H. Adler - The Wall

I pulled myself up and felt a pang in my hips, but I staggered over to the landing, though I didn’t look down; I hadn’t lost anything, my head feeling heavy. Then something rattled; it could have been the wind or something rustling in my ears, perhaps someone opening a door. I can hardly describe the alarm it set off inside me. All I could do was smile about my flight of fancy, for it was only an illusion and not an incident, or an incident in the most hopelessly serious sense, myself again aware that everything had collapsed, the stairwell empty and fallen. I had done nothing, yet all of it was burned out, no flooring and no roof, only an empty shell, a flourishing space amid nightmarish growth extending to the wounded ends of the universe, and something there within it, unfathomably small and lost, almost nothing, only the shiftless tiniest trace of a past without a home anywhere in the world. Then I no longer looked at the markings and names that I had not read, nor did I even look at my own “A,” which could have been just three scratches, a chance rune, nothing in particular and nothing worth bothering about, no “A,” it already having been sucked into the filthy cloud of dust and covered over, gone. No, I had done nothing. It rose high above me, the steps finally carrying me up, always very steep, though they held my step, and as the first two lifted me upward, they did so more easily than I expected. Above, steps could be heard, me feeling premature joy as I was still far below, for it was just an echo, those not being my steps. Then I looked up and heard her voice, not at all impatient but instead full of calm assurance, but friendly, and tinged with only a touch of concern.

“What took you so long? I called down again and then came out to look for you.”

“I’m coming!” I called with a breaking voice.

It sounded more uncertain than I wanted it to, so I tried to make up for this bad impression by quickly bounding up the stairs two at a time. Fräulein Zinner stood there in her hat and coat, her purse under her arm.

“You don’t have to hurry anymore!”

Her response disappointed me, for why had I exerted myself so? I didn’t want to say anything in return, yet when she started to come down the steps toward me her heels sounded loud and I was bitterly affected. I was also scared by the thought that I would immediately have to go through the adventure of the stairwell again. Although this time I would be headed down the stairs and accompanied by someone, at the moment it felt like too much.

“No, no! Please, no! Wait there! I’ll come up!”

I said that with such pressing and beseeching urgency that she stopped and could do nothing but stop and do as I asked.

“Well, as you wish. We can sit for a while in my office.”

“Yes, please! That’s the reason I asked.”

I don’t know how I managed to stumble upward — perhaps through some kind of magic, for certainly not through my own strength — myself almost stumbling head over heels, my legs having dragged themselves along and barely lifting one after the other over the steps. Reeling and exhausted, I felt that I knew what it was like to be left for dead. I couldn’t stand on my feet, and as a distraction I extended my hand, though in truth I really did it in order to seek support, which she returned too slowly for my needs and gripped too softly.

“Good evening!” I rasped, and saw that she didn’t understand me. “Please, do forgive me for being so shamefully late!”

“It wasn’t so bad,” she replied, somewhat distracted.

She wanted to let go of my hand, but I grabbed her more tightly in order that she see that, at the moment, I couldn’t yet relinquish her help.

“It wasn’t so bad that you have to excuse yourself that much. In these parts, we don’t make such a big deal about such things.”

“I haven’t gotten used to that yet. I’m totally inexperienced. Totally! Where, indeed, might your office be?”

“Do you feel all right, Herr Landau? Your hands are cold and damp.”

“No, I’m fine. Forgive me! I’ll be all right in a minute. A bit faint. Please, your office. Maybe sit for a while. Very, very weak.”

Fräulein Zinner took me under the arm and carried me more than I walked along myself to her office door. Here she had to let go of me in order to get the key from her pocket, but I held on to her shoulder, my only wish being to sit down. She unlocked the door, turned on the light, after which I sat or nearly lay down on a chair. It was uncomfortable and pressed at me. She looked at me seriously and with such extreme pity that it shook me and made me tremble inside. I turned to her sharply and yet beseechingly.

“Don’t worry so, and just give me a minute! Everything will soon be all right!”

She turned on a space heater and pushed it closer to me.

“Many thanks! But I don’t need it. I feel warm, much too warm.”

“Do you have a fever? What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing, nothing at all! Just give me five minutes! You’ll see, everything will be better! It was just the stairs, believe me. Really!”

From my hand Fräulein Zinner took the hat that I had absentmindedly played with, and then I managed to free myself from the oppressive jacket without standing up. She then took the jacket as well. I quietly let her do so. My hostess said nothing. The quiet pleased me, and slowly the whizzing inside my head calmed down, the cold sweat ending, my heart not beating as fast as earlier. I stroked my hair to straighten it out, as it had again fallen into disarray, and blinked feebly at the garish globes that suffused the room with an almost consistently strong light, but which didn’t bother me. Fräulein Zinner moved to sit down in a corner, which I observed without interest, though even if I didn’t care what she was doing, I did nonetheless note that she moved around with some glasses, pouring something into them, busying herself with a tin cup, then with a plate or a little dish on which she laid something, most likely a dry roll. When she came over to me, I forced myself to look in another direction and heard a second chair being shoved around and a tray placed upon it.

“Can I offer you something?” she whispered. “It will help you feel better.”

Then I turned toward her, though I didn’t look at what she was offering.

“You really are making too much of a fuss. I’m feeling better already.”

“You may be better, but you haven’t been well for some time.”

“You know that?”

“Of course.”

She lifted up a glass, indicating that I was to take it. It was full of red wine, sweet, but too much so, and strong. I drank it all down slowly, without setting the glass down.

“That will warm you up. That’s it.”

She took the glass from me and filled it again. I waved my hand and she understood, setting the glass down. Then she handed me a little plate with some glistening sugary cookies. I took one, broke it in two, and chewed slowly.

“Now I’m healthy as a horse!”

In order to prove it, I tried to stand; I certainly could have done so, but it wasn’t allowed.

“We’re in no rush. You’ll feel better in half an hour.”

Then I made myself more comfortable, smoothing out the pleats of my pants as best I could, as well as my shirt, and ran my hands to the right and left of my collar. Then it occurred to me to feel whether the knot of the poor tie had held or loosened. I poked at it and everything seemed to be fine. It only bothered me that my behavior was so unsuitable, as my outfit could hardly go unnoticed. Therefore I had to say something as a distraction.

“The tie is old, but hardly ever worn. A tie that pleases me. It’s from before the war, just imagine!”

“Here most people only have old things, often many years old. Even the natives. It’s not easy to buy things; people have to economize.”