6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Changes by David Bowie
"Ali! Wake up!” Ben is gently shaking my shoulder. I slowly flutter my eyes open and am met with a shock of warm sunlight filling the room. Through the glare of sunlight, I can see him staring down at me. Sleeping on the sofa all night has tousled his blonde hair. He’s wearing dark blue jeans and a white T-shirt, from the collection of items he constantly leaves at my house.
I stretch out, groaning as I move out of the crumpled ball shape I fell asleep in. My mouth is dry and sticky, my head pounding. I stare around the room, trying to figure out how we got here. I look at the kitchen counter and see the three empty wine bottles. Oh, shit. That’s how.
Ben hands me a bottle of water and I gulp it down like I’ve been traveling through a desert.
“Come on, we’ve got to get ready. We’ve got Titanic practice in an hour,” he says with a wry smile.
I roll my eyes at his joke and stand up, pausing for a moment to allow the room to stop moving. I stumble to the bathroom to inspect the damage in the mirror. My hair mats to one side, the consequence of sleeping in a ball. I quickly brush it out and pull it back into a ponytail.
I wash my face; the exfoliant wakes my skin up to look a little more alive. I quickly cover the bags under my eyes with some concealer. I squeeze some toothpaste on my brush before plunging it into my mouth and dashing to the closet. I grab the quickest outfit I can throw together, jeans and a gray crew neck I got in Cape Cod last summer with Ben and some friends. I run back to the bathroom and spit out the toothpaste. It’s funny how a fresh mouth makes you feel ten times cleaner and more awake. I take one last look in the mirror. Not bad. I actually look half human. On the outside, I look put together, but inside I’m churning. And I can’t tell if it's the lingering effects of the alcohol or the nerves.
I walk back into the living room, where Ben is waiting. He’s put on a light blue v-neck sweater and is tying his shoes when he looks up at me and laughs.
“Ah, the hangover sweater.” He knows my outfit of choice after too much alcohol is a comfy, oversized sweater; this one in particular.
“You ready to go?” I slip on a pair of Vans and grab my keys. He nods and we head out the door to what Ben jokingly calls Titanic practice. Dr. Conrad calls it Edwardian 101. I’m still calling it fucking crazy.
It’s eleven thirty in the morning as we make our way to campus, and “class” starts at noon. I check my watch as we walk and turn toward Ben. “We’ve got time for coffee.” It’s going to be a necessity today. I think Dr. Conrad would rather we be late than deal with a hungover and caffeine deprived Ali.
We veer off into the coffee shop and order our usual; Ben picks up the tab this time. He winks at the barista, Peter, who smiles back at him coyly like they already know each other. I am eternally amazed at Ben’s ability to be magnetic and command attention everywhere he goes. He casually tosses a few dollars into the tip jar before we head back out into the crisp fall air.
Once back out onto the sidewalk, I ask Ben if he knows Peter, given the flirtatious eye contact they were exchanging.
“I go there a lot.”
“Why?” He lives in a completely different area of Boston. This is my neighborhood spot, not his. He only ever comes in here when he’s staying over at my place, or so I thought.
Ben winks at me. “I just like looking at him.”
I smile as we continue walking. I can’t blame him. Peter is about as tall as Ben, but he has striking jet black hair and blue eyes.
“Just looking?” I wink.
“Alright, alright,” Ben laughs as he puts his hand up. “We talk whenever I’m there. And maybe, sometimes, I go out of my way to find a reason to go there?”
“Just to see him?”
“Maybe.”
“Have you thought about asking him out?”
“Yeah, of course I have. But come on, you say it all the time, I’m three-date Ben, remember? What’s the point?”
“Why do you think it never goes beyond three dates?”
“Oh, easy. Usually by date three, you know whether you really like the person, whether there’s any staying power. That’s typically when the harder questions come up, like what you want out of life in terms of marriage and kids. I like to dip out before I disappoint someone with that one or get too attached.”
I want to explain to Ben that he can’t assume what lies beyond date three without ever going there. But it would be hypocritical of me, and I know that. I let it pass, for now at least.
As we head down Commonwealth Avenue, we step onto an empty campus. Everyone is still sleeping off last night's fun. I envy them. I wish I were still asleep too. We enter Dr. Conrad’s office building easily; he has given us keycards that allow us entry. We take the elevator down to the lower level of the building, where we find Sarah and Eric waiting for us. The basement level has a long hallway. The left side leads to a main assembly room and the right side leads to the building’s storage. Dr. Conrad purposely chose the basement meeting room. It has no windows, no cameras, and a lockable door. This gives us the utmost secrecy.
As we step off the elevator, Eric greets us excitedly. “Good morning, travelers!”
He's much friendlier than Sarah is. Eric tries to make small talk about the Bruins game with us. Sarah awkwardly stands there, staring down at me. She seems annoyed that Eric is so friendly to us, whereas she looks at us like we don’t deserve to be a part of this project. I sip my coffee and continue to talk about the hockey game, hoping I don’t slip up and make a sarcastic comment and make things more awkward than they already are.
Dr. McCoy swings open the door of the meeting area and excitedly welcomes us inside the room. Upon entering, I see a whole slew of people waiting for us. I recognize Dr. McCoy and Dr. Conrad, but everyone else is a stranger, many of them even to Sarah and Eric.
Dr. Conrad waves us over to where he is standing at the front of the room.
“Good morning, everyone. Thank you so much for coming. And please, let me thank you again for agreeing to this. We’re going to get started in a moment. First, I’m going to divide you up for a bit. Ben, Eric, go find Dr. McCoy. Sarah, Ali, you’ll stay with me for now.”
I look at Ben as he steps away with that lethal “don’t leave me” stare. Once Dr. Conrad has us alone, he waves over two older women and continues speaking.
“Okay ladies, this is Sheila and Jane. They are specialists in art and fashion design. They’re going to measure you both to create your attire for the journey. We will outfit you with all the high fashions of the time.”
Sheila and Jane could not have been more kind, but it is uncomfortable for a woman to be poked and measured.
“I guess we should get used to this, being nothing but a display,” Sarah says dryly, with a subtle eye roll. Her first attempt at a joke, or even conversation at all.
I smile back. I know what she means to say, and I’m hoping a small smile will break the ice with her. We both know we’re going back to a period that was restrictive to women. Honestly, I’m grateful to be going through this with another woman. We may not agree on much or have anything in common, but at least I’ll have a female to confide in.
After finishing our measuring, we convene back at the head table with the boys, who were also being measured for attire.
Dr. McCoy clears his throat. “Alright everyone. Let’s start laying this out. Here’s what we’ve come up with: We are sending you back to the Titanic with first-class tickets. Ali and Ben, you are siblings traveling together. Sarah is your maid, and Eric is your valet. This will ensure you stay together onboard and give the appearance that we need. It also allows you to mix with both the first-class passengers and the fellow staff.”
“Wait,” Ben interrupts. “Who’s going to believe Ali and I are siblings?” He makes a good point. I don’t know much about biology, but I’m not sure where genetics would allow a mother to have one child with blonde hair and blue eyes and another with brown hair and green eyes.
“One step ahead of you,” Dr. Conrad responds. “It’s quite easy; you’re a few years older than Ali. It’s reasonable to think you have different mothers. Given the period and medical treatments of the time, let’s say she got sick, and your father remarried.”
“You killed off my fake mother?!” Ben puts his hand to his forehead and pretends to faint from shock. He’s going to enjoy this play-acting way too much. My performance will be uncouth and clumsy.
We then split up again. Ben and Eric go off to learn about male customs, like talking business and politics over cigars and brandy. They are both given materials to study to keep up with current events of the time and topics of conversation that will probably come up. Sarah and I follow Dr. McCoy over to a table where a tall woman who looks to be in her seventies is standing. Her posture is rigid and cold, and her eyes look to be examining both of us closely. He introduces her as Renee Vaughn, an etiquette specialist. Sarah and I look at each other with dread, the first time we’ve felt bonded over a mutual distaste for something. Renee is here to teach us how to be proper ladies, Dr. McCoy explains. Even the thought of this makes me audibly groan, and Renee immediately gives me a look as if I’ve been caught whispering in class. I’m going to have to keep my opinions to myself for once.
Sarah and I learn basic mannerisms and etiquette, like how to walk straight and graceful while wearing a corset. Renee has us follow her as she strides grandly around the room, her head held high and her posture perfect. While she cannot see, I follow behind her, comically mimicking her example. Sarah lets out a tiny chuckle, and it feels as though the ice between us may be thawing. Ben enjoys watching me attempt to walk gracefully with a book atop my head while he reads newspaper annals, and I enjoy flipping him off every time I pass his table.
On top of this education, Sarah has to learn the ins and outs of being a maid in 1912. I don’t expect her to serve me privately. But I understand she needs to learn to keep up the appearance of it publicly. I'm also keenly aware that the maids gossip as much as the passengers. She will surely learn many secrets that may be unknown to history.
We spend weeks learning etiquette, language, and social customs. We also learn history and popular song and dance. We study photos of the famous guests on the ship, the elite members of high society that we will socialize with.
As our practice schedule nears its end, it becomes even more grueling. Ben now calls these dress rehearsals, since our clothes are ready. I’m brought into a separate area of the room, walled off with a tarp-like fabric for privacy to see my wardrobe. It is a never-ending cascade of day dresses, evening dresses, and nightdresses. The wardrobe also includes linens, gloves, corsets, undergarments, hats, shoes, and jewelry. I run my hand through the rack of fine silks, twisting them between my fingers. The craftsmanship is incredible. Sarah and I spend hours learning how to do authentic hair and makeup.
The last day of practice ends with a private meeting between just the six of us. Dr. Conrad and Dr. McCoy want to go over the last details of how this mad experiment is going to work. Dr. Conrad explains that he and Dr. McCoy will set the target date and engage the time travel, at which point we will vanish before them.
Each of us will receive an everyday item, a talisman, holding the key to our return. Sarah’s is a brooch, mine is a necklace shaped like a locket, while Ben and Eric have pocket watches. Each piece contains a small button that, when we press it, will return us to Dr. Conrad’s private lab. We are told that even though days will pass for us, upon our return, it will feel like no time has passed at all in the present.
Dr. McCoy brings out four large trunks, part of our many first-class suitcases. Engraved on the trunks are our initials. Dr. McCoy explains they are for any artifacts that we stow while onboard. Any information we collect will go into these trunks. We will each receive items with hidden cameras inside that we can tap to take photos. Simple, inconspicuous everyday items like walking sticks or eyeglasses. We are all given a small box with a biometric lock on it; mine looks like a small music box. He explains we may also pack any personal items to go with us, a comfort of home perhaps.
“Listen carefully, though," Dr. Conrad interjects. “Don’t let these trunks leave your stateroom. When you are ready to come back, make sure that you are with your trunk and grab it. Try to stay on the ship as long as possible, but if you cannot get back to your stateroom, just press the button and go. Your safety is more important than any artifact you could bring back. Whatever you are holding onto will come back with you when you press the button, so be careful.”
Ben leans forward with a mischievous smile. “What if you grab the ship? Will that cause it not to sink?” He’s half joking but genuinely curious. I find the question idiotic, but it breaks the tension around this nonsensical project. None of us fully understands how this all works and what awaits us.
“We don’t know for certain, but it’s imperative that you don’t do that. When we tested it out, I held that day's newspaper and a Big Mac, both of which came back with me unscathed. We are assuming it will work for the trunks too, though we haven’t tried something of their size. But obviously, no, do not just grab the ship. It could change the entire course of history. It could change future world events. The sheer amount of people who would not exist anymore because of their ancestors' changed life trajectory is unfathomable. You cannot tell anyone who you are or what will happen. Please remember, you are there to witness, not change.”
After a few parting reminders of last-minute studying, we are dismissed until our departure tomorrow morning. Ben is staying at my place tonight, so we can pack whatever belongings we choose to take with us. I honestly think neither of us wants to spend the night alone, especially not knowing what is ahead. What if this doesn’t work, and this is my last night in the world? I’d like to spend it here, at home, with my best friend. But what if it works? There’s no way this experience won’t change me.