Nightmares

Ollie's rugged wrist twisted clockwise, with her thumb and forefinger clenching tiny cinder blocks in the form of keys. She pushed the front door open. A gentle slam left her caught in the stifling darkness and, for a single moment, a treacherous feeling tight around her neck.

She dragged her leather boots across the parquet floor before abandoning them in the middle of the hallway, black dust flying in every direction.

The moon was whole and bursting through the chiffon curtains hanging in the kitchen, eloquently inviting Ollie to its quarters (or was it the delectable taste of smoked ham that filled the air?). She shadowed the white streaks, with grumbles pressing her walk and blackened hands tossing balls of gray wool along the way.

Her limbs and core, strained from the 16-hour day of scooping coal, melted onto the wooden chair. Eleanor had made her a generous plate with a bon appétit scribbled on a napkin.

Bon appétit. These two words, they used to come from Chester's mouth. In fact, it's the first thing he said to Ollie as they, and some other workers, had finally sat down to eat their sandwiches, back in their early days of training. Every single day after that, they chanted bon appétit and raised their food as to make a toast.

Ollie forked the thick slice of sweet and tangy meat and swung it above her plate.

"Cheers, brother," she murmured to herself, a faint smile ready to indulge.

–

Ollie's face winced as the spigots let out a shriek, dripping water as hot as they possibly could into the four-legged tub. The sooted overalls and the once white collared shirt fell to the floor, with the few strips of fabric that bounded her chest scattered on top.

She turned to face her reflection, and met a vacant stare sheltered by scraggly eyebrows. Her scalp had been confined in a tight bun and when she pulled the knot, relief spilled on each of her shoulders.

She sunk the whole of her body into the bathtub, ripples softly crashing against her skin.

*****

Endless hours of stoking had depleted their bodies of fuel, but they had to get themselves out of these frigid waters and up to the decks.

"Chest, I can't — I can't feel my legs," she cried, coughing out salt water.

Her limbs were merely dancing ghosts executing a futile choreography of unharmonized kicks and strikes.

Chester waded away from the exit and toward his friend, offering his back to Ollie.

"Hold on to me." he let out in a heavy breath.

Ollie was climbing the steps of the escape ladder when she heard a muted wail that made her swivel. Chester was still at the bottom. He seemed to be wrestling something with his foot.

"Chest… Chest, are you caught?"

He looked up to see his friend stagnant with fear.

"Ollie, go! I will be right behind you," he said, with little confidence in his voice.

"NO! I am not leaving you!"

"GET OUT. NOW." —

A shiver of cold sweats had thrust Ollie's body upward, her lungs choking on the lack of air. Her eyes, now wide open, surveyed the surroundings for signs of chaos. Everything seemed in order; a quilted throw blanket sitting on her late grandmother's rocking chair, a hefty chest of drawers, golden light flowing in by the small window, Eleanor's silk negligee, Margaret Deland's "The iron woman" left open beside last night's empty cup of tea. No water. No Chester. No chaos.

She crept out of bed, slowly walking to the lavatory for a warm water face splash.

"You chose to run, abandoning him when he needed your help. You, Ollie, you are a traitor," she said to the image of herself, her eyes narrow and nose wrinkled by the raising of her ruddy cheeks.

–

Out in the yard, Eleanor was hanging a pile of clothes to dry, the drifting of her chiffon dress singing the praises of her milky skin. Her feet were bare as she lived for nature's delicacies, and Ollie loved her for it.

Ollie laid a shaking hand on the kettle that was resting on the wood stove and aimed at the sugared cup. She fixed the downpour of steaming water, her hand unusually tight around the handle to keep it from splashing. Her expression became rigid, her jaw crushing each one of her teeth, glazing her mouth with a bitter taste that resembled black licorice. The screen door slammed.

"Good morning, honey," Eleanor said.

Her blithe tone abruptly crumbled when Ollie stayed silent.

"Ollie, sweetheart, what happened?" she asked, carefully grasping the kettle.

The cup had overflowed, staining the butcher block and dripping next to Ollie's toes.

"Eh?" — she looked down — "Oh… oh, I'm sorry. I must have been thinking about work. Silly me. Eh, what does the clock have to say? Oh dear, I have to go. They changed the departure time last minute."

Ollie swiftly disappeared out of the house, leaving her wife with lifted eyebrows, an itchy cheekbone and a mess to clean.

*****

When Ollie arrived home from her stoking duties, Eleanor was seated at the old Decker Bros, her fingers passionately chasing the keys.

"Oh, hi darling. I was not expecting you awake… having trouble finding sleep?"

The sweet melody had faded, replaced by a heavy tone. Eleanor turned her head, smiling.

"Perhaps that cup of coffee after dinner was somewhat of a mistake… my young years are gone, things hit differently in your thirties…" she let out, with a nervous chuckle.

"This is a little strange of you… are you certain you only sipped coffee?"

"Yes… yes, coffee it was. I, I was just…" — she inhaled a long breath — "I am slightly worried about you, sweetheart. Your demeanor, it seems… overwrought? Has something arise at work?"

"Oh, honey, no! Work is taxing, you know. The trips are getting longer and longer and you know I cannot rest on a moving wagon. And Earl, oh Early boy does not want to hire more firemen. Says it would cost the railroads too much, that it would be unreasonable. And you know, I cannot let him down, it would be the end of him. I am exhausted, do you care going to bed now?" Ollie let out, in one breath.

"Sigh. Promise me you are not hiding any burdens?"

"All is fine, El, all is fine."

*****

It had been another blistering day. The filthy bodies of men and a handful of women emptied the boiler rooms, leaving space for the following crew. Out on the platform, Ollie's stride was interrupted as her name was shout. The sun had been dismissed for quite some time and the moon was the only source of light besides a few gas lamps. She turned her head and caught a glimpse of who seemed to be Desmond approaching her.

"Hard day, eh? Listen, Georges bought a new boat and he is taking us on a ride tomorrow. It's also your rest day, am I right? What do you say about coming along?"

Ollie froze. Swelter seized her body, moisture escaping from every pore of her skin. Church bells were ringing, announcing another death.

"Ollie… what is wrong?"

The words were just a muddle of distant sounds. Her heart struck with such force, her ribcage might have ruptured. The clatter reached a deafening point.

"I, I… who… who died?"

"I think I am not understanding, Ollie… no one died."

"Yes… yes. The, the bells… I can hear them!"

"What bells...? Ollie there are no —"

*****

Eyelids ajar, Ollie slowly made sense of the familiar space.

She let out a weak "Eleanor?"

She noticed a damp cloth had been placed on her forehead and her legs were slightly higher than her head, resting on a stack of cushions.

"Darling, I was so worried!"

"El, sweetheart. I have lied to you… and I apologize. There… There is something you need to know about me." — she sat up in the bed, her hand inviting Eleanor to do the same — "Remember Chester?"

"Your old friend that died in a boating accident? Of course I remember. What about him?" she asked, before nestling Ollie's hand.

"Correct… ahem, that may not have been the whole truth. Mayhap it was a more... serious ordeal than I suggested…"

Ollie thought she said too much when Eleanor straighten up, looking uncomfortable.

"This must be difficult for you to talk about, but you are brave, Ollie. Carry on, honey, I'm listening," Eleanor said, as though feeling her wife's hesitation.

"The boat… it was not a boat, but rather a ship… the... Titanic. Chester was on the Titanic, one of the firemen in the boiler rooms. And I… I was there too, scooping coal."

"Oh Ollie… I'm so sorry."

She tightened her hand around her wife's.

"It's all a blurry mess. The only clear thing… is that I left him there. He was struggling, his foot was trapped… he told me to go... he said he would follow me. I listened to him… and I left him there, El… alone in the freezing water. I stayed on the decks for as long as I could, but he never showed, and his body has not been recovered since" — she tilted her head and her glossy eyes stared at her wife, for what seemed like minutes — "He rescued me, El, and I was the cause of his demise."

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