H. Adler - The Wall

“Look, Johanna, I’ll do whatever you want me to. I’ll get my passport and papers and will be happy to go off to die.”

I had not planned to say that; it just slipped out. Yet, before I could catch myself, Johanna took advantage.

“Look, that’s exactly what I said. Wouldn’t it have been easier the other way? Now you’ll have to hoof it in order not to be late.”

“Don’t you worry, my dear! There’s still plenty of time. I’m looking forward to the walk, it’s so refreshing.”

“Okay, whatever you wish. It doesn’t matter to me what you batter away at with your thick skull.”

I went to my study; it looked completely cleaned out and seemed much bigger. Yet I was also convinced that things had been left untouched, the furniture standing pressed up against the walls as always. I had no trouble finding my papers, which I gathered up along with my checkbook, calendar, and notebook. “It’s important to know what day it is.” This I said aloud. The men outside heard me and thought it was a question, because Derek then told me the date. I thanked him, for he was nice — indeed, pleasant for a pallbearer. Unfortunately, that was little consolation, for I recognized immediately, as I inspected my birth certificate, which I had been issued back there after the war, that he was right. It was curtains for me; I didn’t have a chance. I thought of how I had come to this country with a visa that was good for only four weeks, which is why, after I left the ship and followed the curving path to the left, marked “Foreigners,” two border officials put their heads together and discussed whether they could let me into the country. One of them felt that since I would be in the country for such a short time there was no cause for concern, for the stranger would then return home. But I didn’t leave, for my stay had been extended, and I had been given extra time on a number of occasions. Now the deadline was passed. I could expect no more leniency, and would have to be sent across the border, whether on a ship, into the water, or into the fire. Brian and Derek were here to maintain the border in their own fashion. Whoever didn’t leave these shores on his own was picked up by the officials of death, locked in a box, such that he died behind the border, done in at last, that day having come. That was also the reason that Johanna no longer stood by me. She knew this country much better, having lived here for some years already.

I looked at my books, I peeked into the cabinet where my writings were locked up: everything was in order. I could relax. It would be best to fill a suitcase with the best of it in order to stash it away. But that was nonsense. It would do no good, for publishers had turned up their noses at so much sadness and didn’t want anything to do with it, no one having ever shown any interest in sinking himself into my thoughts. My melancholy work was of no use to me, since I was to be cremated. I should have asked the border officials whether anyone at the crematorium might be interested in my writings, but at best they would have laughed at me. Why confuse Brian and Derek, who didn’t know anything? My works were best buried in the drawers in order that they not be burned up. Johanna believed in their worth and would hold on to them. Widows and orphans help, for someone would show up wanting my things, and Johanna would sell them to an archive. So I left behind my soul, the works and thoughts of my intellectual pursuits.

“I loved you all, because in you I have borne witness. You will remain when I am no longer deceived by my own vanity.”

“It has indeed deceived you, Arthur.”

“Why are you here, Franziska? You never liked funerals.”

“I still don’t like them. It’s only because of you, my friend …”

“Well, then, what? Spit it out! Why so quiet?”

Franziska said nothing more, even though I asked her again. Then I looked at her blank face. She was elsewhere, transported, having disappeared into the unknown without a trace. I called after her.

“Are you lost to me for good? How can you leave me at this hour?”

I was given no answer. All I could hear was the border officials outside as they scratched and cleared their throats, and I knew that they would soon grow impatient.

“Are you still there?” I called out without opening the door.

But the men didn’t answer. As I listened at the door, I could hear no sound. Ashamed, they had no doubt crept off. I dared to hope for such a miracle. There was nothing to fear from death; on its own, when it turns away and spares us, it’s a blessing we are given, and we say a prayer of thanks for being saved. Franziska had sacrificed everything for me, and I rejoiced, for she had come in order to scare away death, she having at first removed the coffin from the ship of death of her own volition, and now the bearers of my heavy guilt as well. I turned to a wall and prayed, bowing my head, the blood rushing to my skull, me digging down and holding on in order that I not lose my grip if, indeed, I was finally alive again. “Just a little while, I know, but give me just a little while and teach me, so that I don’t foolishly waste the days I have been granted but instead consider every hour sacred and invoke your name, your glory, and your will. For you, my Lord, are the Lord, and I am nothing when I do not exist but rather only a fleeting creature before your eternal presence. Thus, in this hour, answer my—”

There was a knock at the door. I was startled, such that I could no longer pray. Yet I had said all that I wanted to say and was satisfied. Johanna stood in the doorway, pale and full of reproach.

“Okay, Arthur, where do you think you’re hiding! We’re all waiting for you; the breakfast is cold.”

Why should I eat anything? I asked myself, and stood there wavering.

“Come on, then!”

She motioned for me to follow, half angry and impatient, half friendly, and she couldn’t understand why I stood there so obtuse, as if her words were a puzzle. Since I continued not to stir, she took me tenderly by the hand.

“Do you have to cause me such trouble on this day of death! The men are so nice, and are eating with us. But you stand there lost, as if you didn’t have a heart. Don’t you want to have your last meal with us?”

“No, I don’t. Nor is it going to be my last meal. Things have completely changed. I’m staying home today. Please, just leave me alone!”

As far as I could see, Johanna was not backing down; instead, for the first time that day she showed understanding and lightly patted my shoulder.

“You dear, dear simple man. If life were only as easy as death, then you would have won. Have you forgotten why the men are here?”

“Franziska took them away.”

“Franziska?”

“Yes, she came and gave me life. Now you can be a lot happier with me. My stay has been extended.”

Johanna shook her head in quiet sadness, looking at me deeply and painfully as never before. It touched me and impressed me that she hesitated before me so helplessly.

“What’s wrong, Johanna?”

“With me? Nothing. Only with you. Sit down. Come and eat your oatmeal.”

She took me by the hand. I could have resisted, for I felt strong enough to hold my ground. But Johanna was overcome with sadness. She, who was otherwise so strong, was all of a sudden a compassionate fragile creature who had to be treated tenderly in order not to be wounded. Shyly, I ventured a final word.

“You know, dear, one shouldn’t leave anything unfinished. They are just trying to do their job, I can tell.”

“It’s not unfinished, dear. You’ve done enough already.”

“It’s easy to think so, but it’s not true.”

It wasn’t possible to protest any further, and so I quietly retreated down the unavoidable passage to the room off the garden in back, where the table was much too festively laid out. Spirits were high, the pallbearers pleased with the food, smacking their lips and joking with the children, which pleased them. Johanna had not scrimped and had prepared a huge breakfast. There was ham and eggs, lovely toast, butter, honey, and marmalade. The men slurped down tea with pleasure from our best cups. For me alone, there was oatmeal in a little bowl, Brian and Derek preferring their more ample helpings.