The Wall (41 page)

My talk made Fortunata uncomfortable. She ignored it, and probably didn’t even listen to me, but she wanted to take pity on me and appeared to actually do so, for she lifted the crystal ball with a flourish, placed it gravely in front of her, and stared broodingly into the glass. From then on, I was not to disturb her with my pressing talk. Fortunata’s eyes shimmered as she looked at me.

“You must be very careful; otherwise something could happen to you! You should never go to fortune-tellers, because they are dangerous for you! As a result, you could lose your mind!”

“I can’t lose it. In that, you’re wrong. I cannot lose anything, nothing at all. Do you understand? I have nothing. I am nothing, nothing whatsoever. Has anyone ever come to you who was already nothing?”

“No, but you are indeed something. You are a husband and a father.”

“No.”

“I saw you earlier today with your children!”

“They are not my children. I don’t have any.”

“Your hand showed me clearly, nor did you say no when I said that you did.”

“I am often too weak to say no.”

“Why did you come here if you don’t exist? Nobody before has come who doesn’t exist. There’s no such thing.”

“Nobody at all?”

“Nobody.”

“Then I am the first Nobody.”

Fortunata bristled at this, thinking that I was stubborn, crazy. She no longer tended to her crystal ball but instead squinted at the door. Maybe she wanted to call for help. I had to reassure her, and so I lowered my gaze and spoke urgently and quietly while barely moving my lips.

“Please, don’t be afraid. I am not mad, and I certainly won’t do anything to you. Someone who is nothing can do nothing. I will also disappear, as you wish. You don’t have to call anyone for help, for you will see that I am obedient; a lamb couldn’t be more docile. Please believe me, I only came
to you because I felt that I could be here, here with you. I always need to be with someone in order to know that I exist. That’s not crazy. Please remember, Fräulein Fortunata, that right after I arrived I asked whether or not I existed, and you said that I should put that off until you turned to the crystal ball.”

Rather than explaining anything, my talk confused the Gypsy woman all the more, yet she was no longer anxious or hostile.

“I say to you, as the all-seeing and faultless famous Gypsy fortune-teller Fortunata, that you exist, and that you can go forth from me without worry and at peace for all time, because nothing will happen to you. You will also exist if you are no longer in my wagon. You will exist for a long time, because you are healthy. You will remain protected, and almost all of your wishes will be fulfilled soon and in the future, most of your worries and the evil past fading away forever. Then you will be happy and forget all the terrible things, because everything will be as good as I say.”

Fortunata said all this with a singing tone, like someone telling a fairy tale. But she hardly turned her gaze from me, and certainly not toward the crystal ball, so I didn’t put much stock in what she said.

“Did you see all that in the crystal ball? Aren’t you saying all of it because that’s what you think I want to hear?”

She lifted the glass up and lightly played with it in order to examine its secret. I felt that I could expect nothing more and stood up. Fortunata followed me.

“Just one more thing! Then I won’t bother you again. Would you let me look into your crystal ball just once?”

Fortunata pressed it to herself and covered it up with both hands.

“There’s no point, sir. You wouldn’t understand. You wouldn’t see anything. Only I am told the truth.”

I staggered to the door and was so upset that I didn’t even thank her or say goodbye. I plunged down the steps, without turning to look back at Fortunata, and disappeared into the tumult. I didn’t leave anything with the Gypsy woman. I took myself along with me; even my hand, which hurt a little, remained attached to my arm, but was weaker than usual, and I was also weaker than I had ever been before. Only naked shame careened through the surging mass, garish floodlights and chains of shining lightbulbs
blending together. The dark night sky was even blacker, dust and overly sweet charred odors rising toward it, and I didn’t know where the tears that streamed down my cheeks had come from, the cheeks of the excluded and the lonely one driven away from the clang of the horrid music, the empty air of the barren evening, the crowd of distasteful people rushing back and forth, the buzz of their voices of immeasurable misery rattling from them and echoing back unintelligibly in a roiling damp mixture seen through the prism of my tears. Already I had freed myself some from the crush and crossed the street, but then it surrounded me again, only the fair having sunk behind me, the old city there as ever, it existing, while I did not, though because of the anxious gleam of its streetlights I could no longer see it. I pressed ahead, feeling lost, because the streets, with their spotty lighting, took no notice of me and were, what I had not yet realized, occupied only with the trickle of rain that flowed along the sidewalks in dirty rivulets or here and there gathered in murky reflecting puddles.

So I walked along querulous and anxious, not noticing that we were already at the train station; Anna with her groom Helmut, Peter and the faithful Herr Geschlieder from the museum were with me. They were escorting me and had not allowed me to carry my own suitcase and bags. I must not be burdened at all was what they wished, unburdened by the weight of goodbye, a free man who should have no worries. Such care didn’t feel right to me, because without any luggage in my hand I couldn’t be certain that I was departing; I felt like a lazy onlooker who wasn’t responsible for anything, afraid that at the gate, or later on the platform, I would not be allowed on. A man with no luggage, which is what someone could take me for, shouldn’t be trusted, no matter how eagerly he brandishes his ticket. I would have been happy to discuss the matter quietly, but the continual chain of our stomping feet prevented it; the old city sucked me in and forbade any talk. Nor did I manage to say a word. So I stayed quiet and walked on, though I kept to the side in order not to block anyone’s way. I was not certain of my escort; they could all suddenly disappear, as the crowd was thick, but they didn’t let me out of their sight. Peter, especially, stayed close and laughed at me jokingly as best he could with his wide, distorted mouth. Anna didn’t offer any encouragement and yet was my only hope of a successful escape. Then
the crowd began to thicken ahead of us; we had reached the great hall and now stood at a standstill, pressed among many people, hardly able to move.

“We’ve come too soon. Much too soon.”

Someone said that; muttered and barely audible, these words must have come from Peter. Then they flowed in heavy waves slowly ahead and hung themselves wearily between the inert hands of the great clock that guarded the entrance to the trains and performed its time-saving duties only in fitful jerks. Helmut insisted that we had at least half an hour before we would be allowed through the gate and remembered that we still had to buy platform tickets. He recommended going to the station restaurant for a cup of coffee and they could get the tickets on the way. I was not willing to take a single step that would draw me away from the trains.

“I agree that it’s not very pleasant here, but I’m not leaving. Go on, if you want, I’ll wait here.”

“They’ll announce the trains,” Peter reassured me.

“That might be. But that’s no good to me. I have to stay here, for I’m not going anywhere.”

“Come on,” said Peter, “don’t spoil our fun!”

“You can all go on. It won’t bother me at all. You can stay there or come back, it’s all the same to me. We could even say goodbye now.”

“Yes, Herr Doctor,” offered Herr Geschlieder, “I’m afraid I have to excuse myself. Your friends are here, and I really have to get home.”

“Could I buy you a coffee?” asked Peter.

“Many thanks, but I’m afraid there’s no way. I have to get going. And so, my dear Herr Doctor, be well and don’t forget us! I hope all goes well over there, and safe journey back!”

“Thank you, Herr Geschlieder, and goodbye! Please pass on my best wishes to Herr Schnabelberger, Frau Dr. Kulka, Herr Woticky, and everyone at the museum. And to your dear wife as well! Thank you so much for accompanying me and for having been so nice to me!”

Herr Geschlieder reached out and squeezed my hand so hard that I almost cried out, and then weaved his way through the crowd, tipping his hat several times as he did until I lost sight of the hat and of him. Peter was angry that I had driven him away and insisted again that all of us, myself
included, should go for a coffee before it was too late. This stubbornness made me mad, but Anna saved me the need to respond.

“It’s not really that important. If Arthur doesn’t want to, we can also wait here awhile without coffee.”

Peter looked at me half disdainfully and half sympathetically, but left me in peace.

“Everyone in the museum thinks that you’ll be back! Why didn’t you tell them the truth, even right up to the end?”

“I couldn’t. Perhaps they would not have let me go. Frau Dr. Kulka was against the journey right up until the last minute and could not understand what I expected to gain from being abroad. You stay in your country and earn an honest living, that’s her view. Whoever wants to leave these days is certainly a coward and also a terrible patriot. My fears for the future here and for myself she found ridiculous. Nor could she see any way that my being abroad and reporting back could be of any use to the museum. In her opinion, that can all be done on paper. It would be better to have visitors come from abroad. That would be better press for us than to have our people visiting other countries. She didn’t trust me. She even resented the couple of photos that Schnabelberger gave me. She never liked me. What I had worked on was never right to her. Everything that I had done I had done diligently, but to her it was all highly superfluous shenanigans. To save artworks, protect them, describe them beautifully, and install them tastefully—that was all that was possible, according to her. But to be a human witness to the past and to sacrifice oneself for the most recent tragedy, that was a secondary task best left to the archivists and the historians. A museum must serve the living, not the dead—that was her mantra, and she was right about that. She just thought of it in a different way than I did. In any case, she had watched the preparations for my journey with suspicion and nearly blocked the necessary recommendation from the museum to the consulate for a visa. ‘I know you only want to rush it all through,’ she said. ‘But I am warning you, either let me in on your plans or I will get involved, and that will be the end of it all.’ So I had to pretend, though no doubt most everyone in the museum knew what I was up to. Herr Schnabelberger openly supported my plans. Whether or not he did so completely selflessly I have my doubts, but he nonetheless was happy to be rid of me. I didn’t resent him, though, because I owed him a lot.”

I had begun to babble and could have kept going if I hadn’t been afraid that someone could overhear me. Then my plans could quickly have been thwarted. Secret emigration was frowned upon. I quietly closed my mouth and lowered my gaze, my cheeks glowing. Helmut had pressed his way through the crowd and returned with platform tickets, which he handed out.

“Is there one for me?” I asked meekly.

“How so?”

“I’m also accompanying me, and you only brought three.”

“Are you kidding?”

“What do you mean, kidding? I want to accompany me. Is that so strange?”

Anna nudged Helmut in order to prevent him from answering. Then she spoke quietly to me, such that no one else could hear.

“We’ve done everything we can to make sure that you don’t remain stuck here. There’s not much time. Don’t worry! Another ten or fifteen minutes and they will let us through. Then you go on ahead, with nothing to be afraid of. Show the man your ticket; he won’t have to examine it any further but only punch it, and not even look at you. It will be easy. Then you’ll already be at the train. We’ll find the right car. You already have the ticket for your seat; it’s in the top right pocket of your vest. Don’t be so nervous! Promise me that! Promise yourself as well! Then you’ll sit in your seat. We’ll take care of your luggage in order to make sure it’s nicely stowed. We’ll wait on the platform until the train leaves. We’ll wave to you and wish you luck. Then you’ll travel on, traveling, traveling on into life, into the future. Soon tomorrow will be here. Yesterday is past; even today will be behind you! You can do it. Stay calm when you get to the border. Nothing will happen to you there, either. Your passport is real, all the visas are good. You just show the passport and everything that they want, but everything will be fine, for it’s all in order. There everyone will be friendly toward you. Then the train will travel on and you will be beyond the border. Then you can celebrate, the last worries falling away. You are free. Then you will feel tired, completely tired, but happy. You will have to sleep in order that, when you arrive, you are wide awake.”

Anna said all this and more to appease me. I was grateful to her and
loved her at this moment, which made me anxious about leaving her, for she had been so good to me. The first night after my return came back to me, the days in the mountains just a few months ago. But I also knew that I had done the right thing in not appealing to Anna and not allowing her into my unease, which she protected but couldn’t fight off. I was happy that in Helmut she would have a loving husband, which is what she needed—someone strong and simple, always there and never to be doubted, someone who didn’t just chase after his dreams but steadily moved toward them. Anna needed a resting place, not my abyss and my unresolvable past. In addition, Hermann’s and Franziska’s shadows stood between us and the dark fate of the native city that she would have to bear without me, but which would not have allowed us to be together freely in the world.

“It will soon all work out for you, Anna, for you and Helmut. It’s good to know that there are steadfast souls and not just the lost.”