H. Adler - The Wall

Like me, Anna felt, without saying so, what this train station had meant in terms of the departure and arrival of so many of our dead, along with us, exit and entry existing in the same unbroken existence and not in the guise of ghostly horrors dispensing destruction and doom. There was nothing to do but be silent. It was also not possible to remember that we had traveled to the mountain forest amid the last echoes of our imaginable past, and, after the crowning week, had found ourselves returning crestfallen and mouthing mindless chatter here among the bleak days in which we were immersed, more gloomy than ever before. Did I dare still to think? To already be gone, that was no kind of thought! Which was why I wanted only to be sitting on a train already under way, because I couldn’t expect the separation to occur any sooner. I listened for the conductor’s whistle to finally announce the departure.

Anna, with her soundless gait, which always surprised me anew, moved along with quiet steps next to me — indeed, more quietly than ever. I watched how gently she set her feet on the hard concrete and wanted to imitate her, yet no matter how carefully I tried to take my steps I could still hear my heels striking the platform. I looked at Anna’s feet and mine, not allowing myself to look any higher or at the face of my friend.

“You can walk so quietly, Anna. That’s always amazed me.”

“Really? Then perhaps you won’t forget it.”

“What do you mean, forget?”

“Well, you won’t. Something is always remembered. Often something unimportant, something minor.”

“Others then latch onto that.”

“Yes. I think especially men. At least for me, Arthur, it’s different. There are only many minor matters.”

“But what, then, are essential ones?”

“That’s too big a word. I don’t like it. It’s easy to get tripped up by it.”

“You’re right, Anna. But there are essential things. Yes. There must be some. I can imagine them. They haunt me. But I have nothing essential. That means I don’t know them. And that’s why I think they haunt me.”

“You have to stop that, this torment! That’s my main wish for you. In the mountains, you felt better. The essential things were clear, and you also saw the minor things. Then you were much more satisfied.”

“That’s not entirely true. But, even if it were, the minor things are indeed only ornaments, certainly quite lovely, and it’s important not to ignore them. Nonetheless, I’m telling you, Anna, the essential things remain, somewhere they exist. If I could find them, even just one, the wall would be penetrated or, even better, it would be behind me. Just like crossing the border.”

“That’s right! Your journey, Arthur. There!”

“Yes, there. I’m not there yet, and there can be here, everywhere and nowhere at once.”

“Why are you going?”

“I have to. You know that. Don’t ask me about it.”

“Okay, then, there.”

“Yes, there. It will at least mean a change. But the essential thing, I know as well, will not be won as a result.”

“You say that, but you don’t know. You don’t actually know that right now, do you?”

“I wish I did. But I can’t speculate that much. It’s beyond me.”

“There’s talk of peace.”

“Anna, peace, yes … there’s talk of it. Nevertheless, it has to be different, something completely different, a submission to Nothing, in order that one is returned to Being. I’ll say it quick as a phrase, and so it goes: Through Nothing to Being. That’s the secret out of which the world is created. And as for people.… That will be the charge, you see, the essential thing. We must repeat that again. Alas, what am I telling you? The wall, the wall … the essential thing behind it …”

Anna wanted to reply and started to, but she stopped short of saying the sentence and said nothing in reply, either because she felt that I couldn’t stand it or she thought that there was no answer that worked. Probably she wanted to reply, my brash slogan and all my talk seeming too pretentious to her. We stood before my train car. After a little while the men joined us, their good mood planted pertly in their faces. Peter and Helmut had already climbed aboard and reported that there were many free seats, there had been no need for me to reserve one. Peter had also surveyed the locomotive as it coupled with the train and marked down its number.

“Do you want to write it down?”

He said it slowly, and added with the certainty of an expert, “A first-class machine. She will be sure to get you across the border in good shape.”

This was said with such a deliberately strange tone that we all laughed.

“I hope you all soon get the chance to have the same locomotive!” I called out happily.

“If I ever get the chance to leave, I’ll fly! The train is too slow for me.”

“Better today with the train,” remarked Helmut, “than tomorrow with the railway!”

“Better today with an airplane,” said Peter in a feather-brained manner, “than tomorrow with the train!”

No one laughed anymore about it, but this had all set me at ease; I could regard all of them and even Anna less self-consciously. Essential things or minor things, I didn’t have to bother about them anymore. I was pleased to see the three of them standing across from me, Anna between the men but closer to Helmut, almost leaning on him; he didn’t really grasp these subtle emotions, yet with humble pride let himself be pleased, while Anna’s manner toward me was comforting, and therefore also decisive and more distant. It felt good to think about this group a little while longer, because it prepared me. Which was why I didn’t realize, as did Helmut, that the train was a bit late. I would not have noticed at all, given how unconcerned I was at that moment about the journey. Peter couldn’t understand why I didn’t respond to Helmut’s announcement, and when I felt challenged not to lose patience Peter began to prod me with sniping comments that I was just too heavy and that was why the train couldn’t move at all. Since I continued to remain silent and only grinned politely at the idiot, he then got snarky.

“Your heart is always sinking to the ground, fearing that something will happen. Now that seems indeed to be the case. Do you see the policemen over there with the railway worker? They are noticeably whispering to one another. Maybe they’re going to haul you off the train.”

“That could well be,” I answered in all seriousness. “But this time I don’t believe you. You no longer have any power over me. And, besides,” I lied, “it and whatever you are up to at the moment don’t matter to me at all.”

Anna had pressed herself closer to Helmut. She appeared upset about this stupid hostile chatter, and because of that I cast a sideways glance at her, smiling and wanting to say, “Minor matters!” The corners of Anna’s mouth betrayed displeasure. Then I very quietly turned my full gaze toward her to show that she need not worry anymore on my account. Did my friend understand how warmly I approved of her alliance with Helmut? Her face was blank and too colorless, but grateful; I believed she understood me. Turning more toward Anna than to Peter, I spoke to him more pointedly.

“You want to make it easier that we will forget each other soon. That is very nice of you. I was always a minor thing, dear friend. Which means only one thing: out of sight, out of mind.”

Peter looked at me, shocked, not knowing how to respond to my words and certainly not wanting to part from me in strife. He made me feel bad, so I stretched out my hand.

“No offense, Peter. Here’s to our friendship!”

He shook my hand, but there was no warmth in our handshake; there was no bridging the gulf that had opened up, even if we continued to vigorously press our hands together several times. The hands withdrew, knowing that they could no longer maintain a tie between us. Peter had forsaken me; I had fled from him. That was the only thing certain about this farewell.