Mother Night Page #5

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Why don't you just tell me | what this is about?

Forgive me, Mr. Campbell...

but I have promised | not to spoil the surprise.

Now, I give my word... | if you're displeased...

we'll take it away with us | and leave you in peace.

- Where is it? | - At the bottom of the stairwell.

You can't miss it.

All right.

- Want me to go with you? | - No.

I'll be right back.

There is no room | in your life for me.

I will say good-bye...

and I will never bother you again.

No room in my life?

My life is nothing | but room for you.

God, you're alive. | How can it be?

Oh, look at you. | You haven't changed.

- I have so much to tell. | - Yes.

I always knew you'd come back. | I always knew that.

I just didn't know when or how.

There's somebody I want you to meet. | I want you to meet George Kraft.

- This is Helga. | - Hello. Welcome.

I presume you weren't disappointed.

How did you do this? | How did you bring my wife back to me?

A subscriber in West Germany | wired me...

that Mrs. Campbell had just arrived | as a refugee.

One day I learn that you're alive...

a month later | that your wife is alive.

Now, what can I call a coincident | like that but the hand of God?

Why don't we let Mr. And Mrs. Campbell | have a few minutes alone now?

Yes, of course. Our chauffeur will | bring up Mrs. Campbell's bags.

No need, no need.

- You fool, what are you doing? | - I'm fine, perfectly fine.

You're risking your life, | exerting yourself like that.

It's an honor to risk my life | for a man who served Adolph Hitler...

as well as Howard W. Campbell, Jr.

He's gone.

Maybe I should call an ambulance. | Yes.

That's terrible, just terrible.

Poor, dear August.

Who's going to carry | the torch now?

Excuse me? | Everything all right up here?

No, as a matter of fact. | August just died.

Oh, no. That's a shame.

- Now, that's a real shame. | - Mr. Campbell...

Robert Sterling Wilson, | the black fuehrer of Harlem.

I heard about you, | but I never listened to you.

- That's all right. | - We was on different sides.

See, I was on the side with the colored | folks. I was with the Japanese.

I hear you say you didn't think | colored folks was so good.

Now, Robert, let's not squabble | amongst ourselves.

Let's all work to pull together.

Now I'm just telling him like I tell you | and the reverend every morning.

Colored people gonna have | a hydrogen bomb all their own...

and pretty soon they gonna give Japan | the honor of dropping the first one.

Where?

China, I guess.

On other colored people?

Now whoever told you | a Chinaman was colored?

Mutter, Vatter und Resi...

are all dead.

Yeah. Yes, I know.

But I... I am alive.

How?

Well, I...

It's all right. | It doesn't matter.

Our life starts tonight.

We'll check into a hotel.

Tomorrow we'll find | a new place to live.

I've found an old store | that has our bed in it.

Do you remember our old bed?

- Yeah. | - Ja.

We'll start again | right where we left off.

Nation of two.

- Us. | - That's right.

Yeah.

But...

we do not have to | check in to a hotel.

It's been so long.

I'm no longer a young man.

She had been captured and raped | in the Crimea...

and then shipped to the Ukraine | and put to work on a labor gang.

Nobody told her the war was over.

After her repatriation, she was sent | to Dresden, East Germany...

and put to work | in a cigarette factory.

Eventually, | she escaped to West Berlin...

and days later, | she was flying back to my embrace.

All that mattered now was that | our nation of two was whole again.

- Hello. | - Hello.

Welcome home.

Now here... | Here it is right here.

Excuse us. Here.

Helga, right here. | Here's the bed.

It's locked. Veterans Day. | It's Veterans Day. Damn it.

Oh, goddamn it!

Howard, you have changed.

Forgive me, I'm sorry.

Yes, I've changed, but people should | be changed by world wars.

Otherwise, what are world wars for?

Maybe you have changed so much | that you do not love me anymore.

How could you say that | after last night, huh?

We really have not talked | anything over.

But, Helga, what is there | to talk about?

No words could change | the way I feel.

Do you mean it?

Yes, of course I mean it.

Nothing I could say | could spoil it.

Nothing you could ever say | could spoil it.

Never, never.

I'm not Helga.

I'm Resi...

her little sister.

What?

You said you loved me.

- How could you do this to me? | - I love you.

You love me? How could you love me? | You don't even know who I am.

When I got to West Berlin...

they gave me papers | to fill out...

name, occupation, | nearest living relative.

I had a choice. | I could stay Resi Noth...

secret machine operator | with no family anywhere...

or I could be Helga Noth...

famous actress and wife | of a brilliant, handsome playwright...

living in America.

A man I love deeply.

Who should I have been?

Howard, for ten years | in that factory...

the only things that kept me alive | were daydreams of being my sister Helga.

So Resi disappeared.

I don't know what to say.

You picked a hell of a person to be.

That is who I am.

I am Helga.

You believed it.

Was I or was I not Helga | to you last night?

That's a hell of a question | to ask a gentleman.

Am I entitled to an answer?

Would you sometime | write a play for me?

I don't think I can write anymore.

Did Helga inspire you to write?

Not to write, | but to write the way I wrote.

We used to say that | I wrote parts for her...

that let her play | the quintessence of Helga.

I want you to do that | for me one day.

The q...

- The quintes... | - Quintessence.

The quintessence of Resi.

Maybe I will.

Resi was growing younger | by the second.

Although she had bleached her hair white | to appear older...

it now spoke to me of peroxide...

and girls who run away to Hollywood.

Finally, I have a home.

It takes a heap of living | to make a house a home.

- Who did that? | - Who did what?

That.

Howard Campbell?

You know him?

It's funny... | You look just like him.

Don't that look | like the gentleman you're with?

Let me see.

"Israel Locates | War Criminal in U.S."

Before the Jews put you in the zoo, | I'm gonna have some fun with you myself.

You felt that one, huh? | That was for Private Irvin Buchanan.

- Is that you? | - No, he was my best friend.

Five miles in from Omaha Beach, | the Germans, they cut his nuts off...

and they hung him | from a telephone pole.

And this... this is for Axel Brewer.

He got run over | by a tiger tank in Aachen.

- This is for Eddie McCarty. | - Please!

He got cut in half | by a schmeizer.

And this... this is for...

Do not speak, liebling.

- Where are we? | - We are safe.

You have been asleep. | They will not find us here.

- Who won't find us here? | - The Jews, sweetheart.

What's on my chest?

You had your ribs taped up.

By whom?

The doctor who lives | in your building.

- Epstein. | - Ja, that was him. He was very nice.

I used his phone to call Dr. Jones, | and he brought us here.

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