The Wall (78 page)

“No. What are you thinking? Of course I need to see you soon. That’s not the issue. Somehow that will happen. If I can’t promise you when right at the moment, I’ll nonetheless think about it throughout the day. You know what? Let me suggest something. I have to meet with Kauders today, and I’ll ask him to let you know how soon we can see each other. He’ll let you know for sure.”

“I hardly ever see him.”

“What do you mean, you hardly see him? That’s impossible. He’s your best friend here! He tells me all the time how much he worries about you.”

“He says that? How nice of him!”

“Isn’t that true?”

“No.”

“That’s impossible! He’s devoted to you. He says that all the time. He even said so to Karin. One can even see the effect it’s had on his work. A strong influence that can’t be denied.”

“Does he really not deny it?”

“No, of course not. Your basic ideas show up throughout it, and anyone who knows would recognize them.”

“He wouldn’t admit that to me.”

“No, I simply can’t believe that! I’ll speak with him about it.”

“Please, don’t say anything! Nothing at all!”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to.”

“Well, if you don’t want me to, then of course I’ll let it be. But perhaps sometime you’ll indeed let me talk to him.”

“No. I beg of you, just let it go. Is there no way, then, that we can get together?”

“Ah, yes, well … today is not possible. You know, Kauders and whatnot. I’d love to, of course. But it’s difficult. I could spare an hour tomorrow. Do you have time? It doesn’t have to be tomorrow. Perhaps the day after?”

“I could do it.”

“Great! Should we agree on that now? Or shouldn’t I indeed let you know through Kauders?”

“Please, no!”

“Is it really that unpleasant for you? Hmm. Fine. Of course, I understand.
I have a suggestion. But, of course, only if you agree. You could just write me a letter.”

“What kind of letter?”

“You are a master letter writer. It was always one of the greatest of pleasures to read your letters.”

“What should I write to you?”

“Well, what you wish to, of course. Any kind of practical matter. About your situation. Your life. Your work. Yourself. Everything. It would interest me. You know that.”

“One thing I can tell you in person, Oswald. Things aren’t going well for me here. Not at all.”

“Of course, I’m sorry about that. What does Johanna say about it? I must learn more about her. Write me about her! I’m so happy for you. She is really so charming. I need to get to know her better. Kauders adores her; he’s almost bursting with envy. Karin, of course, can’t know that. Promise me that! Johanna has an excellent reputation from the Office of Refugees. What a father she had, so highly respected! He was a wonderful doctor. You should be proud.”

“So I should write to you about that?”

“Whatever you wish, Arthur. Anything from you pleases me. And write me soon!”

“But you know everything already. So-and-So tells you everything about me. You certainly see him often enough.”

“You know, sometimes we talk. Mostly about work. He’s like a leech I can’t shake loose, but don’t say I said so! I much prefer to spend time with you. You just have to believe me!”

“Unfortunately, though, it’s just not going to work. Right, Oswald?”

“Of course it will. Who says that it won’t work?”

“So-and-So.”

“I don’t believe that! I have never said that to him! Kauders is a shameless fool—believe me, a leech. He yammers on at me. Always whining. Karin gets after me, saying that he really needs me, even if I want to get rid of him. Then she softens me up and there’s nothing I can do.”

“He doesn’t seem that bad to me. You must know a completely different So-and-So than I do.”

“That might just be. No person is as transparent as glass. I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”

“Please, not because of me! I beg of you.”

“If that’s what you really want, naturally I’ll respect it. I really must see you and Johanna as well.”

“When?”

“Write me and say when would be good!”

“But then you won’t answer my letter.”

“Yes, that’s right. But perhaps I will. I just might surprise you.”

“I don’t believe so.”

“Give it a try! And if I don’t write myself, then I will have your letter before me on my desk as a reminder and I’ll call you up. We really should see each other next week.”

He didn’t expect one from me, but I wrote him a letter, a lengthy one at that, for I tried to clarify our earlier and present relationship and, if possible, to save it. Yet it all came to an end. Oswald neither answered nor called, nor did he pass on anything through So-and-So. Did he just want nothing to do with me? I stopped trying to figure it out, for there was no excusing Oswald for what he had done.

It was different, but hardly any better, with So-and-So. In the early days he was happy to meet up with me quite often, but later less so, though a casual relation was always maintained between us. Our meetings were usually short and certainly served my newly certain intention of preventing a break between us from occurring, that burden never falling upon him but resting with me, for the most part. Also, if he wanted to avoid the impression that his feeling for me had died away, then he just needed to make sure to not seem as if he didn’t care, which then would not allow me to have any reason to complain about him. He was best man at my wedding, and he had recommended that Karin serve as Johanna’s witness, but Betty came down from South Wales to fill that role, which annoyed So-and-So, who rudely mocked her. As a wedding present, we received from him and Karin a coffee machine, which had to be used out of hospitality whenever he was with us. He also sent us little gifts for birthdays and other occasions, which he always extolled for their usefulness. He was always so generous with Michael, just as Otto was in his own way. So-and-So was pained by, and even jealous of,
the fact that I had a son, while he had not been granted any children. It annoyed him that our boy, at the most tender of ages, showed his dislike of him, which only increased with the years, the more so as Uncle So-So, which is what Michael drolly and anxiously called him, tried to win over the child with extravagant little surprises, high-spirited pranks, and grotesque gags that ended up scaring him more than winning his love. Sometimes it hurt us to see So-and-So trying to endear himself to Michael through clumsy and ineffective means. Because he felt that he looked too scary with his glasses on, he stuck them in his coat pocket, but this did no good, because he is very nearsighted, and without his glasses on has no idea what he’s doing.

So-and-So made clear to us, and above all to me, both obliquely and openly, that he blamed Michael for his poor attitude. Johanna tried hard to dispel this bad feeling, for with dogged gentleness she dedicated herself to caring for and maintaining my meager ties. Thus she tried in many different ways to persuade Michael not to run straight off or cry when “dear Uncle So-So” showed up. However, it did little good, neither for the child nor for So-and-So, not to mention Johanna or me. It was obvious that he did not wish me well, and had done some things that made my settling into this country more difficult. To this end, he set in motion several ruses that, with panache or in artful, deceptive, and spiteful ways, were played out. Above all, my personal and scholarly shortcomings had to be constantly pointed out anew. I was backward, and that was the only word for it, and that was why it was not possible for me to become an academic; my ineptness at Dr. Haarburger’s and in his circle had proved that sufficiently. Any further intercession on my behalf was not only difficult; it would only, in So-and-So’s opinion, do me harm rather than help. I would have to live in this country for at least five years before it was possible to judge whether I had acclimated myself to it enough that any introduction made by So-and-So wouldn’t bring shame to both him and me.

It’s true that I couldn’t prove any of this about my boyhood friend, for he went about it very slyly, though Johanna eventually believed me after I raised continual concerns that his conduct was aimed at separating me from people who knew me or had been important to me. No doubt he had also alienated Oswald, if not Inge, through his meddling. In the first years
of my marriage, he had even tried to drive a wedge between Johanna and me, whereby he would carefully, albeit as my alleged best friend, who had only my interests at heart, try to point out to Johanna certain aspects of my background and qualities about me that she simply could not judge on her own. At first, Johanna felt his intentions were good, but nonetheless his talk didn’t lead to much, for she saw through his game much earlier than I did. He then abandoned such means and resolved to work against me with finely-tuned weapons. My relationship with Johanna was no longer questioned, though around me and around us both an invisible, and therefore secure and inescapable, wall was erected, through whose single and hidden entrance only So-and-So could slip as a trusted envoy and middleman.

A few weeks ago, at the start of my dealings with Konirsch-Lenz, whom So-and-So hated, without knowing him personally, because of a somewhat flattering appraisal of a sociopedagogical exposé of this self-important friend of humanity, it became So-and-So’s central cause to dissuade me from following my own profession, it being the only way that my practical circumstances could be set right. So-and-So told me straight out that I should give up any attempt at becoming a sociologist, while he would be happy to take up my useful ideas in his own works, for which he would amply compensate me. He even recommended that I track down the literature for him, and write up abstracts and preliminary studies that he could then make use of. He hoped to soon secure a professorship, which could essentially be sped up with my assistance. Later, he would make me his private secretary. Before then, he would endeavor to recommend me as a language teacher, while, at the same time, I should try to make it as a freelancer working for journals and newspapers. With some luck, he promised me success with short essays and aphoristic observations, which best suited me. That way, I could at least somehow manage to get along until he could keep me busy as the newly appointed Professor Kauders. When I first told him about Konirsch-Lenz, he turned the tables on me and said that I should have nothing to do with this dabbler but instead concentrate on sociology. When I asked him how he imagined I could do that, he shrugged and said, “That’s your problem.”

Occasionally, he liked to tell me about his personal friends, but he never introduced me to them. Usually he made it seem as if he had hardly any real friends but, rather, ones that weren’t very attractive or, indeed, were repulsive
acquaintances with whom he associated only because of his position, though for the most part he didn’t deem it proper to put me in contact with them. I wasn’t at all sure whether So-and-So was in demand as a socialite, or if he was the one pressing himself on others, though I often heard that he was plenty on the go with others, whereas with me he made it seem as if he was lonelier in this country even than I was. I knew for a fact that Karin, who was lovely and charming in social situations, had many acquaintances and understood people wonderfully, and helped not only her husband but also herself, because more than a year ago she had given up her job as a dental technician, despite Inge’s ill-intentioned or outright refusal of support, and had since dedicated herself to sculpture and, along with it, in order to earn money, her work as an illustrator, which would have been impossible without good contacts.

So-and-So tried always to keep this a secret—as well as his social climbing and the increased expenses he and his wife could afford—but he couldn’t entirely hide it from me. It was obvious and, therefore, also clear that he kept Karin away from Johanna and me. I had hardly seen her more than four times, for during my rare visits to So-and-So’s old apartment, since I didn’t yet know the new one, Karin appeared only once. Then she showed up at our wedding in a much too expensive outfit, next to which Johanna’s simple lovely dress looked meager. Once we had moved to West Park Row, Karin visited with her husband, but only for a brief hour. I didn’t think it out of the realm of possibility that the only reason she did come was to see the wedding pictures in which she appeared, because she asked me beseechingly to ask Otto to make copies of them for her as well. Nonetheless, Johanna thought Karin was nice, and she seemed friendly to me, and was not at all standoffish but visibly at ease with us, though I never thought she would ever be any closer to us than that. She never asked Johanna over, as she’d promised, while So-and-So probably never passed on our invitations to her. We were never invited together to the Kauders’ but, rather, I always went alone, though Karin was never at home when I was there.

Once, I couldn’t help making note of this and wouldn’t let it rest. After So-and-So couldn’t avoid explaining the reasons for the friendship’s not having developed any further, I was told that in this country it was not unusual for men and women to move in different social circles. Karin was shy
about this and wished to wean herself from the behavior of those from the Old Country, so, as someone just arrived from there, I should not be at all surprised that it was not easy for her to be around me. But soon after that I bumped into Karin on the street, and she was the picture of friendliness. Therefore I didn’t believe a word So-and-So said. I confronted him about it and was met with evasion. First, Karin was a lady through and through, and second, she held nothing but the greatest respect for me, but the situation was indeed as he had described it to me already. Given this, there was no point in carrying it any further, and so I gave up, for I would have been met with nothing but icy silence.

Thus he succeeded in denying me whenever a personal or professional opportunity sprang up, while he nonetheless tossed me little favors, such as references for my research or helping me to obtain books, in order to try to turn me away from him without my getting upset. It was no longer a friendship at all, as we talked only about incidental matters. What indeed meant something to us, we said nothing about, just as So-and-So had done in the very first days after my arrival, during which I learned the difficult art of keeping quiet, having become smarter about it after making many mistakes. Now I asked him about neither Karin nor Oswald, whom he hardly ever mentioned, nor did I inquire about his work when he didn’t talk about it himself, and even more carefully avoided any reference to what I was doing. If I overstepped my bounds in the least, then he pulled himself up as if stricken and looked at me, furious. Why he never stopped visiting me altogether was unclear to me. Perhaps he was moved to do so for similar reasons as Otto, despite the differences in their character and nature.