by H. G. Adler
“Look, I just want to whisper something to you. If you want things to go well, then I’m advising you to just get in the coffin on your own. We’ll just put the cover on loose and not nail it shut. That way, you’ll have the chance to tell your story to the director of the crematorium yourself. Maybe he’ll let you go. I’m only making this one exception for you, and because you want to live. But, once you lie down in the coffin, you’ll see how all your desire to live will disappear.”
I didn’t agree with this suggestion, but by now I was well versed enough not to openly resist the man.
“I don’t want to give you any trouble, but I’d like to make a different recommendation. Put the coffin in the hearse and let me remain outside. I give you my word that I will walk there on foot in order to straighten everything out.” Quickly I added, in order to come to an immediate understanding, “How’s that sound, gentlemen?”
Whether it was this last comment, by which I put myself on the same level as the pallbearers, or because of caution in the face of a situation never encountered before, the leader seemed willing to consider the suggestion and was no longer keenly focused on my ruin.
“Well, yes. But, as you have to understand, that can’t happen. Orders are orders, but we’re the ones who have to handle the situation. As for the coffin, that seems fine, if you don’t want to ride along. We can tell Jock, and he can drive ahead with the empty coffin. But you’ll have to get a move on, and we’ll all go together.”
That I wanted to avoid. I didn’t want any escort on the way to the crematorium, for I wanted to speak privately with the director.
“Couldn’t you just go in the car and say that I’m coming? I’ll be right along.”
“No chance. Man, do you have any idea what I’d be risking if I let you walk? So it’s either into the box and off with you or to walk there, but only with us along!”
I had to agree, and breathed a sigh as the men shouldered the empty coffin, carried it out to the street, and stowed it in the glassed-in rear compartment of the hearse. I looked on and was amazed at how knowledgeably Brian and Derek went about their business. To my surprise, since I didn’t know where they had got the stuff, they neatly arranged sprigs of flowers on the coffin lid and made every effort to make certain that everything looked just like a regular funeral. These bright decorations of gladiolas and tulips, mixed in with the deep, dark green of palm leaves, made me feel sure that someone really did want me dead, there being nothing wanting but my assent. I almost regretted missing out on such a dignified opportunity, for it would be merciful to suddenly counter my decision and quietly say, “Look, I’ve thought about it, and I’d like indeed to give the coffin a try.” There was nothing left but to ready myself for the final passage, it only being a comfort that no one on the street will know how dead I am, for no one thinks of a pedestrian as being dead.
The men had finished decorating and looked over their work once more from all sides before carefully closing the back of the hearse. Unfortunately, their work sparked the interest of the neighborhood. From the nearby houses, grown-ups and children appeared who looked on and observed and whispered among themselves. From the large apartment building across the street, people looked out their windows, the two women and their cats among them, everyone looking on with interest, though without concern, at the fatality. Such detached interest was horrible to me; I drew back almost as far as the front door and would have loved to close it, though of course I couldn’t commit such a breach of trust against the men, nor would they be very pleased by it. Nonetheless, I was curious how everything would unfold. Then I heard the squealing voice of Mrs. Byrdwhistle as she wished her neighbor Mrs. Stonewood good morning.
“Looks to me as if the stranger is a goner.”
“He should have pulled through.”
“It all happens so fast. I say it’s a shame, a crying shame!”
“Yesterday I saw him still horsing around with his kids. You know, the stranger—he’s just like a child.”
“Yes, yes, just like a child. Indeed, he loved to play with them, always horsing around with the kids.”
“He’s all played out.”
“Yes, played out.”
“Yes. You know, Mrs. Stonewood, if he had stayed back there where he came from maybe he’d still be alive today.”
“Perhaps, that could be. You think then that if …”
I didn’t listen any longer to what Mrs. Stonewood said in reply. The men were done with their work, and Brian turned to the driver, who was still snoozing, and thumped him hard.
“Hey, Jock! Are you awake? Let’s go!”
Jock rubbed his eyes, looked confused, and shook his head several times.
“Okay, then. Everything go all right?”
“You’ll see soon enough. Get going and tell them that we’ll be coming along later with the body.”
Jock opened his mouth to say something more, but the leader lifted his hand and gave him the signal to drive off. Then the ignition turned, the gear shifted quietly, and the car began moving and was soon gone. The pallbearers stomped back into the house and laughed, saying they had done it. Johanna was also there, letting children back into the hallway who had not been able to see what was going on. The bright ringing of voices rose as they bounded around in their uncontained joy over the visitors, who looked around them, they not half so powerful without a coffin.
“Look, Johanna, I’ll do whatever you want me to. I’ll get my passport and papers and will be happy to go off to die.”
I had not planned to say that; it just slipped out. Yet, before I could catch myself, Johanna took advantage.
“Look, that’s exactly what I said. Wouldn’t it have been easier the other way? Now you’ll have to hoof it in order not to be late.”
“Don’t you worry, my dear! There’s still plenty of time. I’m looking forward to the walk, it’s so refreshing.”
“Okay, whatever you wish. It doesn’t matter to me what you batter away at with your thick skull.”
I went to my study; it looked completely cleaned out and seemed much bigger. Yet I was also convinced that things had been left untouched, the furniture standing pressed up against the walls as always. I had no trouble finding my papers, which I gathered up along with my checkbook, calendar, and notebook. “It’s important to know what day it is.” This I said aloud. The men outside heard me and thought it was a question, because Derek then told me the date. I thanked him, for he was nice—indeed, pleasant for a pallbearer. Unfortunately, that was little consolation, for I recognized immediately, as I inspected my birth certificate, which I had been issued back there after the war, that he was right. It was curtains for me; I didn’t have a chance. I thought of how I had come to this country with a visa that was good for only four weeks, which is why, after I left the ship and followed the curving path to the left, marked “Foreigners,” two border officials put their heads together and discussed whether they could let me into the country. One of them felt that since I would be in the country for such a short time there was no cause for concern, for the stranger would then return home. But I didn’t leave, for my stay had been extended, and I had been given extra time on a number of occasions. Now the deadline was passed. I could expect no more leniency, and would have to be sent across the border, whether on a ship, into the water, or into the fire. Brian and Derek were here to maintain the border in their own fashion. Whoever didn’t leave these shores on his own was picked up by the officials of death, locked in a box, such that he died behind the border, done in at last, that day having come. That was also the reason that Johanna no longer stood by me. She knew this country much better, having lived here for some years already.
I looked at my books, I peeked into the cabinet where my writings were locked up: everything was in order. I could relax. It would be best to fill a suitcase with the best of it in order to stash it away. But that was nonsense. It would do no good, for publishers had turned up their noses at so much sadness and didn’t want
anything to do with it, no one having ever shown any interest in sinking himself into my thoughts. My melancholy work was of no use to me, since I was to be cremated. I should have asked the border officials whether anyone at the crematorium might be interested in my writings, but at best they would have laughed at me. Why confuse Brian and Derek, who didn’t know anything? My works were best buried in the drawers in order that they not be burned up. Johanna believed in their worth and would hold on to them. Widows and orphans help, for someone would show up wanting my things, and Johanna would sell them to an archive. So I left behind my soul, the works and thoughts of my intellectual pursuits.
“I loved you all, because in you I have borne witness. You will remain when I am no longer deceived by my own vanity.”
“It has indeed deceived you, Arthur.”
“Why are you here, Franziska? You never liked funerals.”
“I still don’t like them. It’s only because of you, my friend …”
“Well, then, what? Spit it out! Why so quiet?”
Franziska said nothing more, even though I asked her again. Then I looked at her blank face. She was elsewhere, transported, having disappeared into the unknown without a trace. I called after her.
“Are you lost to me for good? How can you leave me at this hour?”
I was given no answer. All I could hear was the border officials outside as they scratched and cleared their throats, and I knew that they would soon grow impatient.
“Are you still there?” I called out without opening the door.
But the men didn’t answer. As I listened at the door, I could hear no sound. Ashamed, they had no doubt crept off. I dared to hope for such a miracle. There was nothing to fear from death; on its own, when it turns away and spares us, it’s a blessing we are given, and we say a prayer of thanks for being saved. Franziska had sacrificed everything for me, and I rejoiced, for she had come in order to scare away death, she having at first removed the coffin from the ship of death of her own volition, and now the bearers of my heavy guilt as well. I turned to a wall and prayed, bowing my head, the blood rushing to my skull, me digging down and holding on in order that I not lose my grip if, indeed, I was finally alive again. “Just a little while, I know, but give me just a little while and teach me, so that I don’t foolishly waste the days I have been granted but instead consider every hour sacred and invoke your name, your glory, and your will. For you, my Lord, are the Lord, and I am nothing when I do not exist but rather only a fleeting creature before your eternal presence. Thus, in this hour, answer my—”
There was a knock at the door. I was startled, such that I could no longer pray. Yet I had said all that I wanted to say and was satisfied. Johanna stood in the doorway, pale and full of reproach.
“Okay, Arthur, where do you think you’re hiding! We’re all waiting for you; the breakfast is cold.”
Why should I eat anything? I asked myself, and stood there wavering.
“Come on, then!”
She motioned for me to follow, half angry and impatient, half friendly, and she couldn’t understand why I stood there so obtuse, as if her words were a puzzle. Since I continued not to stir, she took me tenderly by the hand.
“Do you have to cause me such trouble on this day of death! The men are so nice, and are eating with us. But you stand there lost, as if you didn’t have a heart. Don’t you want to have your last meal with us?”
“No, I don’t. Nor is it going to be my last meal. Things have completely changed. I’m staying home today. Please, just leave me alone!”
As far as I could see, Johanna was not backing down; instead, for the first time that day she showed understanding and lightly patted my shoulder.
“You dear, dear simple man. If life were only as easy as death, then you would have won. Have you forgotten why the men are here?”
“Franziska took them away.”
“Franziska?”
“Yes, she came and gave me life. Now you can be a lot happier with me. My stay has been extended.”
Johanna shook her head in quiet sadness, looking at me deeply and painfully as never before. It touched me and impressed me that she hesitated before me so helplessly.
“What’s wrong, Johanna?”
“With me? Nothing. Only with you. Sit down. Come and eat your oatmeal.”
She took me by the hand. I could have resisted, for I felt strong enough to hold my ground. But Johanna was overcome with sadness. She, who was otherwise so strong, was all of a sudden a compassionate fragile creature who had to be treated tenderly in order not to be wounded. Shyly, I ventured a final word.
“You know, dear, one shouldn’t leave anything unfinished. They are just trying to do their job, I can tell.”
“It’s not unfinished, dear. You’ve done enough already.”
“It’s easy to think so, but it’s not true.”
It wasn’t possible to protest any further, and so I quietly retreated down the unavoidable passage to the room off the garden in back, where the table was much too festively laid out. Spirits were high, the pallbearers pleased with the food, smacking their lips and joking with the children, which pleased them. Johanna had not scrimped and had prepared a huge breakfast. There was ham and eggs, lovely toast, butter, honey, and marmalade. The men slurped down tea with pleasure from our best cups. For me alone, there was oatmeal in a little bowl, Brian and Derek preferring their more ample helpings.
“Well, then, sit down, Arthur. It’s about time!”
“We thought you were dead already!” the leader added rudely but meaning well. “Your wife—boy, can she cook! What she does with her bacon, soft as silk, simply primissima!”
Brian talked with his mouth full, bits of fat on his lips. I forced myself not to be rude in reply.
“If it tastes so good, you can come back again soon—both you and your friend!”
“Thanks very much, we’d be happy to! I’m a widower. To have a wife like yours would be easy to get used to!”
The leader was rude and had no idea that he should be ashamed, rather than looking straight at me with a big grin. He stuffed his mouth full, chewed, and called out with pleasure.
“Nothing shy about me! I’m a man!”
The children both trembled. Derek noticed and wanted to put them at ease.
“No need to be afraid, my little sparrows! Brian there is a good guy, and funny. He won’t do us any harm.”
“No, little bugs, no need to get all worked up!” yelled the leader even louder. “I won’t be coming back.”
“No? Really not?” Michael asked anxiously.
Eva began to cry. I saw how it was too much for her mother, for, in addition, Michael was not at all eased by Derek’s words and also began to sob. I would have been happy to comfort Johanna and come to her aid, but I could sense her deep resistance like a cold wall, she fearing for the children more in regard to me than to the men, a dead father being no blessing but rather something that would harm the children. Therefore I looked at the pallbearers in seeming confidence, and turned to Brian.
“I think there’s no more time left to lose. If you’re full, we can head off.”
“Right! You’re no fool!” the leader confirmed.
“But you didn’t eat any oatmeal and hardly drank your tea!” Johanna said with slight disapproval.
That was the last straw. I stood up and was firm with the unwelcome guests.
“There was only a little bowl of it, and it was for me. And besides, the gentlemen don’t eat oatmeal and, what’s more, I’m sick of this whole charade.”
The men had not expected such decisiveness on my part. They were taken aback, stuffing their mouths with several bites more and shifting uneasily in their seats.
“No hurry, don’t choke!” I joked. “Whoever eats last eats best.”
Johanna had taken Eva, who wept bitterly, onto her lap, Michael meanwhile pressing his head hard into her.
“If you want me to go with you,” I warned the men, “then
behave as if you do. I’m done and will wait for you out front.”
My sudden hurry annoyed the pallbearers, but they didn’t dare risk showing their displeasure, instead devoting themselves with undiminished desire to eating more, drinking their tea in haste, and, finally, indicating that they were ready to follow me. Yet they continued to sit there. Johanna wavered as to whether she should be thankful that I had taken command of the situation so forcefully or if she should speak up and ask me not to leave the table without having eaten, since I had hardly touched a bite. Suddenly, she came to a decision and passed by me and down the hall with Eva and Michael in hand, painfully trying to hold the children away from me so that I couldn’t touch them or nuzzle them. Once outside, she called back breathlessly that she would be right back, she just needed a moment, because she wanted to accompany me and the men to make sure everything went all right; she just had to leave the children with Mrs. Stonewood. That seemed unnecessary to me, but I said nothing. As I looked for my coat and hat in the hall, the men continued to sit at the breakfast table back in the room, me becoming worried that there was something wrong. Therefore I went back to make sure everything was all right. They were shamelessly stuffing into their pockets what was left of the meal, nor were they the least disturbed by my appearance.
“Do pallbearers always steal?”
The men didn’t stop, and grabbed anything they could, not leaving behind so much as a slice of bread. As soon as they heard Johanna outside again, the thieves straightened up and pressed at their pockets to smooth them out, but with no sense of guilt.
“We gave you a break,” said Derek. “Now give us one. And, besides, you won’t be needing any of it any longer.”
Johanna stepped into the room and saw with one glance what had happened, yet she didn’t say a word. In a matter-of-fact manner, she spoke firmly.
“The children are fine. Gentlemen, we can leave.”