13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Electric Touch by Taylor Swift ft. fall out boy
April 11, 1912
I dress for dinner in a dark blue crystal beaded gown that has loose sleeves and a multi-layered skirt that cascades down to the floor. I slip on black shoes when I hear a knock at Ben’s door.
I can hear Edward standing in the hallway. “Mr. Turner, I was wondering if I might escort Miss Alice to dinner this evening.”
I know we’re stuck dining with him again, but I don’t want to walk with him, too. I hate the idea of being seen on his arm, parading me around as if I was another object he owns.
“Oh, I’m sure she would be delighted,” Ben replies, to my horror. I glance over and Sarah is looking at me apologetically. She dislikes him as much as I do. She has the luxury of gossip from the other maids and staff, and they do not hold back on his arrogance.
Ben enters my room to give me the news, but I greet him with an icy stare. He knows he’s in trouble. “Al, what was I supposed to say?”
Eric stands behind him, knowing there is no other option. “Ali, what choice did he have? We have to play whatever hand is dealt to us, and right now, he’s it.” I appreciate how well Eric and Ben get along, but I hate being outnumbered. Especially when I know Ben is right.
I sigh dramatically. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
I pull on my black silk gloves. Tonight I am thankful for them. At least he won’t be able to touch me. It’s as though I’m wearing armor, shielding me from his touch.
I pace in a few circles, trying to hype myself up with the energy for an evening of empty smiles and fake politeness. Sarah gives me a reassuring smile and I walk over to the open door in Ben’s room. “Mr. Harrison, how nice to see you,” I say sweetly. I think I’m getting the hang of the doe-eye damsel play-acting.
“Miss Turner, you look exquisite.”
It’s an innocent-sounding compliment, but it’s laced with lust. Not for me, or my status. I’m merely a trophy, a conquest that he needs to win over. The challenge is all that excites him. With him, it’s never ‘you are exquisite’ as if he’s complimenting or admiring me for me. It’s simply ‘you look exquisite’ as if I am merely ornamental, adorned with the highest fashions, styles, and jewels. He speaks as if the appearance of goodliness matters more than actually being good.
He holds out his arm, and I flash a fake smile as I take it. The moment he looks away, my eyes go dead. As we step into the hallway, I can see Charlie watching from down the hall. In the crowd of people he can see me, but only as I move closer can he see I am on Edward's arm. He looks upset, and when I try to make eye contact with him as we pass by, he looks away from me. I feel guilty, and I worry Charlie will think something is going on with Edward. Why am I even worried about that? I don’t understand the thoughts I’m having.
I spend dinner listening to Edward’s extravagant tales of his time at university. He is, conveniently, the hero of every outlandish story he tells. I have to hold back my extensive education and pretend to be fascinated and in awe of such a worldly man. His uncle Arthur is almost as arrogant as he is, but at least he has decades of success to warrant it. Arthur built the business empire, but all that work came at the sacrifice of never having a family, leaving his nephew as his heir. It still surprises me that Francis is related to Edward or Arthur, given how different his character is compared to theirs. He and his wife Helen, and their daughter Daphne, are surprisingly kind, and I feel a twinge of guilt for judging them initially.
I block out the table conversation and focus on the orchestra in the background, smiling politely every few moments to give the impression that I have been listening. As dinner draws to a close, I sit and wait for Edward to take his leave with the other gentlemen. I try not to show my excitement, but their outing signals that I am free for the evening. Right on cue, he stands up, thanks the ladies for their company, and asks the other men to follow him for cigars and brandy. I find it amusing because they make snide comments about the ladies gossiping over tea every afternoon, but in reality, that’s exactly what the men are doing every night over brandy.
Ben gets up from the table to join the other men, before asking once again if I need an escort back.
I whisper to him. “No, I’ll stay here.”
I watch as he leaves, waiting till he is out of sight to make my escape. I quickly take my leave from the table. I tell the ladies I had too much sun today and am quite tired. It works like a charm, and I’m on my way out to the spot where Charlie found me last night.
I step outside the door and onto the deck. I look around and I don’t see him. I tug at my dress nervously while pacing back and forth on the deck. Maybe he isn’t coming. Perhaps last night was an anomaly. A right place, right time kind of situation. Maybe I read all the signals wrong. Did I wrongfully perceive his friendliness to be chemistry? Maybe he doesn’t feel whatever it is I’m feeling. Is this all in my head? Perhaps his appearance of disappointment when he saw me with Edward has something to do with this. I pull my gloves off, and it feels like my entire body can exhale.
I get inside my head and convince myself he’s not coming and turn to leave. The door swings open and he walks out tentatively, as though surprised to see me.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” I whisper.
“I didn’t think you would either.” His voice is flat, and as quiet as mine, as if he also is unsure if last night was a one-off situation.
“Why not?”
“I thought you’d be preoccupied with Mr. Harrison.” His voice sounds hurt, jealous even.
“Absolutely not.” I scoff at the mere thought of being involved with that man. And it hurts me even more that Charlie would think that would be the man I’d choose.
“So you’re not attached to him?”
“I’m not attached to him.”
Why did I say that? And why did I say it like that ? I’ve known this man for twenty-four hours and I’m worried he thinks I like someone else? Is this how much my personal life is lacking? I’m flirting and I don’t even realize I’m doing it?
Charlie smiles wordlessly and gestures toward our walk. His smile is different. It isn’t polite or innocent. He seems almost devilishly pleased that I said I wasn’t involved with Edward.
We stroll the boat deck and talk. I let my guard down and accidentally make a few comments that let out glimpses of the modern version of myself. They don’t even seem to raise suspicion with Charlie. In fact, he seems to enjoy my candor.
“You’re quite the reader. You had a different book today than you did yesterday.”
My eyebrows raise with intrigue. “You notice a lot, don’t you?”
“I notice you .”
“Me? Why?”
“You’re not like everyone else. There’s just something about you. It’s different.”
“Oh.” The disappointment in my voice is clear, as if this is yet another expectation I fall short of.
“No!” Charlie quickly interjects. “Not like that. It’s a good different. It’s like every day I wake up and the world looks the same, and then I meet you, and I look at it now, and it’s like everything is in technicolor. There’s just something about you.”
“You’re the only person who’s ever seen me like that, I think.”
“Really?”
“Most people think I seem too closed off, or damaged, or messy.”
“I don’t think you seem like that at all.”
We walk toward the back of the ship. No one is out here. I walk casually, less of the prim and proper ladylike way I’ve had to grow accustomed to lately. There is a small square platform in the walkway that is raised, large enough for someone to stand on to get a better view of the water.
“You don’t?”
“The woman I see is intelligent, independent, opinionated.” Charlie notices me looking at the platform and then around as if I’m calculating how to best get up there. I hop up unaided, for a moment forgetting that I should have done that a bit more gracefully. “Alice, be careful,” he says with a tone of concern, yet his face appears amused. “Maybe she’s a little stubborn too.”
The water is calm. The waves ebb and flow rhythmically, as if lulling us or even pushing us closer together. I tilt my head back and stare at the night sky, breathing in the cold air and letting the breeze blow the hair around my face. My arms stretched out at my sides. I just feel free.
I marvel at the sight of nothing around us but gentle waves. It’s hard to tell where the sparkling navy sky ends and the dark ocean begins.
“It’s so beautiful.”
“It is,” Charlie replies softly, but when I steal a glance in his direction, he is looking up at me and not at the water.
And his eyes.
Those goddamn eyes.
They flicker in the moonlight, still full of so much warmth even in the dark.
As I step down from the viewing platform, Charlie offers both hands to assist me. I take them and for the first time find my gloveless hands in his. They’re warm despite the cold air. His touch sends an electrical current through my body like I’ve never felt before. Something inside me has awakened. It's as if we have something inside each of us that has been waiting to be connected. It’s crazy, but it feels as if these are the hands I’m meant to hold for the rest of my life. That’s ridiculous, Ali.
We stand frozen for a moment, my hands in his, lost in time. I don’t know if thirty seconds have passed or thirty years. Neither of us wants to move, or perhaps neither of us can. I feel magnetically pulled to him, and all I want is to get even closer. We stand beneath a twinkling sky, and somehow the only stars I see are the ones in his eyes. It takes everything in me not to bring my lips to his. I am mesmerized by him. Our eyes remain locked together until we’re both jolted back to reality by a familiar voice.
“Alice!”
I hear Ben’s voice coming toward us. I drop Charlie’s hands and we separate like shrapnel. I feel like I’ve been caught after curfew in the backseat of a boy’s car.
Ben looks utterly confused.
“Alice, what are you doing out here?” I’m still not used to him saying my full name instead of Ali, though I admit I am growing to like it, especially when Charlie says it.
I struggle to find the words until Charlie steps in to rescue me. “Miss Turner had requested a tour of the ship, sir.”
Ben raises an eyebrow. “In the cold? Out in the dark?”
Charlie looks tongue tied and I realize it’s my turn to step in and aid. “Well, the tour was inside, Benjamin. But then Charlie mentioned how clearly you can see the stars and constellations in the sky when out at sea. So we stepped outside so I could see them.”
Ben looks both of us up and down carefully, but appears to believe the story. “It’s late though Alice, we’d best retire for the evening.”
He turns toward the path back to our cabin and holds out his arm for me to take. I smile at Charlie. “Goodnight,” I whisper as I take Ben’s arm.
Ben leads me away, slowly at first, nodding politely in the hallways to other passengers. As we move closer toward our cabin, I notice he picks up a brisk speed. We reach our rooms quickly and Ben leads me inside. Barely a second after closing the door, he speaks, his tone altogether different from the politeness outside. His voice now sounds tense and concerned.
“Since when do you care about astrology?” Evidently, he saw straight through the constellation story we attempted to weave.
“It’s astronomy, Ben.”
He tilts his head and rolls his eyes. “Oh, come off it. You know what I mean. I don’t believe for a second that you were out there looking at the stars or whatever bullshit you said.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do! I saw you, Al! I saw the way you looked at him. The way you touched him.” His voice grows quieter. “I’ve never seen you look at someone like that.”
He’s right, though. Charlie makes me feel something that I can’t explain. I am careful, calculated, and consistent. But right now, I’m reckless. I’m heading down a dangerous road without a map. And the scariest thing about it is that it doesn’t scare me at all. Something feels right. It feels as though I’ve just been searching for Charlie. And as much as I realize it’s dangerous, or even perhaps stupid, I can’t stop myself from wanting to be near him.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s not what you think, Ben.” I decide to cave in a little and admit to some flirtation, but not to the extent of what I feel. If Ben knows everything, he’ll feel the need to be overprotective. I don’t want to stop seeing Charlie, so for now, it's better to keep him in the dark. I also can’t give Ben the answers he wants, because I don’t even fully understand what I’m feeling. All I know for certain is that I feel drawn to Charlie.
“Al, I’m not mad. I promise. A little attraction is normal. Maybe not what you’re used to, but it’s normal. You’re allowed to have some fun. Flirt all you want, I don’t care. Just be careful, okay? You know why we’re here. Remember what’s going to happen.”
My eyes go cold, as if the light has been snuffed out from them. At this moment, I realize I’ve been avoiding that significant detail: what’s going to happen. Whether I’ve been actively avoiding it or too distracted to think about it, I’m not sure. But now that Ben has planted the seed in my brain, it’s consuming me. I know the ship sinks. I know there is a significant loss of life. Why did it never occur to me to wonder what becomes of Charlie? Am I really that lost in a haze, or did I just not want to know? Even if he makes it off the ship, we still live in two different centuries. Where did I think this was going? I can’t believe I let myself get caught up in this. It's as though I know the ending of the book but won’t read the last chapter, just in case something could magically change.
Ben walks into his room to change and shuts the door. The moment it latches shut, I run over to my trunk. Besides the small locked box, I have a stack of papers, blueprints of the ship, photos, and the item I’m looking for—the list of crew and passengers. I frantically rifle through the papers, my eyes rapidly scrolling for his name. Finally, I see what I’ve been avoiding. Right before me are the words that feel like a stab to my heart.
Hughes, Charles Frederick- Deceased
I collapse down to the floor, crumpled paper in hand, and weep.