Ingo Schulze - New Lives

All of us were discomfited by Michaela’s speech. Which is why news that Norbert Maria Richter had arrived broke things up rather abruptly.

Had it been me and not Thea — of that I was absolutely convinced — Michaela would hardly have been inspired to make such a speech. Once again Thea had been one step ahead of her. That ’s what Michaela found unbearable! Her famous friend was to blame for Michaela’s conviction that she would lose face if she didn’t risk her own neck.

My dear Nicoletta, I know how petty I must sound to you. Perhaps I still have too little distance on the whole affair. But in this case it’s not just my opinion at the time that I’m sharing with you.

There was no cure for Michaela’s madness. 299I knew she would be going to Leipzig. I knew better than to pin any hopes on Norbert Maria Richter or Jonas. Robert remained my sole argument, but then Thea had certainly shown no consideration for her family either.

At noon in the canteen everyone had stories about gyms and emergency rooms that had been cleared to take in patients. Jonas, who had held his tongue until now, said with a knowing smile that he would not advise anyone to travel to Leipzig today.

When we met after rehearsal — a real rehearsal had, of course, been out of the question — we drove to see Aunt Trockel. If she did not hear from us before ten o’clock, she was to look after Robert. After that we went to the Konsum Market — the shelves were incredibly well stocked, but the only thing I recall now are jars of pickles, oodles of them suddenly seemed available — likewise ultrapasturized milk and ketchup. Our refrigerator ended up as crammed full as if it were Christmas time. Michaela laid two hundred marks on the kitchen table, plus our hoard of twenty-pfennig pieces for the telephone, the rest of our pocket change, and my mother’s number at the clinic. I also jotted down Geronimo’s number. It wasn’t until he saw the currency that Robert began to grasp how different this afternoon was from all others. He wanted to come along. I was for it, Michaela against it. She talked with him in his room. When she came back out, I could see she had been crying. We took off around four o’clock. No one at the theater had taken Michaela up on her offer of a comfortable ride.

Just beyond Espenheim we were waved off the road — traffic control. All I would have had to have done was leave my ID at home or put a turn signal out of commission and that would probably have been the end of trip. We were sent on our way with good wishes. Before I got back in the car I surveyed the scrawny trees and shrubs that lined the rest area — and in that moment there was something idyllic about it all. It was relatively warm. It seemed to me as if I had not given a thought to writing for years.

Shortly before Leipzig, Michaela started to put on her makeup. We could do some window-shopping, she said, we had plenty of time, and laid a hand on my thigh as if to buck me up.

What happened then is quickly told:

We parked in front of the Dimitroff Museum. In a side street directly across from us were the special-forces trucks. Tea was being ladled from big buckets for men in uniform. They didn’t appear to be armed. We crossed the street and walked up to within ten yards of them. Those few who noticed us quickly looked away.

Passing the New Rathaus, we came to St. Thomas Church. We acted a little like tourists who’ve been given a free hour before their bus departs. We walked around the church and stood awhile in front of the Johann Sebastian Bach monument. Michaela was drawn to the bookstore across the street. In situations like this, she said, it was especially wonderful to be surrounded by books. I fell into old habits, but before I had scanned even the first few feet of a bookshelf, I knew I wouldn’t buy anything. I no longer saw any point in even picking up a book. 300

We must have been fairly near the Opera when we ran into a whole convoy of those troop carriers. We walked on by — and it almost felt like we were reviewing them. A couple of uniformed men were trudging back and forth, eyes focused on their equipment. They also had dogs and water cannons.

We halted in front of the Gewandhaus. From its steps you have a view of the entire square. 301

My dear Nicoletta, you may perhaps assume that we had some serious discussions during these hours, conversations about the future and Robert, or that at least we promised each other to relish every moment of our lives from now on and to love one another. But no, nothing of the kind.

What made the scene so unreal was that I had never seen the state massed in such threatening force before. Each time a column of troop carriers turned onto the Ring from the direction of the Grassi Museum, they were greeted with honking cars and shrill whistles. But when the trucks had moved past, it was once again a lovely October evening with people smiling at one another, browsing in bookstores, and waiting for streetcars.

I explained to Michaela — I was carrying her purchases — from what direction the demonstrators would be coming, that was if they were granted access all the way to the main square. Once they got this far, there would be no stopping them. We had found an almost perfect spot. From here we could flee or join in or simply stay where we were. Who was going to prohibit someone from standing in front of the Gewandhaus with a bag of books under his arm?

Suddenly noise started coming at us from all directions. From loudspeakers came an appeal for nonviolence, 302and at the same time I could hear chants, some close, some farther away. And all at once there it was, the demonstration. From one second to the next Opern Platz was filled with people, as if they had just cast off their magic caps. We were now part of the demonstration. It’s too late now, I thought. Michaela was kneading my hand. I was about to tell her she no longer needed to be afraid, when she pulled me away with her. Michaela was trying to make her way to a man with a mustache and bald head that made him look like a seal. They hugged. He was wearing West-style glasses and pretended not to notice me. For at least thirty seconds I waited behind Michaela and gazed at him over her shoulder. At some point she said, “This is Enrico, he’s in the theater too.” I asked what he did. To which Michaela exclaimed, “This is ***!” *** gave a quick nod as if deep in thought, then turned his seal eyes back to Michaela. And now we three were walking together in the direction of the post office. I wedged myself in beside Michaela and crooked my right arm for her to link onto. But she did nothing of the sort, just kept her eyes glued on the seal. I didn’t even know where she knew him from. “Crazy,” the seal kept saying, “crazy!”

If it hadn’t been for me, I think they would have flung their arms around each other several more times. Michaela told him about Thea. Was this what the director who could make Michaela’s dreams come true looked like?

I found it unbearable that this day would be eradicably bound up with this man. From now on he would be latched on to our memories like a tick. Comrade Seal had now switched from “crazy” to “not good.” Every one of Michaela’s sentences was blessed with this “not good, not good.” She seemed goaded on by it. Suddenly he pointed up at a camera and said, “What if those were machine guns!” Someone else had begun to wave at the camera, and now everyone around me was waving up at it. We halted for the pedestrian stoplight.

I’m sure you’ve seen the dim televised version. Did you notice how slowly people put one foot in front of the other, the considerable distance they kept from one another? The only demonstrations I knew were those from May Day, where you stood and stood until your leg fell asleep, shuffled a couple of yards forward, waited, only to be driven ahead at double-time so that there was never a gap in the parade before the reviewing stands. But here you strolled across the square in pairs, in threes, in little groups, making sure you didn’t crowd up on anyone else. The stoplight turned green. But we just stood there and waited. A man asked, “We can go on the next green, right?” And so when the little green man flashed again, we finally stepped out into the street.