Back In Time-Tanic

“Women and children first!” The uniformed man screams, “Sir, compose yourself. Let the women and children on!” I hold onto Marc’s life vest; we stand on the first-class balcony, searching for a face through the chaos.

“Reese!” I scream, but the noise barely registers over the cacophony of a sinking ship and the haunting melody of the orchestra.

“Mrs. Ledger, please board the life boat,” I shake my head as Thomas, one of the cabin boys from our floor, gestures to me.

“Marc, we can’t leave here without the machine.”

“I know, but we don’t have much time. Get on the life boat.”

“I am not staying in this time period. We need to find Reese. If he’s still on board, we could leave before the ship goes down.” I scan the crowd for perhaps the millionth time, the faces all look the same: scared.

“Mrs. Ledger, I beg you, get on the boat.” Thomas pleads.

“Valerie, just get on the boat. I’ll find Reese, and we’ll locate another.”

I almost laughed. But I remember, everyone rushed to the port side. There was a boat almost all filled with men, “go to the starboard side. That is where are the last life boat leaves. First-class patio should lead you there. You have,” I look down at my watch, not-so-discreetly hidden by my dress, “twenty minutes until that last boat leaves.” I throw my arms around Marcs neck, and dammit, that boy still smells amazing.

As I walk toward the safety of the lifeboat I see an elderly couple standing by the railing, simply looking at the sea.

“Mrs. Straus, we have a seat for you on the lifeboat.” I turn my head quickly looking closely at the woman. Mrs. Isadora Straus, the co-founder of Macy’s, I know how this ends. But it doesn’t make it any less depressing.

“I’ve always stayed with my husband; so why should I leave him now?”

“Isadora-” Mr. Straus said quietly.

“We have been living together for many years. Where you go, I go.”

Thomas looks at the life boat filled with crying women, some holding children, some holding themselves. “Sir, I’m sure no one would object to an old gentleman like yourself getting in-”

“I will not go before other men,” Mr. Straus stated, he then took his wife’s arm and they gently moved to the back of the patio, away from my sight.

Thomas holds out his hand to help me into the life boat, I grab the bottom of the seat as it rocks side to side slightly. I look for Marc, but he is already gone.

Please, dear God, get him on a boat.

The lifeboat landed in the still water, and the men rowed us father away, but the screams did not get softer, if anything, they grew with the distance. Soon, Titanic’s lights cut off, and only the outline of the ship could be seen.

Around me the women bowed their heads, saying prayers out loud. The woman next to me grabbed my hand, hers was shaking and clammy, but I clung onto it closing my eyes.

In my mind I’m in a wooden pew, on a cold, winter morning dressed in a flowered dress with tights and boots. I’m kneeling next to my mother, our hands clasped together saying with the congregation: “Gloria al Padre, al Hijo y al Espíritu Santo. Como era en el principio, ahora y siempre, Por los siglos de los siglos.” I open my eyes to see a sliver of the moon, covered by an ominous cloud, and I have never wanted to be in a church more than right now. But more than that I miss the smell of my mother’s perfume, even if I squirmed and rolled my eyes through each service.

I can’t cry, I physically cannot allow myself to cry. It’s two hours until the Carpathia rescues us, and I cannot be dehydrated. So, I swallow my fright and loop my arm through the woman’s next to me.

“Here, rub your hands together. It’ll make them warmer. Like this,” the women copy me. “We’re going to be fine.”

“What about my husband?” The lady next to me asks.

“There were other boats, he’s probably on one of those,” a rower answers dishonestly. He had to know that 20 lifeboats wouldn’t save 2,228 passengers.

I close my eyes, my hands enfolded in the woman’s next to me, and I think back to where this mess started.