EVERYTHING’S NOT LOST
Chapter Four

"Antoinette, I promise you, this won’t be as awful as you may think." I glanced at my father skeptically as we stood outside the lunching hall. Breakfast. Why must we have three meals a day—and why must every meal have its’ own hall? It never makes sense! "Really, it won’t be bad," he said aloud, as if more to himself than to me.

"What if it is that awful?" I conjured on. I don’t want to even go in, but I suppose being Thomas Andrews’s daughter is not an easy task. Only one woman on this Earth can say she’s his child, but this is getting a tad ridiculous.

I kept my eyes ahead of me, through the glass doors of the lunching hall and I could see our table. At least, I think it’s my table. It was everyone from last night: the Captain, the officers, Molly Brown, and that supposed gentleman, Ismay. Oh, and there’s Will. A familiar face, thankfully. I watched closely as the officers took off their hats, must be out of respect, and sat down.

"It won’t be that bad, I promise. It’s just breakfast, darling."

"What if it is?" My father smiled at me.

"Then, you can lie, say you have a stomachache and we can leave. How’s that?" I almost laughed out loud, but nodded.

"Alright." As two men opened the doors into the lunching hall, my father held onto my arm even tighter as we made our way to the table.

"Well, if it isn’t Thomas Andrews!" Molly Brown said, with a laugh, standing up to shake my father’s hand.

"Hello, Molly." She then turned her attention to me and took my hand, shaking it vigorously.

"And hello to you, Antoinette," she said with a wide smile. I shook her hand. "So nice to see you again."

"Hello, Mrs. Brown," I said softly.

"Oh, come now! Formalities, formalities—The name’s Molly, don’t you remember?"

"Of course," I said, with a tiny shrug. She raised an eyebrow at me.

"Why, you’re a quiet little chickadee today, aren’t you?" She gave this look to my father, as if, I didn’t realize it was this bad, as my father gestured to the Captain.

"Well, Ann, I might as well introduce you to the crew," my father began as the Captain and the officers stood up. The Captain was the first to take my hand.

"Captain E.J. Smith. So nice to finally meet you."

"Antoinette."

"Officer Henry Wilde," said an older man.

"Officer James Moody," said another.

"Officer Charles Lightoller," said a pristine Britain.

"Officer William Murdoch," said the familiar face. He winked at me, remembering me from the night before. The last in the row was a tall, pale officer, who didn’t look any younger than me. He held out his hand, like all the others, and said, "Officer Harold Lowe." He didn’t even make eye contact until after he spoke. He glanced down at me, stopped unexpectedly and burst into a large smile.

"Antoinette," I said, like I had said so many times in a matter of seconds. As we dropped hands, he kept staring at me—but it wasn’t a creepy, Ismay glare that I had grown so accustomed to these past few days, it was a look of curiosity. It felt like minutes must’ve went by, but in reality—I realize it must’ve only been seconds. That’s when my father cleared his throat, breaking our glare at one another.

"Alright, then," my father said, pulling me out of my mind as he pulled out my chair. "Now that you’ve met everyone…"

"How about we eat?" Molly intervened. As I sat down, I didn’t dare look at any of the officers sitting across from me. It was in the same order they were introduced, as to how they were sitting. The Captain was at the end of the table to my left, and then to his left was Wilde, Moody, Lightoller, Will and then this Harold Lowe character.

Talk began to fill the air, mostly Ismay who was feeling the need to feed his large ego this morning. Then again, I think that's no different from any other day. The whole room was filled with hot air, from our table and the other passengers around us. It was stifling.

Chattering. That’s all I hear, the only sound that’s coming into my ears. They just keep talking on and on—I can’t believe my father convinced me to come to breakfast this morning! I was perfectly content on having lukewarm food for the rest of the voyage, but could Antoinette have that? Of course not.

"Ann?" That would make my life a tad easier. "Being respectful and letting the men speak at meals is the ladylike thing to do," my mother would’ve said before we had even entered the lunching area for breakfast, had she been on board. I am so glad she hates to travel.

"Ann!" Margaret Brown, I’m sorry—Molly Brown, pulled me out of my own head as she placed a hand on my wrist. I glanced to my right as she sort of laughed, puzzled as of why I didn’t answer her before.

"I’m sorry, what?" I asked softly to her as an officer began to speak.

"You going to order?" she asked, gesturing to the waiter standing in between us. Right. Eat. Food. Energy. All good words.

"I suppose a fruit cup is fine," I told the waiter as he took my unread menu off of the table.

"A fruit cup?" Margaret asked me skeptically. My father, to my left, shot me a look, too, one of confusion. "No wonder you’re so thin! You need to put some meat on those bones, girl." My father stifled a chuckle.

"I’ll be fine," I said simply, not wanting to make eye contact. I know Ismay’s staring at me, and it’s making me extremely uncomfortable. He’s frightening to look at. I glanced up time to time, to see that Lowe character staring at me, too. Well, he seems to be in a sort of dreamlike state. Do I have three heads today? What am I doing that is so interesting, that everyone in this room feels the need to be staring at me? If anything, I’m keeping my eyes at my father’s notebook on the table. He just keeps scribbling and writing, and drawing…is he drawing coat racks? Oh, that notebook must be taken away from him before he goes mad.

When the breakfast was delivered, I hardly noticed until a waiter placed the fruit I had ordered in front of me. How can I possibly eat? I can’t eat and be watched at the same time. I took a grape and popped it into my mouth as I tried not to look as tense as I feel. "Is that all you’re going to eat?" my father whispered in my ear. I managed a nod.

"I suppose I’m not that hungry."

"That’s not like you, Ann…" I shook my head at him when I realized all eyes at the table were on us. I leaned in towards his ear.

"Don’t worry about it," I replied. Molly cleared her throat, feeling the need to intervene.

"Well, Antoinette, what do you think of Bruce and your father’s work on Titanic?" She smiled at me as I sat up straight once again in my chair.

"It’s wonderful," I said simply, taking another grape and plopping it into my mouth.

"That’s it?" Ismay asked, with a slight tinge of sarcasm, with a laugh. Molly shot him a look.

"I think it’s something that is too good to be true," I conjured on, staring intently at Ismay. I could see out of the corner of my eye my father smile proudly. "To think it was just something on paper, and now it’s actually being sailed to America—Well, that’s an accomplishment within itself." I paused. "Of course, that’s my opinion. I may be biased—I am the Master Shipbuilder’s daughter, after all." I shrugged, unsure of what else to say. I could see the officers in front of me at the table hide a smile. Will and Lowe however, had the largest grins on their faces.

"It is an honor to even have been considered to be on this ship’s crew," Will spoke up. Lowe managed a nod. "I never thought I’d be sitting here with the Master Shipbuilder and his daughter, on Titanic’s maiden voyage." Will gave me a look, with a hidden smile. If he only knew me.

Except for the fact that he may think of me now as a maniac, nobody at this table knows a thing about me. My relation solely on this ship, how everyone knows who I am, is because of my father. Nobody even has the common courtesy to remember my name—It’s always "Oh, that’s Thomas Andrews’s daughter. Pretty little thing." I tried not to roll my eyes. I am so proud of my father, and I’d like to think he knows that. I’m not sure if he does, but I’d like to think he knows.

"Anything you’d like to add, Miss Andrews?" Ismay asked, in a somewhat mocking tone. All of the looks Molly shot him did me no good. He makes it sound like I’m as dumb as a rock. I sighed as his eyes continued to drill into me.

"Yes, I think this would be a great opportunity to leave." I stood up as my father’s eyes went wide. "Excuse me."

"Ann, wait—" I didn’t listen to him as he attempted to grab my wrist. I walked out of the lunching hall and out onto the deck. "See what you did!" my father yelled at Ismay. "I just got her to leave our room as it is—"

"She’ll come back," Ismay responded casually. I know he’s still staring at me. I’m going to spoon his eyes out. I think it’s going to be a necessity for me to survive on this ship. My father sighed heavily, so heavily that I could hear him being even feet away from him.

"You know, Bruce, you ruin any opportunity I had to get that girl to talk…" Molly Brown’s voice faded from my hearing as the doors behind me shut. I sighed, rubbing my forehead. Okay, that was bad. Now, Antoinette, don’t hyperventilate, don’t…The corset and barely any air, with added hyperventilation will surely make me faint. "Only women who can’t take corsets faint." That’s actual true, one thing my mother said rings true! It’s about time.

My father’s probably doing some damage control as we speak. As long as he doesn’t use the line that I’m a woman, who knows what’s going on with her, which I know he would never say—I don’t care what he says.

I made my way towards the side of the ship, in shock that I even got up and walked out. My mother would definitely have killed me with a butter knife, I would be dead if she was here. I killed my father’s image, I think. If he doesn’t build another ship in his life, I’m blaming myself. That’s when the doors behind me swung open. I turned around, not even looking up from the deck.

"Daddy, I’m sorry," I began, "…I’m truly sorry and I’ll go apologize and—"

"Miss Andrews, who are you talking to?" I looked up. I obviously was not talking to my father! It’s Lowe, who threw off the hat from his head.

"Oh, hello Officer Lowe." I sighed a mental breath of relief. It isn’t my father.

"Harry’s fine," he said, with a slight bow, fiddling with the hat in his hand. "That is my name, you know."

"Alright. Antoinette to you, too. No more Miss Andrews." I gestured to the lunching hall over his shoulder. "Did I make that much of a scene in there?"

"Ismay deserved it." I stood there, in shock as Lowe burst into a smile. I’d love to hear his reasoning for this conclusion, but I’m not sure if I have that much time. "It was a great exit, also," he continued. "I commend you for that." I giggled. Oh, giggling and finding a husband is not a good mix! Mother, Mother…

"I was wondering if…if…" his voice trailed off. Spit it out, sailor boy! "…If you’d like to be my guest at dinner tonight." He sighed heavy. "Okay, that was difficult!" he said more to himself than to me. "Anyway, would you like to? You don’t have to say yes, my invitation was not all that great, awful even—" I shook my head.

"No, no, I’d love to." He stopped, his jaw dropping before he brought it back up again.

"Really?" I laughed, nodding.

"Sure."

"I’ll come get you at seven, will that work? Give you enough time to get ready and all of that?"

"Seven is perfect. I’m in A32, just so you don’t go knocking on the wrong door."

"Seven, then." He took my gloved hand, kissing it. "I’ll see you, then." He began to back away from me, tripping over his own two feet. He blushed a beet red and placing his hat back on his head, he disappeared back into the lunching hall. Well, I now have an excuse for getting all dolled up for dinner. This should be interesting.

Chapter Five
Stories