Thomas thought long and hard upon whether to mention the Jewish girl in his letter to Maria. He decided not to. What was the point? The husband also refrained from writing those passages that a part of him was urged to write, that of saying how much he loved his wife and that she should find someone else if anything happened to him. But, as essential as he thought these declarations were, Maria wouldn't want to read such pessimism. Again though, what was the point? What was the point in anything? Weltschmerz. It had been years since Thomas had last inhabited the term.
The mordant Corporal gazed out the window. Night had stealthily descended. The German topped up the tumbler of vodka. He was thankful for the small mercy of the cooling breeze which fanned itself through the open door of the room. Yet Thomas felt mournful in thinking that this cooling breeze could well herald the end of summer - the return of winter.
Thomas recalled what Adam had said the other day and tried to understand and sympathise - although wasn't that what Adam was attempting to hammer home, that the soldier could never fully understand and sympathise with their plight?
"I've seen you observing what goes on and I know that you're repulsed and saddened by what you see. But as abhorrent as you might find it - watching every third man in a line get executed for a stranger having broken curfew - you'll never have to stand in that line Thomas. For all of the impotence and rage you might feel at being forced to witness such scenes, do you actually know what it's like to nearly starve or freeze to death? I remember watching you once at one of Kleist's feasts (where the Lieutenant forced Jews to watch a herd of pigs eat the bloodied and charred remains of executed corpses). I could see you all but weeping for them. But your wife and child, your neighbours, were not among the victims. And what if you and some of your comrades do weep for us? They are almost crocodile tears compared to our oceans of sorrow. We haven't even the luxury anymore of thinking that we can live day to day. I'm sorry, it's just the way I feel."
Although there was an unattractive conceited and condemning strain to Adam's tone - there were occasions when he appeared to revel in trying to personally shame Thomas for his country's sins - the thoughtful Corporal had to admit that there was a kernel of truth to Adam's unsympathetic attitude. Thomas was sympathetic enough however to forgive and understand the Jew's outburst. He accepted the role of being a punch-bag for the angry young man, as well as a shoulder for him to cry on. Should the occupation and war never have occurred Thomas sensed that Adam's temper would have still been the same though: depressed, irritable, egotistical. He reminded the school teacher of himself at a younger age in some respects, which is partly why Thomas understood and tolerated the youth's contrary moods. Thomas flirted again with the idea - and began to draft sentences even - of telling Adam his story. But he did not want to preach or patronise the youth - and ultimately Thomas and Adam were different.
As much as the German liked to think that he made a difference in Duritz's life in terms of the companionship he offered him, Thomas was wise enough to know that the young man's frustrations and bitterness were still married to a souring loneliness. He needed more than just his friendship. Perhaps he could introduce Duritz to Jessica? No.
"I'm afraid all I can offer you is vodka."
"Vodka will be fine."
Duritz went to the cupboard and took out his remaining bottle, pouring two large measures into a couple of champagne flukes.
"Sorry about the glasses."
Duritz sat upon the bed. Anna sat at his desk. Not two minutes ago they had been talking freely and engagingly upon the roof but yet after retreating into Duritz's room, where they had spent such intimate and carnal moments together, a prolonged, almost comical silence fostered itself into the atmosphere. They smiled politely at each other. Adam sipped from his glass as though it were wine or champagne and brushed some crumbs off the blanket on his bed. Anna had been one of the people who Duritz had thought of, while he convalesced from his fever, who he desired to say sorry to in some heartfelt or noble declaration. Yet, perhaps because he was absorbed in finding the right words for his contrition and confessions, Duritz remained mute. He did not want to sound ridiculous. Conversation ran not like dialogues from books. Meanwhile, in this short but pronounced moment in time, Anna pretended to stare out of his viewless window with interest. Did he invite her down here just to try it on? Probably, the cynic inside of Anna answered. Men were men. Yet when he had said that it would just be nice to catch up, that he just needed some company, he seemed sincere. Although Anna knew only too well how callous and secretive Duritz could be, she also knew him to be no liar. Indeed she remembered how she had once said something of the like to him before as he got up to leave her bed one morning. In reply Duritz had merely shrugged his shoulders. He done that often, or said something to the same indifferent effect when Anna had tried to analyse or even praise her lover. But if he expected to sleep with her now and was forward, like a soldier or policeman, then she would leave. She didn't need him. What could he offer? Yet Anna had long had a soft spot for the student. She had known Duritz and admired him from afar in the old neighbourhood. He worked hard and, in going to University, she respected that he had tried to better himself. He was also handsome in a strange way. Like a girl taking pity on a stray Anna also sensed his sorrow, that he was misunderstood, lost. His aloofness, the scowl that he sometimes used as a substitute for speaking, was a front for something else - something higher she believed.
"Do you mind if I take off my coat?"
"No, I'll hang it up."
Anna carefully unbelted her leather overcoat. Underneath the garment the alluring prostitute wore a silk, full-sleeved pearl coloured blouse with ruffled cuffs. The top buttons were undone and Adam was coyly attracted to the glowing sight of the top of Anna's cleavage. A tight black skirt flattered and showed off her figure, her round bottom and slender legs. Adam tried his best but he couldn't help but stare at the striking woman in a certain way - which is why he had to then look away. The woman, who never tired of feeling beautiful and benefiting from the power that being desired brought, recognised the look on Adam's face but thought his awkwardness sweet. Duritz kindly took her coat and hung it up on a hook on the door. He was different out of his uniform she mused, as were most of the policeman and soldiers she had relations with. While his back was turned Anna quickly glanced into the small mirror on the wall to check how she looked, puckering and moistening her soft lips and running her hand through her hair to give it body.
Adam was suitably aroused. His aspect feasted upon the glamorous prostitute. He forgot all about Jessica and the original promise he had made to himself that he wouldn't try to bed Anna - for Duritz had indeed invited her down out of a desire for some company. As he lay awake that night he recalled the primitive pride that he had felt when they had been lovers before, how out of all the men she knew it was he alone who she didn't charge. Why had he ruined it? Jessica was but a romantic fantasy, a conceit. Anna was, is, real he posited.
"I suppose it will just be me now that they talk about in whispers in the block - and call a collaborator - now that you are no longer a policeman," Anna said out of the blue, a playful smile on her lips. Although Anna had been but a chambermaid before the occupation she was neither unintelligent nor insensitive. She read whenever possible and was unassumingly introspective, perceptive. She could understand the envy, hostility and disgust which people felt towards her but, because she could understand it, Anna for the most part could also forgive people’s cruelty and misjudgements. Secretly though she enjoyed provoking a reaction from the prudes and jealous fish wives, for how the roles had changed and the businessmen's and lawyer's wives could now be employed as her errand women. Like Adam Anna had learned a long time ago how to do anything that it took to survive, how to be centred and exploit one's assets.
"You underestimate my capacity to be unpopular. I'm still me you know," Duritz replied and raised half his mouth in an amused, charming expression.
Anna cocked her head
and coloured the air with a shower of unaffected laughter.
"I never know when you're being serious or not, but you always make me laugh," Anna said sweetly and then ran her nail-polished hands from her satin neck, down past her bosom and along her fleshy right thigh, pretending at the end to brush some fluff off her skirt.
"I have said the very same thing about myself before."
"I still see you're putting yourself down then."
"I've never felt that I've had any other choice."
Anna ruefully smirked and shook her head a little, either in disappointment or disbelief at the contradictory Jew. She then finished off in one mouthful her glass of vodka, deliciously licking her lips after doing so.
"Careful you don't drink too much too quickly."
"And you be careful you don't drink too little too slowly. Now c'mon and fill both of our glasses. If we run out I can always get some from upstairs." It came to Duritz again that one of the reasons why he liked the invigorating woman so much was because she lacked pretension.
Anna got up and seductively walked over to the man who she once believed could've been anything. She smoulderingly stood before him, holding out her glass. Duritz was intoxicated and intimidated at the same time by the woman's power. He could smell her perfume. It was arousing for the professional seductress to sense her wiles, beauty, working. He subtly drew in the exotic scent through his nostrils as if trying to store the moment for future use. Confident that his erection was not too pronounced through his trousers Duritz continued to try and play it cool - thankfully indifference had always been second nature to him - and calmly poured the woman another drink without separating the connection between their concealing, revealing glances.
Should Duritz here have cupped his hands around her waist and behind Anna would have willingly been drawn towards him and stroked his melancholy face. She remembered Adam as being one of her better lovers: tender, strong (but not overly dominant) and deliberate. But the adage that "all is vanity" is here again proved for hadn't Anna been partly (mostly) responsible for developing him as a lover? She had been a good teacher. They had experimented. She had taught him how to put the woman first, to please her - and he would be rewarded. But hadn't Adam known this himself, been a gentleman? He never described it as "fucking" or "sex" - to "make love" was his phrase, which Anna found romantic. Indeed didn't he make love like some hero from one of those German romantic novels that the chambermaid used to read? He was intelligent yet passionate. Cold fire.
Anna sat back down again, crossing her legs on the chair to reveal her black stockinged ankles and sculptured calves. She flirted, seduced naturally. Anna fingered one of her earrings just to impress upon Adam that she possessed and could wear jewellery. Duritz was duly attracted to Anna's plumage and recognised the look in her vibrant eyes. But still the strange Jew could only return a half-smile. He didn't know what it was exactly - perhaps it was no single thing - but something still haunted his heart and countenance. Concern rather than seduction altered Anna's mood in turn (although feminine concern may have well been just part of the seduction).
"What are you going to do now, now that you're no longer a policeman? Do you have a work card? Have you become a candidate for selection?"
"To be honest sometimes I feel like I don't know Anna - and at other times I feel like I just don't care."
"You shouldn't be so dark, or flippant," the prostitute replied, shaking her head and creasing her brow - disappointed and uncomfortable at his black humour. Not only did Anna try to have a practical and positive mood in the ghetto but her faith was shaken by the fact that it was Adam Duritz who had now seemingly become resigned to his fate. Out of everyone she knew Anna had once believed that he would survive the ghetto; he was earthily intelligent and possessed the necessary morals, or lack of them, to put himself first and endure. He could also speak German. Like her he also didn't have the burden of a family. She had thought that his coup of becoming a policeman had sealed his fate, that of survival. But now relinquishing his privileged position would seal a different fate she feared.
"Not meaning to sound so flippant, but why not? I don't want to sound like I'm condemning them, or that I consider you one of a certain type Anna, but the few people who might just survive this place will not be those who bow down to our executioners, or resist them. If anyone it will be the criminals, murderers, policemen who will endure. I've realised that I don't have the heart, or energy, to be a thief or murderer. I've just got to decide now whether I'm going to bow my head or resist. We will all come to nothing though. The ghetto is a pyre, fuelled by malice and lies. As many tears as we might cry, of compassion and injustice, the fire will still rage on."
Drawn towards the despairing youth as if by magnetism, as well through pity and attraction (or maybe the womanly girl just wanted him to cessate his maudlin, depressing mood), Anna calmly got up. She crossed over to Duritz who remained seated upon the damp bed and bent down and kissed him full upon the mouth. Awakening. Desire. Her wet mouth pressed against his warming face and her tongue resuscitated an emotion and physicality deep within the self-anaesthetised Jew's life. As much as Adam's erection yearningly throbbed against the loving woman's supple thighs, as she stood between his open legs, he surprised Anna by just clutching his arms around her waist and burying his head into her soft belly, womb. He rocked a little and a couple of tears trickled from his eyes, which remained screwed shut.
Despite their oily, almost slimy texture, Anna maternally caressed the vulnerable Jew's black curls. It felt nice to be held, needed, strong. Anna would soon love Adam not just because he cared for her, but more so he was an outlet for her to have something to care for. She heard him utter as if to himself or the world - just as much as Duritz seemed to be speaking to her -
"Thank you. I'm so sorry. It's too much."
There is a phrase in the Talmud,’Meshmud’, which translates as being ‘alive but dead.’ It relates to a man being barren or without child. Although Duritz did not feel that way because he was childless, ‘alive but dead’ was a phrase he often used to himself to describe his existence. Yet as much as fatalism could eat away like sulphur at his thoughts Duritz could also be the Wandering Jew in his own mind - destined and cursed to live forever. Forever growing old, weakening, the blood of history and Christ on his hands. If only he believed that there would be a Messiah then he would be delivered. But still he couldn't believe. These and other fragments of conceits Adam tried to convey to Anna that evening, blurring the line between delirium and truth.
Jessica shuddered and a sodden chill ran down her spine each time she heard her father's corrosive coughing from his bed in the other room. Tuberculosis? During the early 1930s the disease accounted for around 8 percent of deaths among Warsaw Jews. In 1941 the figure was 33 percent. Progress. Jessica worried that she could have brought the disease into the house from the hospital. She clenched her eyes tight as if to intensify the prayer - made out to a vague sense of fate and superstition rather than to a personal God - that it wasn't the case. If only she could turn back the clock the girl desperately thought to herself.
She remembered their scene on the stairs again. Her skin crawled. He had smugly said that it was he, not God, who could save her family now. She hated him and physically shook her head to dispel his sickening visage from her thoughts. Yet sometimes the vile policeman was Jessica's very own voodoo doll who she would stick pins into as if he represented and was responsible for every crime in the ghetto.
The wilful but fragile girl lay upon her blanket beneath the window. The stars seemed so far away in the pitch, the moon anaemic. Kolya slept. Jessica sometimes felt twinges of envy for her brother who could fall asleep at will as soon as his head touched the pillow. But how could she sleep? Quicksand - whether one struggled or surrendered, one sank.
In her darkest hour however Thomas' armour shone brighter. He was her sole hope, joy. She told herself that she would give herself to him if it meant saving her family, but in truth
she wanted him for herself. He was the only man who she would now offer herself too. Perhaps it was part of the attraction that Jessica knew that Thomas was the only man who she knew who would reject the offer. He was "gallant", that was the word Jessica used to describe Thomas. But other soldiers had taken Jewish women as their servants or concubines. When she could afford to dream Jessica pictured Thomas as her Eugene Wrayburn from the Dickens novel, who loved her Lizzie Hexam. He saved her. She saved him. Love conquering prejudice. The story was a brief escape for all of the family when Kolya read out loud of an evening. She had even discussed the book with Thomas during their last meeting. Jessica had tried to impress the man of culture by quoting from the novel, how she had felt like Bella when she had said, “I want to be so much worthier than the doll in the doll's house". She lied and said it was feeling like this which prompted her to take up a position in the hospital. The white lie was worth it for the admiration and smile which glowed from his strong countenance. A fifteen minute meeting with the soldier could prop up Jessica's heart for the rest of the day.
Unfortunately that precious meeting had been their last. Due to her work at the hospital Jessica had arrived an hour late at where they had arranged to next meet. She tried to visit the places where Thomas sometimes stationed himself in the ghetto but to no avail. The young woman was understandably too frightened to try and contact the Corporal through official channels. She wished now she knew the identity of Thomas' Jewish companion who he spoke of occasionally and visited. He might know how to get in contact with the soldier. But as much as Thomas had spoken about him he had never once mentioned the man's name for some reason.
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