The Boy Who Never Drowned chapter Five

Mother had left a hollow feeling in the pit of my chest that lingered throughout that day; I had been robbed of a story’s ending that she did not want to reveal to me. The ship was littered with children running, giggling, play fighting. I did not wish to make friends, most of the children playing were younger than me, and the ones older than me were interested in girls like my sister. I was not interested in girls particularly, for they just stood around and passed secret messages to boys they liked. I played the role of the owl, passing these secrets words of embarrassed affection to boys in my class at school, until I decided I did not want to pass notes anymore; I had grown tired of reading them. Last night’s victims of the entertainment room were now shuffling back to their rooms; girls draped in last night’s torn skirts and stained dresses skipped through the corridors, shying away from prying eyes, each step stepping out of their already forgotten shame and dignity. There were no conventional rules on international waters.

I had spent most of the day trying to find some paper and a pen so I could capture a visual image of the beautiful view that the Titanic had brought me. I padded along the ship like a lost puppy, silently hoping that I would bump into someone who belonged to my family; maybe they would let me tag along. Father, if I stayed polite and quiet, might let me into the entertainment room to watch him and his friends. I liked observing how people interacted, how they behaved around a person who was louder, more intelligent than they were. My father resembled the figure that was always louder, more intelligent and outgoing. A figure that could relate to anyone, lie about aspects of his personality in order to engage with various types. Single women, business men, black people, rich people, men having affairs and men in happy marriages; anyone accept a child. They would cower, relax into themselves and allow him to make the atmosphere. I could hear his bellowing chuckle from the deck at night. I had only witnessed his skill under secrecy, a keen eye peeing from high on the stairs or around corners or through doors ajar. I was so desperate for someone to challenge him, break his hard outer shell that twinkled and shined; but I never did.

“Lost are you?” An older boy whom I recognised stopped me as I wondered along the side of the ship. He was at a bar with two friends, with sharp resting elbows and melting eyes. He smelled strongly of alcohol, a stench that he was proud to own. He had defined cheekbones and fierce, green eyes that pierced through mine. One hand held a cigar that he twiddled between his two fore fingers, and the other rested confidently in his trouser pocket. His hair was blonde, a fine middle parting that separated the two sides neatly. He had perfect lips that looked always pouting, as if in a frown.

“No.” I stated, bluntly, not feeling entirely comfortable with their eyes watching me.

“No..? No sir.” He corrected, faintly annoyed. The two other hawks snorted at me, clearly making up their minds at my ignorance. I did not understand why I was expected to call a boy that was not yet a man, ‘sir’, for he was not worthy of the title, for he seemed as if it was self-given, and not awarded to him by those older. I remained silent, not quite sure if it was okay for me to leave. “How old are you?” He demanded, taking a long puff of his cigar, squeezing his cheeks.

“Fourteen.” I stated, trying to uphold my previous bluntness, not keen to show much respect, although I was not quite certain as to my adamant attitude in disliking him.

“Oh, fourtee-een.” He mocked, gaily placing a hand to his hip. “Well aren’t you the adult.” He bent over so his face was close and we were level. His cheeks had been smacked by the freezing breeze, an angry rouge rash on each. “Have you ever had sex, Mr ‘I’m fourteen’?” The question shocked me, his cockiness of mentioning the subject. I squinted, frowned. He laughed, a little too loudly. It was forged, pushed in a cruel manner. “Thinks he’s an adult and hasn’t even shagged a woman.” He joked to his friends, who both humoured him while continuing to watch my every move. I felt embarrassed at the subject, hating that he treated it with such brashness and disrespect. I thought that the subject should never touch public air, and instead should be locked in a bedroom, between to people who belonged to each other. I certainly did not belong to him and we were not in a bedroom. “I have.” He snarled, turning to face me once again. “Last night in fact. Makes me better than you, an adult. So you’ll do well to treat me with respect.” The two friends were suddenly intrigued with this statement, and boldly asked detailed questions of which I didn’t understand but knew they too belonged away from public air. I turned to leave, not wishing to hear the rest of the conversation for I thought I would throw myself overboard. However, I did not get away quickly enough, for I heard a faded sentence that almost threw me off the ship. “Her name was Victoria.” I froze, shivering from a sensation that was not prompted by the cold. I turned. “She wanted to marry me,” he snarled, parading around as if to act out a scene. “But I said no. Always keeping ‘em keen.” I gritted my teeth, remembering the conversation I had with my sister on the deck, how a boy had asked he for her hand, and how she planned to turn him down. It seems as though this boy had twisted the story so as not to reveal that his pride had been shattered. I thought of her grey body, curled up in an ashamed ball of slumber. I felt sea sick. “I had her in my room so she couldn’t escape-“he started, making crude gestures of which I couldn’t bare to look at. I remembered how Victoria had saved me from getting hurt the previous night; now I had to protect what was left of her. I ran at him, unsure of where this confident rage had come from. I hit his body which collapsed in the middle from my momentum. He quickly recovered, seizing me by the arms and lifting me up, my legs foolishly kicking him in the air. I tried to hurt any part of his body I could, my hands clawing at his eyes, his cheeks, my feet desperately booting his thighs, aiming for his crotch. They were all laughing at me, their faces blurred by my angry tears. I cannot remember exactly what I was saying, for it was a foreign tongue, abundant with passionate hatred. I hated this boy. I hated what I knew he had done. “Calm down you little s**t!” He snarled, finally becoming tired of holding me in the air. He threw me to the deck, my coccyx once again throbbing with pain. I ran, my mind now entirely focused on Victoria and the sleeping sadness I had ignored that morning. I slipped along the deck, the ice creating a layer that aimed to see me fall again. I bumped into arms and shoulders and stomachs, all a hazy vision. I shouted her name all the way down the blue corridor, unaware of the staring people, whispering that children only caused noise. I flung open the door, the darkness that encompassed the room absorbing me. I let my eyes adjust, mumbling ‘Victoria’ through panting breaths, her name floating in a steamy vapour in front of me. The room was empty. I slowly stepped through the arch of the room, towards the bathroom and beyond the arch there stood a chipped white door, which was closed. Gentle sounds of water came from behind it, and a soft humming that sounded familiar. I leant against it, silent. I felt as if I was listening to hushed thoughts and feelings, interrupting a lonesome transformation in which all shame would surely melt into the cloudy waters. She switched between humming and fragmented singing, an old sailors tune that brought up a deep feeling of nostalgia within me. Suddenly, my anger dissolved and I was trapped in a silent void of reflection.

“Victoria?” I whispered. The humming came to an abrupt stop.

“How long have you been standing there, Felix?” She asked, no trace of annoyance in her voice. She was calm.

“Not long.” I answered. I heard a muffled sniff which brought me to the reality that maybe she did not have a cold. “It’s very cold outside.” I finally said after debating a thousand other sentences. She gave a faint laugh.

“Yes, quite right.” Another sniff. “I thought you would be in the entertainment room. I heard children were allowed in during the day.” I knew that she never would have thought this, for the entertainment room is for those with friends, or for those who aim to make friends.

“No.” I said. “Where’s your red dress?” A silence in which all sounds of water and movement stopped from the other side of the door. “You weren’t wearing it, and it wasn’t on the floor…” I trailed off, regretting my choice of topic.

“Why are you here?” She snapped, making me take a step back from the door.

“Sorry.” I mumbled, angry with myself that I couldn’t be open with my own sister. Her frustrated sign told me she may have felt the same way.

“No, Felix, I don’t want you to apologise. I want to know why you’re here.” Her voice was calmer, close to loving.

“I saw him.” I blurted out, feeling a splash of the hatred I have previously felt.

“Who? Who did you see?” She answered slowly, her body squeaking against the bath tub as she sat up.

“That boy,” I spat. “That awful boy that asked you to marry him.” My voice shook.

“Oh,” she said, another squeak as she went back to slouching in the water, now most likely lukewarm. “Edward.” Her voice was silk, I was trying to find a hint of anger, hatred, grief; there was nothing.

“I ran at him.” I said, re-living the moment in my head. “I tried to hurt him. But I couldn’t because he picked me up and then they started laughing. But I hit his face.” I was rambling, trying to salvage some victory of my poor attempt to redeem my sister’s honour. She laughed, softly, as though at a child who gives a rose to an older girl who’s out of his class, his league.

“Oh, Felix.” She sighed mindfully. “You are wonderful.” She said, as if having an odd realisation. “I’m sorry I haven’t been good to you as a sister. I thought maybe I could make up for it somehow, but I get the feeling it might be too late. I’ve been selfish, trying to escape a reality that is quite inevitable. I cannot go along life behaving this way, at least not without expecting some sort of consequence. I’m unfortunate in many ways that you are not, and I suppose I have to accept that now. I’ve done some indecent things, Felix, but at least it was at my command, in my control. Maybe Edward will be good for me, teach me a little humility. God knows Father says I need it. I have probably made up my mind now, despite that little voice telling me to run away. I have nowhere to run. There is no paradise island, I’ve rather discovered that now. Edward isn’t too bad; he’s just a child really. Once I get to know him I’m sure he’ll be easy enough. Who knows, I might enjoy being a wife.” She became sad, in all sense of the word. Not depressed, she wasn’t struggling with something inside her head, but a sadness that came with losing a battle that she was almost certain she’d win. A future that was unchangeable.

“Please don’t marry him.” I said, almost begging, knowing I was too losing the battle. “Run away, I’ll come with you.” My face was close against the door, like I was trying to send my thoughts through the door and into her brain.

“Marriage is a cage.” She said. “But at least with Edward, I’ll have a key.”