The Book Thief(76)

Arschloch! Papa yelped. Liesel, give me some of that snow. A whole bucket! For a few minutes, they all forgot. There was no more yelling or calling out, but they could not contain the small snatches of laughter. They were only humans, playing in the snow, in a house.



Papa looked at the snow-filled pots. What do we do with the rest of it?



A snowman, Liesel replied. We have to make a snowman.



Papa called out to Rosa.



The usual distant voice was hurled back. What is it now, Saukerl?



Come down here, will you!



When his wife appeared, Hans Hubermann risked his life by throwing a most excellent snowball at her. Just missing, it disintegrated when it hit the wall, and Mama had an excuse to swear for a long time without taking a breath. Once she recovered, she came down and helped them. She even brought the buttons for the eyes and nose and some string for a snowman smile. Even a scarf and hat were provided for what was really only a two-foot man of snow.



A midget, Max had said.



What do we do when it melts? Liesel asked.



Rosa had the answer. You mop it up, Saumensch, in a hurry.



Papa disagreed. It wont melt. He rubbed his hands and blew into them. Its freezing down here.



Melt it did, though, but somewhere in each of them, that snowman was still upright. It must have been the last thing they saw that Christmas Eve when they finally fell asleep. There was an accordion in their ears, a snowman in their eyes, and for Liesel, there was the thought of Maxs last words before she left him by the fire.





CHRISTMAS GREETINGS FROM MAX VANDENBURG Often I wish this would all be over, Liesel, but then somehow you do something like walk down the basement steps with a snowman in your hands.





Unfortunately, that night signaled a severe downslide in Maxs health. The early signs were innocent enough, and typical. Constant coldness. Swimming hands. Increased visions of boxing with the Fhrer. It was only when he couldnt warm up after his push-ups and sit-ups that it truly began to worry him. As close to the fire as he sat, he could not raise himself to any degree of approximate health. Day by day, his weight began to stumble off him. His exercise regimen faltered and fell apart, with his cheek against the surly basement floor.



All through January, he managed to hold himself together, but by early February, Max was in worrisome shape. He would struggle to wake up next to the fire, sleeping well into the morning instead, his mouth distorted and his cheekbones starting to swell. When asked, he said he was fine.



In mid-February, a few days before Liesel was thirteen, he came to the fireplace on the verge of collapse. He nearly fell into the fire.



Hans, he whispered, and his face seemed to cramp. His legs gave way and his head hit the accordion case.



At once, a wooden spoon fell into some soup and Rosa Hubermann was at his side. She held Maxs head and barked across the room at Liesel, Dont just stand there, get the extra blankets. Take them to your bed. And you! Papa was next. Help me pick him up and carry him to Liesels room. Schnell!



Papas face was stretched with concern. His gray eyes clanged and he picked him up on his own. Max was light as a child. Cant we put him here, in our bed?



Rosa had already considered that. No. We have to keep these curtains open in the day or else it looks suspicious.



Good point. Hans carried him out.



Blankets in hand, Liesel watched.



Limp feet and hanging hair in the hallway. One shoe had fallen off him.



Move.



Mama marched in behind them, in her waddlesome way.



Once Max was in the bed, blankets were heaped on top and fastened around his body.



Mama?



Liesel couldnt bring herself to say anything else.



What? The bun of Rosa Hubermanns hair was wound tight enough to frighten from behind. It seemed to tighten further when she repeated the question. What, Liesel?



She stepped closer, afraid of the answer. Is he alive?



The bun nodded.



Rosa turned then and said something with great assurance. Now listen to me, Liesel. I didnt take this man into my house to watch him die. Understand?



Liesel nodded.



Now go.



In the hall, Papa hugged her.



She desperately needed it.



Later on, she heard Hans and Rosa speaking in the night. Rosa made her sleep in their room, and she lay next to their bed, on the floor, on the mattress theyd dragged up from the basement. (There was concern as to whether it was infected, but they came to the conclusion that such thoughts were unfounded. This was no virus Max was suffering from, so they carried it up and replaced the sheet.)



Imagining the girl to be asleep, Mama voiced her opinion.



That damn snowman, she whispered. I bet it started with the snowmanfooling around with ice and snow in the cold down there.



Papa was more philosophical. Rosa, it started with Adolf. He lifted himself. We should check on him.



In the course of the night, Max was visited seven times.