Living was living. The price was guilt and shame (p. 208).
Hans Hubermann was a promise keeper. He did good to the Jews when he could, and ended up housing one in his basement. All his good stemmed from guilt. Guilt from surviving. Surviving not just once, but twice will certainly send an uncomfortable prickle down one's soul, a classic reaction really, nothing so unique about that funny little emotion.
Those days Max had spent sick, near death in the Hubermann house, unconscious, he still was able to feel guilty. Liesel would stand by his bed, shaking him, wondering what was happening to him. If he were able to respond he would have told her exactly what was running through his mind in a continual loop. As always he stood looking back at his family in the distance, waving goodbye. Even in the back of his dazed, slumbering mind he knew that he would never see them again, knowing that they would end up dead soon. Yet, he still walked on, walked toward freedom, while his family was left holed up like dirty rats.
Liesel was also in his feverish dreams. This time she was the one waving to him, happy. He stepped toward her, waving back, feeling a small spark of happiness spread through his body. He was never able to reach her before someone saw them together. Someone who knew he was. Jews were not allowed to consort with Germans. Germans were not allowed to consort with Jews. He stood there, frozen, still waving as they dragged Liesel away. Another life he had ruined because of his selfishness. Ruining multiple lives, while he somehow managed to keep on living. How he wanted to wake up, shake it all from his mind, but his dying, sweating body wouldn't respond.
It's interesting that someone who lived with so much shame in their heart still fought tooth and nail to carry on living. Most people with an ounce of the feelings that Max had as he turned his back on his family would have walked straight into a river. Max on the other hand, was ready to box me- much like he dreamed of boxing the fuehrer- rather than let his weak body die. I suppose he imagined he owed that much to his family. Living with tortured emotions was still better than giving in to death. That's for the cowards.
It was almost a relief when he recovered and left the Hubermann's, where the Nazi's soon caught him, and sent him to concentration camp. Max could breathe a sigh of relief. There would be no more harm because of his existence. He would not be able to walk away unscathed. The payment for his sins and selfishness had begun.
The nightmares had stopped after his first night of capture.
And yet he still wanted to live. Desperately. His conflicted emotions were as much a part of him as anything else.
Liesel kissed a living boy for the first time shortly after her 17th birthday. She closed her eyes, and unbidden, those dusty lips flitted past her. Rudy. I'm sorry, she wanted to say, I'm sorry I didn't kiss you when you were still alive. I'm sorry I'm still living and carrying on. It was at this point, that the living boy on the receiving end of the kiss was wondering why Liesel had started crying.
Guilt does strange things to humans. It gives them an excuse to wallow in the misery of their lives, to be down on themselves. And yet they keep on living. Some, perhaps, extraordinary humans burdened by guilt will attempt to lessen their load by making promises. And keeping promises.
