Me – Friday, December 23, 1949
I’m at wit’s end! I don’t know up from down anymore. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, tomorrow at noon the stores will close – and I still don’t have a typewriter for Kurt. I could hardly shut my eyes last night. At 8AM I go to the Zoo to telephone the hospital and call in sick. Ramolla doesn’t ask what’s wrong with me, he doesn’t ask for a certificate; he’s just glad I’m not showing up. “But what about your nurse’s uniform? You must please bring it back!” Is that what I deserve?!
‘Elisabeth, stop feeling sorry for yourself!’ I pull myself together. Now that I’m up I can still go to Beigang’s and see if I can make him come round. I take the S-Bahn and go to Potsdammer Platz. I’ve looked in the store almost every day to see the typewriter that’s meant for Kurt. But again today, Beigang seems unmoved.
“As a rule we sell only cash.”
“Please make an exception once in your life!” I beg him. “My entire life’s happiness hangs on it.”
Mrs. Merten, the saleslady, supports me. “Yes, Mr. Beigang, for such a nice woman, such a neat nurse as Mrs. Kusian, we should make an exception. We really should.”
“All right, I’ll let you talk me into it: a 50 mark deposit and six monthly installments of 30 marks.”
At first I’m filled with joy and I embrace him. But later, after I’ve left the store, I feel just as miserable as ever: I don’t have the 50 marks. I tell myself to go back home first, go back to bed and wait.
I don’t feel well. My wound hurts again. I helped several hundred men and I’ve literally saved several of their lives – and who is helping me now? Nobody. My grandmother used to say: ‘God helps those who help themselves.’ But how can I help myself? The only way is to steal the money I need or to murder someone who has it. Or lay a trap for someone, deceive him and sweet talk him into something. But how, how, how? I lie in bed for hours and brood. How can I get my hands on Mrs. Stöhr’s necklace, where does she keep it? If I could sell it or at least take it to the pawn shop… She’s going out to shop right now, but her mother is staying and she keeps watch like a lynx. So that won’t work. I stare up at the ceiling. Then my eyes fall on the nurse’s uniform. What if I put it on and went out to look for some opportunity…
I start on Uhlandstrasse. I’m looking for an apartment building that has survived the war, the kind where rich people might live. I find one and I go up to the first floor. I look for an old fashioned brass name plate. What I need is a rich widow between the ages of eighty and ninety. When I find A. Rich, I freeze: this is a sign from heaven. I ring the shiny gold bell without another thought. I feel terrific even without the Pervitin. Like an actress on the night of the premiere. Stage lights. I hear footsteps shuffling close. Then the peephole is uncovered.
“Yes… Why didn’t they send Nurse Gerda?”
“Nurse Gerda had an accident, I’m covering for her.”
“All right, come in.” She releases the chain.
At that moment a man comes up the stairs and recognizes me. It’s Göltzsch from the furniture store downstairs at the corner; he followed me several times and is after me. I threw him off every time. But today…
“Well, Mrs. Kusian, if you want to come up to my place, you’re on the wrong floor. One floor up.”
I curse him, he’s ruined my plan with the old lady. I take flight, the old lady is angry at me. Downstairs, in the street, Göltzsch catches up with me. “So, did your rich aunt throw you out?”
“I wish I had a rich aunt to inherit from. No, it was a mistake. I wanted to visit an ex patient of mine but I got the addresses mixed up.”
Göltzsch turned on the charm like an UFA star. “Well, I never forget your address. Every evening I stand in front of the house at Kantstrasse 154a and I look up at your window with longing in my heart. You know: it’s my passion for nurses. Do you have a little time for me today?”
“No, I’m sorry, I have to go… It’s my brother… his life…”
“Is he in the hospital, clinging to life?”
“No. He made some deals with two American officers – false papers for entry into the USA – and now they’re demanding the money and he hasn’t been able to put it together.”
“My God, tell me, how can I help you?”
I’m sure Göltzsch believes everything I say so I don’t need to search too far for an answer. “How can you help…? You can lend me the money.”
He hesitates for only a couple of seconds and then he realizes what I’ve offered him. “First, I have to go to the bank to get the money. Could I bring it to you later? Let’s say around four?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll make us a good cup of coffee…”
I’m saved. Kurt will get his typewriter. I dance across the street, or at least I feel as if I were dancing. Upstairs, I’ll have the place to myself since the Stöhr woman and her mother are visiting relatives in Finkenkrug.
I put on my make up and get dressed. I hope that he’ll give me the money without my having to go all the way but, if it has to happen, I’ll let him take me. In the hospital I met many patients who made their money selling their ass and they were not bad people.
At exactly 4PM he’s standing at my door. He’s carrying a briefcase and a bottle of champagne, he kisses me. “My name is Gregor…”
“Come in.” He takes off his coat and I take him into my room.
Göltzsch sits on my sofa and bounces up and down on it. “This doesn’t come from one of my stores and it’s already a little worn. You must have a busy love life.”
“I sleep on it.”
“The question is: with whom…?”
“Only with men who have money.”
“Then I may succeed.”
“I only believe what I can see with my own eyes.”
He pulls out his wallet from his jacket and opens it. I can see a bundle of bills and I guess there’s more than a thousand marks. Much more in any case than what Seidelmann had.
“Let’s have a drink first.” Göltzsch takes the bottle of champagne. “Do you have glasses?”
“No. I’d have to ask my lodger…”
“Then we’ll drink out of the bottle.”
He pops the cork and the bottle goes back and forth. It reminds me of the evenings I used to spend with my officers during the war. Everything’s the same. I sit next to him on the sofa and take hold of his crotch. His pants are bulging already. I start massaging him and he lets me pleasure him. His hand rides up under my skirt and I let him play around. I’m an expert: it’s easy to get men into such a state that they’ll do anything you want. The trick is to stop just when you’ve got them where you want them. When I sense that Göltzsch is ripe, I let go of his dick and I push him away. “…Only when I have the money for my brother.”
“How much?”
“500 marks. And no interest until Easter.”
“Fine. But only for you my sweet. I’ve got the promissory note in my coat pocket.” He goes out to the entrance hall. When he returns he has no paper in his hand, he’s got a clothes line. I recoil. “Don’t be afraid. I…I can only do it if I tie you up.”
I don’t believe it. I see it in his eyes: he wants to kill me. So I pounce on him to tear the cord away. He won’t let go so we fight hard. He’s a man, a grown man of average weight and I’m just a woman but I’m not a weak woman: I’ve been lifting patients for years. That builds your muscles. We roll on the floor. Whenever he’s on top he tries to come into me and to strangle me at the same time. I’m scared to death. When I have the upper hand I try to slip the clothe line around his neck and pull it tight.
Who knows how it would have ended; all of a sudden the door flies open and the Stöhr woman is there screaming.
“Mrs. Kusian, I can’t believe my eyes!”
“Help,” I cry. “Get the police. I’m being attacked.”
“Stop your nonsense. I know Mr. Göltzsch. He is the biggest skirt chaser in town and he doesn’t need to attack a woman to get his way. And you Mr. Göltzsch, you should really be ashamed of yourself. Your wife is in the obstetrics ward and you are constantly going astray. Shame, shame, shame! Get out of here!”
Göltzsch grabs his clothes and runs out of the apartment. He didn’t leave me a penny.