H. Adler - The Wall

“Tell me, Johanna, what would you say if I really did want to marry you? In all seriousness? Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

We said nothing. I would have loved to sit next to her, but I didn’t have the courage; it would have been too forward — what foolish fears! But that was the way it was. It was not necessary to switch places. I had to stay where I was, and she had to remain across from me. That was for the best. I was too overwhelmed from the success of my proposal; also, Johanna must have realized that she had been steered into giving her immediate consent. Though it seemed strange to have achieved such a forced victory, it still felt like the most natural thing in the world, there being no other outcome imaginable. It wasn’t love that had brought us together, for we had not spoken of love; most likely, neither of us having even thought of it. Instead, an unfathomable desire had hauled us out of the abyss of our yawning loneliness, the two of us having been brought together from across a great distance. It had happened. We sat there silent, serious, almost like two stones, neither of us daring to think that we should embrace, our thoughts instead traveling far off into the distance across which neither of us had to explain ourselves to each other. We had said too much; now we had to remain much more reticent about what now — and perhaps always — would risk sounding highly superficial. A deep affection for my quiet friend welled up inside me, but it warned against my expressing how I felt out loud. The future was inconceivable; I did not at all feel capable of predicting any direction for the challenges that lay ahead. After a long while, I stirred myself to ask a question.

“What happens now, Johanna?”

“We will see. We are on our own and are answerable to no one on earth.”

“Nothing is certain, Johanna.”

“Except that we are certain. I will do anything I can for you. You can trust me.”

“It will be hard for you.”

“All the better.”

“That is easily said.”

“And slowly done. Don’t worry!”

“No. I won’t. I trust you, and your gentle spirit.”

“Thank you.”

“We should marry soon, if you don’t have anything against it.”

“Soon, for sure, my dear. There’s no sense in waiting. I’ll stand by you, and when it gets too hard, too hard for you, my dear, then don’t forget that you have me, that I’m there for you.”

My dearest said all this with halting warmth. Johanna soon relaxed without becoming any less serious, and effused a lovely glow. Her eyes brightened, the corners of her mouth softening. Suddenly and unexpectedly, she called the waiter over and asked him for the check. She quickly paid, having treated me, though I would have felt better if I had paid the tab. But now it was too late, so I let it happen. After the waiter thanked us, I apologized for my lapse.

“It all comes out of the same pocket now,” she said simply.

I asked whether we should stay, but Johanna looked me over and decided that quiet was what I needed. I stood up, somewhat wearily, and got the coats. I then realized for the first time that I needed to help my wife, my soon-to-be wife. Maybe that’s why I held the coat so clumsily, such that the waiter wanted to jump in to help, though Johanna didn’t want me to feel ashamed.

“Don’t either of you bother with it. I prefer to do it myself.”

Thus I had to look on abashed as the waiter took my coat from me, which I thoughtlessly let happen, just as I also patiently allowed him to dress me like a display-window mannequin.

“That’s very kind of you,” I said in thanks. “But I’d prefer to put on my hat myself.”

The waiter looked at me surprised, as I proceeded to follow Johanna, who only wanted to leave the restaurant as quickly as possible. The darkness in the street was deep and heavy, but not unpleasant, for it had gotten warmer. At least that’s what I imagined, and since Johanna agreed, it must have been so. She said it was a strange country that often warms up in the evening or at night, while during the day it can often be much colder. I took my wife’s arm, and she let me do so.

“Everything is different now,” I said.

“How so, different? We have found each other. That’s all there is to it.”

“You’re right. Nothing has changed. At least, not for us. We were simply meant for each other. The only difference being that we didn’t know it for so long, for we did not know each other. But once it’s expressed, it’s self-evident, and thus we belong together. Only the others that know us will be surprised.”

“That we’ll have to simply understand.”

“Yet how do you see things unfolding? How do we want to do this? I don’t know what to do. I have no experience with the formalities of a wedding. Certainly it’s complicated, what with the documents that are needed, the wedding clothes, even if it’s a modest affair. And we need witnesses. We also have to invite a couple of people, you know, because of the contacts that are so important to have here. And, then, where will we live? And your job? I have my doubts when I start to imagine everything involved.”

I sighed deeply, there seeming to be nothing but obstacles ahead. To follow sudden impulses was easy, and I could also make plans, but when it came to carrying them out I shrank before the mounting difficulties and didn’t know how to handle them. Most likely, she was also now conscious of all the difficulties, and thus I was almost afraid that we’d never get beyond the starting point of realizing our plans.

“You know, my dear, you shouldn’t worry so much. One thing at a time. I’ll think about it all carefully. The formalities are simple. Tomorrow I’ll make some inquiries. Then I’ll be able to see it all more clearly and let you know what needs to be done.”

“Isn’t that the job of the groom? I’m so anxious about it all.”

“About marriage?”

“Oh, not that, not if you have no fear about it. But the officials — it’s a nightmare, it all is, including the practicalities. My friends are of no use, except for a few old well-meaning school buddies. And then I’m most worried about everything involved, even practical matters, you see. It’s all so difficult, and I’m of no use to you. If I’m at all honest, I have to really warn you about what you’re in for, before it’s too late. If for no other reason than that I don’t want the bond between us to break later on. Some people don’t take such things seriously, saying they can just give it a try, and if it doesn’t work, then they can separate. But that’s no basis for a marriage. I want nothing to do with that, for I find it abominable.”

“You can break your pledge. Just do what you want. I’m not forcing you to do anything.”

“But you said yes.”

“Yes. But you still have time to decide otherwise.”

“That I cannot do. I am at your mercy, completely in your hands.”

“You are a free man.”

“Free? Forgive me, but that’s a ridiculous word. I am never free; I don’t even have any desire to be so. Freedom has been thoroughly driven out of me. It’s a dream. Perhaps it’s been realized by some people, but only rarely, or so I believe.”

“Do you not believe in any freedom?”

“No. Or, more specifically, I am not free and know no freedom.”

“Everything is just fate, the good as well as the bad?”

“It doesn’t seem that simple to me. I would say that one is delivered into life, and then there is a very narrow set of circumstances in which you can move, though they are essential for each person. A freedom in bonds. About this I have thought a lot. I’ll let you see in my papers sometime what I’ve written about it.”

“That would interest me.”