H. Adler - The Wall

“Platform Three, Track One! Have a good journey!”

How nicely he had called out his little rhyme! I had already slipped through the gate, but I turned around once more, and, as thanks for such courtesy and for the well wishes, I bowed slightly. The ticket puncher didn’t look at me, nor, unfortunately, did he take in my polite goodbye. He had other things to do and looked over the next person’s ticket, or who knows how many more. I stuck my ticket book in my pocket and looked back for the last time into the large hall, tears almost welling up in me. Yet I was very relieved and also had no time to sink into melancholy thoughts of return. My friends had long left the platform and were hurrying off, myself unable to make them out in the murk of the long passage. It would have been ungrateful to let them wait any longer, nor was it at all necessary for them to send someone back to ascertain the reason for my miserable dawdling. I waved blindly ahead in order to ask for patience, because I was unable to keep moving forward. As always, my suit coat was open, a habit I had taken from my father, though now I felt the need to button the coat properly, wanting to look prepared, really ready to travel. Unfortunately, the coat was a bit tight, it being something Peter had got hold of somewhere and right away thought good for me, since only the fingertips of his hands were visible from the sleeves when he put it on. Since the coat was now too tight, I had to press to button it, the freshly altered buttonholes of the thick fabric straining against the large buttons. It was uncomfortable, took a long while, I having to fuss with it too much, which frustrated me. Yet there was nothing I could do; that’s just the way it was, even if the buttoned coat, which I would take off as soon as I got on the train, was pointless. Then I calmed down, and as I finally climbed down the step, almost with bravado, my shield lent me a bit of security, though I also had to laugh at my foolishness. Below, my steps quickened in order to catch up to my friends, whose indulgence I sought out with a look. Peter shook his head, half annoyed, and laughed at me.

“First you can’t get moving fast enough, and then you keep us waiting for an eternity. It seems to me you really don’t want to go.”

I stammered something foolish about having been kept waiting at the gate for so long. Peter didn’t believe a word, which I noticed, but I didn’t say anything more. My friends took my luggage, and again I put up a fuss about it, demanding to carry at least one item. We reached the third platform, the long train standing ready, a conductor pointing the way to my seat, a corner seat in the direction the train was headed. We all climbed into the rail car; Peter stowed my luggage without asking me, though I couldn’t have arranged it more comfortably myself. He was proud of himself and said, “Now you’re all set.” There was nothing to say in response to this. There was nothing to say at all. Laboriously, I unbuttoned the coat, hung it on the hook, and placed my hat over it. I was subdued, feeling empty and miserable and also so naked that I took the coat back down from the hook and slipped it on again. I even put on my hat and would have preferred to put on gloves, which I never used. No other traveler had yet entered my compartment, no other seat but my own having been reserved. Having put everything in order for me, my friends sat down and relaxed as if they were at home. I was the only one who stood, feeling like a stranger and belonging to no one, while my escort behaved as if they were about to set out on the journey. Normally I would have indulged them, especially on that day, but, because it was not their train, this casual behavior bothered me. Peter hardly took notice, yet it bothered him a great deal that I would not sit down.

“Why are you so nervous and uncomfortable? I can hardly stand it! Are you getting cold feet?”

“I think it would be best to walk back and forth outside. There’s still plenty of time.”

“Okay, okay,” said Peter. “Just as you wish.”

He immediately stood up from his seat, Helmut following more slowly, the decision to head off causing Anna some duress. Perhaps she was tired, perhaps sad. I should have watched out for her more; in fact, I was sorry that because of my impatient jealousy I had destroyed the peace of goodbye. It would have been best if I had ruefully said that it would be fine by me to sit comfortably there with everyone in the compartment, but Peter had jumped up so quickly that I figured he would misunderstand my change of heart as mere fickleness. That I didn’t want. And so I remained firm, being the first to leave the compartment as I hurried along the corridor with powerful steps, if only to rob my escort of any claim to a further rest stop in the compartment. Already I stood on the platform and glanced peevishly at my friends, who, with noticeable difficulty, neared the exit and, so it appeared to me, angrily and almost clumsily stumbled down the steps, each of their hands on the railing, which looked silly, but which I found amusing. Anna, who was the last, was nonetheless upset and — I could now clearly see — very tired. I didn’t know any longer what was the case, whether it pained me or I felt sorry for her, as she looked much older and more helpless than she had ever appeared to me before. Helmut, usually so attentive, forgot to attend to his bride. So I jumped and nearly lifted her down.

There were not many people on the platform; after the press in the great hall, this surprised me. The travelers had indeed parsed themselves out onto the train or were on other trains, there being few who had business beyond the border or they simply could not leave. We walked back and forth, and soon it happened that we walked in pairs, Peter and Helmut ahead, Anna and I behind. The two men chatted casually and pleasantly, me not taking part, as they had already distanced themselves when we said our last goodbye. Helmut swelled with wan friendliness; I no longer felt any envy toward him and was ashamed more for him than for me, not wanting anything more to do with him. Even Peter, who was so faithful in tirelessly caring for my daily existence, slipped away, for he was no longer a part of me. Even if I no longer felt close to him and only resented him somewhat, which certainly was not very pleasant, I was nonetheless incapable of revealing my ingratitude. Peter, in general, was a handsome young man, and Anna thought the same, his shoulders raised pompously and his whole manner funny. I avoided his gaze as much as possible; this allowed me to discover further shortcomings in his figure and appearance. Was it wrong of me, since he was a part of my past, a disagreeable witness to my humiliation? I would have liked to ask Anna that in order to ease my conscience. Yet what would that have gotten me but misunderstanding? It would cast me in a bad light, both of us feeling oppressed, myself meanwhile wishing to avoid nothing more than these last awkward minutes, which were superfluous and belonged to no one.

It was difficult to start a conversation; not because of the sanctity of this farewell but because of the pressure that surrounded us. It was the most senseless, horrible delay I have ever experienced, an artificially restrained separation that had already manifested itself and yet had not been fully acknowledged, if only because the train schedule had by chance afforded us some time. Thus every word seemed insipid, even if one tried to say something deeply meaningful, full of disgusting lukewarm sentimentality; the appeal of a joke, which could take care of everything by destroying such a feeling, remained beyond my grasp. At the same time, it occurred to me that I was too pathetic to take seriously such a farewell, because it would have meant once again bringing on the sorrow I’d already felt, or really for the first time be caught in a sharp upsurge of it, such that Anna and I would be trapped in the midst of it and be granted the feeling that the moment was blessed and free. But no such possibility lay within the slightest corner of the realm of my powers.