7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Blame Brett by The Beaches
Ben and I arrive back at my house. Dr. Conrad sent all of us home in a car service he hired. We’ve been told the same cars will collect us tomorrow morning as well.
Ben and I hardly spoke on the drive, both of us likely trying to sort out the thoughts that are jumbled in our heads.
Ben sits down at the kitchen island. I get pots and pans out to cook us dinner, but I lose myself in my thoughts and zone out as I rummage through the cupboard for ingredients.
Ben snaps his fingers to get my attention. “Hey, Ali. Where’s your head at right now?”
I put down the box of pasta in my hand and lean over the counter. “I hardly know. I mean, can you believe this? This time tomorrow we’ll be onboard the Titanic in 1912. Or it won’t work and we’ll be dust. It’s all happening so fast. I mean, Christ. What the hell were we thinking?” I’m having a hard time wrapping my brain around something so ridiculous. The notion of time travel is still utterly insane, and it feels like the last month of practice has flown by in an instant.
“Hmm.” Ben ponders for a moment, shifting his eyes back and forth. “I think I know what we need right now.”
I know what he’s implying. “Seriously? Now?” I can’t believe he thinks this is the right time for this.
Ben stands up and pulls his sweater over his head, leaving himself in just his shirt and jeans. “It works every time. I think this situation calls for it. Pick a song, Al. We’ve gotta dance it out.” He steps backward into the living room, playfully beckoning me to follow. “Come on, Al. You know I’m right. Dance with me.”
This has been our go-to for stressful situations or decisions. And I will admit that somehow, the invigoration of dancing like fools around the room gives us some sort of mental clarity.
I walk toward him, connecting my phone to the Bluetooth speaker in the living room on the coffee table. I have playlists for any mood or activity one could think of, but I move down to the one titled A+B’s Life is Chaos Dance Playlist . “Hmmm.” I tilt my head back and forth as I scroll through the options.
I tap on “Blame Brett” by The Beaches and swipe the volume up.
I let my body loosen up and start swaying and nodding my head. By the time the song hits the first chorus, Ben and I are jumping up and down with our hands in the air, while poorly singing the lyrics with our full chests. We may look ridiculous, but Ben is right. This always works.
The song ends and Ben and I collapse onto opposite couches, exhausted but giggling. For a moment, all I feel is sheer exhilaration. No nerves or trepidation, just a feeling of calm. Ben was right. I needed to dance it out. We’re committed to the project and whatever happens, we just have to let the chips fall as they may. I’m not used to relinquishing control, but maybe it’ll do me some good to just jump in fearlessly for once. I’ve been so afraid of taking a risk. I’ve spent my life playing it safe. Now is the time to be bold, to be brave.
I get up from the couch and stride confidently back into the kitchen, picking up dinner preparation where I left off; however, this time with much more awareness and concentration.
Ben sits at my kitchen counter impatiently staring down the carbonara I just made for us while I open a bottle of Pinot Noir. Carbonara is Ben’s favorite dish. I watched a lot of cooking shows growing up and taught myself to cook so I could make Dad and I dinner every night. It’s carried over to adulthood, but now I just enjoy doing it, and I think I’ve gotten pretty good at it. Aside from the companionship, I think the biggest reason Ben likes to stay here is the food. I thought a home-cooked meal for the two of us before this crazy ride would be just what we needed. Something normal in this long line of uncertainty. I put his glass down in front of him and take the seat across from him.
“Up for some last-minute studying?”
“Oh, God. Not more of your color-coded flashcards.”
He mocks my system of organized flashcards. They may be color-coded and overly detailed, but they’ve worked. I’ve used them to study with Ben on topics ranging from current events in 1912 to popularly used words or slang in conversation.
“Not this time, Ben. I came up with a little something different.”
I get up and walk over to the closet in the living room where I keep board games, candles, and extra blankets. Sitting on the middle shelf is one of my childhood board games, Guess Who. I spent entirely too much time replacing the names and photographs that came with the game with notable passengers and crew members on the Titanic.
I pull it out and hold up the box for Ben to see.
He looks at me with a puzzled expression. “I thought you said we were studying?”
“We are.” I smile as I pull out the trays from the box, revealing the newly assembled Titanic version of the game.
Ben laughs as he looks at the characters facing him. “Gotta hand it to you, Al. This is good.”
I draw the card of my character and hand the box to Ben to draw his.
“Remember, yes or no questions only.” I nod towards the board. “You wanna go?”
“Ladies first, Alice.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. There he goes, already getting into the 1912 character. “Nice one. Alright. Is your person a man?”
“Yes. Is yours?”
“Nope.” We both start flipping over pictures on our boards that don’t tick those boxes.
“Umm… is he a crew member?”
Ben glances down at the board. “No. Is yours a passenger?”
“Yes,” I reply as I flip over notable crew members like Captain Smith, Charles Lightoller, and William Murdoch. “Is yours known for business?”
“Yup,” Ben replies as I flip over more characters, leaving just the richest tycoons that were aboard the ship. Ben giggles. “Does yours look like she’s got a dead bird on her hat?”
“Kind of.” I nod and start laughing. Before I can ask my next question, Ben interrupts.
“Margaret Brown!”
“Good job.” I laugh at his excitement. “Who did you have?”
Ben shakes his head. “Not telling. Keep guessing.”
I stare at my remaining options, looking for distinguishing characteristics that would limit the field further. “Okay… is he under the age of 50?”
“Yes.”
I flip over more people, leaving John Jacob Astor, Benjamin Guggenheim, and Edward Harrison.
“Hmm.” I stare between the three remaining characters. “Does he survive?”
“Yep.”
“It’s Harrison.”
“You got it.” Ben turns his board to show me. “He’s kinda cute in an old-timey way.”
“Not really. Look how smug he looks.” He looks to be in his mid to late thirties. His untrustworthy smile curves alongside his handlebar mustache.
“Man, you’re just rejecting guys in every century, aren’t you?” Ben laughs, which dissolves me into a fit of giggles too.
“Shut up and eat before your food gets cold.”
Ben devours his carbonara, stopping for wine every so often and a gesture showing his enjoyment of the meal.
He puts down his fork, turns towards me, and raises his glass to mine. “Cheers, Al. To taking a risk together.”
“Together,” I answer as I clink my glass with his.
We spend the rest of our meal reminiscing over our memories together, both trying to avoid the unknown of what is to come. We mindlessly plan our trip to the Cape next summer as if tomorrow isn’t happening. As if we’ll return the same people we left as. As if we’ll return at all.
Ben cleans up the kitchen while I go into my bedroom to pack a small bag of keepsakes I want to bring with me. I fill a small envelope with photos of myself growing up, friends at the Cape, and Ben and I at Christmas, moments I’ll want to turn to for comfort when I miss this place.
I get changed for bed and I begin to feel more and more restless. I walk out into the living room where Ben is sitting in his pajamas on the sofa watching the Bruins game.
“Hey, can you come stay with me? I really don’t want to be alone tonight. I’ll put the game on in the bedroom.”
Without a word, Ben turns off the television and gets up. He smiles as he walks over to me. He puts his arm around my shoulder and walks up the stairs to my bedroom.
“Only time I’ll ever sleep with a girl!” he jokes as I elbow him in the side.
He slips into my bed and we just talk for a while, with the hockey game on for white noise and normalcy. We lay on our sides toward each other, both grasping at companionship. Platonic as it may be, it’s nice to have warmth in my bed and not be alone. I close my eyes and dream of the sea, wondering what it holds for me.