The Wall Crossers

Jan 7 Fri - Two Who Wait - the Prophesies of Elisabeta

Olivia's perspective

Time goes by like winter snowflakes blowing past my barracks window—a blur I cannot see through into my future—what will this future be now?

It has been six days since I saw Anja. All seems lost, hopeless. I am hurting.

I leave another message for Jelena. If she knows anything, she is not saying.

I even call Patrizia Becker—to see if she can help! But no one answers on her line. I cannot leave a message.

I feel guilty about Leida. She is so confusing. My loyalty to her is—strained. Do we really know each other? And certainly, Anja comes first. Right? And the only ring I wear is—Anja's.

But then, how well do I know even Anja? We should have had a plan for how to communicate in the event she had to go East. It feels like she left me at her doorstep, and never gave me another thought.

I walk by Elke's desk. She waves, but does not call me to stop and talk. Once I walked by and stood there. She whispered, "Hallo. I have to go check on someone." And she left. So I walked away too.

Anja, where are you?

Yes, I am hurting. I'm waiting now. I'll probably never see her again.

Elke's perspective

I spoke with Niels Kepner, Anja's fiancé, today.

I spoke with Herr Walena, Anja's Papá, today.

I avoided Olivia, again, today. She departs the Army and returns to the US in five days.

Leida's perspective

I am at work in my Burda office. I have deadlines and Karin can see I that am slipping. I am hurting again. I did not learn my lesson from last time. I should not have relationships. I am doubting Frau Elisabeta. This is not good!

I mindlessly flip through my unopened mail but then: one item shocks me so that I sit up straight, it sets my heart thrumming, stops my breath: a letter from that awful Wichtigtuer (meddling busybody) Anja Walena! I bring it closer, look at it carefully. It is mailed from her home address, apparently, and postmarked 2nd January. I look away thinking. She must be replying to that letter I sent her from Spain. I look at her envelope once again, at her pretty script, addressing the letter to me. I turn it over, and then back. For some reason, I raise it to my nose to smell it: cinnamon? And fear. Except that fear I detect is mine. I fear its contents. I lay it aside. I will read it later... it is too much for me to handle right in this moment of uncertainties mounting like too many cars jostling on the Autobahn (German highway system).

Because I have not heard from Olivia in three days, since we were together on the fourth! We did not make love that night. I wanted to—desperately. But she said No.

She gets out of the Army in five days. We are to go that day... to our new life together. It does not feel that this will happen. But Frau Elisa warned me: there will be a delay. I rest my hopes in that—this is only a delay.

Karin said Olivia called her two days ago. At first, I was so excited to hear this! But then, I asked what Olivia had said, and Karin could not remember!

But something awful is happening now. We should be talking together, planning, happy—every day. Yes, it occurred to me to call Maren, again. But... I asked her to promise... really, I do not know anything certain—about my condition. Not yet. So perhaps I am worried about... nothing?

I do not want Maren in the middle. Not now. I need to leave it to the stars.

Everything is arranged. But, everything... may be lost.