The One Who Stole the Sky

Chapter Seven

Only a half an hour passed since Liesel left and Max was obliterated beyond repair. He cried for a continual thirty minutes until his stomach became upset. His eyes were heavy, his voice was lost, and nothing mattered to him anymore. A walk, he suggested, may help ease his mind of this afternoon's separation. He covered up in his gray coat and resorted back to smoking after quitting years ago. He smoked to soothe himself, not caring that its side effects gave him a breathtaking cough.

The sidewalks were empty, yet every business along the streets were full of people. He came to the corner where a bookshop operated, and saw Liesel's novel displayed in the front window. The cover was green and silver, paperback and decorated with a title in cursive.
Shall We Meet Again was the title, and on a whim of extreme emotional pain, Max went inside and asked to see the book.

"You're in luck, my boy. The display is the last copy we have, and I am willing to sell it to you if you do not mind the 'store copy' stamp on the inside?" The old man working the shop fixed his spectacles on his hooked nose with little coordination.

"I will take it. I heard it is selling quickly." Max took the copy from the window front and placed it on the counter. The white-haired shop keeper told him an amount, and Max paid it.

"It is quite the best-seller. It is the talk of the town, and it was published only a few blocks from here! What a privilege to live so close to such a great writer!" The man shook his head approvingly as he stared down at the novel.

"Have you read it by chance?" Max inquired as he pocketed his change and swept the book up into his hands.

"I have, and I must say, it is an extraordinary read. I must say I admire how this woman writes an action, romance, and adventure book within her autobiography of the war." The man smiled, remembering when he read the book just a week ago.

"Romance? She- no one said there was romance in the novel." Max nearly slipped, exposing himself as the writer's close friend. Perhaps it was Rudy she discussed so profoundly as she was liked by him then.

"Oh, but there is! Yes! Ms. Meminger's love interest is the very Jew they are hiding, Max, Max, Max Vander- something I believe. She refuses to tell him of her indecisiveness between him and Rudy Steiner, her friend. I won't spoil the rest, but she does make it known who her heart fancies. Well, good afternoon! Enjoy!" The man bowed his head and Max flashed him a brief smile before leaving the shop. Dread and guilt raced through him, propelling him to reach home faster than usual.

When he did reach home, he immediately took a seat on the couch and began perusing rather quickly through the text. Nothing seemed romantic, there were chapters upon chapters of her inner demons that made Max shudder uncomfortably. Page after page, chapter after chapter, Max skimmed through the first quarter of the novel. It wasn't until he reached 'Chapter Seven' that he was introduced into the story. He slowed his pace of reading and tried to focus on what Liesel had to say about his character. Her book read:

"The man who came collapsing into our home was raggedy, but very likable at a first glance. His gaunt cheeks and ruffled hair did not interfere with his looks, and I believed that if he simply shaved his shadowy stubble he would be the most handsomest man ever to be seen. But I remained reserved from the stranger as I watched Papa help him up the stairs the best he could."

Max stopped for a moment, then skipped ahead a few pages:

"One of the only things fueling me through life is Max Vanderburg, that is a fact. Last night we stayed up late in the attic, telling jokes and resorting back to a childish lightheartedness I missed often. We made each other laugh so heartily that I was surprised Mama did not hear us and come scolding up the stairs with a wagging finger." A few more pages were read, and then Max skipped ahead: