23: Chronic Illness

I set these pieces here for a reason… what was that reason? Langenscheidt stared hard as the stacks of puzzle pieces in front of him. Was it by shape? Corner pieces? I just did this, why can't I remember?

Whatever his reasoning was, it disappeared as quickly as it came, and it became more frustrating the longer he thought about it. He looked across the recreation hall to see Kielholz reading from an English-German dictionary that Sergeant Kinchloe had given him. "Erich, did I say anything about why I separated these pieces?"

"No. Why?" Kielholz asked.

"I… I set these apart not two minutes ago and I've already forgotten."

"Your head must be acting up again." Kielholz closed his book, then stood to go over to where Langenscheidt was sitting. "Do you want help?"

"No. I want to stop forgetting things so easily."

Kielholz fell silent. "I know it's frustrating, but let's try to work this out—"

"I don't want to work it out. I had a reason! What is it?!"

Kielholz grabbed Langenscheidt's arms when it looked as though he was going to start hitting his head. "Don't. That's not going to help. In fact, that will probably make things worse. Relax."

Tears rolled down Langenscheidt's face. "Nothing works. It always… always flares up at the worst possible time."

"I don't think today was the worst possible time," Kielholz said, rubbing Langenscheidt's shoulders. "You could have been delivering information to Klink."

"That isn't funny."

"Sorry."

"It's alright. You've been a lot more helpful than most."

"Thank you. Do you still not want help with your puzzle?"

Langenscheidt sighed. "Alright." He gestured to one of the stacks of pieces. "I don't remember why I set these off here."

"Well, it looks like—" Kielholz picked up one of the pieces, "this one looks like a left-side piece, and—" he looked at a different stack. "Right-side pieces, and these four are corner pieces."

Langenscheidt nodded. "I had a feeling. I should have been able to tell that just by looking at them."

"Don't beat yourself up over it, and don't be afraid to ask for help. I'll always help."

"You won't always be here, though. What am I going to do, then?"

Kielholz bit his lip as he thought. "I don't… really know. Maybe start writing things down?"

"I tried that shortly after I was let out of the hospital. I… wasn't able to make it a habit, because I kept forgetting."

"That was back when your memory was at its worst, wasn't it?"

Another nod from Langenscheidt. "Yes. Yes, it was."

"Maybe you can try again, now that you've gotten somewhat better."

"I don't know. The doctors told me it will likely never fade away completely. The brain is incredibly complicated and they said it's likely that they are missing something that we just don't understand at the moment. All they know is that I was lucky to have survived the crash at all, and it's miraculous that I was able to recover the way I did."

"Do you still not remember the crash?"

"I… have glimpses of it sometimes. At night. Sometimes I dismiss it as dreams, but other times, I don't really know. Maybe they are just dreams, or maybe my mind is trying to dig up what happened. Frankly, I would rather not remember it at all." Langenscheidt was quiet for a moment. "I went into the Luftwaffe because I wanted to fly. Now, I don't ever want to fly again. I can't, actually, unless I'm a passenger." Langenscheidt sighed. "It was a stupid dream and I should never have pursued it."

"I wouldn't say that. You had no idea that crash was going to happen."

"I wish I had, then I never would have crashed, hit my head, and been stuck with short-term memory loss and brain fogginess and everyone taking advantage of it to just have a laugh."

Kielholz was quiet for a couple of minutes, watching Langenscheidt absentmindedly work on his puzzle. He noticed the image the puzzle was to form was that of a painting of an alpine landscape at sunset. A place of tranquility and loneliness. A place he imagined Langenscheidt wished he could be, alone, though Kielholz knew Langenscheidt didn't truly want to be alone, not after spending close to a year being alone before Kielholz's assignment to Stalag 13.

"Are you sure you would have wanted that?" Kielholz asked.

"Yes," Langenscheidt said, not looking up from his puzzle.

"You wouldn't have met me."

Langenscheidt looked over his shoulder at Kielholz, then back down at the table. "That… is true."

"I won't ever tell you what to wish for. I know how much this hurts you, and I wish things could have ended differently for you. I won't pretend my shoulder doesn't bother me at times. I won't pretend that I don't miss the people I served with in North Africa. But… despite all of that, I don't regret meeting you."

"I don't regret meeting you, either, but I wish it had been under different circumstances."

"Maybe this was the only way it could have happened. Maybe we never would have met if things had gone perfectly for us."

Langenscheidt nodded, then sighed. "Sorry, I-I didn't want it to sound like I wish I never met you."

"I know that's not what you mean."

"Honestly, though, I… I don't know which path I would pick if I was given the choice. Would I choose to go back and not suffer the crash, but never meet you? I just… don't know."

Kielholz rubbed Langenscheidt's shoulders again. "Like I said, I won't tell you which path you should take if the opportunity ever presented itself."

"I guess that means I should be glad it never will," Langenscheidt said. "I'm surprised you're so… accepting of the fact that I might not choose you."

"If that choice meant you would no longer suffer, I would let you go."

"It would not be an easy choice by any means. On one hand, my memory would be normal again, but on the other, I would lose my best friend. You may be annoying and fussy and a goofy idiot at times, but I can't think of one person who has done as much as you have for me."

"And I'm glad to have someone who can put up with me. I wouldn't want to give that up. I doubt I ever could. I mean, I know sometimes I need to back off, but it's hard to do that when I can see and hear and feel you suffering."

"At the end of the day, I would rather have you fussing, instead of walking away."

"I promise to never walk away, no matter what. Even if you lost your memory completely and forgot who I was, I would do my best to help you remember."

"Well, thankfully, I don't think we will have to worry about that." Langenscheidt smiled a little. "You are my best memory, Erich, and I won't forget that."