Drawn to Life (9 page)

Chapter 15

Mia—You Are Still Here

Budapest, June 2012

Hastily, I threw my backpack over my shoulder and escaped. I had to get away from there fast.

It had been a horrid idea to visit Budapest.
No, no, no . . .

Feeling a mix of self-pity, rage, and exhaustion, I raced through the maze of narrow streets. My heart pounded against my chest. My lungs burned. I wasn’t used to running anymore. Every single muscle in my legs hurt.

Winded, I stopped next to a lamppost, grabbing hold to steady myself. I let my head hang down and tried to regain my breath. My sides ached. I couldn’t swallow enough air.

Come on. Calm down.

It was only a memory. A good one that had ultimately ended badly.

Gradually, I managed to steady myself. The ache in my sides subsided, and I straightened. I wiped my forehead with the sleeve of my tunic. There was more than sweat on my face, although I hadn’t even noticed I’d also been crying. Christoph didn’t deserve any more of my tears. I’d cried enough over him. I dried my cheeks and inhaled deeply.

Only then did I realize where I was. In front of my old apartment. In front of Kriszta’s cafe.

Without worrying what memories might haunt me there, I stepped inside.

It smelled exactly like it had in 2009. The same aromas of freshly ground coffee, chocolate cake, and cigars lingered in the air. Nothing had changed.

I sat down at my regular table and twisted around, looking for Kriszta but not seeing her. I skimmed the menu mostly to keep my hands busy, not really reading.

Suddenly I heard a friendly and familiar voice greet me in Hungarian,
“Jó napot!”

Smiling broadly, I looked up. Kriszta’s eyes grew wide. She raced around the table to hug me. I stiffened but told myself I had to endure this. I had to learn how to deal with hugs and handshakes and any sort of touching. Fortunately, the embrace was over quickly, and I let out my breath.

“Oh, Mia!” she shouted. A few patrons looked up. She sat down at my table, almost babbling in her excitement.

“Mia, my dear Mia. I haven’t heard from you in such a long time,” she said, her speech sweetened by her Hungarian accent. “What brings you to Budapest? Are you staying long? You look so good! Did you cut your hair?” Her words tumbled out. I just watched her and laughed. She hadn’t changed. Always cheerful and never quiet.

“OK, I’ll shut up now,” she said, smiling.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, Kriszta,” I said quietly.

“Mindjárt jövök,”
she said, responding to a group at a nearby table, who’d asked for the check. “I’m sorry, but I have to get back to work.”

“No worries. I’ll wait.”

“Like you used to.”

“Like I used to.” I nodded, and she went back to work. While I waited for her shift to end, she brought me water and my standard large black coffee. She’d remembered.

After she got off, we walked to her apartment.

I settled on her gray, full-grain leather couch while she prepared snacks and drinks.

“I said to make yourself at home, so take off that hat, will you?”

I exhaled slowly through my nose and scratched my neck. Looking at the floor, I shook my head slightly.

“Come on. It’s not winter,” she said.

Again I shook my head.

“Mia!” she laughed and with a fast movement yanked it off my head. She immediately stopped laughing and stared at me in shock. How I hated those looks. I snatched the gray knit hat out of her hands and put it back on. Kriszta lowered herself next to me. I played nervously with my fingers and, as usual, wanted to scratch my scars.

She nudged me with her shoulder. “You want to talk about it?” she asked gently.

I couldn’t—no,
didn’t
—want to look at her.

She continued, her voice soft, “Please, Mia. I’ll listen. Look at me and talk to me.”

Reluctantly, I raised my head and stared straight ahead. Then I shut my eyes and turned toward Kriszta.

“Please,” she murmured.

I opened my eyes and looked directly into hers. She waited.

“It happened a little over a year ago,” I began. “I didn’t feel well. I was sick all the time, until one day I broke down and ended up in the hospital.”

Kriszta tried to take my hand, but I snatched it away.

“It’s OK. It’s only me. Come on. Give me your hand.” She showed me the palm of her own. “Put yours on mine. I won’t squeeze it or move. Just let it rest there, all right? Try it,” she encouraged.

Trembling, I put one hand on my lap. The other shook heavily. I knew Kriszta. I knew she wouldn’t hurt me. My hand was only inches from hers. She nodded reassuringly and smiled. Carefully, I moved it closer. My pulse increased at once. I could hear the loud hammering of my heart. Kriszta nodded again, and I placed my hand on her palm. As it rested there, we sat completely still. Kriszta’s warmth seeped into my cold fingers. I looked at her, startled. It felt good! She smiled, and my emotions ran wild. I was so proud of myself. I didn’t want to remove my hand. I actually wanted to hold hers. I wanted
more
. So I squeezed.

Her grin broadened. “I knew you could do it,” she said softly.

I looked at her, overjoyed, then picked up where I’d left off. “I thought I might have a virus, but no.” I took a deep breath. “They found a tumor. Actually, two. Both of them malignant. The second was actually a metastasis. The doctor said any day could be my last.”

Kriszta had tears in her eyes.

“Please, don’t pity me,” I said. “I was in the hospital for a long time, and after that, I had chemo. I started losing my hair and emotionally, physically fell into a very bad place. I couldn’t understand why all this was happening to me.” I stared at our hands. “My whole life went downhill. Christoph broke up with me. He . . . Can you imagine what he did? He left me for Julia, my best friend. Well, not my friend anymore. They hooked up while I was in the hospital.”

Kriszta looked at me in shock. “Are you serious?”

I nodded, then smiled a little bit. In hindsight, the whole story was laughable and ridiculous—a cliché.

“It really did me in. You know how much I loved him. I couldn’t bear it any longer. I tried to end it all, Kriszta,” I whispered.

“You’re still here,” she replied.

I nodded. “My dad found me in time. Now I’m seeing a therapist, and I’m feeling much better. Just not great. I’m still so sluggish. I can’t seem to feel any joy. It’s always the same, every day. My therapist told me to leave, go away.”

“Away?”

“Well, away from everything familiar—my parents, my hometown. He thinks I need distance. That maybe some physical separation from the past can help me see the beauty of life again.”

“You are healed, aren’t you?” she asked.

I forced a smile, and she squeezed my hand.

Chapter 16

Samuel—Find Mia

Budapest, June 2012

Eventually I fell asleep, but it was a restless sleep.

In the morning, I stretched and yawned on my way to the bathroom. After a cold shower, I felt better. I wrapped a towel around my hips and searched my backpack for my iPad. I could think about only one thing. Where was she?

I scanned all social-media platforms without any luck. Either she thought they were a waste of time, she wasn’t active online, or she had given me a false name.

I would never know.

Damn it . . .

I threw myself on the bed and ran my fingers through my wet hair. This was not how I’d imagined my trip. I wanted to unwind and forget about those beautiful green eyes. But I couldn’t, the image of her face refused to leave my thoughts. I had to learn more about Mia. I felt a burning urge to protect her. She seemed so fragile, so vulnerable. Her behavior had aroused my curiosity, leaving me totally confused.

I lay on the bed for a while and eventually got up and dressed. There was not much clothing to choose from. I hadn’t been very thoughtful when I’d packed. I opted for my old jeans and a gray shirt.

After a hearty breakfast, I grabbed a coffee to go and explored the city. I visited the Fisherman’s Bastion and the Buda Castle, but only the outside. I didn’t want to be inside thick, cold walls on such a beautiful day. Buildings fascinated me more from the outside anyway. Then I walked over the Chain Bridge to the other side of town. I was curious to see Váci Street, the famous pedestrian zone. I also needed to buy some more clothes.

I wandered aimlessly, window-shopping, then abruptly stopped. She was there! Just a few yards away, getting up from a bench. It must be her. I recognized her hat from the train.

“Mia!” I shouted, but she didn’t respond. She threw her backpack over her shoulder, then rushed toward me. This was my chance.

“Mia Lang,” I said in a lowered voice. We were so close, I was certain she’d hear me.

But she only stared straight ahead, hurrying along, even briefly brushing my shoulder before beginning to run.

“Hey, wait!” I yelled and chased after her. She was quick, though. “Hey, Mia, please wait!”

She only ran faster, finally turning to disappear down a narrow side street. I tried hard to follow, but when I rounded the same corner, she was nowhere to be seen.

Damn. I punched a lamppost. I wouldn’t get another chance like that again.

I needed to stop obsessing about her. I didn’t even know her.

Chapter 17

Mia—A True Friend

Budapest, June 2012

I spent all night at Kriszta’s place, and we talked until late into the night. We reminisced about the day we met and all the fun things we’d experienced together. We drank a lot of red wine and giggled like teenagers. It felt good to laugh and talk with someone who didn’t eye me awkwardly or pity me. I realized how much I had missed this. The muscles in my cheeks hurt because I had hardly used them the past year. After we’d downed a few glasses, I felt comfortable enough to take off my hat. She smiled, drew her chair closer, and reached for my hand across the table. Her maritime-blue eyes sparkled and I nodded peacefully. She squeezed my fingers.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said quietly.

“Thank you,” I whispered and looked down. I suddenly felt timid.

“But I have to tell you that your hair is a mess, Mia.” Eyes widening, I looked at her. She pressed her lips together, then burst into laughter.

Frowning, I snatched away my hand and crossed my arms over my chest. She wouldn’t stop laughing. Well, great for her that I was so entertaining.

“Come on. It was a joke,” she said and chuckled. “Short hair looks good on you.” I relaxed, and she dried the tears from her cheeks. Then she smiled her broad smile and said, “Seriously, Mia, really good. It’s grown in nicely. I can’t see any thin spots, like you keep insisting you have. You just need a good cut. Come on.” She jumped from her seat and, when she hit her feet, slightly staggered.

“Maybe one glass too many,” she muttered, reaching out her hand. I grabbed it, and she lifted me up with one strong pull. “A few pounds more wouldn’t harm you, either,” she said. I sucked in air. I knew that, but I hadn’t regained my desire to eat. I looked at her sadly.

“Don’t worry. Your appetite will come back,” she said. “Now, follow me.” She dragged me to the bathroom and made me sit on the edge of the tub. “Close your eyes.”

I did as she asked. “Um . . . what are you doing?”

“Let me surprise you, sweetie. Trust me.” I heard her pull something from her pocket, then search through the cabinet.

“Relax,” she whispered and combed my hair. Then I heard a metallic sound and—snip!

“Kriszta!” I yelled. She was cutting my hair. “Stop it!”

She just giggled and didn’t listen. “Shh. Hold still.” She laughed.

“You can barely stand up, so why do you think you can cut my hair?”

“Well, I just can. Now hold still, sweetie,” she repeated.

Hold still, I did. She couldn’t make things much worse anyway.

“Keep your eyes shut,” she demanded. “Get up. Take a few steps forward.” She held my elbow and guided me. “Open your eyes,” she whispered.

Gingerly, I squinted into the mirror. With my right hand, I ran my fingers through my hair.

“What do you think?” Kriszta asked.

I turned to her. “It actually looks really good. I like it.”

“Told you short hair looks good on you. You just needed a serious cut.” She grinned from ear to ear.

“Thank you very much,” I said and yawned.

“You need a bed for tonight?” she asked.

I nodded.

“You can sleep in mine. That way, you can sleep in.”

“That’s very generous, but I need to get up early myself. My train leaves at seven.”

“You’re leaving already?”

“I can’t stay here, Kriszta. I’ve taken care of the thing I most wanted to do—seeing you.” We smiled at each other. “But I need to move on, find a place that won’t remind me of all the things I want to forget.”

“Where are you going?”

“Rome.”

“You’ll like it. I visited last summer.” She pushed me through the bathroom door, back into the living room, and brought me a blanket and pillow. “Bedtime, now. Let’s try to get at least two hours of sleep. I’ll drop you off at the station on my way to work.”

I smiled. “I missed you so much. I’d almost forgotten how much you can say in a single breath.”

She nudged my arm and started heading for her room, then turned around and blew me a kiss. “Good night, sweetie. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Chapter 18

Samuel—Let Coincidence Decide

Budapest, June 2012

After I lost sight of Mia, I took a seat in a small cafe located on the corner where my chase had ended. A young waiter asked me what I wanted. At least I assumed that’s what he was saying, but I could only stare at him helplessly. He repeated his question in German, and I ordered a large, strong coffee to keep me awake.

I sat there awhile, and for the first time, I thought seriously about my itinerary. I considered one particular destination, then shied away from it, still haunted by questions—
What would have happened if I had visited her or just answered her calls?
I would never know.

By the time I’d finished my third coffee, I’d decided to cut short my stay in Budapest by a day. I liked this city, but I wanted to make good use of my Eurail pass. I had no clue where I actually wanted to go, though. I opened up my iPad, looked at the rail map, then closed my eyes and moved the cursor until it landed on a random spot. Fate would decide. When I looked again, I saw I was headed to Rome.

I booked a seat online, then rose, paid my check, and continued my walk through the city. I wanted to visit the Great Market Hall, a must-see for every architect. The facade of the basilica-like structure was covered with colorful tiling. Although I usually thought exteriors the most intriguing, this time, I went inside and found the interior to be even more amazing. I didn’t know where to start. Delicious aromas wafted from all directions, and my stomach grumbled. I tasted the food at the many different booths, and in the basement, I admired the exotic fish filling huge tanks. Of course, there were also souvenir shops to browse.

The day sped by. I ended up spending all afternoon in the market, which was well worth the time.

Outside, I hailed a cab and returned to the hotel. I ordered room service for dinner, ate, then went to bed early. I had a long train ride ahead of me the following day.

My alarm went off at five. I fumbled for the smart phone on my nightstand, hit snooze, and rolled onto my belly, hiding my head under the pillow. I’d never been an early bird, and here I’d booked a seat on a train departing at seven in the morning. Great. Five minutes later, the alarm sounded again.
All right, all right. Getting up now.
My eyes were still half-closed, but I sat up, yawned loudly, rubbed my eyes, and ran both my hands through my sleep-mussed hair. The alarm went off a third time. Goddamn phone. I was now wide-awake.

After a few minutes in the bathroom, I was ready. I hurried as I didn’t want to miss the train. I ate a quick breakfast at the hotel—and ended up arriving at the station an hour early. Whatever. I decided to get some coffee and relax on one of the platform benches.

A cup of coffee in one hand and my guitar in the other, I searched for the right platform, found it, spotted a bench—and also spotted someone I knew. My heart pounding fast, I sat down beside her.

“Good morning, Mia.”

“Oh . . . shit, you totally scared me!” She took her earbuds out and looked at me, her expression weary. I couldn’t say she seemed happy to see me again.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” I brushed some strands of hair from my forehead. “I thought you’d likely notice when someone sat down next to you,” I added dryly.

She inhaled deeply, still studying me. “No worries,” she whispered. That voice, that voice whispering . . . It drove me crazy.

“Just don’t do it again,” she said coolly. She turned away and plugged in her earbuds again. She scrolled through her iPhone, likely selecting music, and then leaned back. Eyes closed. Arms crossed over her chest.