RUDI
Yes. In 1942, in the spring. A bullet wound, to the shoulder. Then he went back…
SARAH
East?
RUDI
Yes.
RUDI turns away, smokes.
SARAH
Do you have any photographs of him?
RUDI
No.
SARAH
No? None?
RUDI
We didn’t… like each other very much, we didn’t—I didn’t keep many of his things. The jacket, yes, I kept the jacket, but—it’s probably difficult for you to—if you don’t have family who you dislike—
SARAH
(shrugging) I didn’t like my mother all that much.
RUDI
No?
SARAH
No. Not much.
RUDI
Why?
SARAH
Why didn’t you like your father?
RUDI
Well, because he’s—because he was a… National Socialist—
SARAH
But as a child, would that…?
Beat.
Why did you keep this, then? Is it… a—?
RUDI
No—
SARAH
—a sentimental—
RUDI
No, just a… no.
Beat.
SARAH
Does it fit you?
RUDI
What, the jacket?
SARAH
Yes.
RUDI
When I was young, I tried it on. Now, I don’t know.
SARAH holds the jacket out to him. RUDI looks at SARAH, hesitates.
(referring to his cigarette) Hold that.
SARAH takes his cigarette. She turns away while RUDI puts on the jacket. SARAH turns back around and looks at RUDI in the jacket. It fits him very well.
I don’t think I can wear it out, though.
Beat. RUDI takes the jacket off.
SARAH
Thank you for showing me the jacket.
RUDI
Please.
Beat.
Would you like it?
SARAH
Would I like to… have it?!
RUDI
Yes.
SARAH
I don’t think I can take your father’s jacket.
RUDI
Why not? If you don’t take it, a museum will have it. It seems right that you have it if you want it.
Beat.
Why don’t I trade you for it?
SARAH
Trade me for it?
RUDI
Yes.
SARAH
For what?
RUDI
For—will you—I have tickets to the theatre? A play, I have two tickets to see a play. At the theatre.
SARAH
You want to take me to the theatre in exchange for your father’s Nazi jacket.
RUDI
Yes. On Saturday. I wanted to… ask you to come—to… come with me.
SARAH
You’re asking me on a date?
RUDI
Yes.
SARAH laughs. She stops, looks at RUDI.
SARAH
What would your father say?
Beat.
RUDI
What would yours?
Beat.
You can just take the jacket.
SARAH
No, I—I’ll come. It’s a little perverse, but all right. I mean, the exchange is perverse, not the…
RUDI nods and laughs. So does SARAH.
All right.
RUDI holds out the jacket. SARAH laughs. She takes the jacket.
Thank you for the jacket.
SARAH exits. Transition.
RUDI
All through that week, verses of Goethe’s love poetry that I’d had to learn in school ran through my brain. That, the German romantic poetry, and some of Hitler’s speeches, all joined together and sloshing around in my brain. I was also feeling guilt, in with the love poetry and Hitler’s speeches, because—I suppose you’ve noticed—I was lying to Sarah about my father.
Beat.
I lied to her, when I met her at the archive, so that she would… let me talk to her, and also out of habit, I suppose. But it didn’t seem right to lie to her anymore if she was going to let me take her on a date. On Saturday, we went to the theatre, and then I invited her back to my apartment, to tell her. I meant to tell her. But then, well—
Transition. SARAH and RUDI are in RUDI’s Berlin apartment. They kiss, and pull their clothes off. They are having sex on the floor, with their clothes on for the most part, as though sex overtook them before they undressed, and also it’s perhaps the only kind of sex these two could have right now, less intimate, semi-clothed sex. They have sex for a beat.
SARAH
Oh God.
RUDI
(stopping and looking at SARAH, nervous) Are you… all right?
SARAH
Yes?
RUDI closes his eyes tightly, and continues with determination. But now SARAH is thinking. She thinks, eyes open, for a moment.
I feel… I feel—
RUDI
(stopping, nervous) What?!
SARAH
It’s all right, isn’t it?
RUDI
It’s all right. It’s, yes! It’s—
SARAH
No. No, I mean—not the—but we’re—it’s—and somehow this feels all right.
RUDI
Yes!
SARAH
No, I mean—I’m being… No, I mean that we’re—that it’s you and I, and so few years later. Of course you’re—I find you very—but because of the—I thought it would feel wrong. But it doesn’t, it feels right.
Beat.
As though it’s this simple for us to talk and this act of… love is possible between us.
Beat. SARAH remembers that RUDI is, at this moment, having sex with her.
I’m sorry. You can keep going. Please. Keep going. It was nice. So was the play. I don’t know why I’m talking so much.
RUDI
No, no, please, it’s… I know what you’re talking about.
SARAH
Do you?
RUDI
Yes. Of course. Just what you said.
SARAH
How does it feel to you?
RUDI
It feels, well, nice.
SARAH laughs. Transition. SARAH is gone.
Yes, it felt nice, it felt very nice with Sarah, and here’s why. I was in love with her. I was, fully, in love with her, even then, the first night in my apartment.
Beat.
You must see how appealing it…
Transition. RUDI and SARAH in RUDI’s Berlin apartment. They drink glasses of whisky. RUDI has asked her to sing the Sh’ma. He’s holding a prayer book.
SARAH
(singing) Sh’ma Israel, Adonai Elochainu, Adonai Echad. Baruch shaim k’vod malchutainu le’olam va’ed. (referring to the prayer book) Where did you find this?
RUDI
Sing the—what was the first part that you sang?
SARAH
Where did you find this?
RUDI
At the flea market. I bought the book and a… prayer shawl, for two Deutschmarks, off this man, he told me he found them in his attic.
Beat.
What was the first part of the prayer?
SARAH
/>
(speaking) Sh’ma Israel, Adonai Elochainu—
RUDI
No. Sing it.
Beat.
Sing it.
SARAH
(singing quickly and unenthusiastically) Sh’ma Israel, Adonai Elochainu, Adonai Echad. Read the Mourner’s Kaddish. There’s no mention of death in it, only God, it doesn’t make any sense.
RUDI
Where is it?
SARAH
It’s… here.
SARAH flips through the prayer book and shows him where it is. RUDI looks at it for a moment while SARAH pours herself more whisky.
RUDI
Sing it.
SARAH
No.
RUDI
Sing it!
SARAH
I’m not singing it!
RUDI
Why not? Sing it, I want to hear it.
SARAH
You don’t sing it. You say it. Yit’gadal v’yit’kadash sh’mei raba. Amein. Congregation answers, “Amein.”
RUDI
Amein.
SARAH
B’al’ma di v’ra khir’utei… something, mal’khutei b’chayeikhon uv’yomeikhon uv’chayei d’khol beit yis’ra’eil… ba’agala uviz’man kareev…
SARAH kisses him.
RUDI
No, you’re stopping, why? Keep going. No!
SARAH
(kissing RUDI) I forget it.
RUDI
No… no! You don’t! And, oh look, it’s here, in the prayer book, all written out phonetically.
RUDI holds the prayer book out. SARAH looks at it. She starts to quickly recite the prayer, to pacify RUDI. At first SARAH recites it mechanically and impatiently, but as she recites it, it starts to have an affect on her.
SARAH
Yit’gadal v’yit’kadash sh’mei raba. B’al’ma di v’ra khir’utei, v’yam’likh mal’khutei, b’chayeikhon uv’yomeikhon uv’chayei d’khol beit yis’ra’eil ba’agala uviz’man kariv v’im’ru: amein. Y’hei sh’mei raba m’varakh, l’alam ul’al’mei al’maya, yit’barakh v’yish’tabach v’yit’pa’ar v’yit’romam v’yit’nasei v’yit’hadar v’yit’aleh v’yit’halal sh’mei d’kud’sha, b’rikh hu. L’eila min kol bir’khata v’shirara toosh’b’chatah v’nechematah, da’ameeran b’al’mah, v’eemru: amein. Y’hei sh’lama raba min sh’maya v’chayim aleinu v’al kol yis’ra’eil v’im’ru: amein. Oseh shalom bim’romav hu ya’aseh shalom aleinu v’al kol Yis’ra’eil v’im’ru, amein.
SARAH is trying not to cry.
Amein.
Transition. SARAH is gone.
RUDI
With Sarah, I felt that I—it was a religious—a superstitious feeling, I suppose, but I felt that there was a possibility for undoing some of what my father—not undoing, that’s stupid, but that if my father stood on the ramp, then somehow with Sarah, loving Sarah, I was, yes, undoing his… I loved her and that was somehow… an act of… redemption or… I don’t know, something was… closing, or…
Beat.
With Sarah, I felt… less guilty. Like my father could be dead for all I…!
Beat.
Later, we drove out to the camp together. We rented a car and crossed the checkpoint, in the American sector. The American soldiers joked with Sarah, wanted to know why she was wasting her time with a German. The Soviet soldiers weren’t as good-humoured as the Americans, but we made it through all right, and then we drove through the GDR, the East Block, into Poland.
Transition. RUDI and SARAH are in the parking lot at Auschwitz. SARAH is throwing up. She’s crouched down and RUDI is hovering a foot or so away from her, holding her purse.
Are you all right, Sarah, do want some water or… beer?
Beat.
(to check if she is all right) Sarah?
SARAH
I’m… yes, I’m just…!
Beat.
You just have to get on the highway. You just go east on the highway and… you’re at Auschwitz. I don’t know why I’m surprised, I looked at the map, but I am surprised, and now I’m throwing up.
Beat.
It’s human, I suppose, the human element—
RUDI
Yes.
SARAH
No, not about throwing up, about vanity. I still feel it, even here. I’d still rather not throw up in front of you.
RUDI
I… like it.
SARAH
Yes, well, you say that, but you’re never going to marry me now you’ve seen me throw up.
RUDI
Will you…
SARAH
What?
RUDI
Marry me?
SARAH
In the parking lot at Auschwitz.
RUDI
I mean, no, I mean, not here.
SARAH
Where?
RUDI
In a synagogue.
SARAH
No.
RUDI
Will you marry me?
SARAH
No.
RUDI
Why not?
SARAH
Because… you’re a German.
RUDI
Is that why?
SARAH
Yes. Maybe, I don’t know, could you find another time to ask me? I’m throwing up, at Auschwitz, and you’re a fucking German, and also I think I’m pregnant.
RUDI
What?
SARAH
It’s nothing, it’s probably just because you drove so badly.
RUDI
Sarah!
SARAH
Come. Let’s go back in there, and… finish the tour.
SARAH exits. Transition.
RUDI
We walked through the rest of the camp together. Well, not together, Sarah walked ten feet ahead of me for most of it. And, walking around, at the camp, I had a… vision… of my… family. Not my father, but of Sarah and I, and a child, and that seemed like… the most…
Beat.
My father would have a Jewish grandchild. (RUDI laughs.)
Beat.
Later, Sarah and I stood on the ramp together.
Transition. RUDI and SARAH are on the ramp at Auschwitz. A long beat of silence as they look out together at the train tracks. RUDI looks at SARAH, then SARAH looks at him. Transition.
The next day, we drove to Krakow and found a doctor who spoke some German. He tested Sarah’s urine, and then we sat in the waiting room for three and half hours until he finally came back out and said, “Congratulations.”
SARAH exits. Beat.
I spent most of the three-day drive back to West Germany trying to talk Sarah into marrying me. I wasn’t particularly convincing. All I said was, “Please marry me,” “Please marry me,” over and over again.
Beat.
Back in West Berlin, in my apartment, we were still fighting about it, and the whole time we were fighting, there was a letter from Hermann lying on my desk. He’d found me somehow, through ODESSA, I suppose. I remember the letter because it was there, on my desk, while Sarah and I fought, and I kept thinking, “I should get rid of that,” while Sarah told me again why she wouldn’t marry me, why she didn’t want the baby.
Transition. RUDI and SARAH are in RUDI’s apartment in West Berlin.
SARAH
We can’t just have a baby.
RUDI
Why not? That’s how it happens. You just have them.
SARAH
We can’t just get married and have a baby—
RUDI
Why no
t? We’re already pretending to be married at hotels, it’s the same, Sarah, only we’re not pretending—
SARAH
I won’t even fit into a wedding dress—
RUDI
—all you have to do is sign the papers—
SARAH
—I’ll have to wear a big… curtain, or blanket or—
RUDI
You want a wedding dress?
SARAH
Yes!
RUDI
That’s fine, I’ll find you one.
SARAH
How?
RUDI
I’ll go into the shops and tell them I knocked my girlfriend up and now I have to marry her, can they please put her in a dress?
Beat.
If we get married in the next… few weeks, or months, then you’ll be able to wear any wedding dress you like.
SARAH
Married… in a few weeks? I came here for the summer, I am enrolled in courses, in New York, in September, I am…! (to herself) Why did I come here? I didn’t have to come here—
RUDI
(under SARAH’s line) —Sarah—
SARAH
(to herself) —I could have stayed in New York.
RUDI
But you didn’t, you came here, you wanted to come here, you met me—
SARAH
It’s the stupidest possible reason to get married—
RUDI
I want the baby—
SARAH
No, not the baby, this!
RUDI
What?
SARAH
This!
RUDI
What?! I don’t..?! What?
SARAH
This! This apartment. You have all this… Jewish…! That’s not how to choose a wife—
RUDI
That’s not why I love you—
SARAH
Yes it is—
RUDI
It’s not…! It wasn’t any Jewish girl, if all I wanted was a Jewish girl, then—
SARAH
How do you know?! You’ve never—
RUDI
Sarah—
SARAH
You haven’t! You’ve never even met another…! Come to New York, then you could see if you love me, or if it’s just—
RUDI
What about you? And your German…? You have a German collection, all those Nazi… that awful brooch, and those—
SARAH
That’s my point, it’s both of us, we’re both…!
Beat.
It’s not love, it’s something else, curiosity, it’s like love, but—
RUDI
Sarah! I love you, and that’s not—you’re a beautiful woman, by anyone’s… It’s not just—it’s—(sarcastic, off SARAH’s look)—yes, yes, you’re right, if you’d been some old—like that Austrian woman, at the archive, with lipstick all over her face, I would have loved you just because you were…! That’s right.
East of Berlin Page 4
