Of Water and Wine

The two hopeful men gazed at the bottle of Pinot noir wine like wind staring at a storm. The dust collected on its cork and around its neck gave the bottle more of a story. It made the desire for its contents even sweeter. Martin leaned over and put an arm on his father’s already drooping shoulder. “You know, father,” Martin started, almost whispering, “one day, we’ll finally be able to make mother proud. And when we do, we will be drinking the most glorious glass of wine in the world at that moment. Do you know why? Because we earned it. We deserve this.”

Theodore huffed through a smile in agreement with his son’s statement. The small gust from his nostrils swooshed through the air and brushed bits of dust from the wine bottle onto the kitchen counter it was on. Even when Martin was a child, his way of thinking reminded Theodore of the depths of imagination. Martin’s creative way of thinking was always outside of the box, a trait from his late mother, whereas Theodore remained grounded in what was right in front of him. Nothing more. Nothing less. That made the plan feel all the more genius.

“So do you remember what to do, son?” Theodore asked. Martin nodded, fiddling around his pocket until he found a folded scrap of thick dingy paper. “Head west until I get to the next town over. Meet with Benson and follow him to the port. I give him these coordinates and return here before the ship’s departure. Let him know the iceberg is expected to still be there. Make sure he’s aware it needs to look like an accident.”

Martin took a moment to recall the rest of the instructions. “After the crash,” he continued, “he needs to get off the ship immediately. There is someone aboard who is aware of the plan and will reserve a spot for him on one of the lifeboats. He isn’t to speak to anyone on the ship or back at the port when he returns.”

Theodore smiled. The plan played like a film in his mind as Martin recapped what they created. The public collapse of White Star Line was all he had on his mind for so long. After they robbed the idea of a city on the water from his wife, Theodore felt they didn’t deserve anything less. He knew that sinking the “unsinkable” ship was perfect justice for breaking the unbreakable woman they had taken from him just a year before.

Before Martin left for the journey, he hugged his father, tighter than Theodore could remember from any time before. He had become larger in stature and greater in strength than Theodore, being most evident during handshakes or when standing together.

The hug threw Theodore off guard. Before he could question anything, Martin peeled away and looked at Theodore with eyes he had not seen for years. “This is finally going to change things. For us. For mom,” Martin said. The emotion that unwittingly accompanied Martin’s words was too much for Theodore to consider at that moment. He straightened up and patted his son on the arm. “That, it will,” Theodore replied.

//

The following days passed more slowly than Theodore expected. He had heard the news about The Queen of The Ocean finally setting sail. The information infuriated him, while also being a source for a grin or two knowing what would happen. After another day or two passed with no word from Martin, Theodore’s worry heightened. He found himself wandering around in the mindset introduced to him so vividly by Martin and his late wife. However, less joyous. Imaginative scenarios polluted his mind of what could have happened to his son took Theodore hostage, pinning him to a state of fear.

The knock at the door propelled Theodore upward from his sleep. His heart raced as he put on his slippers and headed toward the front door. Martin had only knocked on the door occasionally. However, Theodore didn’t take much time to think about how odd it was. To his surprise, a tall thin man stood on the other side of the door. His clothes were matted with sweat and dirt. The scraggly hairs trickling from his cabbie cap looked painted on the man’s damp face.

“You Theodore?” the man asked. Theodore nodded. The man reached in his pocket, looking to his left and right to make sure no one had an eye on him. He retrieved a small, folded envelope and handed it to Theodore. It was slightly moist, but Theodore pretended not to notice. “I’m supposed to make sure you got this here letter,” the man explained. “Real secretive like. Paid me good, too! I’m not from ‘round here so I got a little turned around. But I made it!” A chuckle bubbled up and loudly blurted from the man.

“Who is this from?” Theodore asked. The man bounced his bony shoulders up and down, indicating he didn’t know. “Some guy. About yay tall. Didn’t really give me much to go on except a name and address,” he replied. The display of height could have been Martin, but it was hard for Theodore to be sure if the man was even sober. Theodore began to open the letter as the man was walking away. “We weren’t too far from that big ‘ol ship that went down. ‘Unsinkable’ my ass! It’s a shame what happened to all them people, though. Hope he wasn’t headed there.”

Theodore abandoned all attempts to be careful in opening the letter as he heard the man’s words. He snatched out the letter from the envelope and threw it to the ground like it was hot in his hands. The print was smudged, seemingly folded before the ink had time to dry. Theodore quickly lowered the glasses that sat perched on his wrinkled forehead. The handwriting immediately became familiar to him.

Dear father,

I am writing to inform you of some news. I reached the town we discussed but discovered Benson had fallen ill. He was unwilling to continue with our plan. I know how important this is, so I am carrying on in his place. I overheard a couple of the crewmen discussing something White Star decided to cut down the number of lifeboats to about half of what we estimated. I understand that will greatly change what we discussed, but they still have to pay for what they have done. I will obtain one early on. It will take me longer to return to you than expected, but I will be sure to complete what we began. No matter the cost. Please tell my wife and son they can expect me soon.

Sincerely, Martin

The words on the paper staggered Theodore. The scribbled date of April 10TH made Theodore topple to the ground beneath him. News of the sinking ship had already spread through town the day before. The excitement had been blanketed by the heated curiosity Theodore had for Martin’s whereabouts. The information, so pleasant at the time, was now the source of immense concern for Theodore.

//

Theodore returned home from fetching a newspaper from the downtown area of the city. He and Martin had often used the route to talk about family and their opinions on the current events. After not seeing Martin during the time out as he had hoped to, Theodore was all the more anxious to check the paper for more information about the sinking.

The long list of names of the deceased made Theodore’s stomach turn. Sounds of the newspaper ruffling in his trembling hand filled the otherwise silent room. Theodore placed the newspaper onto the wooden kitchen table he was sitting at. The names of the deceased were in alphabetical order by last name, which was helpful for him to search. His breathing picked up as he moved his finger down the page going through name after name. Suddenly, agony overtook Theodore as he finally saw the name he was hoping not to find. Martin Palmer.

Theodore shouted into the air and angrily threw the newspaper in front of him. The sound of breaking glass startled him. He rose to his feet to discover Pinot noir spreading onto the floor from the wine bottle he and Martin had been saving for the sinking of the Titanic. Theodore fell into the puddle of glass and wine, letting the cuts from the broken bottle bleed into it. He laid there weeping, as broken and as empty as the wine bottle underneath him, and replayed the last words his son utter to him.

“We deserve this.”