“Think of me, alright, Sweetie?”
“Of course I will.”
A laugh.
“Remember everything that happens. Tell me all about it?”
“I always do. Don’t worry so much.”
Hesitation.
“I just…can’t help it. You know I’ll miss you, right?”
“…Of course.”
A soft touch, embrace; dimmed lights transform the ambiance.
Covers shifting in the dark, one makes a move.
“Just…remember to think of me…”

The woman awoke in apprehension, beads of sweat rolling from her brow. Ashen eyes ran across the room, searching for patterns in the darkness, outlines of furniture, traces that she was not still held captive in the formidable realm of her nightmare. A single ray of moonlight shone brightly through an opening in the shades, dancing around table tops, strumming along designs in the bedspread, calming her frantic mind.

The nightmare; how she dreaded it. It was just another fixation to remind her of how far away he was, of how many more nights until she’d finally be with him again. One phrase; the one line repeating in her mind: Think of me. And oh, how she did so very often.

Too young, that’s what she’d heard constantly. “You’re too young. You’re not ready for marriage yet, it’s a huge commitment. Besides, you’re only 19. There’s so much of your life ahead of you.” What did they know anyway? After all, she'd proven them all wrong, hadn't she? She'd so far been successfully married for seven years without much bickering. That by far was a rather pleasant outcome; much better, in fact, then many other marriages she’d known. Her and her husband just seemed to click well, you could say.

Familiar sounds wafted through the stale night air. Radios blared, cheesy talk-show hosts raved about what the latest presidential flaw happened to be. Room service charged on despite the midnight hours passing them by as hungry customers demanded nourishment. Newly weds shared first experiences, curiosity and late night cravings overpowering them to transform them into ravenous beasts. A far off music box ran on wound spring, ballerina twirling softly to the harmonic chimes of the distant bell.

Soft chestnut locks fell gingerly to shaky shoulders, twining in the low late night breeze. Near translucent skin shifted as she turned, sheets folded and creased in every direction. Eyes squeezed shut; she attempted sleep once more. “Only a few more hours,” she whispered, “then it is morning.”

It was almost hard to believe. Only a few weeks before, Angelica Belle was wrapped securely in her lover’s arms. Now many miles estranged them as Angelica readied herself to embark upon a new escapade. Imagine if you will the latest of transportation. A luxury cruise ship, built for comfort, built for style. Over two thousand animated passengers waiting to board the most lavish vessel ever created. Excitement, anticipation, enthusiasm; emotions you’d expect to come upon when dealing with such a cruise. Yet, sadly, Angelica Belle possessed none.

How could she? She was far too depressed. Never had she spent so long away from her beloved since they’d wedded. Yes, it would be difficult, but he had been the one who’d urged her to go, anyway, despite his last minute angst. They had only had enough for one ticket. One ticket to a new life, a better one, but he insisted that she went instead. “It’ll give you a chance to unwind. You’ve been working too hard; I’ll take care of things around here. Besides, I'll visit you – first chance I get.” He’d told her. “Just relax, Angy.”

Morning rays shone brightly through cracks in the shades. Eyes squeezed shut tightly, covers pulled over her forehead at a futile attempt to block out the sun. Persistent knocking finally aroused her, causing Angelica to jump up, sheets flying to the floor. She grumbled mindlessly, opening the door to thank the attendant, whom she’d asked to wake her.

Nine thirty am; she’d overslept. No matter, she had ample time to freshen up. The ship set sail at around noon, and Angy had to look her best. After all, it was a rather wealthy cruise, she was lucky to attend at all. She couldn’t give off the wrong first impression.

Chilled water had been delivered to her room in a large basin upon request. She dipped in, waking herself up fully and giving her icy chills running through her spine. What better way to get up than to a cold bath? A quick rinse and wash, and Angelica was out. Towel wrapped tightly around, she rummaged through her well-packed suitcase. Pictures, clippings, notes and poems flooded the luggage; things to remind her of her husband, though it would be quite difficult to forget.

At long last, Angelica found her dress. Casual but slim-fitting, the dress adorned her fairly curvy figure perfectly; matching her body’s every move. Navy; the whole dress was a deep blue hue. White stitching, thread, and ruffle created vast contrast in the absolute appearance of the outfit. The skirt of the dress fell to about her knees, folding around her thighs, concealing the wide skirt which spun so elegantly when she twirled. The abdomen was stiff, almost resembling a modest corset, laced with a thin white string to hold shape. The sleeves were slightly ruffled, falling down near her elbows when extended, but she’d rolled them up a little below her shoulders, creating the effect of short-sleeves.

Beautiful, it was. That particular piece of clothing was one of her most refined, giving her the appearance of wealth, of sophistication. After drying off completely and adorning herself in her usual under garments, Angelica Belle slipped the modest dress on and straightened it to her liking. She dried her hair delicately, brushing the curls until they fell gingerly to her shoulders. After applying slight make-up, she was ready; for what, exactly? She was finally ready to board the most magnificent ship to yet be created. Angelica Belle was ready for the Titanic.

She stepped into small-heeled shoes, packed up her bag once more, and headed towards the front desk of the Inn she was currently residing in. “I’d like to check-out, please.” Angelica asked the older-looking woman standing behind the wooden counter. Her voice sounded smooth, though her innate cockney accent poured through. The woman just nodded, writing out the needed paperwork and having her sign. Upon check-out was the rather long walk up to the boarding deck.

A slight gasp escaped her lightly parted lips. She was late. Angelica had been worried that something like this was to happen, but she had never actually planned on it. With a quick sprint, squeezing through the seemingly endless raving crowd, she made her way to the bridge boarding the ship. Smiling to the applauding crowd congratulating the fare-well passengers, she stepped aboard the ship, luggage in hand.

The greeter welcomed her with a hearty nod and handshake. “Welcome aboard, Miss.” His voice was rich with an accent, but Angy was far too excited to decipher what language it was from. Rather, she just thanked him, stepping into the large lobby area.

‘Think of me. Think of me.’

The phrase repeated relentlessly in the back of her mind, consuming her thoughts, contributing to her anxious mentality. She was awestruck entirely by the massiveness of the area. So awestruck, in fact, that she forgot to continue upstairs. Rather, she stood, admiring the fine architecture and intricate detail in the carpeting. Champagne was being circulated throughout the room, but she respectfully declined. ‘Maybe this won’t be so bad after all…’

Her thoughts were interrupted by the bang of a gun. Balloons shot up towards the unreachable clouds, thousands of hands threw confetti, and the ship was off. Cheers, applause, good fortune wished on the legendary ship's maiden voyage.

Angelica's heart skipped, watching as the lobby soon cleared and people rushed out to the deck for an extended farewell. What was on the deck but to wave good bye to strangers whom she’d never see again? It just made more sense to locate her cabin. At least then she would be able to relax a bit more. Middle class, yes, but that was a reasonable room. First class seemed far too stuck up – not to mention expensive. Initially, they’d bought the lowest class ticket. The upgrade was a gift from her parents, as well as in-laws, as they wished her a pleasant trip.

Angelica turned for the attendant who appeared to be shutting the door to the bridge. "Excuse me, Sir. Could you tell me where my room is?" She asked, sounding almost pitiful, really. Angelica showed him her ticket and he pointed her in the direction of the main stairs.

"Go up a few floors, you'll find it." He responded smugly, probably feeling intelligent at his ship knowledge. Angelica thanked him and started up the stairs, wondering all the while whether she’d actually find her room at all.

After a few agonizing flights, she did indeed find her room. Shared? No. She had her own room. Be it small, yes, but she did hate to share rooms with strangers; it always made her feel awkward, nervous. As if one of them could be some sort of homicidal maniac with an axe in his luggage.

Angelica stumbled with the key for a few minutes before the door finally opened up for her, revealing a snug fitting room with all the commonly-acquired necessities. That is, except for food, but that was easily obtained upon a ship.

She threw her bag to her bed, deciding to unpack later, though subconsciously she wondered if that was just her excuse; as if she was still in blatant denial and unpacking would mean being comfortable away from home. The aspect of New York was almost too much to bear. How could she manage away from her husband? He'd visit her, though…he promised.

Angelica made her way, after much time confused in the long, twining corridors, to the main deck. The smell of sea salts soon consumed her, giving her the feeling of sea life for the first time. More people then she'd expected were out on deck, waving good-bye to loved ones, leaning over rail to embrace the newly acquired winds, admiring the vast ship from a different perspective. And then suddenly, England seemed so far away, as if she’d never come back again. But that was just her paranoia speaking; of course she’d come back. New York was just temporary - or at least, she desperately hoped it was.

Seeing everyone with their own loved ones was enough to make her feel ill. The deck was nearly swamped with pairs; holding hands, swaying to and fro, whispering silly nothings in each other’s ear. Angelica just made her way to the railing opposite the harbor, cradling her head in her palms as her elbows bruised against the rail. Danny would know how to comfort her. If only he were here.

Fin