EVERYTHING’S NOT LOST
Chapter Thirty-Four
I’ve been in this room for hours,
it seems and I just can’t stop crying. I want to stop crying, but I just can’t.
As much as I told myself these past few days that the past is the past, that I
can’t look back, that I have to keep going—Now, I can’t stop crying even if I
wanted to. The sadness is overwhelming. My heart seems to be broken and
crushed. I want to force the tears in my eyes to go away. I want to put them in
a bottle and toss them overboard, but I know it’s not possible. I wish it was.
Earlier, this afternoon, after I
had read what I had written in my father’s notebook—I burst into tears. I was
crying so loudly that a stewardess walking about the Carpathia convinced me to
go inside. I only went inside, because Harry was nowhere to be seen. She said
that there was nothing to cry about—But, she didn’t and doesn’t know me. If she
only knew. Once inside, she had taken me down a long corridor and brought me
into an empty passenger room. It looked as though it had never been occupied.
She thought it would be a good idea for me to rest, she said. I must look
awful. She gave me the key to the door and after making sure I didn’t want
anything, she left me.
And here I lay. Still on the bed,
resting my head on my arm, still unable to control my emotions. I am a pathetic
human being and I shouldn’t even be here. I miss my father. I truly, really
miss him. And poor Will. William Murdoch. I can’t believe all of those people
are gone. I still think when I open my eyes, they’ll be here. We’ll still be on
the Titanic and everything will be back to normal. Normal isn’t even the right
word for it, life would just become…manageable again. I wouldn’t burst into
tears when someone spoke, like I do now, and I would be as happy as I was when
I first met Harold Lowe. At this rate, he probably thinks I jumped ship. He
hasn’t found me yet.
When will this heartache end? I
feel so broken, it’s ridiculous. I lived, I survived the disaster; I should be
happy and thanking the Heavens above me that I’m still here, that the love of
my life is still here. But, I can’t even think of myself. If only this hadn’t
happened, if only my heart didn’t hurt so much, if only everything didn’t hurt
anymore…If I could only turn back time. I could have made sure Bruce Ismay
didn’t get onto Titanic, and then maybe everyone would’ve survived and it could
have just been an unpleasant memory. Now, it’s just a nightmare.
I wiped my eyes as more tears
strolled down my cheeks. I’ve never cried this much. Ever. As much as I’ve ever
wanted to, I had the strength to control myself. My mother was always in the
room whenever I wanted to cry my eyes out. I’m just bawling now and she’s not
here to tell me to behave. I put a wet finger to my tongue and I suppose that
theory’s true: tears truly are salty. I sat up slightly, pulling my father’s
coat tighter around me, his familiar aroma filling me. Oh, he always had this
comforting aura about him and…his coat has that same feeling. I may sound
insane and I probably am, but he always smelt so wonderful and loving—Just like
he was. I looked down at my dress and sure enough, it was completely ruined.
It’s tattered and worn, completely unfixable, and yet, I don’t want to part
with it. I laid back down onto the bed, bringing my legs closer to my body as I
began to bawl again, my shoulders shaking.
"Antoinette." I heard
it simply, said simply and looking up from my arm, hidden in the wool coat, I
glanced around the room. There’s nobody here, I know. Just that dumb porthole
window and the sun shining through it. "Antoinette?" Harry. I knew it
would only be so long before he found me. He always finds me. There was a knock
on the door. "Are you in there?" I nodded, although I don’t know why.
He can’t see through the door. "Ann?" He knocked on the door again.
"What?" I said as loud
as I could, trying not to sniffle.
"What are you doing in
there?" he asked, sounding completely confused. "I was looking all
over for you." He paused. "Can I…can I come in?"
"No." That answer was
definite.
"Ann, come now. You sound as
though you’ve been crying."
"That’s not true!" I
whimpered, wiping my eyes.
"Antoinette, please, I don’t
want you to be alone."
"I want to be alone."
"Would you please let me
in?" That’s when I began to cry again.
"No, just…just go," I
begged between my tears.
"Ann." I saw the knob
on the door begin to slightly turn and I ran for the door, the key the
stewardess had given me in my hand from my coat pocket. I slammed against the
door, quickly locking it. "Antoinette!"
"Please, go away!" I
begged. He sighed, and the door creaked, as if he was leaning against it.
"I can pick locks, you
know," he attempted to somewhat threaten me, through the door. "I
taught myself."
"I don’t care," I told
him.
"Antoinette, please. Don’t
lock me out." I already have. "I’m here. Please, I don’t want you to
be in there all by yourself." He doesn’t understand. He may try to, but he
just doesn’t. My vision fogged with yet more tears and leaning against the
door, I just began to cry even more so than before. Before I knew it, I was on
the floor of the Carpathia, crying so softly, and except for the occasional
breaths, I was practically silent. "Antoinette." He seemed to speak
through the crack in the door. "Don’t cry, Love. Don’t cry." I looked
up at the lock of the door. All I can do is cry. "Please, open the door
for me. I want to be with you, to help."
"You can’t help me,"
was all I said. Did I just say that?
"Yes, I can. I know you’re
upset, just let me in." I didn’t respond to that. What else am I supposed
to say? Sure, come right on in? I can’t even speak to him right now, what could
he say to me to make anything feel better? "And besides, the food’s
getting cold." I sighed.
"I’m not hungry."
"Antoinette, please. Unlock
the door. I love you too much to see you go through this alone." It’s not a
question of love. I need to deal with this by myself—I want to cry by myself. I
can’t be accountable for one other person, not now. "Antoinette."
"Harry, just go away.
Please." I took in a deep breath, trying not to overreact. "Leave me
alone."
"I’m not leaving," he
told me confidently. "I’ll stay out here until you decide to either unlock
this door or leave the room." He cleared his throat, before saying,
"After all of this, I’m not going to let you destroy yourself."
"Fine!" I yelled, anger
boiling inside of me. "Stay out there all night, for all I care!"
"Antoinette." I didn’t
answer him. Instead, I stood up and threw myself onto the bed. I quickly
wiggled out of the coat and wrapped it over me as a blanket. "Antoinette,
I’m here, you can trust me." He doesn’t even sound angry that I yelled at
him! Getting back to the point, I do trust him, it’s not that. Doesn’t he know
that? I don’t have time to think about him right now. I just don’t want to
talk, not to anyone. The only person I’d even consider talking to is my father
and he’s…I gulped. He’s gone.
My father’s gone, I know, and I
know Harry’s trying to help, but the best thing he can do right now is to leave
me alone and let me wallow in my own pain. I closed my eyes, trying to forget
all of this ever happened…that Harry isn’t at the door, begging to let him in,
that Titanic didn’t sink, that Will didn’t shoot himself—that my father didn’t
go down with his ship. But, I can’t forget and I never will.