Page 22 of If They Knew

Despite the gorgeous view, the top deck is a constant reminder of all the terrible things that have happened to us. Most of the remaining passengers refuse to set foot on this deck. So, on clear nights like this, I sometimes find myself wandering up here to watch the sunset and clear my mind. Behind me, I hear the muffled sounds of a woman crying. I turn my head slightly to see who it might be. I assume whoever it is prefers to be alone, which is why she decided to come up here. That’s one of the main reasons I often find myself here. She has her head between her knees, and her cries drift away into the quiet space around us. Giving her privacy, I look away.

Although the top deck is where I go to find solitude, I try to avoid the aft section. That part of the deck is where my emotions often get the best of me. I call that section the ship’s memorial. Shortly after the explosion, we had to decide what to do with the decaying bodies. We couldn’t leave them out in the sun; the smell alone was overwhelming. Logan and I held a vote among the remaining passengers about what options we had. In the end, for health reasons, it was decided that there was nothing to do but dispose of the remains. Logan wanted to just toss the bodies and get it over with, but in the end, we all agreed to make the process as respectful and peaceful as possible. As bodies were dropped into the ocean one by one, passengers brought memorabilia of friends or loved ones and placed the items in a pile as they said their goodbyes. It was a meaningful gesture in its own way and helped many of us because most of us had things we needed to say.

Once all the bodies were cleared from the upper deck, the area felt eerily empty. That day truly united everyone. After the memorial, once everyone had a chance to say their goodbyes, we gathered the largest, heaviest debris we could find. Working together, we arranged everything we could find to spell ‘HELP’ large enough for a plane overhead to see. Logan thought it was a waste of time, but the passengers loved the idea. At that moment, I understood that making passengers feel needed helped their emotions. From then on, tasks were assigned to keep our space livable. Giving passengers responsibilities gave them purpose and reasons to keep going. Friendships blossomed, fostering a sense of community.

Running my fingers through my hair, I sigh and take a deep breath. The sun slowly sets, and darkness spreads over the ship like a blanket. The temperature drops a few degrees, reminding me of fall at home. I imagine standing in my yard, leaves rustling in the wind, the scent of damp soil, the crisp air hinting at winter’s approach. My eyes shoot open when the woman crying behind me begins shouting into the open, begging for someone to come save us. Instantly, a knot forms in my stomach, reminding me of the secret I'm keeping. I’m part of the reason no one is searching for the ship. I should have said no to my father. But nothing good can come from telling anyone that my father paid off everyone to turn a blind eye and let the ship sail without proper authorization. “It’s only a test run, and the route isn’t far,” he’d said. All I know is that if my secret comes out, all hope will be lost, and hope is the only thing keeping us alive.

Before it gets any later, I decide to head back inside. I walk across the top deck to the forward section of the ship and can't help but stop and stare at the completely obliterated bridge. While standing, I see Brent, one of the passengers, who constantly follows Logan around. The sky has become so dark that I can barely see him. When he moves, his face catches a glint of moonlight. I notice it’s wet, like he’s been crying. I want to say something to him, maybe to make him feel better, but as soon as he sees me walking towards him, he rushes back inside. Most likely to find Logan. Something inside me twists, giving me a bad feeling. Why exactly does he always avoid me? I can’t help but think it has something to do with Logan. He and I are supposed to be partners working together to help everyone, but my gut tells me he’s hiding things from me. Lately, we rarely agree on anything anymore, and it’s like he’s formed his own group. I push the thought aside, too exhausted to worry about what Logan is doing. I’m too tired to care about anyone right now.

What I really need is a strong drink to help me forget everything. Especially how Julie constantly wants to be left alone. I try to ask her if there is anything I can do, and she always brushes me off and tells me she is fine. She hasn’t touched me in weeks and every time I initiate, she pulls away. I’m not sure what else I can do. I’m doing my best to be a good husband, a good brother, and the leader that everyone expects me to be. The leader my father would expect me to be. Even though I feel like my facade is cracking, I know everyone looks up to me and that is why I keep pushing myself. When I walk through the hallways, people always stop me to ask if I have figured out a way to be rescued. I never know exactly what to say, so I always say the same thing.

No.

After all these months on the ship with the same people, I should know everyone’s name, but I often forget. I always have so much on my plate. Not knowing if anyone is searching for us is killing me, and sooner or later, I’m going to completely fall apart.

On the bright side, my brother seems really happy with Kelly, considering our situation. And Mary has completely changed the spa and created a new medical center. She has plenty of help and handles everything herself. I’ve offered to help in any way I can, but she refuses and reassures me that she has it all under control. Luckily, I haven’t had any injuries that need medical attention and Julie’s hand healed without any complications, so I just accept that she is fine and move on.

Making my way back inside, I head to my room. The balcony door is slightly open, and I'm met with the chilly breeze again. Julie is already cuddled in bed, bundled up tightly under the blanket. Her eyes are closed and she looks so peaceful. Quietly, I slip out of my worn-out clothes and crawl into our bed. Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her in close. Gently, I slide her hair off the back of her neck, give her a light kiss, and whisper, “I love you.” She doesn’t move. “I’m sorry this is happening to us.” With that, I close my eyes and drift to sleep, hoping tomorrow will be better than today.

14

JULIE

It's the dead of night, and I'm sleepless once again. I step out of bed and onto the balcony. The cool breeze is refreshing. I do my best to be as quiet as possible, careful not to wake Theo. I take a seat outside—a nightly routine I’ve gotten into over the past few months. The clear night sky is lit by the bright moon, casting a reflection on the calm ocean. As the temperature drops, the humid air sends a chill down my spine.

I decide to take a walk instead of staying on the balcony. I quietly step back inside and head to the closet for my once-white robe, embroidered with ‘PARRISH CRUISE LINE’ across the chest pocket. I slide it over my clothes and reach into the nightstand for the small flashlight Theo gave me a few days after the explosion. I tiptoe to the door, then step into the dark hallway. Before turning on my flashlight, I remain still, listening for anyone around. The only sound I hear is Theo snoring, so I walk down the hallway to the stairwell at the end, wondering if anyone else is awake.

As I approach Tyler's room, I do my best to avoid eavesdropping and keep walking. Despite my best efforts, the sound of moaning reaches my ears, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. Just as I predicted, Tyler found a woman and didn’t waste any time getting her in bed. Tyler and Kelly hit it off right away after meeting on the first day—at least that’s what he’d said. A couple of weeks later, they decided to share Tyler's room. Every night, I’ve walked the hallways and it’s inevitable that I hear them make love which makes me think about Theo. He has changed so much. More and more he reminds me of his father, controlling and always ready to prove himself to someone.

Another moan drifts through the air bringing me back to reality. Unfortunately, I have to walk past their room to get to the stairwell. Before turning on my flashlight, I trip over a plastic bag filled with trash. The bag rips open, and an empty champagne bottle rolls out, hitting Tyler's door with a loud thud. The moaning in the room suddenly stops, and then I hear footsteps approaching. There's no escape other than to run, which would be suspicious. Dammit. Tyler opens the door, wearing nothing but a towel. I point my flashlight in his face, temporarily blinding him with the intense light. He holds up his hand blocking the light.

“Sorry, I didn’t see the bag on the ground. I didn't have my flashlight on,” I say.

“It’s okay. What are you doing out here in the middle of the night anyway?”

I shine my flashlight down the hall, then back at Tyler. “I was just trying to stretch my legs. I can’t sleep – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… interrupt.”

Before Tyler can respond, Kelly walks over, wrapped in a sheet. “Hey, girl,” she says in a cheerful high-pitched voice, like we are the best of friends. “Don't apologize. We weren't sleeping anyway.”

Tyler laughs and I feel my face heat up. This is so fucking awkward. If there were a mirror, I’m sure I’d see my face as red as a tomato.

“Okay, well, that's my cue to leave. I'll see you all tomorrow. Have a good night.” I turn on my heel and make a getaway for the stairwell.

“Have a goodnight, Julie, see you tomorrow,” Kelly says cheerfully as Tyler shuts the door.

I take the stairs down to the 6th floor, my footsteps silent on the soft carpet. When I reach the library, the glass doors are closed, as always. I remind myself I’ll need to find something to prop the door open. As I expected, the smell of mildew hits me the instant I open the door. Glancing around, I notice spots beginning to form on the books from the humidity and lack of airflow. I search the room for something I can use as a doorstop. I find a hefty wooden chair off to the side and decide it will suffice. Hopefully, the opening will prevent the mildew from getting any worse. Just as I always do, I go to the shelf of books by my favorite author. A twinge of regret crosses my mind for not propping the door open sooner when I see one of my books has spots along the edge.

After rifling through the stack of books, I find the one I was searching for and open it to the page I had marked. The stack of folded papers I had hidden is still there. I bring the stack of books to the porthole window, the only place I really enjoy sitting. It's quiet, secluded, and most importantly, it’s not cold like when I try to sit outside. So as long as the mildew doesn’t get any worse, I can keep this as my little hideout. The window is a little high up, so I have to leap a little. Once I’m settled, I pull out my flashlight and then change my mind about using any light. I’ll need to save the batteries for when I actually need them. The moonlight is bright enough tonight so I can see the papers. After a few adjustments, I’m all nestled in, just how I like.

Carefully, I pull out the papers and unfold them. On top of the stack is a piece of paper with Theo's name on it. I push that one aside and pull the second one. This page is blank except for ‘Getting rescued plan’ written in bold letters across the top. I pull out my pen to write, but I can't. My mind is blank; I can't think of anything that could help to get off this ship. One by one, I list all the things I’ve already checked: the lifeboats can't be fixed, and the fuel can't be used without working engines. The emergency equipment is gone. I think even harder. What am I missing? When an idea comes to mind, I jump out of my seat nearly falling to the ground and rush around the library, searching for how-to books, hoping to find one that can teach me how to build a boat. There has to be a way to get off this ship.

After a few minutes, I sigh and stare out the porthole window. I can't find anything here that helps. I hop back into the window and throw my head back in frustration. Staring out at the night sky, I grab the book with the hidden papers again. This time, I put the rescue plan sheet back inside and grabbed the one with Theo's name.

I gaze down at it and smile, and memories of my happiness with Theo flood in, taking me back over the years. Lost in faraway memories, my hand drifts to my stomach. I think about what it would be like to have kids. At first, I don’t realize my finger is lingering on the small scar hidden under my shirt. When I realize I’m rubbing the scar, my happy memories vanish, and I’m brought back to the memory that has haunted me for years—the accident.

The losses I’ve experienced race through my mind. I think about my father and try to recall any good memories of him, but all I can remember is the car accident that altered everything. The memory of my mother's death takes over, and I struggle to remember what she looks like or the little things she used to say to me. The accident took both my mother and father from me. Even though my father survived, he might as well haven’t.

I wipe the tears that roll down my face, and my hands go back to the scar on my stomach. That accident also robbed me of my future as a mother. My sadness quickly shifts to anger as the nightmare of that night plays out like a movie in my mind. I clench the paper in my hand, and it crumples in my fist. Tears continue to stream down my cheeks, and I take a deep breath, hold it for a second, then exhale. I remind myself that it has been a long time and that I can't let that horrible memory continue to haunt me. I smooth out the paper and sigh, tucking it back inside the book and closing my eyes, trying my best to relax. After a few deep breaths, my thoughts calm, and I’m finally able to clear my mind. Sliding down into a more comfortable position, I stare out the window and let my body and mind drift into a much-needed blissful sleep in the porthole window.