EVERYTHING’S NOT LOST
Chapter Two
"Ann, I don’t know why
you’re so melancholy." I’ve been sitting on the couch, refusing to look
around our suite on my father’s ship, for what feels like minutes—In reality,
it’s been hours. It’s only been hours since everyone with a ticket for the RMS
Titanic, including my father and I had boarded, and the sun was beginning to
set—making everything on the deck of the ship glimmer. It was strange looking,
I can’t really describe it. I know how beautiful it actually is, but I can’t
even bring myself to even walk about. I just want to lock myself in my bedroom
until we dock in America.
I could hear the shuffling of
trunks around us, in the rooms on either side of our suite, and men in uniforms
were still bringing our own things into our room. "Antoinette." I didn’t
answer my father. I know I should. It’s usually serious when he calls me by my
full name—after all, it was the name he chose for me. My father sat down beside
me, all dressed up for dinner, wrapping an arm around me. "You can tell
me," he gently reassured me. I stood up, walking towards the fireplace,
making sure I was facing away from him.
"It’s nothing," I lied.
"Antoinette, we both know
that’s a lie." He stood up, his reflection in the mirror above the
fireplace coming towards me. "I don’t understand what’s bothering
you." I turned to face him. Even if I knew what was wrong, I wouldn’t
confess my sins to my father. Doesn’t he already have enough on his plate? In
reality, I’m not sure what’s been making me feel so down lately.
"It’s nothing." He
raised an eyebrow at me skeptically. "Really."
"Do you miss your
mother?" he asked me, grasping at straws. I shook my head. She’s too
proper to deal with for more than a few hours on a good day. "I knew she
should’ve come along—"
"She didn’t have to come,
Daddy. She likes England."
"I know she does. Maybe a
change of scenery would do her some good." He paused. "I thought
perhaps it might do some good for you, too, darling." I managed a nod.
"Antoinette, just talk to me."
"There’s nothing to talk
about."
"You’ve retreated into
yourself." I glanced up from the mantle to his reflection in the mirror,
unsure of what to make of that. I suppose I have retreated into myself. I guess
we have my mother to blame for that. She always would tell me I talk too much,
that I was too opinionated, too giggly, to ever meet a suitable husband.
"You have to live up to your
name, Antoinette," she’d always say to me. I was never good enough to be a
lady, according to my mother. My father, even if his name was Thomas Andrews
and would now go down in history of the White Star Line and perhaps the world
as building the largest ship on Earth, the most luxurious ship one could
possibly hope to travel on—he never cared much for society. "You are the
daughter of Thomas Andrews," my mother’s voice echoed back and forth as I
stared blankly at my father. "Your name is Antoinette Andrews. You must
embody what your father holds dear."
"Have I retreated?" I
asked stupidly, knowing what his answer would be. He nodded, giving me a
confused look.
"Yes. I thought for a moment
or so you had gone mute." He managed a laugh, turning me to face him.
"We’ll get out of the suite—You need air. How about we go to dinner?"
I shook my head.
"I’m not that hungry,"
I replied, brushing past him and sitting back down on the couch.
"Well, we can take a tour,
if you’d like." I know the ship just as well as him—I just don’t know if
my father realizes that little fact yet. Stupid blueprints pulled me in and I
could never quite look away.
"In the dark?" I asked
skeptically.
"Don’t you know me well
enough to know I put lights everywhere?" He chuckled. I tried to smile,
but I feel as though I don’t have the strength. "I’d love for you to meet
the ship’s crew. The captain, the officers—"
"Do I have to?" I
asked. He hesitated, but shook his head.
"No, you don’t have
to." He sighed. "Antoinette, you do need to go out and deal with
others eventually, you know." I’m trying to avoid that for as long as
humanly possible. "I do have to go to dinner, though. I have to make my
appearances." He smiled at me. "Your mother really should’ve come
aboard. She lives for the socializing."
"She should’ve. There’s
always a next time, I suppose."
"Are you sure you don’t want
to come to dinner?" I looked down at my dress, realizing the anxiety and
stress of getting changed into the proper attire for dinner. "I can buzz
for Mary and…" His voice faded from my ears at the sound of that maid’s
voice. She’s nice enough and English, but she sometimes ties my corset way too
tight and I can scarcely breathe.
"Daddy, really, I’m
okay." He managed a nod, kissing me on the head.
"Alright, then. I’ll bring
you back something, alright?" I nodded. He sounds so disappointed that I
wasn’t coming along, but I really can’t take the mindless talking tonight. I
just don’t have the patience or the energy to deal with all of the first-class
society people. As he opened the door, I tried not to look so relieved. He
turned to face me. "Antoinette?" I looked up from the carpet to him.
"Yes?"
"…I, I love you." He
paused. "You know that, don’t you?" He stared at me, his eyes full of
sadness and confusion. I smiled at him, a true smile—a smile that has been
hidden for so long, bobbing my head up and down.
"Yes, I do. I love you,
too." When he shut the door, I almost started to bawl. Standing up, I made
my way for the door. When his footsteps were out of my earshot, I knew what I
had to do. I need to take my tour on my own schedule. I grabbed my gray coat,
my key and out the door I went.