EVERYTHING’S NOT LOST
Chapter Nine
I turned towards the piano a few
minutes after he left. I brushed the so many strands of stray hair out of my
eyes and opened up the compartment to reveal the shining white keys as I pulled
my arms through Harry’s overcoat. The coat is so big, it keeps falling off my
shoulders. I might as well use it for the time being, seeing that Harry is sick
of it himself. A gift from the White Star Line, perhaps?
I glanced down at the keys. I
used to be able to play piano. I think I used to be quite talented. Of course,
the whole learning music idea was not my cup of tea (not meant to be taken
literally), but much like tea, the piano had been shoved down my throat by my
mother. First she says women are to sit and look beautiful for all to enjoy, as
if we aren’t allowed to do anything at all, and then she wants me to learn how
to play the piano. Well, are we made of porcelain or do we breathe oxygen just
like the rest of the human race?
"Men love a woman who has
musical interest and taste," my mother would always say to me the day of
my piano lessons. I barely ever listen to my mother, if that isn’t obvious
enough already. I could care less about learning the piano and she knew it. Of
course, she would then proceed to guilt-trip me because of the money my father
was spending on the lessons. "Be grateful your father can afford such
luxuries!" I have a feeling that if my father couldn’t afford something
that my mother wanted, which has yet to happen, she would marry me off to some
rich man for a price. A hefty price. I’d like to think my father would buy me
back, but you never know.
Much like my little life, I grew
tired of the piano and gradually began to forget how to read music. My father
knew I never liked the piano that much, so I think he was relieved when my
mother one day just gave up. "You will never find a suitable husband,
Antoinette Andrews!" That was all she said. She said the same thing when I
told her I would rather drop dead than have one more cup of tea. Anyhow, the
piano…It was out of the house the morning after my mother’s memorized speech.
The day the piano left, my father glanced at me and said with a laugh,
"You hated that piano, didn’t you, Ann?" I really did and told him
so. I only did so because my mother was gone.
I hit a few keys on the piano and
the sounds vibrated the remaining crystal in the room. I forgot how much noise
a piano could make! I went up and down the keys, trying to remember one song my
piano teacher forced down my throat. It was a lovely ballad and she could
always play it much better than I ever could, but it was so soothing to the
ears. As my memory came back to me, I began to softly play, making many errors
in the process—so many, in fact, I was laughing through the entire episode,
even though the song was about someone losing a loved one.
"That’s pretty good."
The voice made me jump and whirling around, there stands Harry with two tea
cups in his hand and something I can’t quite make out on a plate.
"Why not just tap my
shoulder? You scared me half to death!"
"I’m sorry." He sat
down beside me, balancing the cups on top of the piano and holding out a
genuine White Star Line plate, filled with steaming shortbread cookies to me.
"He just made them for the morning. I told him the Master Shipbuilder’s
daughter was famished and he kindly gave us more than I think we needed."
I laughed, taking a cookie, snapping off a piece and placing the warm baked
cookie into my mouth.
"Oh, wow, these are
great," I mumbled before swallowing. He nodded, making sure one cookie was
good and gone before smiling.
"I never expected them to be
this good—this late at night." He took one tea cup, handed it to me and
placed the plate in the cup’s place before taking his own cup.
"Cheers?" he suggested. I smiled, clicking his cup to mine.
"Cheers." I took a sip
of warm tea. The sweet aroma, which usually makes me want to vomit, immediately
made my bones less chilled. As we continued to eat the cookies and sip tea,
like civilized people, at a piano, no less, there was complete and utter silence.
It was almost eerie.
"Thank you, Harry," I
managed to say, finishing my tea and placing it down on the piano. He shrugged
a shoulder. That was my dinner and the only food I will be having for some
time.
"You’re welcome." I
began to take off the coat, to give it back to him. "You’re still not
warm!" he laughed, re-buttoning it.
"Yes, I am warm!"
"Your nose is still
red."
"Well—" I gestured to
his nose. "So is yours." He laughed.
"Well, I’m not the one who
went out without a coat." Pausing, he then pointed to the piano.
"Have you played the piano long?"
"I took lessons for almost a
year, years ago." I managed a smile. "I hated it."
"…Don’t like music?"
"No, no. I’d rather just
hear it, rather than play it. I’m ashamed to say I’ve ever played the piano,
hearing the band during dinner. They’re incredible." They manage to dull
out the chattering, so the music is truly music to my ears.
"Aren’t they? The best the
Star Line could find, I think." He paused. "They must be so
overqualified…" I started laughing immediately and so did Harry. That’s
when we heard footsteps. Loud, thrashing footsteps.
"IS ANYONE IN HERE!?"
came a familiar, polished voice. Ismay! Oh, dear God, why did it have to be
Ismay? "YOU SHOULDN’T BE IN HERE PAST HOURS!" Harry grabbed my hand
and quickly placing down his own tea cup, he stood and began to run for an
exit. His overcoat, still wrapped around me, managed to fit the tea cups on the
piano and fell to the floor, shattering into a million pieces—and staining the
piano keys in the process.
"Antoinette, don’t worry
about it," Harry hissed at me as I hesitated. Ismay can afford ten pianos,
with all of his supposed wealth, so I suppose he can just buy a new piano. I
caught up with Harry, even though his one step means five of my own, we ran out
of the dining hall and up the stairs.
"YOU, YOU THERE, STOP!"
Ismay began to yell, following us up the stairs. Harry began to run faster,
trying not to laugh. I was laughing hysterically, tears coming to my eyes from
the stupidity of it all. What could Ismay do to us? What could he do that is so
horrible, that we have to run from him? Besides the fact that Ismay feels the
need to somewhat gawk at me—Alright, that’s a good enough reason to run!
I quickened my pace as we made it
up the Grand Staircase and out of the unusually-empty doors, towards the
first-class hall. "Harry, where are we going?" I asked, breathlessly
as we continued our running, but he didn’t respond. I don’t think he can. I
glanced back quickly over my shoulder and Ismay just made it through the doors
leading to the Grand Staircase, but we were still within eye and ear shot.
"GET BACK HERE, YOU
SCOUNDRELS!" he yelled angrily, not giving up until he found us. "YOU
BROKE WHITE STAR LINE PROPERTY! YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO PAY FOR IT!" I
giggled at that—was that supposed to be a threat? Harry just shook his head at
me.
"Ann, shush!" he
instructed, trying not to laugh himself taking a sharp right down a first-class
corridor. We both leaned against the white-wooded walls, attempting to catch
our breath. I can barely breathe with this corset, but I silently tried to
catch my breath.
Harry leaned over me to glance
down the hallway, where we had ran from the staircase, but after moments of
serious worry, he pulled back from the corner, shaking his head at me.
"I think we lost him,"
he said, still breathless.
"Are you sure?" I
managed to say through my hollow breaths. "Did we lose him or his
moustache?" Harry busted out laughing, his mind probably repeating dinner
from last night, and nodded.
"Both!" I glanced
around the corner and nothing. Just the white lamps, hanging from the walls,
above the first-class doors—no sign of Ismay.
"We lost him," I
concluded. I laughed slightly, pushing hair out of my eyes. "We broke
White Star Line China!"
"I suppose it’ll come out of
our paychecks," Harry joked. "Those cookies were fantastic, though—It
was well worth it." He smiled at me, this absolutely, sincere smile. I
have seen so many fake smiles during this voyage, with the exception of my
father, Will and Harry—but I know a fake smile from a real smile. I always seem
to be smiling fake—I have been. I laughed, leaning into him for support.
"Are you alright?" I managed a nod, finally catching my breath.
"Corsets. Whoever thought
they were good ideas ought to be shot between the eyes." He laughed.
"We did good, though. We
managed to get away."
"You know this ship better
than I do. You put me to shame back there!"
"You don’t know the
ship?" he asked me, surprised.
"My pride is completely
shattered, but no, I don’t know the ship. Only my father knows Titanic as well
as you!" I sighed. "I should be going, though…my father’s going to be
completely worried and…" I began to unbutton the overcoat, but Harry shook
his head, taking my hands. "What?" He brought me closer to him and
before I knew it, we were kissing.
As we both seemed to let go of
the kiss, I was floored. I never expected that! I managed to catch myself from
saying something I’d regret later and gulped. It looked as if he had done the
same.
"That was awfully direct of
me," he said. "I should’ve asked—"
"I like direct." He
smiled at me, awed by that answer, but managed a nervous laugh, dropping my
hands. There’s never a better opportunity than the present.
"Well, I’ll see you
tomorrow," he managed to stammer. I nodded.
"Yes, of course,
tomorrow." I hesitated. "Good-night, Harry." I’m glad I was able
to say that much without sounding like a complete fool!
"Good-night,
Antoinette."