Two G.I.´s had run into Jonathan before he stepped into City Hall and they'd told him that he could find the Citizens´ Office on the first floor. He felt his heart pounding as he went up the stairs to the citizens´office.
The office was crowded and Jonathan just looked around for a few seconds. He heard voices everywhere, speaking simultaneously, a mish-mash of German and English. He noticed MP´s sitting at desks and counters. They were obviously helping the Civil Service. Jonathan walked over to one of the counters.
"Excuse me, could you help me, please?", Jonathan asked politely, looking at the MP sitting in front of him. "I´m looking for the Wentzler family."
The MP glanced at him. "Do you have an address, boy?"
Jonathan shook his head. "No, no I don´t have an address."
"Do you know the disctrict where they live, in Wiesbaden?", the MP asked.
"No, no...", Jonathan stuttered, "I don´t know. The Wentzler family had been living in the States until recently. But now, I believe they returned here."
"But don´t you have at least an address, boy?"
"No, I ..the name is Wentzler. Martin and Erika Wentzler. They have two children, Martin Jr. and Alexandra. Mr. Wentzler is a diplomat and.. they lived in the States for about 4 years before being sent back here. Maybe you have some records, where.."
"Boy, are you kidding?", the MP interrupted him harshly. "Look around you! The computers don´t work and the archive is half-destroyed. We are happy to have at least some information about the town again."
"But someone should be able to tell me something!", Jonathan shouted. "Maybe I could get more information somewhere else, in another office?"
"I´m sorry, boy", the MP said and shook his head. "At the moment, we are the only working administrative machinery. Ask the people around here, maybe they can help you."
Jonathan wanted to say something, but then he became silent.
"I´m really sorry, boy", the MP said softly, looking at Jonathan.
"Thanks though", Jonathan whispered and left the counter, hanging his head.
For a few seconds, he just stood in the middle of the office. People passed by him, some of them bumping into him. What was he to do now? Who could he ask?
What is all this technology good for, or all these computers, when they don´t work now, when they are really needed?´ Jonathan thought.
But he still had his pictures - maybe someone knew Alexandra.
Jonathan put his sea-bag down, pulled out the fotos and started to ask around in the office. He didn´t speak German, but he did know the German word for family. He would lightly tap people on their shoulder, with Alexandra´s photo in his hand. He showed the picture to the people, asking "Alexandra Wentzler? Familie Wentzler?" over and over again, but everybody he asked in the office just shook their heads.
Jonathan gripped his sea-bag, put it over his shoulder and went downstairs, to leave the building. Outside, he tried to stop everybody who crossed his way, showing the picture and asking, "Familie Wentzler?" over and over again, but either he got an answer he couldn´t understand or the people just shook their heads.
Jonathan didn´t know how long he had been asking people. He walked across, all the way over to the marketplace to ask anyone he could see, but he just got the same answer over and over again.With every no, his hope decreased, his hope of finding someone who could help him. Exhausted, Jonathan sat down on a small bricklayer at the edge of the marketplace. He pressed Alexandra´s photo to his forehead, almost as if hoping she could tell him through the picture where to find her. Jonathan closed his eyes and supported his head with his hands, still holding the picture.
Alex, tell me where you are. Please tell me where you are!´
"Suchst Du die Wentzlers, Junge?"
Jonathan
snapped out of his thoughts and looked up. He had heard a voice right
next to him.
He noticed a friendly, elderly woman sitting next to
him, looking at him.
"Suchst Du die Wentzlers, Junge?", the elder woman asked him again in German, but Jonathan couldn't understand a word. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "I don't understand you.."
The elderly woman pointed to the photo.
"Alexandra Wentzler? You are looking for the Wentzlers?", she asked, this time in perfect English.
Oh my God!´, thought Jonathan, She knows Alexandra, she knows Alexandra!´
"Please Ma´am, tell me!" Jonathan almost shouted, looking at the woman. "Do you know her?"
The woman smiled at Jonathan.
"Yes, my son. I do know her. I´ve worked for the Wentzler family. I was their housekeeper", she said softly.
Jonathan touched her arm.
"Please! Did you see her? Where can I find her?"
"I didn´t see the family after they moved to the States, but I still have their old address. Maybe they are there again."
Oh my God, oh my God!´ thought Jonathan again.
With shaking hands, he opened his sea-bag to pull out a piece of paper and a pen to write down the address. The woman took them out of Jonathan´s hands, wrote the address down and then drew something.
"It´s not far from here", the woman said softly.
Jonathan felt his heart pound and his hands were still shaking when the woman passed him the paper back.
"They lived at Spohrstrasse. Maybe they are there again."
Jonathan looked at the woman and his eyes filled with tears.
"You were surely sent by heaven", he whispered. "How.. how can I ever thank you?"
"Go, my son", she said, pointing in the direction Jonathan had to go. "Go and find your love."
Jonathan took both her hands in his and kissed them.
"God bless you, Ma´am."
Then, Jonathan gripped his sea-bag and rushed across the market-place.