Drawn to Life (22 page)

Chapter 54

Samuel—A Goddamn Miserable Year

Cemetery, August 2013

The past year had been the most miserable of my life. I’d never suffered so much. I’d never seen so much suffering.

I never left Graz. How could I? I couldn’t abandon Mia’s family, so we all endured the months together. Mia was a part of us. She was a part of me. Without her, I wasn’t whole anymore.

Nobody had been prepared for this situation. Nobody had imagined it would happen. Nobody, except Mia . . .

Mia had known all along. She’d seen it coming, but she’d run away, deluding herself into believing she was taking her therapist’s advice. But she’d never really wanted to leave her loved ones behind. Too, she’d always been afraid to venture out from her sheltered world. Until she found something else to be even more afraid of—that she would have to bear the same pain she’d already experienced, all over again, alone. So she’d run.

Mia hadn’t told a soul about the new diagnosis. She’d allowed everyone to believe she was doing fine. Her family had believed it. I’d believed it. She’d seemed happy. Maybe this was why: she’d wanted to feel alive one last time, overcome her fears, and enjoy each moment. And she had, for three weeks, and I’d been privileged to be a part of that.

But as much as I loved her, I was also angry at her. She’d made me believe there’d be a happy ending. I resented that she’d drawn me into this situation without giving me a hint of what I was up against. Then again, when we’d first met, I’d not told her about my mother, either.

Oh, damn it . . . I should have figured it out. There were fragments of time—sentences, a touch, expressions—that had hinted at the truth. I just hadn’t understood their full meaning.

The pain of remembering tore me apart. Then I began blaming myself. Why had I not picked up on such hints? But how could I? Especially at the beginning, I didn’t really know her that well. Even her parents hadn’t sensed anything. Mia had hid her new turmoil well.

That we hadn’t grasped the truth wasn’t anyone’s fault. Mia had planned for us not to. The only thing she hadn’t planned was to involve another person. Me . . .

It was difficult to see her in the hospital, lying there, chained to the respiratory machine. I could hardly bear it. My sweetie was so helpless. I just hoped she wasn’t in pain.

Her condition was critical. The removal of the new tumor was successful, but after that, she hadn’t recovered, and her condition had worsened. She was put in an induced coma. Viruses plagued her. We watched helplessly as she grew weaker and weaker each day. The doctors prepared her family and me for the worst.

Her mother and I spent whole days at her bedside. Sometimes we cried together, and other times we just sat in a silence, broken only by the wheezing of the machines that were keeping her alive.

“Samuel, was she happy?” Irene asked me one afternoon. I took my eyes off Mia. “Was she happy?” Irene repeated.

I sucked in a breath. “Yes, she was happy,” I said and smiled, remembering. “She laughed a lot. She enjoyed everything we did. She basked in the sunshine. She heard every sound around us. She seemed at peace.”

A sad smile hovered over Irene’s face. Tears filled her eyes. “At least it’s good to know she was granted that joy. Thank you for making it possible.” Irene hugged me a long time.

A year had passed. I was so glad to know Mia’s family, to have their support and give them mine. This was what made a family, and I was a part of theirs now.

I stood outside the cemetery in London. It had been almost exactly a year since I’d visited my mother’s grave that first time. I remembered what a tremendously difficult journey it had been to get here. Guilt and remorse still haunted me. Would I feel differently had I known my mother better? Or would I feel the same? I could no longer hold back my tears and searched for a tissue in the pocket of my leather coat. I found one, but I also found something else. A piece of paper. The upper edge was ruffled. It looked as if it had been torn hastily from a notebook. It was a letter from Mia.

Samuel,

When you read this, I will be gone.

Maybe you can imagine where I am. Maybe you knew all along what I was up to.
I wanted to leave.
I ran away from reality. But I always knew reality would catch up with me sooner or later. Sooner, I was afraid. And then our fight . . . On one hand, I’m glad you want to continue by yourself. You have touched my life. Too much. I came to like you. Too much. It became more.
I fell in love
. That would make everything even more difficult. I’d almost changed my plans.
For someone I don’t even know very well.
For you!
You have changed my life.
You’ve almost become my life . . . But I did not want to drag you into this. I didn’t want to hurt anybody. All I wanted was to live again for a short while, before everything was over.

It was the most beautiful ending I could have asked for.

Thank you!

With love,

Mia

I hadn’t worn this coat since that long-ago night in Paris. She must have written the letter the same evening I’d written mine to her.

I felt the touch of her hand on my shoulder.

“What are you reading?” she asked.

I stood and hugged her. “I’m so glad you followed me to London.” I held her face between my hands and kissed her forehead. I looked into her wonderful, shining emerald eyes. “I’m so grateful you’re right here with me.”

Mia smiled and gave me a kiss. “I’ll always support you as best as I can. I will always be at your side. I will always come with you to your mother’s grave.” She kissed me again. “You’re the reason I fought my way back. Without you, I wouldn’t be here anymore. Thank you.”

Gently, I stroked her short hair. She didn’t wear a hat anymore. She accepted that there were days when she didn’t feel well, and she was no longer ashamed of herself. She had outgrown her fears this past year and grown even stronger as a person. I’d always believed she could reach any goal she set for herself. And she had. She’d battled and defeated cancer not only once but twice.

Her hospital stay had seemed to last forever. They’d kept her in an induced coma for three weeks. After they woke her, she’d been tormented by pain. It had been unbearable, watching her suffer so much. But she was tough. She’d wanted to make it. She’d gritted her teeth, taken each blow and each pain in stride. Her family and I had her back. The objective was clear: Mia wanted to continue her—our—trip where it had ended a year ago.

I was so proud of her. I’d never let her go.

Chapter 55

Mia—A New Life

London, August 2013

Samuel held me in his arms. He’d never leave. He’d stuck by me throughout the past year. I loved him for that.

After I read his farewell letter in Paris, I’d been so very angry. Angry . . . sad . . . disappointed. Running away wasn’t him. He was courageous—I was the one who ran. My letter . . .

Actually, I’d wanted to break up. For hours, I’d pondered whether continuing with him was the right thing to do. Finally, I gave into my heart and decided I wanted to stay with him. I couldn’t wait to tell him everything. Then I fell asleep . . . and when I woke, he was gone. And with him, the letter I’d written.

I’d sat all day in the same spot in the hotel room, trying to figure out why he felt he had to go alone. Perhaps because he was stubborn, like me. After all, I’d wanted exactly the same thing—to be alone while I took charge of my own life. At least that’s what I’d made myself believe.

Had I been mad at him? Of course! He’d left without talking things through with me. I’d opened up to him and confided almost every detail of my ordeal. He knew how much I’d suffered when Christoph and Julia betrayed me, so at first I thought he was no better than them. Then I realized he was just stubborn. From the beginning, his goal had been to visit his mother’s grave. Alone. Then I’d appeared, completely not according to his plan, and he wanted to finish alone what he’d started out to do.

I’d been unable to stay mad at him for long. I understood him far too well. So I began searching for him and figured out he was going to his mother’s grave and where it was. I knew he needed my support. By then I’d realized we didn’t need to manage everything by ourselves. The situation would be easier with a friend by his side.

After I’d found him, after we’d walked into the cemetery and I’d watched him kneel beside his mother’s grave, devastated, I realized I couldn’t inflict this same pain on my family. Not after Samuel had shown me how to live. How to love.

My decision had been clear. I wanted to go home. Tell them everything. And live. But things had gone downhill too fast, before I could tell them anything.

For a while after I’d woke from my coma, I didn’t remember that day in London. In fact, I didn’t remember much of the three weeks traveling across Europe. I remembered only the painful weeks after the latest operation. My worst fears came true: chemotherapy. Nausea and vomiting. No appetite. Hair loss.

The difference was that once I did remember, I really wanted to survive. I had a goal. I had support. I had Samuel . . .

I was happy. I’d received another chance. The path ahead wasn’t an easy one, but my future was well worth fighting for, no matter how difficult the battle. As long as I remembered to
breathe
and to
live.

Samuel kissed my forehead and smiled at me. “What were you thinking?”

I grinned and snuggled up against him. Inhaled his fresh smell, which I’d grown to love. “I was thinking of everything that happened during the past year. I am so happy, Samuel. I’m so grateful you were—are—at my side. I fought for us and always will.”

Softly, he caressed my cheek. “Anytime, sweetie. And I will
always
be here for you.”

He lowered his head and kissed me. Wearing that sweet smile of his, he whispered, “I love you, Mia. I live through you.”

Those words made me fight every new day. “I love you, Samuel. I live through you.”

About the Author

Elisabeth Wagner lives with her husband and two children in eastern Austria. She published her first book,
Grenzenlos
, in Germany.
Drawn to Life
is her second novel. For more information, visit her at
www.elisabethwagner.at
.

About the Translator

Julia Knobloch is a translator, writer, and producer. She moved to Brooklyn four years ago and translates fiction and nonfiction for AmazonCrossing and individual clients, from German to English and from English, Spanish, French and Portuguese to German. Julia’s TV documentaries on scientific exploration, adventure expeditions, and WWII history have aired on the National Geographic Channel, Discovery Channel, ABC, and German public broadcasting. Her writing has appeared in major German and Argentine newspapers and magazines and online with Open Democracy and The Brooklyn Rail.