The Diary of a Young Girl_ The Definitive Edition - Anne Frank [43]
Further, I’ve decided (after a great deal of thought) to drop the shorthand. First, so that I have more time for my other subjects, and second, because of my eyes. That’s a sad story. I’ve become very nearsighted and should have had glasses ages ago. (Ugh, won’t I look like a dope!). But as you know, people in hiding can’t …
Yesterday all anyone here could talk about was Anne’s eyes, because Mother had suggested I go to the ophthalmologist with Mrs. Kleiman. Just hearing this made my knees weak, since it’s no small matter. Going outside! Just think of it, walking down the street! I can’t imagine it. I was petrified at first, and then glad. But it’s not as simple as all that; the various authorities who had to approve such a step were unable to reach a quick decision. They first had to carefully weigh all the difficulties and risks, though Miep was ready to set off immediately with me in tow. In the meantime, I’d taken my gray coat from the closet, but it was so small it looked as if it might have belonged to my little sister. We lowered the hem, but I still couldn’t button it. I’m really curious to see what they decide, only I don’t think they’ll ever work out a plan, because the British have landed in Sicily and Father’s all set for a “quick finish.”
Bep’s been giving Margot and me a lot of office work to do. It makes us both feel important, and it’s a big help to her. Anyone can file letters and make entries in a sales book, but we do it with remarkable accuracy.
Miep has so much to carry she looks like a pack mule. She goes forth nearly every day to scrounge up vegetables, and then bicycles back with her purchases in large shopping bags. She’s also the one who brings five library books with her every Saturday. We long for Saturdays because that means books. We’re like a bunch of little kids with a present. Ordinary people don’t know how much books can mean to someone who’s cooped up. Our only diversions are reading, studying and listening to the radio.
Yours, Anne
TUESDAY, JULY 13, 1943
The Best Little Table
Yesterday afternoon Father gave me permission to ask Mr. Dussel whether he would please be so good as to allow me (see how polite I am?) to use the table in our room two afternoons a week, from four to five-thirty. I already sit there every day from two-thirty to four while Dussel takes a nap, but the rest of the time the room and the table are off-limits to me. It’s impossible to study next door in the afternoon, because there’s too much going on. Besides, Father sometimes likes to sit at the desk during the afternoon.
So it seemed like a reasonable request, and I asked Dussel very politely. What do you think the learned gentleman’s reply was? “No.” Just plain “No!”
I was incensed and wasn’t about to let myself be put off like that. I asked him the reason for his “No,” but this didn’t get me anywhere. The gist of his reply was: “I have to study too, you know, and if I can’t do that in the afternoons, I won’t be able to fit it in at all. I have to finish the task I’ve set for myself; otherwise, there’s no point in starting. Besides, you aren’t serious about your studies. Mythology—what kind of work is that? Reading and knitting don’t count either. I use that table and I’m not going to give it up!”
I replied, “Mr. Dussel, I do take my work seriously. I can’t study next door in the afternoons, and I would appreciate it if you would reconsider my request!”
Having said these words, the insulted Anne turned around and pretended the learned doctor wasn’t there. I