H. Adler - The Journey

“Take it easy! I’m not blaming you, but please, please, don’t shout so, I implore you! There is no evil intention behind there being so many in this room. There simply is no room.”

“What do you mean there’s no room? If there’s no room, then one indeed has to find some! If people do right, everything will go all right. Otherwise not even all of Ruhenthal will do any good.”

“Please, Father, try to understand! People do mean well, at least Dr. Plato does. But — are you listening? — it’s the ones who sent us here that don’t.”

“Ah, yes indeed! You mean …”

“Yes, them. Which means we must be patient. Things will surely get better. That’s for sure! Soon we’ll be on our way home! That’s what I heard. Paul said so. Many others as well.”

“I did ask you, Zerlina, whether you had seen a newspaper?”

“No, I haven’t. But someone told Paul that there have been bombing runs done under cloud cover, but for real. Supposedly The Leitenberg Daily wrote about it.”

Leopold smiles happily. Zerlina straightens up his bed and props up the pillow. Leopold stretches and says cheerily, “Thank you, Zerlina. I’ll soon be back on my feet. Nurse Dora completely agrees. I’m half a doctor, but the good half. Lying down so long has weakened me and is not conducive to the lungs. I need to practice standing and walking.”

“Soon, Papa, soon! Just be patient a while longer.”

“You always say ‘soon’ …! What a strange child you are, Zerlina! Tomorrow I will get up. I’ve no time to lose!”

“Good, Father, tomorrow we will see how you feel.”

“Nonsense, we won’t see anything! I’m fed up with waiting. Whoever lets himself go goes to hell. Next week I’ll go back to my job again on the garbage detail. And next month we’ll go home. I will write down my experiences from here and publish them. About the hygiene in a prison camp and about the prevention of a lice epidemic. I have it all here in my head. Bring me a paper tomorrow, Zerlina, and a pencil as well. I want to make some notes now. As long as I am still of service, any free time has to be made full use of.”

Zerlina promises. She had promised something each day for the last year, for the last eighteen months. Caroline promises. Paul promises. Dora and Dr. Plato and everyone promise. They promise Leopold and one another the impossible. They promise it to themselves. They are white lies, unjustified hopes, unfulfillable wishes. Borrowed dreams that will come to nothing before reality sets in and demands that the false premises on which they are found are acknowledged. Ruhenthal is an impenetrable thicket of loaded questions and warped promises offered up from loose mouths. Everything is overheated and unhealthy because of the widespread proliferation of rubbish, which the garbage detail can no longer keep up with. Piles of rubbish fill up every courtyard. Foul odors rise from sewers and toilets that can no longer be cleaned. Darkly clad figures wearily creep through the rotting slime. Complaints of lost riches stumble exhausted over the sticky drains.

“At home everything was different. We were rich. Regular guests at Semmering and Cortina d’Ampezzo.”

“We weren’t that rich, but we lived well, I’d say. Once a week we went to the theater or the movies! In summer we sometimes went to Fuschl, sometimes to Pörtschach, or traveled around.”

“I don’t miss the movies that much. But the Sunday drives to Spessart and in winter the walks in the countryside. It’s good that I brought my winter clothes with me, because the weather here is nearly always bad.”

“The weather isn’t actually that bad, but the hunger is terrible. I wouldn’t give this soup to my dog.”

“One shouldn’t continually think about food, for things go better then.”

“That sounds fine, but only if one can stock up first.”

“We always took the six twenty-one train from the central train station and by eight o’clock we were in the open countryside. I always packed a knapsack with some tasty items. In the middle of the forest we’d find a little place with a bit of meadow and some golden sun above us. Then we’d lie down and get comfortable. We rested, then Rosa would unpack the provisions. We gobbled them up and then closed our eyes and sunned ourselves. In the evening we’d come back tanned and refreshed. Most of all we were happy when the entire day was beautiful, making sure toward evening to head back and get home just in time before a thunderstorm let loose a cloudburst and it poured. Usually we didn’t eat anything more, though Rosa always had fresh salad and stewed fruit ready, and naturally we were very thirsty. A lemonade tasted wonderful then.”

Leopold listens to it all and now and then says something in reply, but for the most part he talks only about medicine, about patients, about new therapies and unusual cures. The frail men in the room talk to one another about the riches of the past, for they are of the temperament that simply does not want to talk about Ruhenthal. They also say that everything will soon be as it once was, if not better. Only a little patience is needed, but that is not hard, because they also survived World War I, and back then they were not in the safety of the hinterlands. The old men also wanted to know from Dr. Lustig what he used to do on his days off.

“On Sundays I visited only the most pressing cases. That I did in the morning. In the afternoon I went to the Café Bellevue, where all the newspapers were brought to me because I knew the owner. I could always be reached there, because who knew when it might be something important. A doctor who goes on vacation when it’s not absolutely necessary is unprofessional. One always has to be there and should never let someone stand in for him, if at all possible, in order to best follow the patients’ course of recovery. At least that’s one thing good about Ruhenthal, the doctors can’t go anywhere.”

Then Leopold stops talking about his practice, as he steadily gets worse. The day passes slowly for the sick. He waits for the nurse, for the doctor, for a visit from his family. Leopold listens for steps. Sometimes he tries to take his pulse, but can find none. He blames it on the clock. The second hand doesn’t work. The clock needs to be fixed. Leopold wears a yellow nightcap. His white hair is unkempt, yet he does not want Dora to comb it. Only Zerlina is allowed to do that. Little gifts are brought to the old man. A slice of apple. He should swallow it down, but it would be better if it were pureed. Leopold has no idea how bad off he is.

“That’s only due to being weak, my dear colleague, just temporary weakness. I need something to build my strength! As soon as my condition gets better, I’ll be back at work. But I’m not going back to the garbage detail! I’ll be a doctor again and push through pressing reforms in Ruhenthal. Nourishing food, my dear colleague, will buy me time! But not that raw barley that won’t pass through and clogs up the small intestine. You should give me chicken! Only the white meat! Or veal!”

Leopold no longer speaks. Only the others in the room speak, but with muffled voices, because the old doctor will not live much longer. His limp hands nestle into the gray blanket as he dozes. He no longer bats away the fleas that jump upon him. He hardly reacts anymore when his wife and children visit him. They stand there helpless and want to say something sweet. Caroline holds a small bowl of gruel made from rice that she begged for, but Leopold doesn’t even look at the gift of love. Mechanically his hand grips the spittoon. He can’t lift it to his mouth; he holds it upside down, the cover opens and the disgusting contents drip out before Zerlina can help. Nurse Dora washes and whisks it all away with a cloth. The mucus annoys Leopold. He can’t cough it up, he can’t spit at all anymore. Leopold is propped up, but it does no good. His breathing becomes heavy, his mouth hangs open, the lips are slack, his eyes large and glassy. Dr. Plato scurries by and knows there is nothing he can do to help. Only out of courtesy does he stand there for a while. The nurse sees that the end has come. Everyone knows it. Zerlina calls to the old man as his consciousness flickers in and out for a short while.