Chapter 1
Elina
The cool morning breeze makes my eyes sting. I bury my chin in my scarf and blink away the tears. With my right hand tightly clutching one of my two suitcases, I look around.
They should have been here by now.
Hundreds of people stream past me like remote-controlled robots, sipping from their to-go coffee cups in the light of the April sun, yet I can't spot them anywhere. My gaze falls upon a gray-haired man in a suit. He's surely on his way to the city center. He's a banker or perhaps a lawyer. In any case, he's important. I can tell by his confident demeanor. In my imagination, his colleagues look up to him, and his parents are proud of what he has achieved. He lives with his little picture-perfect family in a suburban neighborhood in Vienna. Every day, he takes the train to the main station and then strides toward the subway with his calfskin briefcase and matching designer shoes.
I blink some more. If they don't show up soon, the wind will ruin my makeup. A strand of hair also escapes the bun at the nape of my neck. I tuck it behind my ear and glance at my phone. It's just past seven o'clock.
No message, no call.
They probably won't come.
Disheartened, I hoist up the travel bags and position one on each shoulder. The three pigeons peacefully pecking at breadcrumbs next to me moments ago retreat suspiciously. With a rolling suitcase in each hand, I turn toward the entrance of Vienna's main train station.
Even before reaching the bustling hall, my arms begin to ache. Not even the cozy smell of fresh bread that envelops me upon entering can make up for it. It's so warm, I start sweating under my spring jacket. Panting, I cross the station hall and head for the elevator to my platform.
I drag myself and my luggage inside and sink down onto one of the suitcases.
When something feels so wrong, it can't be right.
Leaving Vienna is a mistake. I should stay here.
The ringtone of my mobile phone demands my attention. The display lights up with a photo of my mother. She gazes at me with a warm expression, but the small lines around her mouth turn downward.
The elevator starts moving. I answer the call although I can already guess why she's reaching out. "Hey. Let me guess..."
"Elina, we won't make it." She sounds so exhausted as if she, too, has packed her entire household into suitcases that she now has to drag behind her. If you think about it, she's been doing just that for years. Except it's not her stuff she burdens herself with. It's my brother's, which she carries for him like a kind-hearted pack mule.
"How bad is it?" I ask, trying to avoid uttering the words life or death. I observe the bustling activity atthe newsstand through the glass wall of the elevator cabin with growing anxiety.
Her tortured sobbing gives me a stomachache. "We're trying to get Aaron out on bail," she says, her voice strained.
"Oh man. What..." I search for the right words as the elevator climbs higher. The world of the station shrinks below me.
"We'll handle it. For his sake," she replies curtly, then I hear someone calling in the background. "I have to go. They need me."
The air stands still in here, yet my eyes burn.I need you just as much, I want to retort. "Of course," I say instead, biting my lip until it hurts. She's already going through a lot, and I don't want to burden her with guilt.
"Have a safe journey. We'll come to visit you soon," my mother says, her voice already distant. In her thoughts, she's probably already with her other child.
"Of course," I repeat and put the phone down. She won't say anything more, and I don't want to hear the constant beeping on the line when she ends the call. So I'm the first to press the red button on the display, which gradually blurs before my eyes with each passing second.
This is how it will go. Completely alone, I will leave my home in a few minutes.
As if I were invisible. Like a ghost whose soul means nothing to anyone.
An electronic voice announces that I have reached my platform. The elevator doors slide apart, and where there was just oppressive silence, life now enters. Children laugh, a group of seniors with old-fashionedbackpacks and walking sticks discuss the notices on the bulletin board, and a train rattles in on the adjacent platform. The gust of wind it creates brings a mixture of cigarette smoke, perfume, and croissants to my nose. Dejected, I grab my luggage and leave the elevator, along with the memory of the phone call from my mother.
Even though my life is far from glorious, she will be proud of me one day. So much so that she will momentarily forget how difficult things are with Aaron. With tears of joy in her eyes, she will wrap her arms around me.That's my daughter, she will whisper, her voice choked with emotion. And then she will tell me how much she loves me.
With this image in my mind, it becomes easier to smile. Even the cold breeze can't touch me anymore.
As soon as I step onto the paved platform, I spot a lime-green balloon the size of a gymnastics ball dancing in the wind against the blue sky at the end of the platform. A blond woman who bears a striking resemblance to me smiles at me from its front side. On the back, there's a message.
The world is full of wonders. We just have to be willing to see them.
