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My eyes flitted open as I was hurled away from the world that I knew in 1912. My face was undoubtedly blotched red amid all the wrinkles and aged skin I was left with. A wrinkled, spindly hand rose to wipe the tears from my bright blue eyes. They haven’t changed color at all since that night, or maybe my vision was failing me.
“I am now eighty-three years old. Exactly sixty-three years have passed since the day I boarded the Unsinkable, and I still remember every moment of those few days I’ve been on it.”
I looked around the auditorium, eyeing each student sitting in their seats. More than an hour earlier, hardly anyone took notice of the old man in the wheelchair on the podium. But now, every eye was on me. And those that weren’t were hiding behind tissues or their fingers.
I took a rattled breath as I tensed my weak leg muscles and rose out my chair. Dear Miss Rhuder, the high school’s principal, tried to assist me, but I brushed her off. Funny how that stubbornness never left me, either. I shambled my way to the stand almost on the edge of the stage and leaned on it for support.
Miss Rhuder took the microphone and placed it aside before motioning for the people in the sound booth across the room to switch on the mic built into the stand. When I tapped it and received feedback, I said, “Sorry.” Comic relief on my part.
“Don’t worry, I’m almost done everyone,” I said with a wry smile. I took another deep breath and plunged back into the world of 1912. I closed my eyes, and saw everything there yet again.
The light was from a flashlight from a ship officer leading a lifeboat, and his face of an unknown emotion made me realize that I might’ve been the only one alive still left in the waters. The fearful expressions of the other passengers in the lifeboat didn’t faze me at all.
The officer extended a hand out to me, and shouted at the others to pull me in when he noticed their statue-like state. Their lifeboat brushed against the one I still laid on, and I started moaning and whimpering as we drifted away from my rescuers.
“Get ‘im in, now! And his dead friend, too, don’t forget about him!”
Under different circumstances, I would’ve been terribly offended about someone referring to Harry as my “dead friend” and would’ve probably flown into a rage. But being cold, miserable, and wanting oh so much to get out and get warm, I ignored the officer and slowly stood up. One woman’s hand was closest to me, so I lunged towards her and grappled against the side of the boat until I fell in at the very back.
A towel, thick and dry, was draped across my shoulders while someone passed a canister of ale up to me. It was warm and tasted absolutely disgusting, but I kept on chugging the liquid out of the bottle until someone yanked it from my lips.
I bundled up into the towel, releasing more shivers as warmth regained control of my skin, and then looked up as one of the only men in the lifeboat dropped a figure also bundled in a towel onto my lap. His legs were stretched on the rest of the bench that nobody but I occupied.
Parting open the towel, I looked into the face of Harry Styles. And as the minutes crawled by and my body temperature went up, tears the size of my fingernails drizzled off my face like rain. I buried my head into the frosty, curly hair of my love and mourned.
We were rescued by the R.M.S. Carpathia at daybreak. The sunrise was glorious, especially how it instantly began to uncover the colors hidden by the darkness of night. It was like a revival of the human spirit, for those of us alive.
On the ship, they took away Harry to the room of bodies recovered. They said that more search-and-rescue teams were going to retrieve the bodies still out at sea over the coming days. I was spoon-fed some hot soup by a crewman that kick-started my body back into functionality, but the lingering effect of Harry’s death didn’t spur me to do much else but sit around sulking on the deck.
“Can I have your name, sir?”
I turned to find a crew member with a chart of some names already logged. He was holding this paper on a clipboard.
“Louis. And my . . . dead friend, that I was with, that’s Harry.”
The man jotted them down, gave a nod of content, and was on his way. I resumed my sulking until we reached New York Harbour.
I left the auditorium in my wheelchair after the students all clapped ecstatically for me. This was the first time I’ve told the story of my experiences on the Titanic to a public audience, after I felt the need to share it before I would pass onto the next life.
The school was fairly large, but it didn’t take me too long to navigate down the brightly lit halls and get down to the bus station. I didn’t live terribly far away from here, and so it took me about ten minutes to get home via public transport. I’ve used it since the global Depression in the mid-30’s.
There was only me on the bus when Ed arrived. We greeted each other, and he was kind enough to drop me off in front of my house because he was done with his shift for the day and eager to return to his family. Bidding him good day, I went inside the humble single-story and smiled at the scent of apple and cinnamon upon crossing the threshold.
I lived unmarried ever since the day Harry and I met. Marriage would seem like I’d be cheating on him, even though he’s long gone and we weren’t truly joined together or even recognized as lovers. But I preferred to live in solitude, and that’s what’s pleased me for the last sixty-something years.
I turned on the telly, but didn’t bother watching. My vision was clearly failing and I couldn’t even see the small screen from across the living room. I shuffled into the kitchen and collapsed into a worn chair before getting up again to make myself tea. I’ve been addicted to that stuff since my toddler years.
I returned to the living room and was beseeched by my cat, whom I had named Jimmy. I sat on the couch with a three-panel window behind me looking out over the street, and coaxed the tabby cat onto my lap as I sipped my tea.
My eyes fell almost instantly on the portrait beside me. It was situated on a small stand on the side of the couch I sat on, and it’s been a photo I could never tear my eyes off the minute I sit on this couch. It was a sketch of me and Harry on the Titanic, probably drawn on the night before the sinking, and it showed me leaning on the railing smiling my biggest while Harry stood beside me, an arm ready to catch me if I fell over. His smile, and the dimples in his cheek always drew me in.
It was about two years ago that someone found this drawing in their attic, hidden in a leather satchel among seven other drawings. The woman who found it was a daughter of the man who drew it on the ship, and when she took it to be analyzed, it was only a week later that they managed to find out that it was me through various people who knew me. It’s taken me months to figure out that, indeed, Harry and I weren’t alone on the deck that same day I met his parents in Third Class.
I grabbed the frame of the trimmed drawing and held it before me. I smiled fondly at the incredible accuracy of this anonymous artist, as this was my only memento of Harry that I had.
It was past dusk. I was late on taking my heart medicine, but I didn’t forget to. For several years, I was supposed to take a heart medicine that would keep my heart rate from dipping, but now was a perfect moment to just let it go. I had told my story to the world, and was ready to move on.
I sat up from the sofa and watched the cat spring off with precision. Opening the door, I watched as he sprinted outside eagerly. I closed the door and shut the bedroom window, which was the only other entrance inside. I made my way to my bed and slipped out of my clothes and went underneath the covers with the drawing in hand.
I took a deep breath, and sighed as the darkness enveloped me.
—-
I woke up however much later, feeling awake and refreshed from my sleep. The drawing was gone, and looking around the dark room, so were my belongings. My heartbeat escalated to a height I hadn’t been to in years when I realized that I’d been robbed of my possessions.
Storming out of the bedroom in such anger that I forgot about my walking inabilities, I swung open the door of my house and was ready to storm outside.
But I wasn’t outside.
In fact, I wasn’t even on Earth anymore.
Elegant music drifted down the golden corridor. Sunlight basked the entire place, even though there was only a single window on the other side of the hallway. I stepped over the threshold and felt the door swing shut behind me. Glancing down, I realized that I was completely in the nude, but it seemed like the least of my worries.
A man dressed in a waiter’s suit strode towards me from out of nowhere, a pleasant smile on his face. “Good day, sir. You are expected at the Grand Staircase.” And he was gone in the other direction.
I was expected? But I walked on nevertheless. My heart was racing because I was unsure of why I was back on the Titanic, or at least a place that very much resembled the Titanic. I touched the golden walls and closely peered at my reflection.
I was twenty again. The same age I was when I boarded the ship and my life was changed forever. I was lacking wrinkles and was thin and muscular again. My hair was chocolate brown and swept to the side, almost as if the wind styled it. My eyes glowed sapphire blue in contrast to my dark, tanned skin. And my penis wasn’t small and shriveled anymore! Not that it mattered much . . .
My bare feet slapped against the reflective surfaces until I reached the ballroom, where an uncountable amount of people were crowded in and all looking directly at me through the glass. I suddenly became self-conscious of myself and tried to cover myself, but slowly dropped my hands as the two stewards on either side of the door leading into the ballroom smiled and opened it wide.
Everyone there looked at me, but not in an uncomfortable way. They smiled and shook my hands and greeted me warmly, as if I was a celebrity of some sort but naked. The music was lively, something by Beethoven perhaps. The closer I got to the staircase, however, the more I noticed everyone in front of me parting like the Red Sea.
“Welcome at last, Louis.” My father—not the overbearing one that I knew, but the man he once was.
“We’re so glad you’re finally here!” Charlotte, and her preppy personality. I was so glad to see her after her premature death by car crash.
“We’ve been expecting you for a long time, dear.” That was my mother, and oh, how I’ve missed her so.
The murmurs grew to a gradual silence as the last people allowed me to pass by. The music slowed but didn’t stop, and as I climbed the stairs, I noticed another person there but only visible from the backside. I looked around at everyone I passed, and they all had the biggest smiles on their faces like waiting for me to open a present on Christmas.
The steps of the staircase warmed my feet as I got to the top. A figure slouched against the wooden rail, but turned to face me as I took a step forward in his direction. His emerald eyes sparkled like they once did, and his face was alive with energy and joy.
And he wasn’t wearing any clothes, either. I smirked to myself as I remembered it was a personal preference of his that grew on me as well, all those years ago.
His fingers touched mine and drew me close to him. I put my arms around his torso and relaxed against his firm frame, and as his lips pressed gently onto mine and separated, Harry said:
“Hi, Lou.”
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