H. Adler - The Wall

Now all that was left was to get in with Brian; I didn’t want to waste another minute, but I was too shy to step into the hearse ahead of my companion, not so much because I was the main person of concern as because I couldn’t help seeing my father, to whom the greater honor was due, in this man. I knew that it was all up to me, and I had to decide and make my wishes known that Brian should step in first. However, I didn’t want to use words and had only to think it in order to choose. Then it was made clear to me that I had to make the sacrifice and be the first. I pointed a finger at the hearse, and Brian nodded. And so I went, my father following me with an assured gravity; I sensed the almost soundless sureness of his step landing large and meaningful around me like a protective coat. At the running board I took hold of Derek’s helping hand, and was struck by how much easier it was than I’d thought it would be to climb into the mighty glass cabinet of the hearse.

Brian had not helped me, he feeling certain that all was okay, and the fact that he was behind me was all that mattered. I tried to take my place atop the coffin, but that was not so easy. Coffins are meant to be lain in, not to be sat upon, and certainly not with legs straddling either side. I bemoaned my clumsiness and wanted to ask Derek if I couldn’t sit on the coffin sidesaddle. I could do that, it was within my rights, but again I had to think of Brian and his words; I mustn’t disappoint his pure humanity. No matter how much I wanted things my way, I couldn’t have them. I was dependent on others; I was connected to them and had to do what was expected of me. It had come to be true that, to whatever extent my doubt in existence could be dissolved, something essential was attained, and I was stretched between these two extremes. Thus the most uncomfortable seat was good enough for me, the grace of life sitting upon a shrine of death within the vehicle of death.

The flowers in front of and behind me were painfully pressing against one another with their coolly swirling scents, but there was nothing I could do, some of them being askew, many of them squished. I felt bad and complained, looking apologetically at Derek and his now less telling face, while I didn’t dare turn to Brian. But now, at last, I was sitting, it being hard and painful at the same time, the ridges of the coffin cutting into my thighs. I only hoped that the drive would soon start and soon end. My friends touchingly made the effort to push me into the middle of my saddle, but they didn’t succeed entirely, no matter how much I tried to advise them of the best way to go about it. Finally they gave up trying to jockey me into the best spot, probably feeling sorry for me or sorry for themselves. So they left me to it, closed the glass doors, at which I heard further sounds whose meaning I couldn’t quite make out, though likely they had to do with the folding up of the steps used to climb in and the turning of the lock. Then the pallbearers got in. Derek was to my left, while Brian was to my right. I wasn’t feeling all that good, though the moment felt like the evening of a sacred day of rest, rather than like the morning of a weekday. I whispered the words of a prayer that was appropriate to it:

“Our Lord and the Lord of our Fathers, be pleased with our rest, bless us with Your commandments and allow us to know Your teaching. Satiate us with Your goodness, gladden us with Your salvation and purify our hearts, so that we may serve You in truth.”

I had not completed this sentence before Brian knocked on the window that separated the glass cabinet from the driver, as Jock acknowledged the signal. Then I heard the motor start up, and soon we were off. I would have fallen over if my helpers had not taken mercy on me. I would have been happy to lock arms with them and give up, though I had to settle for the quiet support they extended. I would also have liked to look out at the people on the street, though given the way I had to crouch, there was no way of doing so without bending over dangerously, besides which I was too tense and wanted nothing else but a fast and happy end to the journey.

The sounds of the vehicle were drowned out by a heavy rumbling from behind. Simmonds rumbled along, but the sound pleased me, for then I could sense that Johanna was near, as well as the children. The separation couldn’t last long. Then we braked somewhat sharply, but unfortunately we had not arrived at our destination, only at Halstead Way. Yet before I knew it we were already at the edge of Shepherd’s Field. I was feeling very uncomfortable, because outside there was an oppressive crush full of a horrible buzzing and drowning music. This was no Sociology Conference; it was the regular fair with its usual, though today unexpected, bustle, even if upon closer inspection the number of people out at this early hour was not all that large. I couldn’t resist looking intently at Brian and Derek, though to my annoyance they were not the least concerned. Thus they had managed to make a fool of me, and it rightfully happened to the failed scholar Arthur Landau, who deserved a place in a show booth at the fair. There I sat as a figure of shame, powerless in a hearse, having to wait to see what tasteless pranks awaited me.

Defenseless and awkward, I couldn’t go after the mighty pallbearers, or even yell at them as I wished to. The ridiculousness of my situation in the glass cabinet was not to be overestimated. I at least got down from the coffin — how had I let myself fall for such mischief? — but it wasn’t easy to do so, for even after such a short journey my legs were stiff, me feeling as if I’d been broken on the wheel. Stiffly I swung my right leg to the left side and sat facing Derek. I hoped that it upset Brian, for now I detested him; Derek seemed to me much more bearable as the less important man. But I had to learn that I had not properly sized up my companions. Derek was pleased that in turning to him I had deemed him worthy, he laughing at me respectfully and also jokingly, while from behind Brian tenderly ran his hand from the top of my head down the back of my neck, which made me shiver. Up ahead the door was opened, and outside the noise abated, something that certainly had happened at a given signal. I noticed how people had gathered about the vehicle and recognized a number of familiar faces among them.

Jock jumped out from his seat, causing the vehicle to rock, and helped the old man, who trembled as he got out but was then happy to stand on solid ground again with his own two feet. I then needed only a quick glance to know who the old man was; his movements were unmistakable. It was exactly how old Prenzel would look, my old history teacher. I recalled my terrified face when I had last seen him, how he had met me on the train platform and then had dropped me off at the guardhouse like a piece of luggage that he had found. Why was the old man in the metropolis? I would not have thought to have found Prenzel still among the living, least of all here in the metropolis, since travel from back there had not been allowed in years.

My companions in the glass cabinet then moved to open it up from the inside, but in vain they rattled the double doors. Only when Jock hurried to the back, Prenzel following slowly but curious to help his colleagues with all his strength, did the closed door finally function. At last Brian and Derek stood outside. Someone blew a fanfare, at which everything let loose with a fierce roar produced by music machines and instruments of alarm, as I worked as fast as possible to free myself from my dungeon. The pallbearers offered me a hand, but my pride refused their help. I withdrew from their too-confident grasp and staggered unassisted and alone over the running board and onto solid ground.

All around me I saw my family and all the others who had come in the vegetable truck, but also a large number of other people I knew, or at least could recall. Even the strangers who had gathered here seemed somewhat familiar to me. I probably had this impression because the strangers, as well as those I knew, aggressively tried to get within my range of sight. Yet all of them kept their distance out of a seeming shyness, such that there was an open space between me and the onlookers. Only the four men who had ridden with me in the hearse stood near me, until finally it was Professor Kratzenstein who approached, though still keeping his distance. Prenzel trudged over to me, blessed me, and took me by the hand like a little child who needed to be protected. It was touching. I believe it wouldn’t have taken much for him to kiss me. Then he walked with me ahead of the others who had traveled together, bowed before the crowd, and introduced me: