Drawn to Life (15 page)

Chapter 35

Samuel—The Truth

Nice, June 2012

Mia and I sat there for what felt like forever, with my hand on her cheek and her hand over my heart. We didn’t speak. It was peaceful, blissful. I just can’t describe it. I’d never experienced anything as intimate as this moment.

“Come,” I said to her finally, and she followed me to the bed. We sat down, leaning against each other, still holding hands.

“What happened?” I asked carefully. She looked at me with tears in her eyes. “You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to,” I assured her.

She seemed to consider how much to reveal and began biting her lip again. I reached out, and she flinched.

“I won’t hurt you,” I said softly. With my thumb, I gently stroked her lower lip, rescuing it from her teeth. Her lip was incredibly soft. One spot was a little chapped, and I longed to soothe it with a tender kiss. Slowly, I lowered my hand. Mia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Then she opened them. They glistened.

“Everything happened way too fast. If I hadn’t been so sick, who knows where I’d be now?” She looked at our joined hands. “Samuel, I really wanted to end it all.” Mia rolled up her left sleeve, uncovering a pale pink scar across her entire lower arm. There were smaller, faded pockmarks from stitches along either side. She stared at the old injury she’d done herself, lost in her thoughts. I didn’t know what to say or if I should say anything at all.

Then she continued, “Please don’t judge me.”

“I would never do that.” She must have had her reasons.

“For a long time, I thought it would’ve been better had I never learned the truth. Then, one day, I would have just been gone. Not knowing would have spared me a lot.” At first, I didn’t get what she saying.

“Do you know what it’s like to want to die?” She closed her eyes and breathed hard through her nose. “No, how could you?” She shook her head. Worried she might stop talking if I said even one word, I kept quiet.

“I was in constant pain. One day I was healthy; the next day I was sick.”

Mia took a deep breath. “
From now on, every new day is a day you need to win. Day after day. This is not about long-term goals anymore.
Those sentences still echo in my mind.” She dug her fingernails into my flesh.

“The prognosis was poor. How can anyone deal with that? Boom. Over. Forget about a carefree life. But how can you go on when you don’t want to continue, not like that?” Her tears ran freely. She struggled to compose herself. “Dr. Weiß showed me that life can go on, somehow. I stuck around for my family’s sake. Because I didn’t want to cause them even more pain.”

I was still at a loss. I only understood she wasn’t well. Finally, she looked at me. Our eyes locked. “Diagnosis: skin cancer,” she whispered.

Those words cut right through my heart. It wasn’t long ago that I’d learned someone else I knew had experienced the same disease. In that case, the news had reached me too late. But why Mia? She was so young.

She looked at the floor and murmured, “The whole nine yards. Surgery, chemotherapy. And sure enough, I suffered every possible side effect.” She looked at me again. “I didn’t want to go on like that, Samuel. I couldn’t see any sense in why I’d contracted cancer. They say everything happens for a reason. What’s the reason? Where’s the sense in getting so sick? You tell me.”

“We wouldn’t have met if you hadn’t,” I offered.

A faint smile touched her lips. “That’s true. But I wouldn’t have fallen into such a deep hole, either. I’ve been battling for over a year now. To get my life back on track. I’ve only made baby steps, though. I’m still afraid of too many situations. Afraid of touching, of remembering . . . and then there are the dreams. I never recall them, but I feel miserable when I wake up.”

“Look, you’re making progress. You’re holding my hand. Moving forward is what counts.” She nodded. Tears were still rolling down her cheeks. “Are you healed?” I asked.

She looked up at the ceiling, and I could see her struggle to stop crying. Chewing her lip again, she returned her gaze to my face and nodded. I squeezed her hand. She smiled a little.

Dawn broke through the window. The weather would be beautiful today, ideal for a stroll through the old town. Or the beach. But we didn’t feel up to it. We spent the rest of the day in the room. Ordered food and watched TV.

Then Mia opened up, and more details of her life poured out. It made me happy that she felt comfortable enough now to confide in me. I didn’t want to pity her, because I knew she hated that. But I couldn’t help it. I wanted to hug her and never let her go. She desperately needed tenderness, but she would have pushed me away. She didn’t want to feel pressured.

I listened for a long time. Mia didn’t seem to expect any responses from me. I couldn’t understand how people had turned their backs on her. Like her boyfriend, who had been so cold and selfish, conducting an affair when she’d needed him most. I was furious for her and thought that guy better hope he never crossed my path.

It pained me to see her like this, bouncing from one mood to the next. One moment, she laughed; the next moment, she was gloomy. She paused often to compose herself. Then she would look at me and continue. She didn’t let go of my hand for most of the day and even moved so we sat closer together.

It was evening when she finally leaned her head against my shoulder. “Thank you for listening.”

“My pleasure,” I murmured against her hair, inhaling her sweet aroma.

“You know,” Mia started and looked at me, “you’re the first person I’ve told everything to. The others know only bits and pieces about what’s going on, been going on, with me. Not even my therapist has heard the whole story. If he knew I’d confided in someone I’ve known for only a few days . . .”

I placed a soft kiss on her hair. “Thank you for sharing.”

She smiled at me. “I feel good around you.”

Chapter 36

Mia—Happy Tears

Nice, June 2012

I finally followed my heart. Maybe I should have done so earlier. Maybe it would have kept me from careening into that deep, dark hole. Then again, there wasn’t anywhere my heart would have wanted to go. Until now.

We didn’t speak about my illness anymore. I didn’t want to. I had told him everything. Well, almost everything. I had spared him the details. Or maybe I had spared myself.

In any case, I was glad Samuel didn’t press me to elaborate, although I could tell he was thinking about it. He seemed lost in his thoughts. Especially at night, when we were back in the room. I watched him play his guitar as he stared out the window. I could see he was somewhere else while he plucked random melodies and quietly sang along. In those moments, it was obvious he didn’t want to talk. I didn’t mind. I enjoyed just listening to his voice, studying his features. He became my favorite subject, and soon I’d filled page after page of my sketchbook with his image. I had missed drawing. I’d missed the smudged fingers and the sound of the pencil scratching on the paper.

I didn’t understand what was happening inside me. Was I on my way back? Feelings I had thought long dead were returning, joined by new and unfamiliar emotions.

Maybe they rose out of the resumption of tactile sensations. Physical touch made me nervous, but in a good way now. I allowed Samuel to hold my hand as much as he wanted. As much as I wanted. Each time he did, pure happiness rushed through my body.

Samuel no longer had to sleep on the sofa; I promoted him to a place beside me on the comfy bed.

“I thought you wanted to return to one of your awesome hostels.” He laughed.

“OK, OK. You won. I won’t insist any longer.”

“Ha! I knew it.” He grinned. Crossing my arms over my chest, I pretended to be angry and he raised his hands apologetically.

“I already admitted you won, so there’s no need for a victory dance. But I have one condition—I’ll pay you back every single cent.”

“We’ll see about that.” He winked.

“Samuel!” I snapped. All he did was continue smiling.

We stayed four days in Nice. After we had spent the first in our room, we filled the remaining time with strolls through the city and along the beach. It was a leisurely pace, enjoyable after rushing from one site to the next in Rome. The last day in Nice was particularly special.

As we walked through the old, narrow streets, I let my fingers trail over the sandstone walls. Despite the sunshine, the surfaces were cool. All my senses were awakened. I drew in a great breath, closed my eyes, and continued on. Unseeing, I couldn’t avoid bumping into Samuel’s side.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

I peeked up and smiled at him. “I am enjoying.” We paused. “Just close your eyes and listen. Breathe. Concentrate on the sounds and smells around you. Then tell me about them.”

He grabbed my hand, closed his eyes, and took a gulp of air. “I smell warmth. And I hear cars, many cars,” he said.

“Listen more closely.”

He inhaled again and was quiet for a moment. “I hear the sea. Birds. Laughter.” He intertwined his fingers with mine and stepped closer. “I can hear a rhythm that is strong and steady.”

I moved toward him, too, and closed my eyes.

“I smell the sun and the pines,” I whispered. We stood very close now. “I hear a rhythm that is strong and steady, too.”

“I smell vanilla,” he murmured. My heart was racing as I took one final step, closing the space between us, and pressed my body against his. I felt his heart beat, and then I felt mine, pounding faster and faster. His warmth pulsed through my veins. It was almost too much.

“Breathe, sweetie. Don’t forget to breathe,” Samuel said. I gasped for air. “And exhale.”

I let out the air from my lungs.

“We can stop if you want to.”

I felt his warm breath on my face. I could only nod.

“I hope that was a yes. My eyes are still closed. Should I open them?”

“No. No, keep them shut,” I said quickly.

“OK . . .” He lowered his head. I felt the tip of his nose on mine. “Breathe.”

I stood on tiptoe and put his hands around my back. I inhaled again and, trembling, wrapped my arms around his neck. I stretched my own to tilt up my face. When our lips touched, the kiss felt as soft as the touch of a feather. “Don’t go further,” I whispered against his mouth. We stood very still and enjoyed the moment. The moment I had been able to let Samuel come as close as he was. It felt wonderful. I felt tears slowly trace their way down my cheeks and moisten our lips.

“Don’t cry, Mia.”

I swallowed hard.

“Open your eyes.” His voice was soft yet determined. My heart was still pounding. I obeyed. My tears were now streaming, and he wiped them away with his thumbs. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not at all. It just feels . . . overwhelming,” I sobbed.

“Then why this waterfall?” He smiled.

“I like it.” I paused. “I like this feeling.” I answered his smile.

Samuel cupped my face in his hands. “I like this feeling, too,” he whispered and kissed my forehead.

Chapter 37

Mia—Music for Life

En route to Marseille, July 2012

Traveling with Samuel was so much more fun than traveling alone. I even had my own personal jukebox during the long train rides—although I wasn’t the only one enjoying Samuel’s music, as evidenced by the giggling girls across the aisle.

“How often does this happen to you?” Actually, I could understand their reaction quite well. There was no way of
not
admiring Samuel. Even I hadn’t been able to ignore him, despite my best efforts. Those beautiful eyes had instantly captured me.

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

“Those giggling young things would just love your company.” My gaze indicated them. Sam turned around.

“Somebody will notice,” I whispered, embarrassed.

Samuel smiled at the two, then winked. “Oh, come on, Mia. Let me have some fun.” His grin broadened, and the two girls’ nervous laughter grew. I wished I hadn’t said anything because soon I could feel their gazes move on to me, sizing me up.

Samuel stopped playing. “Sweetie, you OK? You look very pale all of a sudden.” He took my hand.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” I blurted. “Look how they’re staring at me now.” I tried to hide my face behind my hand, but Samuel reached out and grabbed it. I looked at the floor.

“There is absolutely no reason you should hide from anyone. Believe me. Let them stare. They’re probably wondering what a beautiful woman like you is doing with an ordinary guy like me.”

I raised my eyes to his. I wasn’t buying his words, but it was sweet of him to try to lift my spirits. “Thank you.”

“I mean it,” he insisted. Slowly, he leaned forward. I didn’t move. By now, having him this close caused merely a slight nervousness, which was good. I enjoyed the tingling and prickling sensations that came with it. He came nearer, and his soft lips touched my forehead as lightly as a gentle breeze. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, surrounded by the scent of his piney cologne. His lips still touching my forehead, he murmured, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met. I fell for you the moment I saw you.” I didn’t know what to say. I could concentrate only on the heat I felt rushing into my cheeks. Samuel leaned back and smiled at me.

“Play another song,” I said, and he resumed plucking at the strings.

After some time had passed, he asked, “Why do you need music, even while you sleep?”

Nobody had ever asked me that. Or maybe nobody had noticed. It was true, though. I wore my earbuds almost all of the time, even at home.

“Um . . . I guess I just like it,” I said.

He shook his head. “No, there must be more to it. You used to play an instrument, didn’t you? When you don’t have your earbuds in, you’re either humming or singing under your breath.”

Was I really?

“It sounds great,” he assured me.

I looked down at my fingers and began to pick a cuticle. “It’s the only thing left that reminds me there’s still life to be lived.” I searched out his gray eyes with my own. “Music helps me to better deal with my emotions. I couldn’t play anymore, so listening gives me something to fill that void. It helps me to feel myself.”

“I hear you.” He averted his gaze, apparently lost in thought for a moment, then returned to studying me. “You stopped playing the instrument because of your illness?”

I nodded.

“But why? When it is so important to you?”

Apparently this was some sort of Q&A session. I was glad the ride to Marseille wouldn’t take long. “I was too tired. My fingers were too stiff, which doesn’t make them much good for playing the piano,” I explained, then changed the topic. “Enough questions for today. Once we get to Marseille, let’s find a Laundromat. All my clothes are dirty.”

“Well, you’ll just have to walk around naked,” he whispered and brushed my cheek with the back of his hand.

I felt excitement rush through my veins and a fluttering set up in my stomach. “Yeah, I can see you would like that.” I grinned.

Samuel nodded, beaming.

“Guys . . .” I groaned, rolling my eyes and sitting back. I wanted a quick snooze before we arrived in Marseille. As sleep descended, I realized happiness had seeped into every cell of my body.

“We’re almost there,” he whispered into my ear. Goose bumps covered my skin. I smiled and opened my eyes. Samuel’s face was only a few inches above mine. I felt his warm breath. Boldly and with my heart pounding, I rose slightly to place a soft kiss on his cheek. He looked at me joyfully, grabbed my backpack, and reached out his hand. I didn’t flinch as I took it.

I insisted on doing our laundry before checking in at the hotel. I didn’t want the concierge to take care of it, because it would mean an extra expense. Samuel had talked me out of a hostel once again. He didn’t have to try too hard this time.

“I didn’t know I’d brought these sexy underpants.” Samuel was unloading his washing machine, and I was busy emptying my own. When I finished, I turned around and saw him posing with my red lace panties held up against him. Oh my god! I wanted to disappear from the face of the earth.

“Seems like these belong to you,” he laughed. I blushed. My face was as red as the panties that Samuel now twirled above his head. I began to sweat. The other people in the Laundromat looked over at us.

“Give them to me,” I hissed, only half amused. He grinned. Desperately, I tried to grab the hand that held the bits of lace. I leaned against his chest and felt every muscle contract under my touch. Samuel’s heart beat faster and so did mine. I stood on tiptoe, but he was simply too tall for me to grab my underwear. He raised his arm higher, and his laughter grew.

“Samuel, please,” I implored. I was thankful the other people had become preoccupied with their own business again. I begged him again, then gave up. I lowered myself to my heels, crossed my arms over my chest, and just stared from under lowered brows at him. He looked so ridiculous that when he burst into song, I couldn’t help but laugh at his pathetic performance. Tears of amusement rolled down my cheeks.

My cell phone interrupted our fun. I took it out of my skirt pocket, looked at the display, and declined the call. Seconds later, it sounded again, and again, I declined. When it went off a third time, I switched the setting to vibrate and shoved the phone back in my pocket.

“You sure you don’t want to answer that?” Samuel asked.

I bit my lip. “I’d prefer not to.”