Blog V: Final Part, “A Difficult Reconciliation” (Short Story)
This is the third and final part of the short story. For part I & II, see my previous blog posts.
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[…] The following morning, it was the 26th of May 1943, Thomas was finally ready to compose his reply. There had been a long conversation with Katja at the dinner table; later there had been another after-dinner walk with his dog, and a restless night. But now he was determined to resolve the crisis. To his surprise, Katja had advised caution. He should downplay the disagreement and treat the whole thing as a misunderstanding. Could he seriously think of breaking off? she had asked him. He had conceded that it would be difficult for many reasons, that it would leave a big gap in their social life, not to mention the financial losses. She had asked him to keep that in mind. However, when he sat at his desk, ready to put his thoughts on paper, things somehow took a different turn. His energy was returning. It took him no more than half an hour to write the letter. He leaned back. There it was, his answer, his declaration of independence. Thomas had to smile when he thought of this phrase. It reminded him of Agnes’ lecturing him on American history. She really had loved the role of the patriotic teacher. All this had to come to an end, he realized. He slowly read his own letter. It was a strange emotion; it felt as if someone else had written the words. It was a very polite, even friendly letter. He had developed a defense of his family, he had rejected in particular her attacks on his children. They deserved respect and love, especially Klaus who had written a worthy biography of the French writer André Gide with no intention of attacking her old friend Paul Claudel. This was important to Thomas. It was Agnes who had been aggressive and demanding. Then he devoted an entire paragraph to their friendship. He praised the importance of their relationship but then his thoughts took a different turn. He was surprised at the intensity of his own criticism. He accused her of lacking tenderness and kindness, of showing no respect for his more advanced years, he was demanding serenity and prudence instead. This was not the letter Katja had advised him to write. Not at all, this letter led to the conclusion that their friendship could no longer be sustained. A divorce was necessary. It was inevitable because he could no longer live with the pain and stress of their present situation. He was prepared for the losses. In the final paragraph he asked her to inform the director of the Library of Congress of his wish to end the lucrative honorary appointment.
Thomas got up from his chair, moving to the window and looking at the backyard. It still looked new and incomplete. It would take years before they would have mature shade trees. His mind was still focused on the letter. Did he really mean this? Did he really mean to cut the ties after all these years? Yes, I have to do this, he thought, I have to draw a line. He turned around and moved back to his desk taking an envelope out of the side drawer. He quickly put his letter into the envelope and wrote the address. He found a stamp in the front drawer. Within a minute it was all done. All he had to do now was posting his letter before he could change his mind. I have to get this problem out of the way, no further discussions, not even with Katja who would not be pleased with his decision. He decided to walk to the nearby post office to drop the letter, thereby creating an irreversible situation. Only later would he tell Katja who was in the living room talking to their son Golo on the phone. When he came back from the post office he told himself: It’s done. You are on your own. I will tell Katja later.
But it was not done. Although Thomas had persuaded Katja of his decision with the argument that he really did not have a choice after Agnes’ last letter, there were second thoughts. The more he told himself that he had made a difficult but necessary decision, the more his doubts increased. He had a restless night with not much sleep. Very early in the morning, it was still dark outside, he got up and walked to his study. He sat at his desk without turning the light on. He had hoped that the decision would set him free, that he would find renewed energy to write. But this had not happened. He was still anxious. Even his stomach ache had returned, the uncomfortable pressure with a sense of nausea. He turned the light on and opened the project folder gazing at his notes. A month ago, he had been energized by the idea of a large new project, now he felt just fatigued. Would he be able to muster the strength to carry it out? After all, he was 68 and his health had been uneven after the operation. Much depended on the circumstances. He needed a positive supportive environment. And he had counted on Agnes as a supportive force, he had become used to her enthusiasm and devotion to his work. She would have been the ideal translator for the Faustus novel. She was supposed to play a role both outside and inside the work. Was he going to change that now? Thomas spread the notes over the desk, looking for a particular page with his entries about Adrian’s compositions. There was one piece in particular that was closely related to Adrian’s biography. It was supposed to recall the memory of his two meetings with the young woman who infected him. He would use her name Esmeralda as the base for his composition. Skilled critics would of course notice the reference to Nietzsche, but they would hardly recognize the reference to her, to her permanent difficult presence in his life, there would be two sides, Frau von Tolna, the generous patron, and Esmeralda, the feminine temptation. Would his decision to end the friendship force him to change these subtle textual arrangements? It was too early to decide. He had just started the first chapter where he introduced his narrator, the former school teacher Serenus Zeitbloom, who took early retirement in 1933 because he was unwilling to serve under Hitler. It would be the year 1943 when he starts to write the biography of his dead friend. There were a few pages in Thomas’ handwriting. Thomas had always counted on Agnes’ support for this large and complex project. Now he would be alone. All of a sudden, for the first time he was overwhelmed by doubt. Am I too old for this? he thought. Will I be able to complete this novel? He was overcome by a sense of fatigue.
When he got up the following morning, this sense of fatigue was still there. It took him more time than usual to get out of bed and to shower. At the breakfast table he remained mostly silent, leaving the conversation to Katja, who was filling him in on the latest news from Erika and Klaus. Also, in passing she mentioned that their younger daughter Elisabeth and the grandchildren were planning to visit them the following week. Thomas barely acknowledged the news that under different circumstances would have excited him. He felt Katja’s worried gaze. Then he heard her voice: ”Tom, what’s going on? Are you listening to what I’m telling you?” He looked up from his plate, even trying to smile, a gesture that could not deceive her. “I sent my reply,” he said in a low voice. She looked him straight into the eyes. “Good, Tom, you worked things out. You took care of the crisis?!” “Yes, I did,” he said, “I wrote her that I had to end our relationship.” He returned her gaze recognizing her utter surprise. “Why?” was all she replied. He tried to explain his decision, realizing his failure while he was speaking. The arguments he had used in his letter now struck him as false and weak. The decision had not liberated him, as he had hoped. It had only increased his pain. In the seemingly calm and composed manner of his letter he had destroyed something that he should have carefully preserved, a unique connection, which he could not even fully explain to himself, not to mention to Katja, who was mostly concerned about their financial situation. How would they pay the mortgage for the new house without the stipend from the Library of Congress? That was her unspoken question. That, however, was not his first question. For him it was a matter of his personal independence. He did not want to discuss his decision with Katja, at least not now. There was no point because it was done. He had sent the letter. All he could do now was wait. He was grateful that Katja did not insist on a discussion. After his breakfast he would take a long walk with the dog who always understood his master better than the human beings in his household.
After the walk Thomas forced himself to work on the first chapter. A page was all he managed to write. The rest of the day he kept busy, forcing himself not to think of her. In the afternoon he dictated more letters than usual reducing the large pile of unanswered mail. It gave him a sense of satisfaction because he was doing his part in the major political battle. I am needed in the fight against Fascism, he told himself, I am doing my duty as a writer in this country, which has become my new homeland. He wished that he could express himself in English like Klaus and Erika, that he had his own American voice. Instead, he needed translators, among them Agnes, who had been the best. Still, at the end of a busy afternoon he felt better about himself. He was beginning to see a path for himself. At the dinner table in the presence of invited friends, he was the charming host again, entertaining the friends with anecdotes from his early years in Munich.
Agnes’ first, short letter arrived two days later. its tone was completely different. She implored him to consider her unhappy situation and show empathy. But there was no reference to his last letter. When he looked at the date, he realized that their letters had crossed. She was unaware of his decision when she pleaded for the continuation of their friendship. Her second letter arrived four days later. Thomas was on his morning walk when Katja picked up the mail and put the letter on his desk where he found it after his return from a walk with the dog. He sat down holding it with his left hand while taking out his glasses. His first reaction was to put it aside. But he almost immediately changed his mind. He needed to read her answer now. When he opened the envelope, he noticed how his body was tightening. The serenity he had imposed on himself as a protective armor melted. With scorn he observed his own anxiety. I have underestimated the significance of her decision for my life, he thought. He expected a letter in English, distant and cool, confirming the end of their relationship, signed by Mrs. Agnes Meyer. As he conceded, it would have been the appropriate response to the tone of his own letter. Instead, the answer was composed in German, a long letter reviewing their differences with the clear intent to overcome them. What he was reading was her desire to rescue the friendship, even a willingness to take the blame for the tone of her previous letter, to make amends for her impatience and harshness. There was a promise to be a less demanding friend and to accept a more limited role in his life. This was a completely unexpected turn. Thomas had to read the critical paragraph more than once until he fully grasped what she wanted him to understand. Their friendship was to her as important as to him, maybe even more so. She was even prepared to accept her own humiliation in order to keep them connected. Thomas had to put the letter down. He was deeply touched by her words, more than he would ever be willing to put in writing. She had opened herself completely, asking him to give her some space in his life, not knowing, as he realized at this moment, how much she was already an essential part of his life and his work. He was immensely relieved by this turn of events. We have to redo our friendship, he thought. It needs a new and better frame. There should be no pain and hurt. This is what I will tell her. He could breathe again. Their quarrel and disagreement should come to an end. These would be the first words of his letter. And he would tell her how much he owed her, far beyond the generous financial arrangements she had made. There was hope that she would be his American voice, that the published Faustus novel would show her name as the translator on the title page.
[End]
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