The One Who Stole the Sky

Festering Minds

Charlie kissed Max, not in the friendly way, in her entry doorway. Max pulled back quickly, half out of shock and half out of disgust.

"Why did you do that?" His eyes lept around, but never once landed on her. He never blushed or lost his words, as a man in love would. There was part fear and part worry subdivided in his anger. He wiped away at his lips with the edge of his sleeve, trying his best not to seem rude.

"Because I love you, can't you see? I wouldn't have a special place in the upcoming art show without your help and guidance. Maybe it's nerves, maybe it's excitement, I cannot say. But you have made me what I always wanted to be, and I am grateful to have you in my life." Max did not listen to her speak, in fact he had paid no mind to her fumbling, failing words at all, but rather looked out into the streets hoping nobody saw what had happened. The early sunset and foggy skies may have hid the misdeed from onlookers, but one may never know.

"Charlie. . ." Max tried to articulate his feelings, but found that every way possible would destroy her. He paused, shook his head, took in the odd scented air for a moment, before starting again.

"I do not know how to say it without hurting you or interfering with our business. You are my business partner, er, my student in this apprenticeship if you want to be specific. I do not want complications from emotions ruining our project. The reveal to Herr Getz is at an art banquet in front of hundreds of people, and it would seem suspicious, and I a womanizer. I want a safe reputation." He left out the part of him being a Jew and wanting to remain in the shadows as much as possible. Max had forgotten if he ever told Charlie what he believed in, especially after the failed- Communist project. He bit his tongue, figuring that if she made anymore advances towards him, he could use his religion to deter her. How sad, to express one's religion to disgust another's.

"Know that I do admire you. Maybe after the banquet we can see each other again?" Charlie fixed herself against the doorway, adjusting her glasses in a cool manner. Max put his head down, bit his lower lip, then quickly said goodbye before disappearing into a taxi. On the way home, he did not think once of Charlie, in fact, he thought of nothing at all. He glanced out his window and saw a few homeless men gathered near a stack of burning money, heating up morsels over the flame. Some wore torn army jackets with fraying patches and rips at the hem.

Max shook his head at the feeling of his sensitive heart collapsing in his chest. No matter where he turned, he was constantly reminded of the days he slept in a basement, with fever, drinking watery soup. He remembers forgetting what the sky had looked like and the sound of cars passing by. Like a caveman, he painted on the walls in the freezing basement, and at times was left in the complete dark. Hitler succeeded, in dehumanizing Max, along with the rest of the Jews. He was treated like cattle, fleeing from his home on Kristallnacht, resorting to travel through the woods to Herr Huberman's house. When the taxi pulled up to the apartment building, he rushed out of the car, twisting his face at the internal pain. The nightmares would never end.

As soon as the elevator doors opened on his floor, he rushed to his apartment holding back this heavy onset of depression. He fumbled around with the keys then failed to open the door with still hands. Liesel, hearing him struggle on the other side, opened the door. Max hurried in while Liesel closed the door behind him.

"You don't look happy tonight." Liesel remarked as she moved to the kitchen to stir something in a pot.

"I'm not." Max hung up his coat and pushed back his hair.

"Why?" Liesel asked. This was the first time Max raised his pathetic eyes to Liesel's large, engrossed ones.

"Nothing, it's nothing. Just flashbacks and- I shouldn't be talking like this, it makes me look weak. I will be fine." He noticed she had put on makeup and her hair was done up nicer than usual, as it always was beautifully pinned and pulled normally. As quickly as he laid eyes on her he looked away, bent down, and took off his shoes.

"What's for dinner, huh? Smells good." Liesel moved around in the kitchen, reaching up and bending down every minute or so to fetch another item.

"Pork roast, soup, and potatoes." She called over her shoulder. Max laughed as he hasn't heard of such a filling meal in years.

"How'd you finance to buy such a lovely meal?" Interested in the dinner, he came to oversee what Liesel was doing.

"I managed." Liesel moved the stewpot to the back of the stove, then sprinkled freshly grated cheese into the pot.

"The table is already set, no?" Liesel dipped a wooden spoon into the soup and gave it a generous tasting.

"It is. Here, take two napkins and set them out for me please." Between swirling the soup in her mouth and checking the temperature of the roast, Liesel managed to pull two napkins from a drawer underneath the sink.

"I will be out in a minute." Max set the two napkins down and took a seat in his chair. As Liesel went back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, Max thought of the incident that had happened earlier. Should he tell Liesel, or would it only upset her? Max was lost in his mind, and the only thing that brought him back to now was the clanking of the table being arranged to hold all of the dishes.

"Max?" Liesel snapped him out from a trance he had not known himself to be in.

"Yes, sorry Liesel. I am just tired." They met each other's eyes, Liesel's full of worry and Max's full of, well, nothing.

"Thank you for dinner." Max handed over the roast to Liesel, and he sprinkled some pepper in his soup.

"You are welcome." They ate in silence, for a little while, until Max felt sick and was overcome by guilt. He wanted to tell Liesel what had happened, but oh it would hurt her, and then the thoughts of the war hit him with a noxious force.

"Liesel." He whispered, so delicate and small.

"Yes?" Liesel casually answered, not lifting her head from the meal, unaware of the damage being done inside Max's mind.

"Look at me." Max did his best not to choke or sound seriously hurt. She did as he asked, waiting for his other words to catch up.

"Tell me something good. Anything." To hide his upset frown, he pretended to clean the corners of his mouth.

"Nothing good ever happens these days, you know, but today changed that. I got published." Liesel's smile started small, but grew wider as she could not hold back her happiness.

"You- you got published? Oh, Liesel! How fantastic!" Max put his napkin down then hurried to Liesel and gave her an enormous hug.

"I did!" She cried as she was swung into the air by her tall companion.

"That explains the meal and- and your makeup! Oh, how great!" He smothered her in excitement, and when he pulled away he found a lipstick smudge on his shoulder.

"Tomorrow I will go to the publishing company and talk more about specifically what options I have." She wiped her eyes of tears, but she could not wipe her face of the smile, still strong between her lips.

"You are an author now! I am so proud of you." Max geld her by the shoulders, dumbstruck.

"Well, I prepared this meal to eat, not to look at." Liesel giggled. Max took this as his signal to return to his seat.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Joy still laced Max's words together.

"I didn't know how! It was all too exciting, and then you seemed upset and not in the mood to discuss it." Liesel cut her roast into little squares, taking each bit as docile as the next.

"Well, it's no matter now. Congratulations." Max and Liesel toasted with some cheap wine that was pungent and dry, but it served its purpose as being a beverage other than water.