Excerpt from:

I'm Not Weird, I'm Marginal
By Yolanda Palis

I opened the door to two men.

"We are looking for Silvina Ling. Is she home?"

Almost at the same time, I heard Marly emerge from her room behind me. She must have heard the door bell ringing.

"Early guests, Silvi?" I looked at her then at the two men.

I felt out of sorts talking to these two in the foyer of our apartment. Synchronized, as if rehearsed, the two men showed us identification papers.

"I am Silvina. What can I do for you?" I felt out of sorts talking to these two in the foyer of our apartment. Synchronized, as if rehearsed, the two men showed us identification papers.

"We are from the Police. We were informed that Bertha Horn is missing and that you were one of the last persons to see her. We would like to ask you some questions at the station. Please bring your residence permit and passport."

Though both in jeans, they had a formal air about them. One had brown hair and Nordic blue eyes and looked like he was in his early thirties.

"I am afraid I am undocumented. I will come, but I have no papers to show you," I replied. The two men exchanged mildly surprised looks. The other man, a little older, was lean and tall. His receding light brown hair was flecked with grey, and the dark brown eyes were impassive. I felt like I was in the company of an athlete waiting to go into his game.

"Well, we did not anticipate this. We may have to arrest you," Blue Eyes said politely.

I smiled at them. I always do when fear starts closing in.

"I suppose you have to. I don't think I can go anywhere. I will be here when you decide to question or arrest me. Whatever." The trembling of my hands belied my nonchalant tone.

"Very well, Ms. Ling." With that both men left. Marly stood behind me, petrified.

That was the weekend I wanted to clean the house; in a group house cleaning is often the last item on the agenda. I roomed with two other women and two men in a four-bedroom apartment. Marly, who had converted the living room into a studio with a daybed to sleep in, was used to friends and friends of friends coming through, staying for a while. The city of Heidelberg entices strangers to stay.

"I thought they were visitors. They were definitely early for a Saturday morning." Marly's voice trailed off.

"But Yoli, you can't do this. You can't go with the Kriminal Polizei! Those dogs will beat you up! God knows what else!" Marly always worried about me. She had known I was undocumented since the day I moved into the apartment we shared.

I sat at the dining table to write down addresses and telephone numbers of people I wanted informed of my arrest. I was looking at the end of my running.

The cleaning forgotten, Marly and I talked about my options. I didn't want to run away. I was without papers, but I also knew that my only punishment would be deportation. She wanted me to take the next train out of Heidelberg. Instead, grabbing paper and pen from the telephone stand, I sat at the dining table to write down addresses and telephone numbers of people I wanted informed of my arrest. I was looking at the end of my running.

Marly kept me company, "I want to know what they're going to do to you, where they're taking you. Since everyone is on vacation I'll go with you," she said.

Blue Eyes and Brown Eyes were back by mid-afternoon. This time around there was no hesitation. The ringing at the door was insistent, as if they were sure I was not going to be there. When I opened the door to them they told me to get my things.

"I would like to come with her. After all she has rights," Marly said. "No, no. For now Ms. Ling is just coming in for routine questioning, there's no need for handcuffs," Blue Eyes said.

I got into the blue Volkswagen Passat. Pulling my skirt after me, I brushed my arm against the cold door. I shivered. The drive from our house to the police station was brief, but the pungent, dog-eared smell of the car stayed in my nostrils. We parked in front of a squat stone edifice, like a fort. We went through a main entrance door of heavy wood, then walked into another section of the building. I was shown into a small office.

"Ms. Ling, you have to leave your personal belongings here. I am going to ask you some questions to document your presence here," Brown Eyes quietly informed me. He motioned me to a seat close to a desk. As I seated myself I noticed an open but barred window, through which I saw cars passing by. A sunny warm day, for a walk, for a sunbath.

Brown Eyes asked how long I'd lived in Heidelberg, what sort of work I did—a mix of questions obviously meant to elicit my role concerning Bertha Horn who was reported missing late Friday, August 8, 1985. That I was one of the last persons to have seen Bertha Horn was more important to Brown Eyes than my being undocumented.

Suddenly, Blue Eyes opened the door and motioned to Brown Eyes to come out of the room. Shaking his head, Brown Eyes gave me a brief glance, then walked out and closed the door. I stood up and looked out the window. The shadows had lengthened. It must be late. I thought of Marly, waiting to hear from me. The door opened quietly.

"Ms. Ling, we are keeping you here tonight. Please come with us," Brown Eyes said.

Moving quickly, the two men guided me out of the office toward the parked Passat. Blue Eyes drove; it was another short drive. The next building where we stopped looked like a school house. A TV screen was mounted on the right side of the entrance. Below it was a numbered panel on which a coded identification could be entered after a voice request from a speaker. Brown Eyes complied easily with the instructions. Blue Eyes drove through and parked close to a door whose upper half was glass. Beyond was another door of iron bars, behind which a robust woman in a navy uniform sat at a desk. She got up and buzzed the glass door open. Then the woman came up to the iron door to let Blue Eyes and Brown Eyes in. They started to talk. Conversation went on for some minutes. Every now and then they all looked at me. I stood close to the glass door not paying attention to them. Outside it was dark; night had fallen; I could hear cars honking, but I did not see the cars anymore.

"Now, will you please take off your clothes. Give us any personal items you have with you, including your watch. Those will be part of your inventory. And don't forget the laces of your sandals."

"Ms. Ling, you cannot leave. We will let your friend know," Brown Eyes was addressing me as they turned to leave.

The sturdy woman beckoned for me to come in. As soon as I was through the iron door, another uniformed woman appeared. "Please follow her, Ms. Ling."

Frau Gorendt, her name tag said, walked silently. Her steps were very light; I imagined she would have a spring in her step if she was outside these walls. We passed several offices along the corridor. After a few minutes of walking, Frau Gorendt stopped in front of one, opened it and motioned for me to go in. The walls of the room were lined with chest-high bureaus.

"Our procedure is for you to wear this while you are here." Frau Gorendt opened a drawer from which she took out a short-sleeved grey shift. Just then the woman at the main entrance came in. Frau Gorendt continued, "Now, will you please take off your clothes. Give us any personal items you have with you, including your watch. Those will be part of your inventory. And don't forget the laces of your sandals." Slowly, I took off my white tee-shirt and flowered pants. Underneath, I had knickers and no bra, and on my feet were the sandals laced at the ankles. Frau Gorendt came closer to me, "Hold out your arm, please," she said. I handed her my right arm; she held the forearm. Slowly she ran her fingertips over the skin around my wrist, between my fingers, the crevice in my elbow. She then did the same on my left arm, gave my body a cursory look and said,

"You must be one of those normal ones. But wait, let me see your toes. Well, you are normal." Noticing the confusion on my face, she glanced at her colleague. "That's all we get nowadays. Women with needle holes in them." She sounded wistful, as if wondering where all the other types of lawbreakers have gone to.

© Yolanda Palis

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This is an excerpt from a novel-in-progress.

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