The Journey (27 page)

“That won’t mean anything to him. Anyone can promise something after the war. Here and now is what matters, Paul.”

“I’ll take my chances. But he says he’s not that way. He believes me. But he’s also afraid.”

“He’s only afraid if there’s too little in it for him.”

“What you’ve given me is a lot. But unfortunately not enough. Yet I know he’ll trust me.”

“Go, Paul, I beg you, now go!”

Then he’s outside and looking for him. He tells him what he can give him. He gives him what he has. It’s not enough. Paul ends up with nothing. Only promises. If it’s possible. He swears on it. Not easy. Dangerous. It could easily go wrong. Paul is much too weak. One has to be up to it. Zerlina is more up to it. But she won’t pay such a price. You cannot give up your sense of honor. You simply have it. It’s a part of your skin. You don’t carry it to market. No one can demand that you do. Decency cannot be bought. There’s nothing he can do for his dear aunt. Also nothing for his mother. Zerlina won’t even consider it. She’d rather get on the train. Here decency means nothing. And thus Ida has to get on the train. Caroline has made her some nice soup. The last meal of the condemned. Ida
needs to build up her strength. She is still here. One roommate donated some noodles. Another, a teaspoon of dried vegetables. A third, a teaspoon of real fat. No, not just margarine. Such good soup warms you right up. Ida also receives a bonbon and half an apple. Dessert. Caroline refuses the quarter portion offered her.

“We’re so sad to see you go, Frau Schwarz. It’s the least we can do.…”

But after the war. Soon it will come. Everyone is waiting for it. From there it’s just a bit farther to home, but one can still travel back. First class, which is only fitting. Though Ida has never traveled in anything higher than second class. But then it will be time for first class. That will be wonderful. For we are the victors. We are picked up and brought back in triumph. The trains are decked out like young girls. It’s a celebration. The song begins. All the cars are full of gifts, namely those who have been saved. They are given lipstick and powder in order to get themselves ready. They still don’t look so good. Soon they’ll be better. They’re given everything. They marry. Good men are brought along. Each chooses the right man. Bright banners and colorful letters.
WE ARE FREE
! Everyone can see us. We’re not nuns. The veils have been tossed away. The children play.
WELCOME HOME
! At every station refreshments are laid out. Free buffet. The prettiest girls have been selected. Cute little dresses. The girls approach the train carrying cups of hot chocolate with fruit tarts and wrapped-up little gifts. Ida eats until she is finally full.

All fear has disappeared from the world, no one has to hide anymore, nothing has to be hidden. Jewelry is worn again once more. Freedom, freedom, to sit in one’s own apartment! How nice to sit next to the furnace. Just feed it another shovelful. There’s enough coal in the cellar. The curtains are drawn. No one can look through the window into the room. How wonderful it feels to sit so nestled in! Bunny the dog is back. He’s never wagged his tail as much as he does now. At last the dear lady is back. Everyone is here. Now Bunny can go for a walk. At last everything is right, and no one speaks about the old complaints. What you suffered the day before is no longer bad today. The journey is over, no one says anything about it. Parties go on for an entire month because peace has returned. Indeed, everything is much more wonderful than it has ever been, for only now is freedom truly valued.

Then the Society of Ruhenthal Veterans is founded. Every week they get together and play cards. Each dresses well and tells stories. Each member wears a badge that has the Ruhenthal coat of arms on it. Reunions are arranged, one weekend a year in Ruhenthal! Caroline will lead them. Everyone will come. The railroad will offer reduced prices. In Ruhenthal there is music and many speeches are given. Poems are written, the newspapers will cover it all. Everyone will say that he was there when it was so bleak and no one believed it would end well. The times change. No one will hide his joy. Most of all, Ida will laugh.

Caroline looks up. Ida looks at peace, almost pleased. She has slept for a little while. She is not as anxious about what will happen, but concedes that she can also get along there. You only have to maintain your patience, you cannot give up your courage and will to live. Ida promises Caroline that she’ll keep her will to live, there is no need for her to worry so, for it won’t do any good. Then the women see what Paul and Zerlina have done. Zerlina arrives and announces what she has heard, namely that the old people will indeed not be taken away, which means no one over fifty, because only really able people are needed there, not any sick ones, new guidelines have just been handed down. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief, the danger is gone.

“Ah, children! Now, that’s better! You’d think they could have told us sooner!”

It appears to be true, not just a rumor, everyone talks about it openly, Ruhenthal is full of good news. No one will have to go who is not really suited. No one wants to kill us, they only want us to work. Just as Paul picks and shovels away on the Dobrunke shooting range back in Leitenberg, so many of us will end up doing the same. Not everyone is needed in Ruhenthal, there are no factories here. They will have to go off to the countryside, and where one works is where one also meets other people. There our young people will not be so cut off from the land, so they won’t have to worry about sustenance. Caroline wants to unpack everything, but Ida resists doing so.

“I haven’t seen it in black and white yet. No one can be certain until the departure happens.”

No, nothing is certain. Additional news spreads. Everyone must go. Everyone must go who originally was supposed to go. The healthy will
work, the sick will be taken care of. Thus Ida is saved, for she doesn’t have to work, though she has to go nonetheless. But that can’t be so bad. The journey won’t take that long, a day, then a night, maybe two days, three at the most, certainly no more than four. In any case it must come to an end sometime. As long as you are on the train, you only have to sit there and not worry about anything. There’s no getting off. That’s the advantage of the special transport. You get on and you get off. In between nothing happens, the train just keeps going. Afterward everyone can rest, especially the sick.

The travelers must gather together. Ida cannot remain, but she is still there. She can take a little while, no one will mind. No one will miss the train. It will wait for all of those who are traveling. Until the departure she will still be there, nothing will happen to her. She can remain there, she can indeed. She can laugh and cry, she can feel happy or sad, whatever she wishes. Ida can hardly walk because her feet won’t do what she wants. But the sick stand there waiting. The luggage is taken away. “Have you made sure to mark everything correctly?” Yes, everything is in order. With soluble chalk the name and date of birth have been scrawled onto the top of the suitcase. Anyone can plainly read it. This suitcase belongs to Frau Ida Schwarz, née Schmerzenreich, who first saw the light of this world on 6/1/1882.

Back then she was suddenly there. She left her hidden sanctuary and screamed for the first hour of her life. She was taken care of and her first warm bath was prepared. The midwife was a capable woman who understood her job. “It’s a girl, Frau Schmerzenreich!” she called out joyfully. And Caroline now had a little sister. The child was named after an aunt called Ida. She was a darling child, so good-natured and cheerful. The parents were overjoyed with little Ida. She grew up and was soon big and as beautiful as a flower in a poem. She went to school, learned how to cook and sew, she sang and danced, fell in love, got engaged, and then she got married. It went off in splendid style, for all the relations approved. The wedding table was decorated elaborately and looked even more beautiful than when Caroline was married. There were many guests, each with a flower in their buttonhole. Some had come from far off just to be there. All of them had brought gifts. Caroline and Leopold gave them a marvelous coffee service for twelve, white with a wide gold rim. Ida was taken
aback and touched by the many expensive gifts and cried, as young girls often do. Soon Ida would be very spoiled, which suited her just fine. Her every wish was fulfilled. There was money in the house and it was transformed into decorative goods or jewelry. Lovely clothes were sewn and acquired, anything Ida’s heart wished for. A son was born, named Albert, and he grew splendidly. Then, unexpectedly, came a difficult time when she found herself a widow. Her husband died suddenly after dinner. He just stood up from the table, gave a little cry, followed by a heavy thud, a heart attack; he was already gone by the time Leopold arrived. Yet Ida was well looked after. There was a large building with a wonderful apartment, some savings, and a large insurance payment. Ida lived for her Albert and was happy, for the son grew tall and was good.

But one day it all came to an end. The good son suddenly took off for the haven of America. There they needed a talented photographer. Ida, who loved Albert above all else, was glad that he had left. Soon Ida had to move out of her luxurious apartment and in with Caroline. That was not too inconvenient, because Leopold’s waiting room stood empty and he could take her in, even if she wasn’t a member of his immediate family. That’s the way it was and no one could tell Leopold any different. Yet after a year had passed, Ida had to travel with Caroline and family to Ruhenthal. The good son was in America and could not know. As soon as the war is over, Albert will come back; a good son doesn’t let his old, sick mother wait an extra hour. That will be the loveliest day of Ida’s life. Yet she hardly talks about it, for just mentioning his name fills her with worry. Also, Caroline’s children can easily get upset, and Ida is careful around them. One talks about what is nearby and thinks about what is far off. Ida hears her sister say, “It’s good, Ida, that we are all still together. At least you’re not alone. Together we can better get through it all.” Ida agreed. She didn’t carry along the good son with her to Ruhenthal. He should not have a thing to worry about. She will never say his name until the war is over. Whatever will come to pass is inevitable. It’s only lucky that she can share such danger and privation with her next of kin, because a widow on her own in this world …

“We will never be apart, Ida! We won’t let oursleves be separated!”

“No, Caroline, a thousand times no!”

“Certainly not us!”

“No! No!”

And yet Ida is off. And you, my dear, remain here. You must, I must. There is no other way. Should we let Albert know? It would be too hard on him. She doesn’t pass on her greetings, instead she will see him again one day herself. The journey is inevitable. America is off in the wild blue yonder. Only in the blue. An invidious song. And even that is over. Leopold is so old. It will be hard on him. At least it’s fortunate that he no longer understands. The poor man. No, Ida has it much worse. One has to plead that she be allowed to stay, to do everything possible at the last moment. It’s never too late to try. The entire family can go with her. Certainly. There’s nothing to it, nor would it be too much of a sacrifice. Leopold is over seventy-five. No one will take him. Only up to sixty. Almost the very same age at which Ida must still leave. You can’t plunge an entire family into trouble just because of one person. But it’s not trouble! Who said anything about trouble? No, it’s not trouble, it’s orders. It can’t be helped. There is nowhere to hide, and that’s disappointing. You expect everything to be all right, but soon you find that bad things happen fast. You don’t get up. Better to just pull the blanket over your head, for that’s also warmer.

The suitcase is already gone with all of its goodies inside. Memories for a better day. Why better? All right, of earlier days. All days are alike. They pass. They crawl out of their caves and then they are there, then they creep back under the earth again. Only man remains. He runs along throughout the day and knows nothing. Or do the days run through him? How about the mayflies? They don’t outlast the day and remain caught within it always. They don’t see that the sun rises and sets; thus they live in an eternity. To them the sun appears eternal, eternal is the light. They are the happiest of creatures, creatures of fable. Something like Zerlina. Each moment is full of tender life, without any worries about food or drink, then comes a gentle death that harms no one.

Ida holds her bags in both hands. From her shoulder a large bag hangs and a small knapsack is attached to her back. Everything is precisely labeled. You can read
IDA SCHWARZ
from any direction and know immediately how old the lady is who is traveling with you. Notice in particular the birth date, you dear fellow travelers, for then on the first of June you can congratulate her. It won’t be too long before the date rolls around and a couple of sweet words will make Ida happy.

“But how do you all know that it’s my …?”

“We saw it on your bags and that’s why we brought along flowers. It’s so hard to get flowers here, yet what we won’t do for you!”

“That is so sweet of you! I will never forget it.”

Yet Caroline will not be among the well-wishers, nor the children, whom Ida loves as if they were her own. Nor Leopold, who rarely came around, though he was always there for her birthday. Meanwhile her dear Albert is safe in America.

“Where are my family members?”

“Holed up in Ruhenthal. They would love to be here, but it rained too hard and because of that they didn’t catch the train.”

“That’s not very nice. They should have arrived at the station an hour earlier.”

Caroline cannot stand the guilt she feels. You don’t allow a sister to travel alone, at least not in this war. Ida is gone and so are all the others. Separated from one another. The song is torn in two. Different train cars. The railroad does with people what it wants, no one is never allowed to complain. Please don’t forget to send a telegram. Arrived safely. Lovely here. Weather like at home. Healthy. Luggage unharmed. Excellent accommodations. Five meals a day with a wide choice of menu. A comfortable room in the hotel with a view of the lake. On the balcony, lounge chairs with umbrellas to protect against the sun. There you can lie low in comfort. Pleasant company. Charming staff. Running water, central heating. Nearby is the spa where the band plays from morning to evening. Overtures to Martha, Martha who disappeared. Nice relations here. Everything just like home or even better, since you don’t have to worry about anything. The cook and the housemaid do everything themselves, no need to hassle them. Everything works without a hitch. The hours for meals are fixed. There is nothing to eat. No, there is something. But it’s pretty bad. The potatoes are black and hard. There are only peels. That’s why it costs nothing to stay. No need to pay anything, not even the luxury tax on spas. One would only like to know just where the money for such luxurious expenditures is coming from. It makes no sense. This new social order is perfect. The oppression and enslavement of people has stopped, they are all perfect ladies and gentlemen, each as happy as the next.