My Ex

TW: mentions of alcohol, blood, and death

 

The Titanic

 

        The unsinkable Titanic swayed in the water, strong and firm amongst the crashing waves. The evening festivities were well under way; the lights on the ship lowered until they emitted a soft yellow glow. Sylvia cascaded down the ivory stairs onto the upper class deck, ready to join a party. Her ribcage was sewed tightly behind her red corset, her legs free under her maroon gown.    

        After her sister Dorothea died in a horrific house fire, Sylvia had not known how to move on. Dorothea was the reason for her existence, her soulmate and best friend all in one. Now that Dorothea was gone, Sylvia felt as if she had no purpose. All she was left with was Dorothea’s inheritance, a sizable amount that inherited from her late husband. 

        She spent days in her tiny house in Eastleigh, curled up in her futon surrounded by a plaid blanket that had been Dorothea’s. Sylvia could not even bring herself to cry, in shock that her person was gone. 

        A few weeks after Dorothea’s death, Sylvia received a call from the local bank, notifying her of the inheritance. She knew this was a last blessing from Dorothea, a gift of a new reason to exist. And so, she had bought a ticket to the Titanic. She bought the most expensive gowns she could find. On one cloudy Wednesday, Sylvia boarded the Titanic. That was the last time she would be on land. 

        As Sylvia walked on the wooden planks, she felt joy for the first time in weeks. A new opportunity had presented itself, in America. In New York, the land of dreams. 

        Sylvia danced in the evening light with a myriad of men. They all looked similar to her, faceless and mousy-haired. The rum she had drunken earlier had begun to settle in her stomach nicely, creating a fiery feeling throughout her body. It was nice, she thought, to be carefree once more. 

        All of sudden, a lurch rocked the lower decks. Screams erupted from around her. Sylvia giggled. She thought it was a product of the rum, the room swinging around her. 

        Another push knocked her over, and she rolled to one side of the ballroom. The man she had been dancing with attempted to offer her a hand, but Sylvia stared it down. She opted to lay on the ground. 

        Time seemed to pass infinitely.  When Sylvia closed her eyes, she swore she could hear Dorothea’s voice, beckoning her. 

        Water began to soak the bottom of her gown, turning the dark red to a blood color. How pretty, Sylvia thought. 

        Those around her were scattering, running towards something. Rescue boats? A lover’s arms? What a poetic ending. 

       Syliva felt arms envelop her. They felt similar to a sister’s love. Come, whispered Dorothea, join me. Where you belong. 

        Sylvia closed her eyes, closed her breath, and opened her arms to Dorothea. 

 

THE END