H. Adler - The Wall

“Of course, I would hope so. I don’t want all the happiness for myself. But let me stay! Please, give it a try. I can hide in the back, if it bothers you, or wait behind the wagon until everything is finished. Then you can send me into town; I can find out where to go, or show you where. I can also look for people whom I can tell about you and bring them back with me. You’ll then make them all happy.”

Fortunata angrily shoved the crystal ball to the side, stood up forcefully, and didn’t look at me at all kindly. She didn’t want to hear any of my ideas and was ready to show me the door.

“So you don’t want me and I have to leave? Oh, you don’t have to be afraid of me! I mean you no harm!”

“If you will be reasonable and promise me that you’ll stop talking nonsense and afterward disappear straight off, then I’ll still do the crystal ball. But only if you promise that for sure!”

I promised, and felt deeply depressed.

“You are very harsh with me. I’m also afraid that you’ve misunderstood. I don’t want anything that’s not illegal; I am completely incapable of harming anyone. I have never done anything to anybody. I came to you because I had to, and with the best of intentions. You indeed see everything and know that I have nothing but doubt. How can I bear it? Only with you does it feel easier. That’s why it feels better to be with you than anywhere else in the world, which is why I want your protection forever. But I don’t want to burden you.”

My talk made Fortunata uncomfortable. She ignored it, and probably didn’t even listen to me, but she wanted to take pity on me and appeared to actually do so, for she lifted the crystal ball with a flourish, placed it gravely in front of her, and stared broodingly into the glass. From then on, I was not to disturb her with my pressing talk. Fortunata’s eyes shimmered as she looked at me.

“You must be very careful; otherwise something could happen to you! You should never go to fortune-tellers, because they are dangerous for you! As a result, you could lose your mind!”

“I can’t lose it. In that, you’re wrong. I cannot lose anything, nothing at all. Do you understand? I have nothing. I am nothing, nothing whatsoever. Has anyone ever come to you who was already nothing?”

“No, but you are indeed something. You are a husband and a father.”

“No.”

“I saw you earlier today with your children!”

“They are not my children. I don’t have any.”

“Your hand showed me clearly, nor did you say no when I said that you did.”

“I am often too weak to say no.”

“Why did you come here if you don’t exist? Nobody before has come who doesn’t exist. There’s no such thing.”

“Nobody at all?”

“Nobody.”

“Then I am the first Nobody.”

Fortunata bristled at this, thinking that I was stubborn, crazy. She no longer tended to her crystal ball but instead squinted at the door. Maybe she wanted to call for help. I had to reassure her, and so I lowered my gaze and spoke urgently and quietly while barely moving my lips.

“Please, don’t be afraid. I am not mad, and I certainly won’t do anything to you. Someone who is nothing can do nothing. I will also disappear, as you wish. You don’t have to call anyone for help, for you will see that I am obedient; a lamb couldn’t be more docile. Please believe me, I only came to you because I felt that I could be here, here with you. I always need to be with someone in order to know that I exist. That’s not crazy. Please remember, Fräulein Fortunata, that right after I arrived I asked whether or not I existed, and you said that I should put that off until you turned to the crystal ball.”

Rather than explaining anything, my talk confused the Gypsy woman all the more, yet she was no longer anxious or hostile.

“I say to you, as the all-seeing and faultless famous Gypsy fortune-teller Fortunata, that you exist, and that you can go forth from me without worry and at peace for all time, because nothing will happen to you. You will also exist if you are no longer in my wagon. You will exist for a long time, because you are healthy. You will remain protected, and almost all of your wishes will be fulfilled soon and in the future, most of your worries and the evil past fading away forever. Then you will be happy and forget all the terrible things, because everything will be as good as I say.”

Fortunata said all this with a singing tone, like someone telling a fairy tale. But she hardly turned her gaze from me, and certainly not toward the crystal ball, so I didn’t put much stock in what she said.

“Did you see all that in the crystal ball? Aren’t you saying all of it because that’s what you think I want to hear?”

She lifted the glass up and lightly played with it in order to examine its secret. I felt that I could expect nothing more and stood up. Fortunata followed me.

“Just one more thing! Then I won’t bother you again. Would you let me look into your crystal ball just once?”

Fortunata pressed it to herself and covered it up with both hands.

“There’s no point, sir. You wouldn’t understand. You wouldn’t see anything. Only I am told the truth.”

I staggered to the door and was so upset that I didn’t even thank her or say goodbye. I plunged down the steps, without turning to look back at Fortunata, and disappeared into the tumult. I didn’t leave anything with the Gypsy woman. I took myself along with me; even my hand, which hurt a little, remained attached to my arm, but was weaker than usual, and I was also weaker than I had ever been before. Only naked shame careened through the surging mass, garish floodlights and chains of shining lightbulbs blending together. The dark night sky was even blacker, dust and overly sweet charred odors rising toward it, and I didn’t know where the tears that streamed down my cheeks had come from, the cheeks of the excluded and the lonely one driven away from the clang of the horrid music, the empty air of the barren evening, the crowd of distasteful people rushing back and forth, the buzz of their voices of immeasurable misery rattling from them and echoing back unintelligibly in a roiling damp mixture seen through the prism of my tears. Already I had freed myself some from the crush and crossed the street, but then it surrounded me again, only the fair having sunk behind me, the old city there as ever, it existing, while I did not, though because of the anxious gleam of its streetlights I could no longer see it. I pressed ahead, feeling lost, because the streets, with their spotty lighting, took no notice of me and were, what I had not yet realized, occupied only with the trickle of rain that flowed along the sidewalks in dirty rivulets or here and there gathered in murky reflecting puddles.

So I walked along querulous and anxious, not noticing that we were already at the train station; Anna with her groom Helmut, Peter and the faithful Herr Geschlieder from the museum were with me. They were escorting me and had not allowed me to carry my own suitcase and bags. I must not be burdened at all was what they wished, unburdened by the weight of goodbye, a free man who should have no worries. Such care didn’t feel right to me, because without any luggage in my hand I couldn’t be certain that I was departing; I felt like a lazy onlooker who wasn’t responsible for anything, afraid that at the gate, or later on the platform, I would not be allowed on. A man with no luggage, which is what someone could take me for, shouldn’t be trusted, no matter how eagerly he brandishes his ticket. I would have been happy to discuss the matter quietly, but the continual chain of our stomping feet prevented it; the old city sucked me in and forbade any talk. Nor did I manage to say a word. So I stayed quiet and walked on, though I kept to the side in order not to block anyone’s way. I was not certain of my escort; they could all suddenly disappear, as the crowd was thick, but they didn’t let me out of their sight. Peter, especially, stayed close and laughed at me jokingly as best he could with his wide, distorted mouth. Anna didn’t offer any encouragement and yet was my only hope of a successful escape. Then the crowd began to thicken ahead of us; we had reached the great hall and now stood at a standstill, pressed among many people, hardly able to move.