Unable to Stay, Unwilling to Leave

After I was finished screaming, there was this incredible silence. I was alone, I was alone even if someone was there. I looked out to the sea. Lines of blue light that was littered across the water was the only thing you could see to know that the ocean was there. There was no moon, just the tiniest stars, there were millions of them.

I still felt that no matter how many times I screamed, there would be no way of escaping. I had no idea where I was going, who I would see next or who I would remember. I was doomed throughout my entire life and there was no way of stopping it.

"Miss!" I heard footsteps running along the planks of wood underneath me. I caught my breath but refused to turn around. "Miss! Are you alright?! I heard you screaming and I thought someone went overboard." A strong Irish accent scattered the air. I felt the touch of a young man's hand upon my shoulder, so I turned around and saw a man who was obviously apart of the ship's crew.

"I'm fine," I said, turning back around.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Now go, please."

"Alright Miss, but don't stay out here too long it's too cold." I heard him say as footsteps started to make sounds through the air.

No matter how cold it could get, it never seemed to get to me. I can always stay in the coolest night and not worry about a thing other than the troubles going through my mind. I often wondered that I was too cold inside to feel it outside.

I stood still like a statue just feeling numb all over, I didn't want to move any part of my body. I just wanted to stand as still as I possibly could. I closed my eyes a let the ice cold wind blow onto my warm cheeks. I took a step forward and put one hand onto the railing, and then the other. The steel seeped through my silk gloves, ran into my fingers and into the flow of my blood. I listened closely to the sounds the wave made as they crashed against the wall of the ship. I swear I could hear each and every tiny splash it made, it almost sounded like rain. Suddenly, the softest footstep vibrated in the planks of wood and to my hearing. Another one, and another. I kept my eyes closed, hearing every move that someone had made. For some strange reason I didn't feel nervous, I didn't feel alone.

"Come Josephine, in my flying machine..." A calm voice lingered in the air, "and it's up she goes, up she goes...Come Josephine...in my flying..." I slowly opened my eyes and the darkness was replaced with a lighter darkness, the very same darkness where you would never be scared in.

I kept my eyes forward, not caring who was not so far away from me. I heard a match strike and the corner of my eye saw the orange light, so my head turned and there was this man. My mind was compelled with the vision of him. He was so simple. He had no fancy clothing, not a fraction of gold or silver dripping from his hands. There gloves he wore were not white, not perfectly clean and brand new, they were old and torn, showing the tips of his fingers.

As the spark from the match lingered on for a while longer I could see his eyes, the way they looked upon the world like he was thankful for every last thing he was able to see or touch. But, the spark blew out and his eyes wander over to mine. They reminded me of little sparks of fire flying out from burning wood; unforgettable works of art that had the darkest and lightest of colors.

There wasn't any courage for me to look back at him so I looked out to sea. "Come Josephine in my flying machine." He hummed, not caring who heard him. It was his voice that dared me to see his image, it was soft and rugged at the same time. Nothing special, it only whispered to those close by.

The smell of smoke filled my senses. Although I had smelt it a thousand times, I had never had the chance to taste its sensation. Wondering about him smoking made me think about it. I don't think either of us thought of speaking to each other, but I didn't mind the company; which was strange.

"Wandering far from home, yeah?" His voice lingered through the air and into my hearing, I had no intention of letting my eyes wander to him.

"Is there something that makes you think England is my home?" I asked, keeping my gaze straight forward.

"No, but you're far from home." I couldn't help but turn my head to look at him. He was almost slung over the railing. He blew smoke down to the distant water as he had the cigarette hanged from his lips. He seemed uncanny, his eyes would search in a way you wanted to understand why he was doing so.

"Everyone is far from home," I said, looking away.

"Not everyone has a home." As the sea tore through the night air, I stood.

"And why is it that you do not have a home?" I cleared my through silently, despising the way my words would make perfect sense.

"Because home isn't where you heart is." Those words immediately made me want to look at him, and once I had, he was looking straight at me. It was the very first time we had looked at each other.

I have spoken to the most educated men in the world, men who have been to every country, held ever currency there ever was. But, this man spoke like he had done so much more, but yet he was so simple. His words ran through my over and over, I tried to understand it. I wasn't able to. I took a breath in and pushed myself to stand that little longer, hoping that the deep fear inside of me wouldn't cave in. "So Miss, tell me what brings you to the largest ship in the world." I couldn't help but slightly smile with my lips and bring up a soft laugh with my weak lungs.

"My Mother." I looked over to him, he inhaled the smoke from his cigarette for a rather long time before he threw it overboard. I watched as the smoke bellowed from his lips and into the chilling air, it was amazing how his lips would capture the light, then blow it out into the darkness, brightening it. I closely watched as he turned his attention over to me, straightening himself up, still holding onto the same railing I was clinging to.

"Can get away from her? I've seen it a thousand times with other girls I've met. It's different in Paris, the girls there run away from all responsibility and run wild." I scoffed and hide my smile along with my laughter.

"Do you normally start conversations about such things with every women you have met? And without an introduction, I must add." I looked at him poised, despising myself even more for doing so. He smiled and laughed.

"Why do I have to?" His childish gaze brought me to loosen the tension building up inside of every muscle I had. I didn't want to forget that this shouldn't be.

"I'm not quiet sure, Mr..." I paused, waiting for him to fill in and realize. "Mr?" I waited, hiding the grin I felt so willing to do.

"Okay, you got me. Way." He knew that I couldn't bring myself to shut him down with cruel and meaningless words. There was apart of me wishing that he would, but apart that wish he wouldn't. That part of me was unknown.

"Way what?"

"Way..." I smiled and turned back to the sea.

"Thank you Mr. Way."

"Pleasure." As we both looked out to the sea, I thought and thought again. The sea was no longer ahead of me, it was just my imagination thinking of the possible reason as to why this man was talking to me, why he bothered. I tried and tired again not to look at him, but I couldn't stop my imagination wanting to remember what he looked like, so I slightly turn my head and looked at him while he wasn't paying the least bit of attention. At least I thought. He turned to me, looking at me in the same way I did. That fear inside my came crawling back and I had to look away. "You still haven't answered my question."

"And you haven't answered mine," I said, turning away and going to the other side of the railing, I wanted a new view and secretly, a place where I couldn't turn to see the man I wondered about.

"I bet you get tired of being so poised. I can see by the way you stand here alone, and I know because you stand here alone in the cold." All emotion left me behind at how right he was. I stared blankly, until I heard one footstep, and then another. "You still haven't told me your name, Miss?" I weakly smiled and brought myself to turn around and look at him. His eyes saw straight through mine, they went from side to side, searching and searching. "Miss?" His soft complexions gathered around his gently eyes waited patently for me to answer.

"Why do you ask?" I asked, genuinely.

"I don't want you to stand alone..." My confused mind brought my words to be speechless. I couldn't find a way to respond.

"There you are." We both shot and I saw Mr. Clate walking briskly towards. I looked back to Mr. Way as he stepped away from me. "I was looking for you." Mr. Clate came closer.

"Right after scotch with the other men." I turned my head back to Mr. Way and showed him that I was hiding my laughter in the best way I could.

"What are you doing with this...man?" Mr. Clate stood too close for myself to comprehend standing there, I had no choice but to stand back. But, he came closer. "You know he could do utterly disgusting things to you," he hissed. A different fear overwhelmed my body. As I looked into Mr. Clates cold eyes, I watched as Mr. Way stepped in, forcing Mr. Clate to stand his ground further back.

"I'll go now, maybe we could finish this utterly disgusting conversation another time," he said, smiling at me. With one last look, he turned away and let me watch him walk away with his hands in his pockets, he wouldn't leave without giving me one last look. I hid my grin I wanted to do so much.

"Anne, your Mother wouldn't be please if she was spoken to about this..." I was forced to look away from the man I wanted to know more about, to the man I knew perfectly well and despised. I was screaming in my mind for him to come back, screaming."

____

"Did you ever speak to him again?" My Granddaughter asked, searching for answers with her eyes. "What was his name?" I weakly smiled.

"It's all apart of the story..."