He smiles to himself and continues walking. “Well, I was born and raised in London.”
“What part of London?”
He cocks his head, impressed that I asked for a more specific location. “South London. Croydon.”
Admittedly, my skill in geography is severely lacking and hinges solely on my knowledge of sports franchises in the area. I cannot tell you a single thing about the locations of rivers in Europe, but I can tell you which cities have soccer teams and what leagues they’re in. You’d think a historian would have an expert-level knowledge of geography, but not me.
“What do you do for fun?”
He seems surprised I asked such a question. It’s as if he hasn’t thought about life beyond working on ships in quite some time. “What do you mean?”
“When you were home in London, what was fun for you?”
“Hmm.” He tilts his head. “If I wasn’t working or at home, I was usually at the pitch with my mates.”
“So… you like soccer?” I’m trying not to show my excitement. I know a lady of this time wouldn’t have an expansive knowledge of sports, but it’s one of my passions.
“Like it?” He tilts his head back and laughs. “I love it.”
“And your team?”
“A local club, Crystal Palace.” He grins as he excitedly turns around and begins walking backward while he gives me a history of the team and his favorite player, Harry Hanger. It’s odd to hear an English person using the term soccer, but I have to remind myself the term football wasn’t universally used until the 1980s. I wish I could tell him how big the sport has gotten, how wide the audience has grown, and how his small boyhood club now plays in the Premier League.
I notice how well he must know the layout of the ship because he glides backwards easily while maintaining conversation with me. It reminds me of how effortlessly an ice skater can skate backward. His entire face brightens as he talks about his team. The joy he finds in it is infectious. He turns around to walk alongside me again. “I’m sorry if I prattled on too long. No one has ever asked me that before.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know, but I’m gladyouasked me. It made me happy to share it with you.”
This man is a goddamn golden retriever. He’s charming, but it’s entirely genuine. I have to keep the conversation going to avoid swooning. “Tell me about your family.”
“My father was a carpenter. He owned a furniture store. And my mum, she handled the books for him.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“No, it was just me.” Me too. I wish I could tell him that. He sounds wistfully sad. I wish I could tell him I understand what it’s like to grow up lonely. “They lost a few before me, and that was hard on Mum. She always said I was her miracle.”
“Did you always want to work on ships?”
“No.” Charlie’s jaw clenches at the question. “My father taught me everything he knew about carpentry, and I was going to take over the shop until…” His voice trails off as if we’ve landed on a particular part of his history he does not speak of often.
“Until what?”
He sighs, an exhale full of sadness and a sense of remorse. “Mum got sick. She died when I was eighteen. Nothing was the same after that. I just had to get away, so I joined White Star Line and I’ve been on ships ever since. Papa died a few years after.”
“I’m sorry, Charlie.” I wish I could tell him I understand him, that I too am an only child. I wish he could know that I also realize what it’s like to lose a parent. Judging from the change in tone from when he spoke about his mother to his father, I wish I could also share with him that I understand the concept of having a difficult relationship with a parent. We have more in common than he realizes, and it pains me that I cannot share that with him or comfort him.
“It’s alright, Alice.” He smiles at me like he’s made peace with whatever happened.
“Do you enjoy working on ships?” I try to redirect the conversation toward perhaps a lighter topic.
“It has its moments, but it’s a place for me to rest my head every night. I was on the Olympic for a while. When spots opened up for the Titanic, my friend Alfie was going to take one. But his mother got sick, and he went home to care for his family, so I offered to come in his place. I like the ships well enough, but it’s an odd feeling sometimes.”
“What do you mean?”
“Spending your life traveling, but never feeling like you actually go anywhere. I’m nearly twenty-eight and I feel like there’s so much I haven’t seen. It’s not bad though, living on a ship. Sometimes I get lucky and meet interesting people.” He smiles and winks at me. Charlie looks down at his watch and shakes his head. “Time flies. It’s eleven. The parlors are closing soon and people will be out here. You should get back before anyone sees you.”
I don’t want to leave. I don’t want this to end. I don’t even care who might see us walking together. I look down and see his empty hand and want to weave my fingers with his. He escorts me over to a walkway to B-Deck. He remains outside as I stand in the doorway.
