EVERYTHING’S NOT LOST
Chapter Ten
I walked down the first-class
corridor in a complete daze. Did I dream that or did what just happen—actually
happen? I slapped my palm to my forehead…Yes, it did happen! My mother, if she
had a grave, she would be rolling in it—if she only knew. Harold Lowe had
managed to drag me up through the dining hall and into the first-class, without
being caught by Bruce Ismay over broken china and we…kissed. I don’t know
anything about this man, but I already want to kiss him again! I think I just
threw being a lady out the window.
I need to focus. What room do I
belong in, again? A…A…A32. Oh, that’s it! I glanced to the door to my left.
A35. I went too far. I turned, and checking each door, I finally found where
I’m supposed to be. I turned the doorknob, expecting it to be locked, but was
pleasantly surprised. It opened with ease. My father must still be up.
I opened the door as quietly as I
could, without barely making a sound—not from the door and I tiptoed on my
shoes so they wouldn’t click. As I walked in, I realized how dark it was. My
father must be asleep. It’s either that or he’s in his study. Let’s hope he’s
asleep. I shut the door silently, leaning against it.
Sighing, I began to laugh. I
can’t believe tonight! It’s all too unbelievable to even be true—I suppose
it’ll just stay between us, and as awkward as it should seem, it doesn’t feel
awkward. Not to me. To Harry, it may be extremely awkward, but I personally
think it was endearing. I brushed my hair out of my eyes as I continued to
giggle.
No more tea at night for me! That’s
decided—he must’ve put something in it, such as liquor, because I feel so
loopy, so lopsided. I have no idea of what I’m doing, laughing in a dark
sitting room. Well, it was dark—until the lights flickered on.
"Antoinette." My
father. He looks just as awake as he had been at dinner. I couldn’t control my
laughter!
"Hi, Daddy," I said,
trying to control my case of the giggles. He smiled at me.
"What’s so funny?"
"Oh, nothing." I took a
step away from the door I was using as my wall and took off my gloves, throwing
them onto the mantle.
"You seem to be in a very
bubbly mood," he noted aloud curiously. He must think something had to
have happened—and he is right, but I can’t actually tell him that.
"The cold can do
wonders," I responded casually. "Well…" I gave him a quick kiss
on the cheek. "I’m off to bed." I began for my bedroom when my father
took my wrist.
"Don’t you want me to call
for Mary?" I giggled.
"Mary—what for?"
"To help you out of that
dress." He smiled, stifling a chuckle. "Did you want to sleep in that
all night? You’ll have bead imprints all over you!"
"Oh, Mary, right…" He
raised an eyebrow at me. "Mary, you—you, uh, you should call her." He
nodded, looking somewhat confused.
"Alright." I began to
fiddle with my hair, but I can barely reach my arms over my head because of the
corset. I went to the mantle and using the mirror as my guide, I attempted in
vain to take out the various bobby pins that were holding my remaining hair in
place. Most of it had fallen out of its’ do, even with the bobby pins, from the
Ismay chase. Oh, excuse me: the Ismay and Ismay’s moustache chase. I laughed at
that.
"Ann…" Ismay! I hope he
never finds out it was Harry and I who broke the White Star Line property. He
already gawks at me enough, Ismay—and he is creepy, with a really creepy grin.
Just the thought! "Antoinette?" I turned around, hearing my father’s
voice. Is he talking? I’m not even listening. Then again, that’s not all that
surprising. "You’re humming."
"What?" I am not
humming.
"You’re humming," he repeated.
I rolled my eyes at his reflection in the mirror above the mantle.
"I am not." I almost
began to hum again, but I stopped myself. I am humming! I’m acting like a
complete moron. What am I doing?
"You were," my father
corrected.
"Sure I was," I replied
with a short laugh. I must’ve been humming, after all. I don’t recall
humming—but my father wouldn’t lie to me about something as silly as that.
"You haven’t hummed that
tune in months." I glanced over my shoulder at him before returning back
to my reflection.
"What tune?"
"I can’t remember the name
of it. You always hum it when you’re happy. I’m not sure why…" Oh, that
tune! Yes, that tune, the same song my mother said was completely inappropriate
for me to be humming to. "Women who hum are not ladies, Antoinette,"
my mother would say as she took her short sips of tea. "You shouldn’t be
humming at home or anywhere else." I suppose it’s just a habit I have
re-inherited. But, I suppose I can blame my mother for me actually learning the
song to begin with. I had to deal with it for months when I was learning piano
and it just stuck.
"The song that I used to
play on the piano?" The only song I could play on the piano is more like
it. He nodded.
"That one." He smiled
at me, still puzzled. "Antoinette, is there something wrong, honey?"
I whirled around. He knows!
"Why, why would there be
anything wrong?" I asked, trying not to sound as nervous as I actually
was.
"You’re acting
peculiar…"
"Daddy," I cut him off,
"there’s nothing wrong." I think something’s right for a change.
"Did you call for Mary?" I asked, attempting to change the subject.
"What?" He paused.
"Oh, Mary. Yes, I’ll go call for her." He turned on his heel, but
stopped. "We’re not done discussing this." I managed a laugh.
"Dad." I never call him
Dad. If this doesn’t make him strap me down into a chair and somehow pull the
information out of me, nothing will. "I’m fine." It’s easier to lie
at this point. I may just be giddy, this whole stupid event tonight—I may have
blown it completely out of proportion, but it was fun. I haven’t laughed that
sincerely since…since last night, when I was with Harry again. Interesting.
Sure, it makes no sense, but it’s got to. If not now, it has to make some
sense…eventually.
"Mary said she’d be a few
minutes," my father said, stepping back into the sitting room. I hadn’t
even realized he had left and already come back. I’m losing it. I was too
wrapped up in my own thoughts to even know what’s going on around me. I turned
to my father, with the few bobby pins I could get out of my hair in my hand.
"That’s fine. Well, I’ll be
in my room…" I gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Ann, I—"
"Can’t I be happy for one
moment without you questioning it?" I asked, breaking a smile. He smiled,
gently touching my cheek.
"It’s not that. I love
seeing you smile, I really do. I haven’t seen you like this for months. Try to
stay like this, would you? I know it would make both your mother—and me, very
happy." I want to tell him it’s temporary, but I feel as if I’m floating
on air as it is. I’m not in the mood to break anyone’s spirits.
"Especially me."
"I can try," I said in
all sincerity.
"That’s all I ask." He
sighed. "Good-night, Antoinette."
"Night, Daddy." I
brushed past him and opening the door to my bedroom, I picked up my dress’s
train and walked in, shutting the door behind me. I leaned against the door,
like I had done when I first made it back to my suite, but—Oh! I sighed
happily, slowly but surely sliding down to the carpeted floor.
Tonight was wonderful. I am
completely giddy about it! I know I’m probably overly happy about it, but
Harold Lowe seems to be wonderful. I need to learn more about him, I know, but
he seems so—perfect. It seems as if I’m not even worthy of him. He does seem to
enjoy my company, but at this point, I’m not sure of anything.
I laughed to myself again,
realizing how childish I was being. I’m acting like a little girl who just got
a new dollhouse for no apparent reason! But, if this said dollhouse was Harold
Lowe, maybe any other girl in my shoes would be acting even more loopy. Now, I
can’t be sure if I’m infatuated or…of if I’m actually falling for someone like
Harold Lowe.