by Strauss, Lee
Katja pinched her eyes shut and turned away. She wished she hadn’t gone out that night. If it hadn’t been for Irma…. but no, she couldn’t blame her. She could only blame her own weakness. She was no better than any of those girls on the street.
She sighed. “What do you want from me?”
He inched closer. “I want you to know how valuable you are.” He slid to the floor in front of her, forcing her to look at him. “Your body, your mind, your spirit. You are important, all of you, and… priceless. Don’t sell yourself short, Katja. There’s not enough money in the world that could buy you. Only love.”
Her throat grew so dry, she could barely swallow. Where was this coming from? Why did he even care about her at all?
Micah sat back on the sofa beside her, so close they were touching. His legs pressed against hers. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her gently on the forehead.
It was the first time he’d shown her any kind of physical affection. The first time his lips touched her skin. She relished the pleasure it brought her.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s watch this movie.”
Katja bit her lip, fighting against the electricity his closeness had triggered. “I don’t think we should.” It came out in a husky moan. She winced.
Micah’s eyebrows jumped. “We don’t want to watch these two beautiful people fall in love?”
“No,” Katja said adamantly. If she watched Edward and Vivian go at it on screen there’d be no stopping her from attacking Micah right there on the sofa. He’d warmed up to her, but he wasn’t ready for that.
“There’s another one on, where people shoot aliens and drive space ships,” she said, reaching for the remote.
“Ah, I agree. Probably a better choice.” Micah grinned. “For tonight, anyway.”
When Katja started working at the café, Renata had requested she wear black dress pants and a white shirt under the coffee shop-issued apron, and she’d found just what she needed at the second hand shop. She discovered, of course, that she needed more than one set, so had been back since to buy more. She selected a clean set, got dressed and ready and now found that she still had an hour to burn before her shift began.
Katja collected her guitar, warmed up her fingers on a blues scale, then opened up her notebook. An idea had been percolating, and she scribbled out some lyrics.
It’s all in how you look at it,
she said
As if there were a hundred ways to walk a high wire
Go on and try to let it go
Close your eyes and
Let your heart rule your head sometimes
How deep can you feel?
Yes, this was about Micah. All her lyric ideas were about Micah these days. And her mass of mixed-up emotions concerning him. Why did she steer him away last night? He wanted to watch a sappy romance with her, and she pushed for the dry, science-fiction flick. Did she want to be more than friends with Micah or not? She accused him of holding back, but she was equally to blame.
Deep down she knew the truth. She wasn’t worthy of him. He might not know it yet, but he’d figure it out one day, and then he’d send her packing. For sure. A flare of anguish shot through her being at that thought. How would she cope with the real thing, when the imagined scenario caused so much pain?
She jotted down a few more lines and worked on some new melodies. Time passed quickly, and before she knew it, an hour was up already. She tossed her notepad aside, grabbed what she needed for work and rushed to get out the door.
Living around the corner from her workplace, Katja thought, should make it easier to get there on time, but she found it almost made it worse. The problem was the false sense that she could get there in thirty seconds, when you really need five full minutes.
She dashed down the stairs, pushed through the door to the outside and raced to the corner. She panicked a little when the little man light flashed red indicating she had to wait at the intersection, but fortunately he turned green shortly after. Katja didn’t think Renata would be mad if she were a few seconds late, but she had been kind enough to give Katja a chance at this job, and she didn’t want to appear ungrateful or like she took it for granted.
“Hello, Katja!” Renata said, greeting her when she blew in.
“Hi, Renata. I hope I’m not late.”
Renata glanced up at the big clock on the wall. The minute hand was one minute past the hour. She grinned. “I bet you were lost in a new song.”
Katja put her apron on. “I was. How did you know?”
Renata waved a hand. “My son’s an artist. I’m aware of how the creative mind works. Or doesn’t work.”
Katja cleaned the coffee machine, wiped down tables after patrons left and tidied up the displays. When the mid-afternoon rush began she helped Renata take orders, making gourmet drinks and providing sweet treats before exchanging cash. Occasionally, customers came in just wanting a selection of buns or a loaf of bread. Katja would put on her plastic gloves to remove them from the display and place them into paper takeaway bags.
A guy with a boyish face and neatly parted hair arrived during a lull. “Hello,” he said. “You must be Katja. My mother speaks very highly of you.”
His mother? “Oh, you must be Renata’s son,” she said, smiling.
He smiled back and held out a hand. “I’m Jonas.” Katja shook his hand, noticing the splattering of paint speckles on his arm. This was the artist.
Renata called his name when she spotted him, and he made his way around the counter to the back of the store. Katja watched as mother and son gave each other an affectionate embrace.
Jonas told Renata about an art fair he was invited to show at. Renata beamed and gave him another hug. Something twisted in Katja’s heart as she watched. Renata was a good mother. How different Katja’s life would be if her own mother had been as aware of her as Renata was of her children. If only her own mother had offered her support as she followed her dreams.
“Katja.”
Katja snapped out of her reverie when Renata called her. “Yes?”
“Jonas is exhibiting his art at a festival here in Neustadt next month,” she boasted.
“That’s great,” Katja offered sincerely. She understood how hard it was to make it as an artist, no matter the art form.
“Katja’s an artist, too,” Renata said to her son. “She’s very good.” Katja felt herself blush. So that was what it would feel like to have a parent who was proud of you.
“And she’s a great singer-songwriter, too,” Renata went on.
“Renata, please.”
“No, it’s true.”
“Actually,” Jonas started, “the organizer is looking for someone to play acoustic music in the background. You play guitar, right?”
Katja nodded.
“I could give you his contact info if you like.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what the pay’s like…”
“Anything would be great.”
Jonas took a napkin and jotted down the information. Katja slipped it into her pocket. “Thanks.” Another paying gig, no matter how small, or how far in the background she’d be, was great.
Jonas said goodbye and waved as he left. Renata called out, Mach’s gut, Schatz! Take care, treasure, not caring who heard. Jonas waved.
Katja was happy that Renata was obviously so close to her son, but she couldn’t help feeling a sense of loss for herself. This was what she’d missed out on.
Thankfully, the shop got busy again, forcing Katja to push the lingering sadness away. The line was suddenly long, and she just focused on each customer as they reached the counter.
“May I help you?” she offered the next man without looking first. When she glanced up she gasped at the handsome, familiar face. “Micah? What are you doing here?”
His eyes twinkled. “I think I’m getting a coffee.”
Katja tilted her head. “You have a perfectly good coffee maker at home.”
Katja gaped. Was Micah Sturm flirting with her? “Well, in that case, allow me.”
As quickly as the crowd had assembled, it disappeared, leaving Katja alone with Micah at the counter and Renata hovering behind. She approached with a friendly grin.
“Oh,” Katja said, seeing her. “This is my friend and my boss, Frau Renata Beck. And this is…” She opted for no description. “…Micah.”
“Nice to meet you,” Micah said, reaching to shake Renata’s hand.
“Likewise.” Renata let her eyebrows jump when Micah had looked away, indicating to Katja that she approved. She smirked and left to busy herself at the back.
Katja resumed with Micah’s order, thankful that Renata hadn’t said anything to embarrass her. “Will that be to stay or to go?”
“Sadly, I must get back to work, so please make it to go.”
Katja made his coffee and poured it into a takeaway cup. She used the tongs to place the crème-filled, chocolate-glazed donut in a small paper bag.
“So, I’m curious,” she said as she waited for him to dig the proper change out of his suit pocket. “I happen to know they have coffee shops and bakeries in the Altstadt. This is quite a departure from your daily routine. Why did you go so far out of your way?”
He handed her the money, and he didn’t pull his hand away when their fingers touched. “I would think that would be obvious.” He raised his coffee cup to her before turning to leave. “See you later.”
Obvious? Not really. Katja was stunned. Had Micah traipsed all the way across town just to see her? It didn’t make sense, especially since they saw each other every single evening. She stared at his back as he left the store, worrying the ring in her lip.
“So, is that your boyfriend?” Renata’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
She arched an eyebrow at her boss. “I’m not sure.”
Katja sniffed and moaned as she stirred awake the next morning. Her body was stiff and she ached all over. She could barely lift herself out of bed to use the bathroom. Her head was burning up. She splashed cold water on her face, then promptly vomited in the toilet.
She went back to her place on the sofa bed with a bucket and a cold cloth and passed out.
She stands on an older, wooden bridge that crosses a raging waterfall. The bridge is shifting and cracking. She has to get off or she will fall and surely die, but her legs won’t move! She opens her mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.
Micah’s there now. Beautiful, brave Micah. He sees she’s in danger and he runs to save her. But no, the bridge is falling. If he reaches for her he’ll fall, too. She shouts,“No!”
Katja’s eyes sprung open as she called out.
“Shh,” a voice said.
She collapsed to her bed and calmed her breathing, vaguely aware of someone helping her, holding her head up so she could sip water, wiping her brow. She was in and out. No more dreams. Just blackness.
Katja finally woke to the early morning light, but it came in from the wrong direction. She stirred feeling discombobulated. This wasn’t her bed. These weren’t her sheets.
Her eyes popped open.
This was Micah’s room. His bed. Her eyes scanned the surface for another form, but she was there alone.
So, where was Micah?
She slipped out from beneath the sheets, waiting a moment for the dizziness to pass, then padded softly to the living room. He was sleeping on her spot on the sofa bed. She was relieved to find him, but confused.
Why had they switched places?
His eyes opened and focused on her. “Feeling better?”
“Yes. I guess so. What happened? Why are you sleeping there?”
Micah pushed himself up into a sitting position, the sheet falling to his waist, exposing his toned, bare chest. Katja glanced away.
“You came down with a serious flu. You were out for two days. The doctor came by and helped me move you. He said if you weren’t doing better by today to take you to the hospital.”
Two days?
Micah slipped a T-shirt over his head and tugged it down. “I’m relieved you’re feeling better.”
“Me, too,” Katja said, though her legs felt shaky. She didn’t smell great, either. “I’m going to have a shower.”
She let the hot water pour on her head and scrubbed off the sweat and sickness. She didn’t remember getting into Micah’s bed. He must’ve carried her.
She dressed in jeans and a light blouse. They felt looser. She’d lost weight.
“Would you like coffee?” Micah said when she walked out. “Breakfast? Do you feel like eating?”
She combed her fingers through her damp hair. “Actually, I’m starving.”
He closed the distance between them and stroked her face. “You scared me.”
His words surprised her, and she didn’t know what to say. He stepped away and smiled. “One coffee and breakfast platter coming up!”
She picked at the soft-boiled eggs and toast Micah presented, doing her best to prove she was on the mend. They chuckled over breakfast, gossiping about the other tenants in the building. Katja studied him as he ate. He’d changed since the “ceremony.” His countenance was lighter. He seemed happier.
Was he happy?
“I dreamed about you this morning,” she said.
He winked. “A make-out dream?”
“No!” She clasped a hand over her mouth to hide a smile birthed from embarrassment. She couldn’t believe he’d said that. “It was actually a scary dream. You were in danger.”
His expression grew serious. “How so?”
“You were trying to save me, and in doing so, you were about to lose your own life.”
He didn’t respond. The only noise in the room she could hear was the pounding of her heart. “Are you trying to save me, Micah?”
He considered her. “Do you need saving?”
She twisted her lips to the side, then said, “Maybe, but don’t deflect.”
“You think I’m helping you to atone for my guilt about losing Greta.”
Katja leaned back and folded her arms over her chest. “The thought has crossed my mind.”
Micah mimicked her, crossing his arms and leaning back as well. “I’m not. And I’m not going to apologize for trying to save you, if or when you need saving.”
Katja almost said she didn’t need saving. But Micah had saved her the night he picked her up off the streets. And he did just take care of her when she was so sick she didn’t even know she’d been sleeping in his bed.
Then Micah smiled. “Well, I think we’re both safe enough for today. The sun is shining. Do you feel up for a walk along the river?”
Katja softened her posture. A walk would be nice.
She used the bathroom and brushed her teeth. Her hair was still a little damp, one of the hazards of having so much thick hair. She spent a few minutes with the blow dryer until her locks were thoroughly dry, then she pulled it all back into a high ponytail. She chose a light silk scarf to match her blouse and donned a summer sweater while waiting for Micah to take his turn in the bathroom.
He hung a hoodie over his shoulder then opened the door allowing Katja to leave first, and then he locked the door behind them. He followed her down the stairs. She held the rail still feeling a little weak.
“Are you okay?” Micah asked, noticing. “We don’t have to go out if you’re not up to it.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “I want to go.”
Once outside, Micah surprised her by wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned in grateful that he was there to hold her up. She reached up to her shoulder and clasped his hand, squeezing gently, happy they were growing more comfortable with each other.
They found an empty bench and sat facing the sun. Micah kept his arm around Katja as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He stu
died her profile like she was a painting, and her heart skipped a beat. She melted under the gaze of his dark eyes. He leaned over to kiss her forehead and paused. Katja tilted her chin up. Micah was looking at her lips. She parted them.
“I think it’s time you kissed me,” she said. “Kissed me good.”
Micah grinned crookedly. “I think you’re right.”
He cupped her face, and she ran her fingers through his dark curls. His lips landed on hers, taking her breath away. This was it. They were together.
Finally, Katja thought.
They kissed slowly, and Katja lingered on every moment. She wanted to memorize the taste of his lips, the feel of them on hers, soft and sensuous. The way he trailed kisses along her jaw, to the base of her neck and back again. She closed her eyes and felt light as a feather, like she was floating away, without a single care. Safe and adored. She couldn’t remember being happier than she was in this moment, kissing Micah on a park bench in the sun.
They walked languidly over the blackened, stone bridge to the old town in search of a place to eat lunch. The sky was cerulean blue, and the rippling water of the Elbe sparkled in the sun. Katja felt like the world was crisp, distinctive and spectacularly beautiful. They held hands over the table at an outdoor restaurant and ordered braised chicken salads with lemon dressing and sour dough buns. The flavors were exquisite and her taste buds delighted in the meal. She couldn’t believe how this day had become so amazing, and her gaze washed over Micah’s face as they ate and conversed.
Every subject was so much more tantalizing: music, books, movies, current events, technology, travel dreams.
Afterward, they visited the art museum, window shopped at the gift shops and watched actors in front of the arches who dressed like statues and stood stiff and unblinking. They stopped at the neighborhood grocery store to pick up supplies for the meal they planned to make together later that evening, like a real couple.
Katja almost burst at the seams with happiness. This was the perfect day. Maybe the best day of her whole life.
