The Wall (40 page)

To seek one’s fate, what a desperate wish for certainty! But fate is a wall that does not allow our questions to pass through, no matter how much they may seek answers. The Gypsy Fortunata actually knew many answers to the questions. All that was uncertain was whether the answers were moot
because the one seeking the advice either didn’t understand it or had heard it already or because the answers amounted to no more than a pointless echo, thus providing no news, nothing new but, rather, just the danger that could be announced from afar, thus sounding perhaps more bearable and yet much more terrible, because now it seemed all the more uncanny and kept the listener all the more behind the wall, which pressed down upon one all the more. But it couldn’t remain so. The Gypsy Fortunata wished to and had to inspire awe, but she could not frighten her customers; she had to comfort them, or at least ease them, if she wanted to at all make a profit in handing out further advice. She had to raise up the despondent and calm the excited. Good fortune, no misfortune, was what was valued. And when there was misfortune it couldn’t be in the future; in the past, yes, misfortune was in the past. It had been conquered and should remain forever invoked. People were often unhappy when they came to Fortunata to complain about their plight, but here everything changed, the run of misfortune appearing to dissolve. As soon as the door opened, wonders occurred, the threat simply dried up.

Always misfortune was only in the past, and had power enough to last only to the present, until today, there no longer being any tomorrow for it, because from this hour onward the clear future emerged, its blessing arrived. Speaking the truth meant to invoke blessing. One only needed to decide to step beyond his past, for then the transformation occurred, the door shut upon worries left behind. How strange that so few of the afflicted never allowed themselves this way out. And, because they were cowardly or foolish and did not risk climbing the few steps, didn’t so much misfortune prevail among them? And so they wandered about outside of what was certain happiness. The path to happiness appeared free; yet it’s not given that you know that this path exists, short and safe as it is. Fear stands before it, and doubt, base and common; skepticism, the obstacle to the weak will. We cannot do it. We’ve also been told that it is forbidden. The Witch of Endor was cursed and, along with her, any reading of signs. Therefore we cannot be happy.

Yet what holds me back from happiness? I could bring the children home and say to Johanna, “I have time, now I have time, and so I have to head out again.” And so I did. The children happily jumped around in the
living room, Michael glowing with excitement and love for Roy Rogers, and his partner, Eva, continued to chatter on about the little white bunny. Tea was prepared for the chatterboxes, the two of them pouncing on their slices of bread, but I said thank you and excused myself. Johanna was completely taken aback, yet she said nothing; she never stood in my way. I ran back to Shepherd’s Field, this certainly being the last hour of unhappiness. When I saw Fortunata’s wagon, the door was closed. Someone must have been finding happiness inside. I could wait. The goings-on around me pressed on, rumbling with loud merriment; it didn’t bother me. The final day of tribulation could not last much longer, an early evening setting in with its gloom. That didn’t bother me, because my needs were ready to be filled by Fortunata. She had to know that I was there. There was no time left; if there was, it couldn’t last, it couldn’t remain, it was forbidden. The doors opened, yet no, there was something stopping them, for they only twitched, a problem with the lock, the latch preventing them, but Fortunata knew what to do—a sharp pull, and already the sky ripped open, a bundle of happiness quickly scuttled down the little steps and sank into the dusky crowd, having been saved. Above, Fortunata looked on calmly, proud and satisfied. She had mastered misfortune; she was sure of herself.

“Now, how about the gentleman?”

Whether Fortunata appealed to me with these words or other words, I cannot be certain. She might even have remained silent, knowing already that I would come to her; she had to know, as it was her job to. She betrayed no sense of doubt when I stood before her, the proximity of happiness already having marked my forehead, for whoever knows his goal recognizes what streams toward him. Fortunata said absolutely nothing, not pleading with words the way the artists on the stage did, the announcer right then, for absolutely the last time, urging an audience that hung back without being convinced not to miss the last chance, as Roy Rogers and his assistants were already inside the tent and had to begin their performance without worrying about no-shows. Through such clamor the low or the high arts can be recommended, but not fortune-telling. In order to maintain her secrets, she had no desire to urge the unwilling or to plead with the stubborn. She was not at the fair for the sake of big crowds. Yet why had she lowered herself to the pitched tents and wandered along with them throughout the country?
Salvation should be available to the people; thus grace was nearer for those who thirsted for it. Fortunata just smiled, this being the grace with which she greeted the fear of the one who approached and quailed before her grandeur.

I lightly skipped up the steps that lifted me like a feather toward Fortunata, laughing as I did. At ease, she welcomed me and thanked me when I closed the door in order to save her the effort. Then she led me to the chair at her table and sat me down across from her. “Shall we look at handwriting, your hand, or the stars?” she asked matter-of-factly. Before I could even answer, she pointed toward some cards that lay in a bunch on the table, then toward a crystal ball, tipping it up with the long nail of her middle finger, because in the crystal ball she could read anything that one tried to hide. I thanked her and said that I trusted her to choose what would be best for me, whatever might bring me salvation, as I sought only pure happiness. Which is why I am here to seek your advice. My confidence in her pleased Fortunata; I looked straight at her, earnest. Then she mildly asked about the fee, it being best to get that over with at the start. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much money, though I didn’t wish to be stingy when it came to happiness. She nodded in satisfaction and assured me that she would do the best she could, whether the hand or handwriting or the crystal ball was best suited to me, and that ten shillings was the special price that I could count on. I agreed to it happily, for it seemed little for the task. I shoved the money across the table to her and felt ashamed, for her wisdom deserved a much larger sum. She, however, was moved to smile at me encouragingly, as if she were being richly rewarded, the note disappearing quickly. Again, she asked me to choose—the palm or the crystal ball? When I didn’t respond, she opted for the left hand and the crystal ball; she would try both. Silently, I consented and offered her my left hand. Fortunata grasped it with practiced tenderness and picked up a large magnifying glass to help her as she bent over it.

“Tell me, Miss Fortunata, do I exist?”

She briefly looked me in the eye and then looked me over, more serious than surprised. Then she looked again at the hand and simply said, “First I’ll look everything over. It’s better that you ask me questions when I look into the crystal ball.”

Fortunata knew a lot about my character, much more than I knew myself, but she said nothing that seemed to me improbable. A good man and father, she said, two children, a boy seven years old, a girl, who is almost four.—A good man and father … She no doubt wanted to be nice, but also bold. How precise she was when it came to the children! Had Fortunata perhaps seen me earlier with them? I didn’t ask. The questions had to wait until the crystal ball.—But a dreamer, too much of a dreamer. The world is different than the gentleman thinks.—What did I think? Often, I had doubts.—Yes, that can be bad. Which is why caution is advisable, always caution. There are also worries, the line of fate. There wasn’t quite enough income, a weakness in Mercury. Work with the head, that was clear.—Was my hand too limp? I curled it in a bit, but Fortunata reminded me that the hand has to remain open, please relax. I obeyed.—So an intellectual occupation, it’s often hard to be happy in that. You think and think and think, which causes worries.—I agreed.—It’s not good to think so much. Good-natured, and not at all ruthless, yet entrepreneurial. That’s clear. The gentleman has traveled far and is not from this country.—How did Fortunata know that? Of course, she must know everything, I forgot. From which country? I dared to ask. I didn’t at all expect an answer; it was just self-doubt rising up inside me. Fortunata rejected the question. I should know that myself, and what you know you shouldn’t ask about.

“If I knew that, then I would feel a lot better.”

From Europe, replied the wise woman immediately, and didn’t want to spend any more time on ascertaining where I had come from. Pensively she pressed at the lines on my hand with a fingernail.—There’s so much to see, also something sad.—I agreed. Yes, sad. But that is the past, I protested firmly, no longer now, it cannot happen again, it’s over now.—One would think so, Fortunata confirmed, much having happened, the war. Ah, that was awful, to be taken away unwillingly from your home, hard times, but you got through it and survived it all.—My parents, I called out, my parents and Franziska.—Yes, they are long dead, the poor parents.—Why didn’t she also mention Franziska?—The parents suffered a great deal, she said with a sigh.—That can clearly be seen in the hand, I was assured. With such a line of fate, anything is, unfortunately, possible. But the gentleman should feel hopeful, because he can.—Can I really?—Oh, certainly! Everything comes
with time. I just had to make sure not to be too weak.—That I am not, I replied tentatively.—He who dreams so much is weak. Trust in yourself, have a bit of courage, then life will go easier. Just keep your head high and don’t lose hope!—There’s not much hope, I admitted.—Fortunata couldn’t let that go.—Hope is warranted, she said firmly. You don’t have to make it so hard; it depends on your heart. One can be too sad and cannot decide anything at the right moment. Fortunata also believed that I spent much too much time alone, shunning society and its pleasures, making it easy to become too serious. It’s no surprise with me, as I am often so disappointed in others.—I agreed with Fortunata; I always expect too much.—I must have been gullible. As a child and as a young boy, my view of the world was too rosy, an optimist, and then, unfortunately, most everything turned out quite differently. It had all happened with a vengeance, for now I was often unhappy and despairing. Fortunata looked up and gazed at me with sorrow.

“You are a good woman. You certainly help many people, your heart is in the right place.”

Fortunata was pleased that I recognized her goodness, and I praised her even more. Then she grasped my hand more tenderly than before and said so many lovely things about me that I was ashamed. Her praise wafted over me and sounded so good that I didn’t trust myself to consider whether or not it was right; she didn’t allow me to deliberate, as I almost drowned in the frothy comfort of her adulation. Fortunata continued to touch me so deftly with an even-keeled, thin, subdued voice that I didn’t notice how quickly she came to the end of it. It suddenly occurred to me that the sweet perfume of hope had rapidly blown away, which hurt, leaving me cold, a bit miserable. However, I didn’t want to lose control and pulled myself together. My hand still lay there, distant and tenderly spent, the guilty hand of Adam and his branching fate. The hand had grown from the earth, through the table, a five-pointed flower, and didn’t belong to me.

“May I?” I asked. “Is that my hand?”

Fortunata had pulled her crystal ball toward her and looked somewhat confused.

“What do you mean, your hand? It doesn’t bother me if it remains lying on the table.”

“Always? For always?”

“What do you mean? It’s your hand, you have to take it with you.”

“But not right away?”

“No. When you leave.”

“So I have to leave? I like it here with you so much.”

“Why don’t you want to go home? Be reasonable! Your wife is waiting for you. The children.”

“Yes, that’s right. But do you really believe that?”

“Yes, of course!”

“How terrible! I don’t ever want to leave you. I feel so good with you.”

“You can’t stay here, that’s out of the question.”

“And if I could be of help to you? A servant? To shop, cook, clean, help you do whatever is needed?”

“No! What are you thinking? My dear sir, we have to hurry! If we still want to do the crystal ball, we don’t have much time. Other people also want to visit me.”

“Of course, I would hope so. I don’t want all the happiness for myself. But let me stay! Please, give it a try. I can hide in the back, if it bothers you, or wait behind the wagon until everything is finished. Then you can send me into town; I can find out where to go, or show you where. I can also look for people whom I can tell about you and bring them back with me. You’ll then make them all happy.”

Fortunata angrily shoved the crystal ball to the side, stood up forcefully, and didn’t look at me at all kindly. She didn’t want to hear any of my ideas and was ready to show me the door.

“So you don’t want me and I have to leave? Oh, you don’t have to be afraid of me! I mean you no harm!”

“If you will be reasonable and promise me that you’ll stop talking nonsense and afterward disappear straight off, then I’ll still do the crystal ball. But only if you promise that for sure!”

I promised, and felt deeply depressed.

“You are very harsh with me. I’m also afraid that you’ve misunderstood. I don’t want anything that’s not illegal; I am completely incapable of harming anyone. I have never done anything to anybody. I came to you because I had to, and with the best of intentions. You indeed see everything and know that I have nothing but doubt. How can I bear it? Only with you does
it feel easier. That’s why it feels better to be with you than anywhere else in the world, which is why I want your protection forever. But I don’t want to burden you.”