Unable to Stay, Unwilling to Leave

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As we sat down at the table, which was covered with the whitest cloth, sparkling silver and the most expensive cutlery. I was sure that Gerard had never seen anything like it before. His his eyes glimmered at the table and meal made as if monarchy were dinning where he sat. He had never seen it before, but I had every time I sat to eat.

"Are we meant to eat all of this?" I smirked laughter as I looked down.

"I won't be eating it all, so you can help," I said, smiling.

"There sure is a hell of a lot." He was just like a little child finding themselves in a store filled with sweets. He began to eat. I knew he hadn't eaten for awhile, seeing as though he almost died with each fruit or pastry he bit into.

Looking down upon the food gracefully placed before me, I could not yet bare to eat. I was eating away at myself emotionally, the thought of eating physically felt impossible. There were too many things I was leaving unfinished, too many words I was craving to speak. So many things I was dying to accomplish, but never got the chance to. I found myself looking up for answers or an escape for the thoughts I dreaded to think of. Women sat down at other tables were staring, staring at the poor man eating in front of me, staring at the insanity they thought I had. But, as soon as my eyes laid upon their noses sticking out, their rude eyes flew away.

"Gerard," I called, his eyes led from the food to me. "I've told you parts of myself and I'm wandering about you, tell me about the mystery of Mr. Way."

"Me? Me...Ah." He searched through his mind as he sat down a half eaten strawberry. I watched as his features became more and more irresistible. "Well, what do you want to know? It's hard to think of what you would like to hear," he said. I smiled and picked up the clear glass and sipped the sparkling water.

"What brings you to the largest ocean liner in the world?" I asked smiling and placing the glass back down. He smiled back, knowing that I had remembered what he had asked me not long ago.

"Going back home...New Jersey I s'pose. I miss it, badly. Its a slum, but a slum where I can always go back to, y'know?"

"England's a long way to be traveling."

"I know, but I needed to get away...go to places I've never been before. Venture beyond as they say. I first went to Italy, my little Brother came along. I went to my grandma's and my Brother found a friend that wanted to come back to America, so, that's why I'm here. But before we came here, I wanted to see other places...Like France, geez, now that's a place to be," he said, grinning.

"Money must be a problem?" I asked, curious about a man being everywhere with nothing.

"Not really, got jobs here and there...I never really cared about it. That struggle makes it more interesting, you just wonder where the hell you're gonna end up next. It's amazing the how you meet every kind of person though. Dirt poor, filthy rich...But when worst comes to worst, their all the same." My eyes began watching his hands, the way the would flow into movement, the way he scrunch his fingers into his fists. He had a bump on his middle finger, that part of his skin was much more rougher; where a pencil would press against it. His hands weren't elegant like a wealthy mans' hands. His hands were rougher. His bones were carve just so his veins would wrap around them and blend in with the pale color of his skin, perfectly.

"You're an artist?" His eyes darted.

"How did you know?"

"You can tell a lot about someone by their hands..." I explained. "My Grandmother told me that you can tell someone's creative if they talk with their hands, or you could tell someone works hard if their clean hands are stained dirty, and you can tell a man's wealthy if they wear gloves-"

"-to hide how elegant they are..." We smiled.

"Exactly," I said, stilling smiling.

"My Grandma told me the same thing. Old ladies, they know a lot." I laughed as he looked at me, my cheeks growing with slight warmth, possible showing the light shade of pink. I was more amazed than embarrassed, maybe because I found myself in a situation I had never been in before- I had connected with someone of the total opposite. "You're hands tell a different story, though."

"They are gloved, I suppose I'm one of those filthy rich people," I said, looking down in disappointment at my gloved hands.

"Maybe, but I bet if you took the gloves off someone could know more about you...They just give people the wrong impression..." I looked up at him, his sweet smiling bringing up a weak one of my own.

"I'm being forced to keep them on."

"You can be forced to keep them on, but if you take them off without any regrets, they'll stay off for as long as you like." His metaphoric words spoke.

"So, what kind of art to you create?" I asked, remembering that I wanted to know about him.

"I like all kinds if arts, mainly drawing...I do some photography to get paid, they had a lot of jobs around Paris, wanting someone to take photographs..." More interest struck me.

"Of what?" His smile grew into a grin.

"Y'know...Photographs of women in Paris...They aren't shy, I'll tell you that." I couldn't help but laugh and grin.

"Not at all awkward for you I'm assuming."

"No, not at all," he said, grinning back.

"You'll have to show me some of your work," I said, eager to find his talents.

"Yeah, I'd-" Looking through the window, my heart stopped as his words did. And as though a flame of fire was about to crash through, my Mother's eyes were staring at me. "What?" My heart began drowning itself in its very own blood as he gaze clung onto me. Gerard turned around just as she said something to the women she was accompanied by. He turned back to me and I looked down. She was making her way through the entrance and over to us. "Is that your Mother?" he asked, his eyes pitting me.

"Anne, I have been looking for you and here you are...Having breakfast with?" I stood up and looked into her eyes, which were burning holes straight through me. Gerard stood up and kept his eyes on me, but I was more than afraid to look back.

"Mother, this is Mr. Way. He had helped me find my way around the ship, so I felt inclined to offer him Breakfast, which he accepted." Lying, I looked back to him. My Mother staring at me in disgust and Gerard looking at me, wondering why I couldn't just tell the truth like both of us had wanted.

"Pleasure to meet you. And yes," he began, grabbing her attention knowing that the tension was ripping me to shreds; "Which was kind of her."

"Pleasure...to meet you too, Mr. Way," she said, hiding her disgust and lying through her perfectly straight and white teeth. Ever so elegantly turning to me, she said: "Anne, this morning's Mass is about to begin," she said, holding her posture as perfect as her smile. It felt as though water was being poured down my through, drowning me once again. I looked over to Gerard, who didn't seem at all happy.

"Well, I must be off." He cut in, "Goodbye, Miss. Hayes." He held his hand out, looking from his eyes to his hands I weakly smiled and took his hand. He gently gripped. Flashes flew from his fingers tips and into mine, spiraling up my wrist, to my arm and into my chest. It felt as though he was pumping water from my lungs. It seeming to make me breathless. His fingers tips slipped away and I watched as he walked away, leaving me in despair with no other choice. My eyes slowly went back to her. Her smile no longer there she began to lose her posture and willingness to pretend she was the best Mother I could have. The room was no longer filled with people wanting to listen, and it was the only time I wished one of them were around.

"What were you doing with that man? I told you before that you are never to see him, you didn't listen, did you?" I looked away. "Listen to me, Anna." She forced me to look at her pail and wrinkled face, that seemed a million years old and filled with hatred for her own Daughter. "You never speak with that man, again. Do you want our reputation to be ruin just because you want to be seen with a third class boy? He has nothing to offer you. I do not want to be known as the Mother of the child who went with some boy from society's slums. I am your Mother, Anne, your Mother. Listen." In a room filled with the brightest colors and the beaming sun, it was dim and depressing. Looking into her icy blue eyes, I was bursting into flames. I was clenching my teeth, just wanting to scream at her.

"You're acting nothing like a Mother." I found that saying that, was the hardest thing to ever say.

"Please, you are my only child...If you know what's best for this family, you will do what's right. I love you Anne, please do not do this to me." Her eyes were begging me, begging. She wanted me to stay the same and never change, no matter how old I grew.

"Yes Mother." I threw myself inside a dark room...

"Good. Now we have a service to attend." And she locked it.

*

An open bible was placed in my hands. I was lined up aside my Mother as if I was a soldier. All the women and men surrounding me were sure to have millions lined within their clothing. My eyes traced their wealth until I found my eyes laying upon Mr. Clate. He looked back, almost smirking at me, telling me he was winning the fight I was struggling against. I looked up, my shoulders pushed back, my hands arms holding the bible upright. I looked at the crucifix placed upon the small alter, plated silver, encrusted with jewels; Jesus must have hated being nailed to something they made with their riches. They were all hypocrites, and I was forced to stand among them.

"A reading from the holy Gospel according to Matthew 19:3-6
Some Pharisees approached Jesus, and to test him they said, 'Is it against the Law for a man to divorce his wife on any pretext whatever?' He answered, 'Have you not read that the creator from the beginning made them male and female and that he said: This is why a man must leave father and mother, and cling to his wife, and the two become one body? They are no longer two, therefore, but one body. So then, what God has united, man must not divide.'
This is the Gospel of the Lord."

"Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ." A choir of voices proclaimed as though they were actually paying attention. My Mother was one of them. I knew she was thinking the words the Father spoke were about not to divorce or you will descend into the fiery pits of hell. In my mind, it was telling me to realize what my reality was meant to be. God's intentions; the union of a man and women who were destined to fall in love and stay that way forever. But, with no other choice I was being forced to follow other plans, knowing that one day I will regret it whilst burning in the fiery pits of hell.

I stood quietly as my Mother spoke with other women, talking about how fine the day was. I stood alone thinking of how nice it was to speak to Gerard, speak about anything I wanted. I was in a different world when he stood with me. He was like no other I have met. I had an opinion, I had a voice. But here, I had nothing but my mind and thinking quietly to myself. I automatically following my Mother, yet again tided to a lead with her pulling for me to follow her.

"Anne, I would like to speak with you alone." Mr. Clate's voice brought me into the harsh reality that surrounded me.

"Of course," I said, emotionless.

The sun was begging to get brighter and brighter with each step I took out on the deck. He walked beside me, holding his head high, knowing that others knew him.

"I am terribly sorry for what happened this morning." His voice lingered in the air as my thoughts began to wrap around the fact that his man was hatred itself.

"Mr. Clate," I said, stopping him. "I accept your apology, but what I don't accept is this engagement you have force upon me, I don't know whether this has accrued to you or not, but I don't love you," I said, he looked at me in shock, not understanding a word I had been wanting to say ever since I had met him. Frustration overcome me and I had to leave him behind. Walking away and leaving it unfinished was all I could do. I was walking away faster than intended.

"Anne!" I heard her voice creep into my mind once again. I turned to her. She was yet again trying to impress her company. She dragged me in, introducing me to people I had no care for. This angry was building up and up. My mind was spinning. Thousands and thousands of words spoken by untrusted strangers almost brought me to my knees in tears, until suddenly...

"Miss?" A voice called. "Miss?" I slowly turned and saw a boy, not much younger than I was, looking to me. His hate tilted just over his hazel eyes. He had another young boy standing with him, he was glasses, his hair combed over. That boy looked at me slightly cross eyed, his eyebrows crunching in shyness as he lifted his head whilst bringing his glasses further up. "Would you like to be in a photograph, Miss?" The other boy asked.

"No thank you," I said. There clothes were simple, they were simple, seeming pure at heart. I looked once again at the boy with the glasses, his dirty blond hair falling into his eyes. He looked down and up, down and up as if he was too shy to look straight ahead. A slightly smile.

"Please Miss, we are getting paid to find a young lady wanting to be in a photograph for some paper."

"Ye-yeah, please Miss?" The other asked. Their game of sympathy was being played well.

"Well-"

"Oh yes, Anne." My Mother cut in, "she'll loved to be in it. " She finished, smiling at them both.

"Thank you!" The boy with the glasses proclaimed. I slightly grinned.

"Hey Mister! We found someone!" A man with a camera and its stand looked at us and rushed over. "Pay up!"

"Hold your horses, son!"

"Come on! Come on Mister! We haven't got all day 'ere." I hide my laughter after the boy with the dark hair hurried the man. I watched as he threw them silver coins, they struggled to catch them.

"Stop staring, Anne." My Mother snapped me out. "Stand like this, oh, don't slouch." She glared. My eyes felt heavy as she fixed the position while the man set up the camera. I hated being subjected to advertisement like so. My Mother placed a black umbrella in my hands. The umbrella was mine, but my Mother had found her way to make it her own.

"Stay still Miss, I'm about to take the picture." I stood still as I held onto my umbrella that was firmly placed in my lace gloved hand, I held my perfect pose that was not perfected by myself. Snap! My eyes blinked at the big flash of light. "This will be in the Times Miss! Lucky one you are, being on the largest liner in the world!"

I finally moved my body and turned back to my Mother, who was looking pleased with herself.

"Hey Frankie, Mikey, what the hell are you up to now?"

"Wha? We're workin' here..."

"Yeah Gerard-" I quickly turned around and was him standing there. Just the site and sound of him and his name brought me to that other world. "-We got paid!" The boy with the glasses said excitedly.

"That's good, Mikey. But don't go letting Frankie push you into slave labor," he said, laughing as he took the other boy's hat.

"Hey! Give that back!"

I silently stood away, watching him, desperately wanting to escape my Mother's voice. He turned his head from the boy, and found himself looking back at me. No time was there, just us, watching each other from a far. My lips weakly smiled, knowing that I couldn't go over to him, but still smiling because he was there. The other boys looked at him and looked over to me, one smiled, then nudge Gerard. He said something, then Gerard said something and I just wanted to know what it was. Just him standing there made flickers of excitement overcome me. And, just as he took a step forward without even thinking a second thought...

"Come alone Anne." I was stopped. I didn't want to looked back, but I was unable to move forward. Two choice surfaced in my mind; go back to her and be chained forever or move forward and come what may..."Anne?Anne, come along now." I looked back to her and then back to him. He stood still as if he were a lost child. I looked back, "come alone." I softly sigh and turned to her...