Drawn to Life (2 page)

Chapter 1

Mia—Always the Same

Graz, March 2011

I was waiting for Christoph . . . again. His constant lateness was an issue we fought about over and over. This time, we were late for an important reception that my newspaper was hosting.

Pacing my hallway, all dressed up for the evening, I worried I would make a bad impression if I didn’t get there on time, which would lead to teasing by my coworkers. Even though I’d been with the company for a year and a half, including my internship, I had been a full-time employee for only nine months, so my colleagues still treated me like the newbie.

If Christoph didn’t hurry and get here soon, we could forget about going altogether. I would head out by myself next time. I was livid.

But I kept waiting. When the bell finally rang, I opened the door and glared at Christoph, my arms crossed over my chest. “Where on earth have you been? Can’t you be on time just once?” I hissed.

I grabbed my purse and moved past him down the stairs. He slammed the door shut and hurried after me. When he caught up, I turned around and saw his expression was amused.

“I’m glad to see you think it’s funny when I’m late because of you,” I snapped and turned, prepared to stomp down the remaining stairs. Putting his hands on my shoulders and softly stroking them up and down, he stopped me.

But I was not in the mood. “Cut that out.”

“Oh, come on, Mimi. I’m only . . .” He glanced at his watch.

“Yeah, exactly. You are only
thirty minutes
late, Chris. We’ll get there like, super late, and my team was supposed to arrive early. This wouldn’t happen if we lived together.”

He sighed loudly, closed his eyes, and let go of my shoulders, massaging the bridge of his nose and letting his head drop back.

“Do we really need to discuss this now?” He hated having this conversation. Truth be told, so did I, but I wanted him to give me a reason instead of evading the topic every time. The silence lengthened, and I finally gave up thinking it would be this time.

Without looking at each other, we continued down the stairs. On the middle landing, I paused again. I couldn’t let it go.

To steady myself, I inhaled and exhaled evenly, then turned to face him. “I’m sorry. But it
would
make everything easier,” I said, my voice now calm.

Chris ran his fingers through his blond hair. “No, Mia. I . . . OK, let’s have this conversation right now, this very moment.” His hand furrowed through his hair again, and then, once more, he massaged his nose. His whole body was tense, his brown eyes wide.

He stepped to the left, the right, then finally stopped and looked directly at me, seeming much more composed. “Look . . . I’m sorry.”

I still had my arms crossed. Gently, Christoph untangled them and tenderly grasped my hands in his. His thumbs caressed their backs. “Look, Mimi, we’re still young. We can move in together in a few years.”

That was always his default answer. How long was I supposed to wait? I wasn’t the most patient person to begin with, and we weren’t
that
young. I was twenty-three and wanted to live with my boyfriend, who happened to be two years older. We had been dating for four years. What was there left to wait for?

I bit my lower lip. Why didn’t he see how much easier everything would be if he moved in with me? Or I with him, although that didn’t seem to be an option, either. I just couldn’t understand what made him hesitate. After all, he kept telling me how much he loved me. Wasn’t that reason enough to at least start thinking about living together? To make plans? We didn’t even have to live in his or my apartment. We could look for a new one. Maybe something bigger.

But he wasn’t having any of it. He released my hands and stroked his thumb over my mouth. “Stop chewing on your beautiful lips. You’ll eventually destroy them,” he whispered and gave me a sweet kiss.

I couldn’t help it. I had to smile. Under his touch, my body relaxed. I could never hold on to any bitterness toward Christoph for too long.

“Please don’t be upset. I’ll be over at your place as often as possible.”

His reassurances didn’t satisfy me. Now that we were actually on the subject, I wanted to hear more than the usual excuses.

I chose my words carefully. “What I don’t get is why you are against it. You almost live here anyway. We sleep in the same bed almost every night. You have so many clothes in my dresser that I’ll have to buy a new one soon. Why don’t you just give up your place? Or if you prefer, I wouldn’t mind moving into your place. Or maybe we could rent a different apartment?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “Maybe I’m not ready yet for this step. OK? I . . . Mia, I don’t know how to explain this.” He spoke very quietly and tugged me closer so he could lean his forehead against mine. “Everything would feel so . . . permanent.”

My eyes opened wide.
Permanent?
That was exactly what I wanted. But apparently he didn’t. I slipped out of his embrace, backed up against the wall, and crossed my arms again.

“Oh, damn it, wrong word,” he said, looking frustrated. “I know we’re supposed to be
permanent
, but I don’t know whether I can make this leap just now. I love being at your place. I like your apartment better than mine. It’s always so clean and cozy.”

In spite of myself, I smiled again.

Christoph came closer. “Mimi, I love being with you. You know that.” He took a deep breath and exhaled, resting his shoulder against the wall beside me. “I’m just worried that once we live together for real that things will change between us. Maybe they won’t stay as good as they are now. And I don’t want anything to be different. I always want us to stay as good together as we have been.”

So that’s what was worrying him. I held his face between my hands and whispered against his lips. “Christoph, nothing will change. We won’t allow things to change. OK?”

He looked at me warily and sighed again. “We will move in together. Eventually. I promise. Please give me some time . . .”

I could only nod and bite my lip again.

“Don’t.” He grinned and placed a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Let’s go. Otherwise we’ll really be late.”

I poked his waist.

When we were together, I simply couldn’t stay mad at him.

Chapter 2

Mia—The World Is Floating

Graz, April 2011

Since March, things had been getting worse. I felt disheartened, gloomy, as if all my energy had been sucked away and my batteries were dead. I was exhausted. I wanted to sleep all day.

Where had the good times gone? Nothing seemed to be working out. The fights with Christoph about our living situation had intensified. What was his problem with packing a few boxes and moving in with me? I still couldn’t wrap my head around his stubbornness.

There’s no understanding a guy’s brain. Yet, the truth was having his things here wouldn’t change anything. He literally spent every night at my place anyway. Why keep an apartment where you spend two hours a day, at most? It represented his tiny piece of freedom, I supposed. But didn’t I give him enough space? He was free to do whatever he pleased—I didn’t object when he wanted to go out by himself or pursue his hobbies. I valued my own time alone far too much to ever interfere with his need for privacy. But I did want to take the next step; I didn’t like the sound of
eventually
.

Constant fatigue added to my slump. All I wanted to do was stay in bed, but I banished even the thought of sleep into a far corner of my mind. There was no time for sleep.

I worked hard at the newspaper because I wanted to move up and I wanted my coworkers to accept me as an equal, yet that acceptance was proving out of reach. I loved the job! It was awesome, and I had an amazing boss who seemed happy with my performance, but most of my colleagues were thoughtless and dismissive. They treated me like an assistant, ordering me to fetch coffee and dumping grunt work on my desk when, in fact, we had the same responsibilities.

I was partly to blame for this, though. When I’d started working there, wanting to impress them, I’d been too shy to say no when they’d asked for favors. I’d also been convinced they’d see how enthusiastic and reliable I was, how motivated and ambitious, and how I could handle anything and everything they wanted me do.

After I’d said yes once, they’d taken it for granted I’d continue saying yes to every request. It wasn’t long before a flood of Post-it notes always littered my workspace. I was expected to take care of revisions or finish research that nobody else wanted to deal with. I managed it all by carting my workload home with me at the end of every day, until the only time left to myself was limited to my lunch break and a few hours of sleep—definitely not enough sleep.

What with the countless all-nighters, my head constantly throbbed. My body was warning me it couldn’t take much more.

A simple “no” would have improved my situation. But did I want to say it?

I wasn’t ready, not yet. Despite its drawbacks, I loved my job and didn’t want to jeopardize it in any way. And I was also feeling compelled to make up for recent lost time.

Over the past several weeks, I’d frequently been sick, requiring six or seven days off. I couldn’t remember another stretch in my life when I’d been absent so often. I’d never even missed a single day of school.

It helped that my boss, Mr. Walter, was flexible and compassionate. Partly because, after all, I still turned in excellent work. While at home, I labored on a laptop from my bed, and Mr. Walter had my assignments on his desk, without fail, by every deadline.

After one or two days at home, I’d swallow some Advil and head back to the office, not really giving myself a chance to fully recover. So much time in bed hadn’t cured my fatigue, either. I figured I’d just have to plug away, that eventually it would pass.

One morning, I felt particularly exhausted. When the piercing sound of the alarm clock jolted me from sleep, I couldn’t be bothered to turn it off, as I was all snug under my duvet. I wished I could just disappear beneath the covers, become invisible.

“Mimi, turn off that damned alarm already!” Chris groaned, still half-asleep.

Why didn’t he turn it off himself? I started to reach, then stopped. My every movement was extremely painful, and it didn’t help that he poked me with his elbow.

After a moment, he cursed under his breath. Then he heaved a sigh. “Don’t bother. I’ll do it,” he said. The alarm clock was on my bedside table. Christoph rolled over, his full weight on top of me, and turned it off.

Get off me, get off me . . .
I tried to shove him away. My god. I hurt.

But he didn’t budge. He thought it was funny. I could feel his body shaking as he tried to suppress his laughter. I freed my hands and pulled the duvet from over my face.

“Christoph, please . . .” I begged, but his laughter grew louder, echoing in my throbbing head. “Please, get off me. You’re crushing me!”

“Good morning to you, too, princess.” He kissed my forehead and finally rolled away.

I didn’t feel even a spark of good humor. My body was burning hot. My limbs ached. My head pounded. What could I do? My job awaited. I focused on the only thing that would keep me going, as it always did—knowledge that at the end of the day, I’d snuggle up in my warm and comfy bed next to Christoph, who’d arrive as usual after he got off work. Then I could forget about everything and fall asleep at his side. That was the light on my horizon, undimmed by the issue of whether we’d move in together or not.

But before I could reach that point, I had to make it through an entire long workday. What cheered me up somewhat was the prospect of lunch with Julia, once the morning was over.

Feeling crushed from just a few hours of work, I waited for my best friend in the small restaurant across the street from my office building. Carelessly, I threw my bag on the seat next to me, and a pen and compact tumbled out to the ground. Damn it. What once had been a mirrored compact was now just so much crumbled powder on the floor. I found a tissue in my purse and tried to clean up the mess.

“Hey, Mia. What are you up to under the table?”

I startled and hit my head on the wooden top. Ouch! As if I wasn’t suffering enough already.

Rubbing my brow, I turned to Julia, knowing my face must be contorted with pain. “Just trying to look at the world from another perspective.”

“And does it look better from down there?” Julia smiled.

“I guess, today, the world looks pretty much the same no matter the angle,” I moaned. I expected my skull to explode any minute.

“Jeez, you look exhausted.” Sliding onto the chair across from me, Julia studied me, her expression concerned.

I shrugged. I didn’t want to worry anyone over a lousy headache. It wasn’t a big deal . . . well, except when you added the pain in my limbs and the cramp in my right side. I just needed a few days of good sleep, and I would be back on my feet. Maybe Christoph and I could take a short vacation, do nothing. We hadn’t been anywhere since our trip to Italy, and that was almost a year ago.

Julia’s voice broke through my thoughts.

“Mia, have you lost weight?” She inspected as much of me as she could see over the table, then pointed to my chest. “You
have
lost weight. Your blouse is too big. What’s going on?”

The waitress interrupted us. After we ordered, Julia reached across and took my hand. I could see the worry in her eyes. “Over the past several weeks, you’ve been sick a lot. That’s not the Mia I know.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. This morning, I woke up with a headache. That’s why I look tired. I’m fine.” But was I really? Or was I only trying to convince myself?

Julia’s eyes grew wide, and she shook her head. “Keep telling yourself that. Maybe it helps. Seriously, is everything OK?”

I ran a hand through my long, blond hair and nodded while trying to feign a smile. But the corners of my mouth wouldn’t do what I wanted, and all I managed was a grimace.

“No worries, Julia. I’m just slammed with work.” Nervous at her continuing scrutiny, I twirled a strand of hair between my fingers. “Man, I’m sick and tired of being the newbie. I’ve been there for a year and a half. When will they get that?”

“They still haven’t accepted you? I can’t believe it. Show them what you’re capable of,” Julia said.

I took a deep breath. “That’s what I’m trying to do. It’s why I’m working so hard. And they still make me the gofer. But it’ll get better. I hope. At least I want for it to get better.”

She smiled but looked skeptical. “Listen Mia,” she whispered. “Here’s a little secret for you. Just say no.”

“All right, I hear you. I’ll learn to. Eventually.” Playfully, I kicked her shin under the table.

“Hey! Just saying.” She giggled. “Seriously. You have to make sure work doesn’t get to be too much for you.”

I nodded and bit my lower lip. “It won’t. Like I’ve said before, we’re all under the gun.”

My remark—or was it an excuse?—didn’t seem to convince her. “I understand you have a lot on your plate right now. Same here. But you don’t look healthy. I’ve never seen such dark circles under your eyes. Even after a weekend of all-nighters. Are you sure everything is OK?”

“Julia, please . . .” I looked at her, imploring her to let it drop. “Everything is fine. I swear.”

She nodded and finally let it go. But I knew she’d bring it up again. Today, though, I’d had enough of her motherly attitude. This lunch break was supposed to distract me from work and pain, not force me to focus on it.

After lunch with Julia, the afternoon dragged. Finally, I could hurry home and hide under my covers. Five minutes after I’d climbed into bed, Christoph arrived. A few days before, I had made him a copy of my keys in an attempt to make this seem like his home. When I’d presented the chain, he’d taken it without hesitation, and I’d even seen a faint smile on his face.

He sat down beside me, leaned over, and hugged me. I was so glad to feel his arms around me.

“I’ve missed you all day,” I whispered. “I haven’t been feeling well, and all I want is to relax next to you.”

He smiled. “Well, that won’t be too hard to manage,” he said, kicking off his shoes and slipping under the covers.

Another week went by, and I was still finding it difficult to get up in the mornings. But I didn’t stay home. I was worried Mr. Walter wouldn’t be lenient forever, and I didn’t want to risk getting fired.

I just had to suck it up. The weekend was in sight, only two more days to go. I would not take work home with me this time. I would turn off my cell phone, disconnect the Internet, and hole up in my apartment. All I needed to feel better was a few days alone with Christoph.

But that day, I had to work until seven. I slouched out of the office. My body felt sluggish, drained of every tiny bit of energy. On my way home, I could hardly keep my eyes open. Fortunately, I was only a few houses away. Inside, I practically crawled up the three flights of stairs. Every step felt like torture. The cramping in my side had grown more intense. I wished I could simply lie down right there, fall asleep on the cool floor, and never get up again.

Somehow I reached my door. My hand shook as I searched my purse for the key, then tried to insert it into the lock. The stupid thing wouldn’t go, but fortunately, that didn’t matter. Christoph opened the door from inside.

“Where have you been?” Reaching out, Christoph placed one hand behind my back, steered me into the apartment, then closed the door behind me.

I leaned against him heavily and slurred a response that was supposed to be “at work” but sounded more like “awerk.” I was moving my lips, but the sounds didn’t make sense. It was like my brain had been cut off from my mouth.

Slowly, Christoph turned me around to face him. His brown eyes looked scared.

“Mimi? Are you OK?” He cupped my face. “You’re burning hot.”

I’m OK, Chris . . .

“Mimi? Mia . . . Mia! Come on, say something.” There was so much fear on his face. Why was he so afraid?

I’m here, I’m OK.

“Mimi, please look at me.” I could feel his arms holding me up. His heart beat wildly against my chest. His breath was fast.

I was calm. Unlike his, my heart beat steadily. I felt safe in his embrace. I felt good. I felt as if I were floating.

“Mimi, stay with me. Stay with me!”

I was floating . . .