The Wall Crossers

Last Trip to the Wall

Tomorrow looms, the day I leave West Berlin. Ten days have slipped by without a word from Anja. Silence echoes in the air.

On the bus to PotsdamerPlatz, I tread towards the Wall. Evening descends, daylight wanes. I strain to sense her elusive presence, her heart calling out to me, pulling me.

Standing on the observation platform, facing east, voices rise behind me. A group ascends the stairs, chatter and laughter dancing in the air. I pivot—two men stroll to the rail, and behind them, someone stands, gazing at me... Leida?

My heart races. She wears that elegant purple cashmere coat from December, the one she wore during that lunch with her Vati, paired with a flowing maxi-dress. Her smile beams at me. Brown locks brushed back, framing her face.

In the fading light, I notice an unusual amount of makeup, red lips and nails, a departure from her usual style. Yet, amid encroaching darkness, her light brown eyes gleam as she smiles.

"Leida," I whisper. Her smile freezes, confusion etching her brow. Her eyes shift. Louder now, "Leida, you're... here!" I reach out, aching to touch her.

From the corner of my eye, one of the men swiftly approaches her, linking arms. She recoils. The smile vanishes.

"Leida, what's... who are they?" I point, desperate for clarity.

The second man steps closer, his tone stern. "Was ist das? Wer bist du? (What is this? Who are you?)"

I falter, gesturing towards Leida. "I... she's... my fiancée?" It sounds like a question as I gaze at her. She turns, the other man drawing her away, muttering, "Let's leave, Karolina. This one is crazy!"

Her long, darker hair cascades down her back, far longer than a week ago. Did she dye it? Panic surges within me.

The other man, gentler now, speaks, "Mensch. Falsche Person, Freund. (Wrong person, friend.)" He hurries down the steps, joining his friends.

She glances back at me, fleeting eye contact, before they vanish. And in that glance, I feel the weight of my loss, everything slipping away.

Their voices carry on the wind. Leida's voice from just days ago echoes, Please, I just want to love you, darling, a haunting reminder of our distance.

I offer a small wave, this unwitting catalyst of my impending grief. She doesn't acknowledge it, walking away.

I glance Eastward. Tears blur my vision, stars flicker above. I revert to Anja. Does she see these stars? Is she with Horst? Is she safe? I am so confused.

Then I face West again, spotting the trio—two strangers and Leida—disappearing into the U-Bahn. With a pang, I whisper, "Leida, I love you." They vanish, swallowed by the underground.

I turned away from Leida, and now she turns from me. It's etched in my soul. I shattered her heart, and in return, she delivers this poignant reminder—a love lost.

Shaky and drained, I feel the weight of impending loss, the turmoil of a love slipping through my fingers.