The Botton of the Ocean

Floating.

I am floating.

The water soaks my clothes and I am lighter than air, bobbing around in the darkness behind my closed eyelids. I hear my name being called and submerge myself, feeling the cold envelop my body. My throat burns and my lungs scream for air but I stay as long as I can. The voice is gone when I resurface, and I float once more.

I open my eyes and a little girl is there. Her dress flows around her like mist in the dark sky, but she is crying. Her body, pale and cold, is limp and crumpled like decaying flowers and I see her for what she is. I have seen her for so long. She is weeping, her hands slowly moving to her face as she does, thick cascades of dark hair.

The water runs from me as I walk past her into the hallway, the plush carpet now wet under my bare feet. The corridor is empty, but the rooms around me are alive with sound. Another girl crying, a mother trying her hardest to comfort. The stairs, cold wood against my skin, up and up until the sky. The people on the deck watch me, their faces pinched with the cold. I watched the night sky, the air freezing my clothes. The stars shine, and I am jealous. They are so far away, so above us all. Pin pricks of white light in an inkwell spilled across the parchment of day. They are lonely, swirling together with no idea how close they are. They are isolated, and I am sad for them. I want to be them. I hate them.

A woman passes in front of me, her dress trailing behind her. She is wearing a fur coat, brown and black in stripes down her back. A prison uniform of wealth. She stares at me as she passes, her eyes cold and sad. She reaches for me, but she lowers her hands when I don’t reach back. She frowns and turns away, continuing down the deck, her hands clenched together.

“Come now, Jerome,” a voice behind me says, wrapping a thick blanket around my shoulders.

I turn to see, and my father smiles down at me. He pulls me along, back below deck, to our rooms, and sits me down on the sofa. He hands me a mug, steam rising from the top, and smiles again, his eyes worried.

“It’s alright.”

I nod, taking a sip, the scalding liquid burning my throat. I drink until it is gone, until the sludge at the bottom slides thickly down my tongue. I put the mug down, staring at my hands. The tips of my fingers are pale, greying, and I feel cold. I tug the blanket around me further.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

I shake my head. “No.” I stand, the blanket trailing behind me in imitated elegance. The door to my room opens at a push and I step inside, the wood warm and rich beneath my toes. I look at my mirror, my wide eyes screaming back at me, thick black curls seeming to float around my head.

A flash of darkness, a pale figure staring at me in the mirror. The glass is pocked with tarnish and filth.

I blink.

My face is white, afraid. My heart beats in my chest, racing against itself. Racing against time.

I stand, letting the blanket fall to the floor. I walk back to my father, who stands and puts his arms around me.

“It’s going to be alright.”

“It’s happening, father.”

He pulls away and nods, taking up my hand and gently walking us both to the top deck once again. He stands and watches, the ice in the water drifting gently towards us. A crunch and a rumble. A flash of white against the dark sky, and we are sinking. There are no more screams. The water seeps in, and we stand, watching. The band plays behind me, and we watch as the lifeboats come undone, rolling into the water and away. Their empty husks float, shadowy figures appearing as they drift, dwindling into the distance with no trace left behind. The ocean does not ripple. There are no waves.

The water is soaking my clothes, and I am lighter than air. I am bobbing in the darkness in front of my eyes, and I wait for the burning in my lungs, the tightness in my throat. My father goes to sit on a deck chair, the wicker creaking beneath him. He rests his head back and a single tear traces down his cheek. His face is lined. I am always amazed to see how old he is. I stay standing on the deck, the icy water now up to my knees, and I can feel the keel of the ship slipping. My feet stay planted, rooted into the wood, and I lean. The water cradles my back and I am floating. I watch as we all go down.

There is a little girl above me. Her dress drifts around her like winter mist, her dark hair swirling in front of her face. She is a broken doll, and she stares at me, wide black eyes, and she screams. I feel her voice resonate through my chest, and I shudder. She brings her hands to her face, and I am free from her glare.

I see my father, sitting in his chair, his arms floating by his sides and he looks happy. He always looks happy.

We land, a sickening thunk on the sand below. My toes brush the wood of the deck again, and I am standing, looking out into the great darkness around us. Above, there is no sky, only falling stars with faces. They bob in the water, clinging to each other, and I look below once more.

I walk to the stairs, pulling myself along by the banister. The carpet is rotten and wet below my feet, the walls falling apart. I find my room, staring into my mirror once more. A pale figure looks back, black eyes and blue lips.

I blink, and I am sat, looking at myself, pale green eyes and rosy cheeks. The gas lights are lit, the air warm around me. I glance around, startling as the door behind me opens.

“Jerome, it’s time for dinner,” my mother says with a smile. She walks away, her dress glistening. Crystals hang from her ears and her neck.

I stand, slipping my cold feet into my shoes. I pull my dinner jacket around my shoulders and walk out of my room, following my mother. My father stands by my door, his hands shaking as he tries to fix his tie.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, straightening it for him.

“You’re not his butler, Jerome,” my mother chides playfully, softly batting my hands away to fix it herself. She smiles at us and sighs. “You two look more alike every day.”

My father smiles, but there are tears in his eyes. He rubs them away before she notices and offers her his arm. I follow behind them, the carpet soft beneath my shoes. I fix my jacket and watch the people around me, laughing and chatting. Some of them are staring at others, some crying openly. I can always tell.

I sit next to my mother, her hand coming to pat my cheek.

“We need to find you a wife, Jerome.”

“The future holds nothing for me, mother.”

She laughs, not hearing me. “And you,” she points at my father with her fork, “you need to make friends with the banker over there.”

“How I wish I could,” he replies, openly weeping now. “My love, I-”

She sighs. “Jerome, tell your father that banking is not a silly endeavor. He could make a lot of money.”

“She can’t hear you,” I say.

He nods.

She smiles widely at me. “Jerome, what a nice thing to say!” She laughs one more time and brings her fork to her mouth. “But I know you only said that to get me off the topic of banking.”

We watch her as she eats. She nods once.

“I agree, Jerome, this chicken is very dry, but we’re in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. They can’t get fresh chickens whenever they want.”

I smile.

A man sits with us and introduces himself. I forget his name as soon as he says it, watching as his eyes prowl up and down my mother. He’s been trying to talk to her since we left Southampton. She doesn’t seem to notice his lecherous eyes, or if she does, she doesn’t care. My father’s cheeks flush, his temper rising.

“It’s not worth it.”

He deflates, nodding.

“Why don’t you go find somewhere to play, huh?” the man says to me.

I turn to face him. “Someplace to play?” I am a well-oiled machine.

He looks taken aback. “I just meant… I thought that you…”

I smile. “What? What did you think about me?”

“Well… everyone was saying…”

My mother laughs. “Oh, Jerome’s gifted, not delayed.” She smiles at me. “Tell us something, darling, something that hasn’t happened yet.” She laughs again, nodding towards me.

I feel a tugging in my stomach. The air turns tepid, the people and walls turgid in my eyes. They pulsate and my head pounds.

“We’re going to hit an iceberg tonight. We are going to die.”

I sag in my chair.

They all look at me. My father shakes his head, but my mother and her suitor stare at me with wide eyes, his cheeks paling.

I stand, making my way out of the room in a stumbled haste. Some around me turn to wisps of themselves, shadows where they had once sat, or stood. The ones no longer here. The ones that got away. I pull my tie from my neck and throw it to the ground. I discard my jacket, kicking off my shoes and pulling off my socks. I trip.

The water punches the air out of me, and I float, face down in the pool. I turn myself over when my chest cries for the air, and I gasp, choking out sobs into the steaming air. My voice fills the room.

The water soaks my clothes and I am lighter than air, bobbing around in the darkness behind my closed eyelids. I hear my name being called and submerge myself, feeling the cold envelop my body. My throat burns and my lungs scream for air but I stay as long as I can. The voice is gone when I resurface, and I float once more…