Titanic: True Love Forever

Chapter 8: Encounter Again

The crew led me to the crew hatchway, and we walked for a long time to finally reach the ship's bottom jail. I guess our route was from the aft to the crew area on the bow side, both the bow and aft bottom decks have a cabin, generally speaking there are more women living in the aft and more men in the bow, the ticket in my hand was supposed to be a man's, but there was still a very small probability of getting a cabin room in the aft.

That sharp-eyed old man looked at me with a very uncomfortable look. It was as if I were just a big rat running out of a third class cabin, his voice was hoarse and narrow, and the utterance came out very quickly as he said to me pointedly, "I think you know exactly what you're getting into, my employer expects you to hand over what's been taken from you, and I don't want to hand a young lady over to the police."

I looked at him blankly, with this empty logic of random people on a boat being thieves, I began to worry for his employer, could he really get along with that kind of intelligence?

"Joey, I heard you guys found the thief." A male voice with a smirk suddenly came from outside the crew room, and then through the hatch stepped a young man wearing a formal colored tuxedo, a white undershirt and a white bow tie. His short black hair was brushed back meticulously, and he had the unmistakable air of extravagance of a high class ball. Very habitually placed to the side of his waist, he smiled very brightly, as pure as the shirt that was so white it almost glowed under his white vest.

He stood just in the doorway, and without coming forward, stretched out one finger next to the tip of his nose, and a few flashes of dislike flickered unmovingly in his eyes.

I glanced at him, and the scene snapped back to South Shore Pulton Harbor, on that smoky harbor, and the silver pocket watch that I had accidentally wrapped around it.

Then I lowered my head as if I didn't recognize the fellow, and looked at my feet, which were stained with small cuts. With my toes touching the ground out of habit, feeling the substance of my toes gently nudging the deck of the ship, I was searching for the sensation of dancing all the time.

This rhythm and melody that is unique to each dancer is something that needs to be found by the body; a change of body and the rhythm in the soul does not change at all. So I am trying to adapt my body to my soul and make them one. In my last life I practiced dancing for twenty years, and in this life I've only started three months ago.

Even if this body had the tender softness that belongs to a girl, it would never be able to practice to the heights of my last life in a short time. There's still practice to be done, I thought with a delirious sense of wonder. When life is a little more stable and my diet keeps up, physical training like sit-ups and deep squats will have to be on the training list.

As an afterthought I realized that the cabin was quiet, I looked up expressionlessly, my hair sticking to my face, and even without a mirror I was pretty sure that I was more of a mess than anyone else.

The man suddenly appeared in front of me, in front of where I was sitting was a stationary table with many miscellaneous items placed on it, a seaman's cap with the White Star Company logo on it, a couple of seaman's record papers, and a desk lamp. He leaned his elbows on the table, his whole body leaning very gracefully against the edge of the table, and I wondered how many years he had to practice this kind of movement before he could be so smooth and pretentious.

The corners of his mouth were still marked with the false smirk of a man fresh from the ball, and his eyes were a scrutinizing indifference that seemed to be searching for the only noble thing about me-the silver watch that cost more than an upper-class ticket.

"You've got a nice handstand, been in an acrobat troupe before?" He asked, c*****g his head and lowering his voice, but of course questions were just that, questions, and he didn't need any answers at all. Then he reached out and hooked one fingertip into a strand of my long hair that flowed from behind my ear to the side of my face, crushed it with his thumb carelessly, and then turned his head to address the rest of the group somewhat rudely, "Yes, I'm sure she took my watch."

I very quickly slapped this pinching finger of my hair away as he spoke, the sudden movement startling the other man, who snapped his head back pursing his lips down as if he were about to lash out, his deep gaze tinged with superficial anger.

I reached up as if nothing had happened and pressed the long strand of unruly hair behind my ear again, then continued to look down at my feet.

The silence felt like a disobedient defiance, or at least that's what everyone else thought, and instead of immediately storming out, the so-called upper class man in the brand new tuxedo covered in banknotes collected the impatience that was evident under his eyes, then straightened up and smiled as he said, "It's obvious that she's in need of some financial help, and I'm more than happy to subsidize a struggling ......" He paused for a few seconds, waving his palms unconsciously upwards as if he were a politician about to make a speech, signaling all the inattentive audience to immediately park their eyes on him. "Ms. ......, she looks like she needs these. I'm not one of those unreasonable people, and if it were anything else I wouldn't care at all. But that watch was a birthday present from my mother, and I love her, so I'd like you to return it." He looked at me again as he went along with the last sentence, the smile at the corners of his mouth looking like it was hard-won, the corners of his eyes pressed together and not bent.

He was desperate for someone to hold him up for his heartfelt speech, and I continued to look down, thinking about where I was going to go when I got off the boat tomorrow. How about wandering after Jack for a while, he had more life experience than I did, and Jack's character in the movie was one of those people who would be very comfortable as friends. On top of that, it would be a really fun experience to spend time with a former idol.

"Lovejoy, give her twenty dollars." He ordered cleanly, pointing at me.

The old poodle came over immediately, his leather shoes purposely stomping heavily on the ground more like a warning to give psychological oppression. Pulling two ten-dollar bills out of his pocket, he slammed them onto the table in front of me, then he lowered his wrinkled eyelids and looked at me coldly from the corner of his eye.

Hand over the table, third-class rat-the lines in his eyes were no different than if he'd said them.

I yawned softly and turned my eyes slowly to the sink not far from the table, which had a hot and cold water converter and looked so much more advanced than third class. Jack had been found, so there was no need to stay up all night looking for someone, and I felt like I should go to bed early so I could deal with tomorrow.

Tomorrow was always going to be a little better than today, I was so optimistically sure of that, thinking of the ten dollars in my pocket.

"I've got things to do, so you guys go on." The tuxedoed dignitary, who had come and gone in a hurry, slapped his hand against the corner of his coat, as if to pat away the dirty dust of the place. He quickly squared his collar and then said as he walked out, "Hopefully that watch will be on my breakfast table tomorrow, I'm sure it's just a minor inconsequential problem."

From start to finish he treated me exactly like his old poodle entourage, not even bothering to give me a look, with that air of upper class dross that was so elegant you wanted to give them a big mouthful.

The old poodle grimaced and dutifully followed.

And as the crew raised their voices to interrogate me again, I finally came back to my senses; wasn't that old poodle's employer Karl Hockley?

Forgive me for watching the movie with my attention completely off these two, what I remember most clearly is when that Carl bastard went after Rose and Jack with a gun. The first time I saw the movie I couldn't wait to swing a chair at the screen and bash this ugly, evil-minded male co-star over the head.

He was one of the supporting characters I hated the most while watching the movie, so I automatically ignored the character scenes I hated for the next few viewings. This includes Rose's mother, and the pitiful owner of White Star.

The crew obviously didn't think I hadn't stolen Carl's pocket watch, upper class people don't lie like that, and it was obvious that I was in great need of material support, you see I was so poor I couldn't even afford a pair of shoes, so that watch must have been stolen from me.

What a very logical reasoning, I really miss the judicial process 100 years from now.