He is certainly alone. I’ll bet that Bergmann has left, most likely in the same taxi.”

“She would do that?” asked Otto, curious. “Miss Inge Bergmann must be a really interesting personality. In fact, she’s a poet. I found her to be quite special.”

“She makes life especially difficult for her brother,” observed So-and-So dryly. “Nothing came of the illustration contract for Karin. She made so many sketches, yet Inge messed up everything with the publisher. Nothing but stubbornness.”

“People are very strange,” Otto acknowledged. “Wouldn’t you agree, Arthur?”

“Yes, very much.”

I closed my eyes, but Otto didn’t want to acknowledge my tired effort to turn away as he pressed a cigarette on me. I had to take one, although I didn’t want to smoke, So-and-So also helping himself. I could clearly sense that my friend found the pharmacist’s presence more bothersome than I did, for at each stupid thing said he cringed. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before Oswald reappeared, though Inge — So-and-So had been right — wasn’t with him. He looked a bit confused, but soon all uncertainty was cleared up and he had control of the situation.

“Inge sends her warmest greetings and is very sorry that she can’t handle company right now. She didn’t want to spoil the party. She is so considerate, but she had a pressing matter. It will interest you, Kauders. An appointment with a publisher, this one very promising. Hopefully, for Karin as well.”

“Really?”

“Naturally. She hasn’t forgotten about that. And she hopes to see us again today.”

“Is your sister always so busy, Mr. Birch?” asked Otto tactlessly.

“Yes, naturally, she has a lot to do,” countered Oswald.

Then my host insisted that I should see my room, as well as the rest of the apartment and the side rooms. My luggage was placed in my room, and Oswald expressed his concern whether in fact everything that had been prepared for me was completely to my liking and suited me, while I had to go to some effort to reassure him that it did. When he was finally convinced of this, it was formally agreed what would happen in the next few hours. We decided that I would first wash up and then have a rest in my room. As soon as I was ready to go out, I should come to the library. I had to get Oswald to promise that he would come and get me if I should happen to tarry too long.

“You have to promise me, Arthur, that you will in all honesty feel completely at home here. While you are here, imagine that you are master of the house and that I, as you desire, of course, am your friend, servant, and guest.”

Oswald Bergmann was at this moment his old self, speaking to me with such warmth, and accompanying me to the bathroom before walking off with quiet steps. For the first time I felt better; this renewed friendship, which had finally broken through the difficulty of such formalities, pleased me and helped me to hope for the best. I could see that the arrival had not only been difficult for me, for the anticipation had to have been just as difficult for Oswald.

Slowly I passed the time in the bathroom, dawdling there as I used to as a child, much to my mother’s annoyance. I thought back on the evening of the first day that I spent in Anna’s bathroom; this time it was very different. The fact that this room was lit so well was an essential difference. Since it was an older house, clearly the bathroom had been installed later in this space, which had originally served different purposes. There were some chests and hutches arranged, though there was enough room to make up a comfortable and workable space. Surprising was the toilet bowl, which wasn’t on the same level as the tank, for you had to climb up two steps to it as if to a podium. It felt strange and sad to sit so high and awkward, which immediately brought up disagreeable memories of childhood and how my Aunt Olga always referred to using the toilet as sitting on the throne or visiting the throne room. I began to cry as I crouched down there up above; how happy I would have been to avoid it. I hurried as fast as possible until I noticed, to my horror, that people at nearby windows of other apartments could look in, I having neglected to draw the curtains. Hopefully, no one had observed me.