I Only See You

Nicholas was his name. The man who looked at me from across the ship. I was enjoying the view when I heard someone scream into his hands and I saw it was him. He told me his name was Nicholas and he was the son of an oil pioneer. He was rich, as I could tell from his clothing. He was well mannered, from his intellect and vocabulary. And he was beautiful, from his eyes.

"Aren't you the least bit cold?" he asked me, pointing at my bare arms. I shook my head. I was so used to never having warmth that I never really noticed that I was standing in thirty degree weather.

"I'm used to the cold," I told him. He gave me a peculiar look. Not a repulsed look, as I imagined, but a curious one. Then he shrugged off his jacket, his expensive looking black jacket lined with silk, and held it out to me.

"I'm okay," I assured him. In all seriousness, I was fine with the cold, but I also didn't want to get my scent on his jacket.

"No, please, take it," he pressed on. He moved closer to me and put the jacket over my shoulders. It practically swallowed my body, which was pretty much only bones. It did feel nice. Soft. And warm. And I could smell his scent still on the jacket. And most imporantly, it kept me warm. I hadn't worn such a warm jacket in a long time.

"Thank you," I replied. He gave a smile, that showed his perfectly straight and white teeth. It pegged him more to be a rich boy.

"Are you an artist?" he asked me, pointing to my white pad, hidden under his jacket.

"I draw for money," I said, bringing the pad out. "A dime each portrait. It's the only way I could afford some food, and even then, it's not enough." Great, I sound like a charity case. Although I know well that I am, I didn't want him to think that I was trying to ask him for money.

"May I see them?" he inquired nicely, stepping another inch forward. He knelt his head down slightly and gave another smile. And of course, I couldn't refuse. I handed him my pad and he flipped the cover over and looked at the first one.

It was a sketch of the Eiffel Tower. I was walking across Paris, winding up there magically, and with no place to go, nothing to do, I sat down at a bench and sketched it out. And there it was, being examined by a Jonas. Of the Jonas Oil Company. The richest family on board.

+++

"It's beautiful," I breathed out. Cecilia let me see her drawings and the first one stunned me. It was the Eiffel Tower, which I've seen plenty of times before, but not in the way that I could enjoy it. Sure, I've been near it and looked at it, but I had never had the time to truly cherish it.

But with this drawing, I could see every little detail. With this paper I held in my hand, I felt like I was staring at it in Paris. It was beautiful and extremely well done. She even shaded the black sky behind it, only adding to the gorgeous and elegant drawing.

"Why haven't you sold this yet?" I asked her, remembering that she sold her paintings for a dime. If she would draw on a large scale, get it framed, I'm sure she'd be able to get more for her drawings.

"No one wanted it," she told me and I turned my head to her. She was standing closer, or I was standing closer to her because I had been the one moving to her. I could see her hair, hardly washed and brittle, but still a beautiful color, blowing in the cold breeze.

"May I have it?" I put my hand in my pocket, bringing up a few coins. I waited for her permission and she nodded. She took the writing pad from my hands, her fingers creating an electric shock in my skin, and she ripped out the page carefully. She handed it to me and I handed her the coins.

"It's only a dime," she told me and tried giving back the extra money I had given her. I held my hand up, stopping her, and I put the drawing into my pocket.

"It's worth so much more than just a dime," I said. "Please, just take it."

She reluctantly put the money into her pocket and held her white pad in her arms again, tightly. We stood in a silence, which surprisingly wasn't too awkward. I noticed how my jacket was too large for her skinny body, how it was almost falling off. "Put your arms through," I said to her, lifting the jacket slightly. "It'll keep you warmer."

I took the pad from her and allowed her to adjust herself in the jacket and handed the pad back. She looked like she didn't want to be wearing the jacket and I'm sure that's how she felt. She seemed modest and didn't like someone being so hospitable to her.

"It's getting late," she said, breaking the silence. "I should go..."

"Wait," I said before she turned away. "I'll walk you to your room. Where is it?"

"Um..." she started and she turned her head down. "It's at the lowest level."

The lowest level, where all the poor passengers who managed a ticket, slept at. I had never been near the lowest level, always at the top, and she looked utterly embarassed. "Hey, I said I'll walk you to your room. And a man never goes back on his word." So I held my arm out to her and she wrapped her hand around my elbow and I led her to her room.

As we headed down to the lower level of the ship, music could be heard, increasing in volume, as we neared. "What's that?" I asked her, referring to the loud music.

"There's a party," she told me. "Every night, the lower class gather for some music, fun, and beer."

"You don't go?" I asked.

"No, not tonight, maybe tomorrow," she said. She stopped at a door and assumed it was hers. The door was open and the inside was quite cramped and dirty. There was no mess, but the walls, the bunk-beds, were filthy.

"Thank you," Cecilia said, turning to me and started to shrug off my jacket.

"No, keep it," I said. "It's quite cold down here and it's not like I won't get it back eventually right?"

She smiled slightly and kept my jacket on, the dark color of it only bringing out her pale complexion. I took the initiative, taking her hand off of my elbow and bringing it to my lips, kissing her knuckles as any escort did. My eyes never faltered from hers as I kissed her cold, pale hand. I immedietly feel her temperature warm a bit and notice that her face began to have some color, some red in her cheeks.

"Would you like to spend some time with me tomorrow? Morning, if you don't mind?" I asked her, still keeping her hand in mine. "I usually don't do a thing in the mornings, except for listen to my fi--, family speak to the rich. I'd like to do something different for once. So how about it?"

"Sure," she said. "Perfect opportunity to give you your jacket back."

Sure...you could look at it that way..."Great," I said. "Meet me at the front, where we were, tomorrow morning, say around eight? My family and I will be done with breakfast by then."

"Okay," she replied. Then she held the door and prepared to close it. "Goodnight Nick."

"Goodnight Cecilia," I said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," she said and closed the door.

+++

I went up to my room and found that Julia was in the sitting room, doing some embroidery. "Hey Nicholas," she said from her stitching. "Where were you?"

"I was with the men and went to get some air," I half-lied.

"Where's your jacket?"

I raised my head from the vanity where I took my watch and tie off. "I saw a poor woman on the ship where I was and offered her my jacket. She looked quite cold."

"That was very sweet of you," Julia told me. "But, please try to get it back."

"I will," I told her. I felt a hand on my back and I turned around and Julia put her hands around my neck.

"I love you," she whispered to me.

"I love you too," I replied. I had said it so many times before that it sounded true, although it really wasn't. She brought her lips up to mine sweetly, nipping lightly at my lips and I returned the kiss as she did, wrapping my arms lightly around her waist.

Julia was the only woman I had ever kissed, never getting a chance with anyone else, so I couldn't compare the kiss to the lips with another woman to her. But as I kissed Cecilia's hand before, even that was enough to surpass the kisses my fiance gave me.

When I fell asleep, I only pictured Cecilia in my mind. Replaying our first conversation in my head, word by word, action for action, touch by touch. The spark was true, it was there, and with just one night, I fell in love.