Anchored

“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me,” said the visitor. Charles lit up his cigarette and took a hit. “I am very interested in hearing the story that you told the good Doctor Mason.” Charles, appearing uncomfortable and reserved, readjusted himself in his seat. “I could come back another time. Perhaps after lunch?” Charles sat up and cleared his throat, “I don’t eat much.” “Do you talk much?” asked the visitor. Neville looked around the room to find everything in disturbing order; the bed was crisp, as if it had been untouched, and the shoes and garments were neatly kept. The only evidence of life in the room was a succulent in the window, a completed crossword puzzle from the folded up newspaper, and a steaming ashtray. “People seem to only want to talk about one thing,” he said with disappointment. Neville nodded, took out his voice recorder, and pulled up a chair, “The Titanic, yes? Well,” he paused, “Are you ready to go back?”

Charles sighed and looked out the window. There was a finely dressed mother pushing a stroller through the park. The mother coddled the toddler and then there was laughter. The scene triggered a soft Judy Garland in his head. He was remembering Annie. “Charles?” Neville recovered him from his daydream. “Yes…. I'm ready." Having come to terms with what he had been asked to do, he put out his cigarette and moved to the leather lounger in the corner of the room, and paused again, "I love the sea. Did you know that? I always have. My life has been intertwined with the ocean for such a long time; since the very first time, when I was eleven. I was pleased to begin working on a ship; the RMS Titanic wasn’t my first. I also loved cooking; I was very good at it. How often do you have the chance to enjoy two of your loves? Have your cake and eat it too- I believe that is the expression. And I was the head baker on board.

I was happy to accept the position because I had never been to America. Those four days were extremely busy and fast paced, and yet still somehow extraordinarily uneventful. At least compared to the morning of April 15th- mourning indeed. At any rate, on a ship of that magnitude and while working in the service department, you had to be very quick on your feet. Everyone is always following orders. And running- there was always a lot of running. That is how a tight ship runs so efficiently." Neville interrupted, "When did you find the time to .… ?" Charles sighed and then paused, "If there was a secret lover that I met with in private, it would have been whiskey; I enjoy drinking. Everyone did. Gentlemen often ended their evenings with spirits, and I considered myself to be a perfect gentleman. So it was appropriate for me, and I indulged often. My reputation was never questioned or compromised; I am a professional."

Charles shifted his eyes towards the light fixture dangling from the ceiling. One of its bulbs had a habit of flickering from time to time. Charles found the lightbulb's timing to be odd and yet perfect. The fixture seemed to mock his thoughts. Neville, realizing that Charles was floating away again, began to speak, "Do you remember when she hit? It was a Monday, is that right?" Charles crumpled his brows, "It hit on Sunday- Sunday evening shortly before midnight, but you already knew that." Neville apologized for the misinformation, "I didn't mean to test your patience sir. Please continue. Where were you when it happened? What did you see?" Charles got up and revisited his window, "See? Or do you mean, hear? Not many people SAW it coming, but we all heard it and felt it. I had retired for the evening, and based on what I had heard and felt, I assumed that we had hit Lady Liberty a few days early.

The crash pulsated through the entire ship. We all knew what had happened; it didn't matter what class you were traveling. Those who were in denial or too naive, understood exactly what was coming. Acceptance is the state of mind that we all had to get to. Some took their time, and it probably cost them their lives. For that, I have no doubt. After the initial impact, my men and I went up and found that they had already begun preparing lifeboats." Neville, already familiar with these details, decided to dive a little deeper, "Were you traveling alone? Did your family accompany you?" Charles turned and joined his guest at the table, "No. Of course not. I mean yes, I had a family. My wife and children remained at our home. God is merciful. I will never stop being grateful for that. I imagine that is why I performed the role that I took on; I knew the women and children needed to be protected. My men and I helped with the organization of the lifeboats, loading them with food, and helping those frightened, helpless babes into the boats. Some of them didn't want to go. Their faith in the Titanic was both blinding and deafening …. I did what was necessary."

"You threw them into the boats?" Charles looked Neville in the eyes for the very first time, "Yes. Certainly. I had their best interests at heart. If it had been my family, I would have expected the same treatment from any man. And you may not have known this but I had a reserved seat on one of those lifeboats. I gave it up." Neville clasped his hands together and sat them down in his lap. He leaned back as if he were zooming out to see the full picture, "And why did you do that?" Charles rolled his eyes and continued, "I am a gentleman. I have already told you that. I had to set an example for all of the men." Neville leaned in again, "But weren't you terrified? You had a way out at a time where it seemed like you could not have expected one. How did you manage the horror?"

Charles threw himself down on top of his bed, "Well, of course I was terrified! How could I not be? I was haunted by my decision to abandon my post. One moment, I was running provisions and ushering families, and in the next, I was wondering how I would die, measuring any other possible chance of escape, all whilst hearing rumors about how much time we had or didn't have. It was perfect torture. So …. I drank. In between pantry runs and rescuing passengers, I would quickly down whatever I could find- anything to numb the fear so that I could fulfill my duties. I drowned the negative thoughts as quickly as possible. It didn't seem like a bad idea at the time, and in a time like that, that made it a good idea." Neville checked his recorder to make sure that it was still in progress, “So then what? What happened next?”

Still unsettled and restless, Charles got up again to work the room. He began pacing the floor. He was thirsty. Taking two water bottles from the mini fridge, he handed one to Neville, “If I’m being honest, my memory from that point on is very blurry, and rightfully so. When I think about it, everything seemed to move a lot faster than it did before the flask. I get little images every now and again. Before I knew it, I was on the back of the boat descending into the black. On the way down, I remembered my family back at home. I took another sip, thinking of how proud Louise would have been. I felt a strange courage in my heart." The two sat quietly for what felt like a lifetime. Suddenly, all that could be heard was the analogue clock in the room. There wasn't much to look at on the walls with the exception of a framed landscape and a sign that read, You can always try again.

Charles often stared at it, getting lost in its words. Neville seemed to be sucked in by them as well. He wondered where to go next. Should he dig more, or take what had surfaced? He had finally thought of something, "Did you make it to America?" "Eventually. But I returned home after the shipwreck." "And what happened next?" Neville asked. Charles returned to his seat. He appeared to be defeated, "Life happened sir. One misfortune followed one lucky hand, and on and on." Neville nodded in agreement. The earth doesn’t stop spinning on account of anyone. He wanted to ask Charles about how he grieved if at all, but the question seemed a bit redundant and inappropriate, "Did you swear off traveling or boats?"

Charles found Neville’s eyes once more, "Sir, I would never. I worked on board the RMS Olympic, if you can believe it. I didn't think the sea would ever harm me after the Titanic. A few years afterwards, I lost my first wife. Some time after that, I remarried, and she was absolutely divine." Neville hesitated and then he spoke, "Annie." Charles took a deep breath as if it were his last, "Yes. Annie. I had finally found a greater purpose for life. We had such great times together." Neville gave him a moment. He shifted his attention toward the wall art. Standing in front of it, he tilted his head and wondered what to make of it. It was a picture of a submerged anchor, partially buried in the bottom of the ocean. It was rusted and withering away, but still holding on. Neville was curious as to why it had been chosen, over all other prospects, to hang there. The image was neither inspiring nor was it encouraging. So what was its purpose then? Did it remind Charles of the fate that he had managed to escape? Was it a subtle reminder to stay grounded?

Finally, with his eyes locked on the art, Neville spoke, "Where is she now?" Charles joined his friend in front of the anchor. They stood side by side, mesmerized by the picture, "Where do you think? She was stolen from me. And now, I am tormented by all of the memories." Neville could see that the time for questions was over; he had everything that he required for his assessment, "Well, I am terribly sorry for your loss Mr. Joughin." Charles quickly turned his head to Neville. He had a look of surprise on his face, "Yes …. It feels as if I survived just to suffer." Neville stopped the recorder, and then collected himself. He picked up his belongings and then approached the disassembled man. He reached for Charles's hand, "I want to thank you for your good deeds, and I want to thank you for allowing me to visit."

"Doctor Mason says that it might be good for me to make new friends- open up more." Charles had returned to the anchor. His eyes had a glaze over them as if he had secretly gone to another world. He was succumbing, and Neville understood; he could attest to the power that was present in the room, sucking you in and pulling you deeper. He had to leave. Neville nodded and turned for the door. He opened it and took one step over the threshold and then stopped. He felt frozen in the doorway. He looked back at Charles. He could not resist the urge to ask one final question,"Did you give up drinking? You know, afterwards?" Charles resurfaced, "Would I be alive today if I did?" Neville's face dropped to the floor, but it wore a smile that could cover the horizon. He looked up at the survivor for the last time, "Get some rest Charles." Neville exited the room and closed the door behind him. He proceeded down the hallway, his heels clicking against the floor as he went. Neville told his legs not to run. He attempted to lift his spirits as he walked. It felt like treading water- very exhausting but he had to do it. He had to remember why he was alive. Why was he there?

"Good afternoon Neville. I was just coming to find you," said Doctor Mason. To the doctor, Neville looked ill and distressed, "I hope that you found what you were looking for?" Neville shook it off, cleared his throat, and then responded, "Yes, I did and I was just showing myself out." Doctor Mason looked confused, "Before telling me of your thoughts on Louis? That is why I asked you to come. Well?" Neville had a look of surprise on his face now. And then he arrived frustrated, "Louis Knox is not crazy. He may be young with a wild imagination, but my assessment is that he has a minor case of bad dreams, Doctor Mason. Maybe some trauma from early childhood. You can treat him here. Rehabilitation is still possible. I read in his file that his mother is still hopeful that he can curb his addiction. Give him a chance before you refuse him. I recommend that you review his medications, reduce the dosage, and start listening. The boy believes that he is Charles Joughin. Treat the alcoholism and schedule your best counselor to help him digest the past. If you send him upstate …. he won't make it. Charles has to make it."

“Don’t you mean Louis?” Doctor Mason was beginning to wonder if he had done the right thing for his patient. Neville dismissed the man who had invited him there, and continued walking. Doctor Mason, feeling guilty and embarrassed, followed after Neville, "Well, do you believe him? Do you believe that he is the reincarnation of Charles?" Neville thought carefully about his next words, “Do I believe in reincarnation? Is it possible that Charles managed to cheat death again? Do I believe in the survival of trapped energy and emotions? Sure. Why not? Good day, Doctor Mason."