EVERYTHING’S NOT LOST
Chapter Thirty-Five
"What the heck are you
doing, son?" That’s what I woke up to. I looked up from the comforter of
the bed and glanced at the door, the key I had locked it with beside me. I
looked over my shoulder and I realize the sunlight is just beginning to come in
through that window. I had slept all night like this? Curled up like a child? I
sat up, stretching out my legs as I put my father’s coat on again. "Do you
realize what time it is?" Who is that? I recognize the female voice, but I
just can’t place her.
"Mrs. Brown, I—" Harry
sounded as if he had just woken up.
"Now, now, it’s Molly to
you." Molly. Why does that name sound so familiar? Oh! Molly Brown! She
had survived! Not completely shocking, but it’s definitely an upbeat
revelation. "What the heck are you doing, lying on the floor?"
"I’m waiting for her,"
he said hoarsely.
"Waiting for who?" she
asked curiously.
"Antoinette." There was
a brief silence and Molly cleared her throat.
"Andrews?" she asked
him. He must’ve nodded, because he didn’t say a word. "I didn’t think she
made it." Why would she think that? "I asked about her, they said she
wasn’t on the list."
"Well," Harry sighed,
"they never wrote us up on the lists until late."
"What seems to be the
trouble, anyway?" she asked him.
"She won’t come out of her
room. She misses her father too much."
"He didn’t make it."
She said it as a statement, rather than as a question.
"No, he didn’t." Then,
there was knocking on the door.
"Antoinette?" she
called out to me. She must be the one knocking—it sounds different from Harry’s
knocking. I should’ve guessed it before.
"Yes, Mrs.—" I stopped,
clearing my throat. No formality. "Molly."
"Do you want to go get
something to eat? Me and…" Her voice trailed off.
"Harry," he told her.
"…Harry and I here are going
to get some breakfast. Why don’t you join us?"
"No thank you," was all
I was able to say.
"See?" Harry hissed at
her.
"Well, when you’re ready,
we’ll be out and about, won’t we, Harry?"
"Mrs. Brown I—"
"Molly!" she laughed.
"Molly, I don’t want to
leave her," Harry tried to explain. "I, I…can’t."
"She’ll be fine, won’t you,
Antoinette?" she asked me.
"Sure." I cleared my
throat, leaning towards the door more so than before to hear what else they had
to say.
"See?" she asked him.
"She’ll come out when she’s ready."
"But—"
"You look famished,"
she continued, "Come on, Officer. Let’s get some food into you." She
then tapped on the door to me. "You better hurry up. You may lose a great
man!" she laughed. "Don’t think my husband would do this!" He is
a great man.
"Ann, I’ll be back,"
Harry promised me, sounding as if he didn’t really want to leave in the first
place. I merely nodded and seconds later, I could hear his footsteps, along
with the clicking of Molly’s shoes go down the hallway and out of earshot. I
stood up, shaky at first and made my way towards the porthole window. I brushed
dust off with my sleeve and looked out. Just water. Nothing less, nothing more.
I didn’t expect much more. When are we supposed to get to New York, anyhow? I
haven’t been informed and nobody else has, either. I suppose it doesn’t matter.
It never has mattered, I’m just trying to take my mind off of my father and
Will. I held back my tears. How can I possibly have more tears? I thought I
must’ve surely cried my soul out yesterday. I suppose not. I leaned against the
ship’s wall, the fluttering of the water tapping lightly against the window. I
hate the sea. I really do. And I don’t think the sea is too fond of me, either.
I brushed hair out of my eyes,
glancing at the door that led to the outside. I have to leave this room
eventually. My stomach growled in agreement. I suppose he’s right, too. I can’t
stay in here forever, as much as I may want to. I sighed, untangling my hair
from my pointer finger. I must look like a rag doll—I feel like one. And yet,
Harry…He doesn’t care. He doesn’t look all that great, either. I’m lucky, at
this point, that I can remember my name—let alone his. I smiled, remembering
how much fun we had on Titanic. What am I doing?
Antoinette Andrews, what are you
doing!? You’re acting as if you lost Harry, too! I didn’t, I know I didn’t. I
just lost myself. I lost a piece of me, a piece of my heart, and that piece is
still on the Titanic. I may never regain it, either. As much as I may try, when
I put this whole ordeal behind me, to get myself back to where I was before
Titanic sank—I never will. It’s not possible. I’ll never be the same. Even if
that’s what I want, to be the same dumb child I always have been, I’ll never be
that person again.
I went back towards the bed and
sighing, I sat down on its’ edge, rubbing my tired and puffy eyes. With every
moment, I hear the water outside and I think of my father. My father and Will.
Will, Will, Will…I laid back onto the bed, keeping my eyes locked on the
ceiling. What did he do? He could’ve lived. If only I had fallen for him. Wait.
I sat up on the bed, leaning on my elbows. What did I just say, think? I love
Harry! Harold Lowe loves me. I know he does. But, poor Will—I had brushed him off
when he was attached to me. I think he was in love with me. I’m not saying I’m
just that beautiful, that every man I meet immediately loves me, but from the
minute I met Will, he had this goofy smile on his face. Then again, so did
Harry. I guess he just…panicked. There were better ways to handle the panic,
though. He didn’t have to go and shoot himself. As it is, I practically shot
him. I laid back down on the bed, bringing the coat closer to me.
He pulled the trigger, though—Not
me. It felt like I did, though. To be truthfully honest, I felt as if I had
told him that killing himself would be the best thing for him. When he just
fell into that water, that image will never leave me. As much as I may say
that, it’s all the truth. I closed my eyes, trying to get those memories to
leave. I want to be happy—Am I asking for the moon? The stars? No, I’m not! I
just want to move on. Or do I? I nodded. Yes, I do. And once I get to New York,
maybe, just maybe…it’ll all go away.