H. Adler - The Wall

“Just take it slow. Eventually you’ll conquer the city.”

“Don’t talk about conquering. That’s not the way it is; I refuse to think so.”

“You’ll come around, Arthur. You are standing on a growing and thriving island. You need to press on. Keep looking around you. Until you know that you are at home.”

“No, not at home. Not that. That doesn’t exist. It’s senseless for me to have come here.”

“You so wanted to.”

“Yes, I wanted to. Nothing forced me to do so. Yet it was imperative. I dreamed of finding something. A cat that was taken from the boy up to the hayloft and killed, but which he doesn’t know about and comes and looks for it, expecting a miracle in vain.”

“You don’t know that at all. You haven’t looked around at all.”

“No survivors.”

“You don’t know that, either.”

“It’s so.”

“Are you so certain?”

“Yes, I know all too much. And what I don’t know, I feel.”

“Really, no one?”

“No one who was really close to me. Hardly any. Yet I’ll have a look around. I’ll start somewhere. Oh, the fruit vendors, just like the greedy Kutschera. You know that guy, don’t you? Concierges here and there. I see how they scowl at me, as if they want to jump on me, their stifling greed sunk in a bath full of diluted sorrows. Oh, these lies! The whining faces of these thieves who will pour out their hearts. But, nonetheless, I realize I have to do it. To inch forward. From one address to another and then ask around. ‘Good day, here I am. Yes, just look! Could you please tell me …?’ Anna, it’s so shameful!”

“Shall I help you?”

“No, you can’t. I have to do it alone. Such draining, dried-up memories can do you in if you don’t stomp them down or flee them as fast as you can.”

“But you’re not a coward.”

“I don’t know that. But it has nothing to do with cowardice. The city is dead to me. I became convinced of it yesterday. And that will not change. Only lingering thoughts, an unrelenting sense of obligation, also fear, curiosity, desire are what lured me here. Then a stupid sense of hope crept in. Some days ago, while on the journey, when I needed to sleep, I stayed at a hostel. There I spoke with a young man about the same age as Peter, a nice guy who told me he had listened to the radio as they read out names from lists of survivors. ‘Franziska Landau’ was what he said. He swore he’d heard it, since I said I knew the truth for sure, but ‘Franziska Landau,’ he said, and then again, in order to make sure there was no mistake, ‘Franziska Landau.’ I said it as well, ‘Franziska Landau.’ It was crazy. And then I hugged the pale young man, kissed him, and jumped around the hut and then outside, saying ‘Franziska Landau!’ ”

“They have the lists at the Office for Returnees! I’ll go get them right now and call you!”

“But, Anna, Anna! Didn’t you hear? I know.”

“What do you know?”

“I know everything! There’s a Franziska Landau! Why can’t there be? But not my Franziska Landau! I let myself get carried away. Such a name as this, and I was baffled and pleased to hear it. I ran out of the hostel into the night, somewhere among the nearby fields, until I stumbled. Then I stood there and grabbed hold of my head.”

“And … then …”

“That was it. Over. Burned out. Ashes. Finished. Nothing. And then I pulled myself together. I didn’t want to get caught up in it all again; I didn’t want my mind to be pierced by disappointment. Which is why I decided not to dawdle anywhere for a single day but to move on as fast as possible. To be free of dreams and instead to sink into truth, no matter how merciless. It will be hard for me, Anna, but there’s no other way. I want to know the truth, to submit to it, and if I am still able to fulfill my duty I will submit testimony as merciless as what it will reveal in itself.”

“And that’s why you came back.”

“That’s why. No, that’s not quite right. I came here because it’s a stopping point. You have to understand: on my own, without this city, there would be no way to begin. The city means little to me, almost nothing. But as soon as I arrived here I felt a certain sense of equilibrium. That was a starting point, as I said. It could grow, perhaps, and I thought it possible. I have to live somewhere in order to exist, and here has suddenly made the most sense. Do you understand, Anna?”

“I can indeed imagine what you mean, but go on!”

“You see, a starting point, the hope for a starting point where I can find myself. Lists of returnees that we hear read out loud, about which one asks, one reads. Arthur Landau, born on and in, returned. Maybe someone will remember and want me. Do you think that someone over the border …?”

“But of course! People there are concerned. All of them are looking. They are waiting for lists. There’s just no way to make the connection. There’s no mail — letters are out of the question, telegrams arrive only with great difficulty. But individuals travel back and forth — soldiers, couriers who carry news. Do you have anyone over there …?”

“I don’t know. Hopefully. We can at least think so for now! A starting point where one can perhaps recognize … but, indeed, recognize what? It’s confusing. But you’re right. We shouldn’t delay trying to contact someone over there. Let’s see, people outside the country, to link up with them, be recognized, me in particular, lists of returnees. It’s all quite clear, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“People who want to look for Arthur Landau.”

“So you have people over …?”

“No way to know. I can only hope. Some relatives, not many, most of them scattered, hardly any remaining close by. Ah, I didn’t even think of them.”

“Who, for instance?”

“Friends, once really good friends.”

“They won’t abandon you.”

“They would certainly come at once.”

“I think so, too, Arthur. We have to find them!”

“They should just come here. They should take me away.”

“What do you mean?”

“Away from here. I don’t want to stay. I just want to go.”

“You mean somewhere over there?”

“As soon as possible.”

“But do you really know what it’s like here? Yesterday you heard too much about the bad from Peter.”

“I know little, but I can well imagine. Much too much.”

“It probably wouldn’t be so bad for you here. You’ll even get your returnee’s identity card today, which is important and will give you many advantages. Then you can go to the authorities, who will receive you anywhere, as they will recognize your ID. You’ll have rights, remunerations for the Reitergasse shop.…”

“You think so? Reitergasse. What would that be? If they can just let me be in peace. I don’t want anything more from them. They should take me in over there. I mean, the friends. If they really are there, if they’re still friends.”

“You should go to the Office for Returnees and the aid center. Tell them all about it there. They’ll have you fill out a form, as well as approve extra rations for you, take care of your health, support you, advance you some money—”

“No need to go on.”

“Good. The aid center is where to go, because of the international connections, inquiries, and so on. Some are there the whole day for such, but I don’t think you’ll stand for that.”

“No, certainly not.”

“Yet you’ll register and let them know who you’re looking for.”

“Who I’m looking for, okay … Who am I looking for? Let’s see. There’s no point in my continually bothering you with my problems. I can apply for something there.”

“Do you have their addresses?”