Chapter Two: Destiny

The rainbow's heart, the mountain's stream; the summer's clouds and the winter's dreams

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I woke up the next morning feeling disoriented. Had last night really happened? I wiped my sleepy eyes and looked around me. I was definitely in a room and lying on a bed. Last night had undeniably occurred. I reached under my pillow and grabbed the drawing. I unfolded it and quickly looked at it before stashing it in my pocket. I wondered if Jack was up yet.

I noticed an oval shaped mirror was hanging on the wall, so I got up to survey myself. I blinked in surprise. It had been a while since I had seen myself in a mirror. I would sometimes catch glimpses of myself in store windows, but this was different. This was full on. I felt almost naked. I noticed I had a mark on my left cheek from where the man had struck me, but that was not what caused my surprise. It was me, my face as a whole. I still had the same feline eyes, but I had to admit I wasn't hideous. My dark hair made a pretty contrast to my light eyes, like two fireflies flickering in the dark. And while I was definitely unconventional looking, perhaps to some people, I could be thought attractive. I was at the very least decent looking.

I repinned and smoothed my hair. I stared contemplatively at my mirror image, thinking of ways to improve what I saw. 'If only I had blond hair, blue normal-looking eyes, and rosy cheeks,' I thought longingly. I pinched my cheeks in the hopes of bringing some color to them, but I accidentally pinched the cut. I winced in pain and immediately began to feel ashamed of myself for having been so vain. I even mussed my hair a bit as a small form of punishment for caring so much about my appearance. Maybe it had been best that I hadn't had many opportunities to look in a mirror. I turned from my reflection and left the room almost as though I was running away from that stupid, taunting mirror.

As I made my way downstairs, I could smell the stimulating scent of coffee. I made my way to the dining room and saw that coffee was indeed sitting on the table along with a small breakfast of toast and eggs. Jack sat at the table, sipping a cup of the warm, brown concoction as he read a newspaper.

"Good morning Sleeping Beauty," he cheerily greeted.

I smiled. I knew he was teasing, but it was still nice to be called a beauty even in a joking way. "Oh no,' I said with humor in my voice. "You're one of those morning people."

He let out a little laugh. "Oh no. I guess I am." He used his foot to push out the chair across from him. "Here. Sit down and have some breakfast. That should wake you up."

I did as he ordered. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I took a bite of toast smothered in jam. It tasted like piece of heaven. I could have eaten the entire table. After I finished my meal, I quietly sipped some coffee.

A plump, cheery looking woman with brown hair that was streaked with gray walked into the room. She smiled when she saw me. "Oh, hello. You must be the new tenant. I'm Elizabeth, but everyone calls me Liz."

I immediately liked her. She seemed like one of those permanently happy people who wanted to make everyone around her happy as well. "Nice to meet you, Liz. I'm Kristana."

"Goodness, what an interesting name. It's Russian, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"Thought so." She turned to Jack and placed her hands on her hips. "Now, young man, how dare you go and marry this Kristana, not even tell me, bring her here, and then sit there like nothing in the world is different."

I felt my face grow as warm as my cup of coffee. I stole a glance at Jack, but he looked amused. "Liz, you're so presumptuous. Kristana is just a friend that I'm helping out. Don't worry. When I get married, I'll make sure to tell you."

She let out a "hmmph", but I could tell she wasn't really upset. She looked at me with wide, kind eyes. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, sweetie, but don't worry. I can tell just by looking at you that you're far too good for him anyway. Now, are you two done eating because I need to clear these dishes." She began picking up the dishes without even waiting for an answer.

"Hey, I wasn't finished," Jack said.

"Oh, hush. Yes you are. I don't want you getting fat on me." She left the room, carrying an armful of plates and cutlery.

Jack leaned back in his chair and raised his eyebrows at me amusingly. "Liz runs this boarding house. She's a funny gal, isn't she?"

I nodded. I was a little flummoxed by his use of the word gal. It wasn't really a British term, and it definitely wasn't Russian. I figured it must have been some American idiom. "You know, I've never met an American before," I stated.

"Really?" He leaned forward. His handsome face was closer to mine. If I reached my hand out, I could have touched his cheek. I looked down, embarrassed, as if I had just spoken my thoughts out loud.

"What do you think of us so far?" he asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him in mock criticism. "I haven't decided yet."

He grinned then leaned back again. I felt disappointed and relieved at the same time. His closeness had me feel self-conscious.

He started staring at me as if he had just noticed something about me for the first time. My nervousness came back as he leaned towards me again, and then he did to me what I had imagined doing to him. He placed his hand on my cheek, his eyes shrouded with compassion. His touch was like a spark, sending shock waves through my skin like a key dangling at the end of a kite during a lightning storm. I let out a small, involuntary gasp. I hadn't meant to and felt foolish for having done so, but he didn't seem to have noticed.

"Hey, that's a nasty cut. Is it from last night?" He removed his hand, and I started breathing again. I hadn't even realized I had stopped.

"Da," I whispered in Russian without meaning to. "I mean, yes."

"Well, it doesn't look like it will leave a permanent mark. At any rate, I should tell you that although this is a boarding house, there really aren't that many people boarding here. It's just me, Liz, and this one guy named Colin…and now you."

"Where's Colin now?"

"He gets up at the crack of dawn to go work, factory work to be more specific. Colin pretty much keeps to himself. No, literally. He often talks to himself."

I laughed. "Seriously?"

"Unfortunately, yes, but don't worry. He's harmless. He's lost his whole family—his wife and two kids—so I think he talks to himself in lieu of talking to them."

"That's terrible."

"Yeah, the pain of loss can be pretty hard."

I felt sorry for him. His voice had held so much grief. "You sound like you're speaking from experience.'

He shrugged. "I am. My dad died before I could even really remember him, and my mom died when I was sixteen. It's been six years since she left but sometimes it feels like it happened just the other day." He sighed then looked at me. "I suppose you know what I'm talking about as well.'

Something in me clammed up. I felt like a tightly closed lid. I didn't like to think about my parents' death let alone talk about it. "I suppose."

I stood up, but I felt somewhat foolish because I really had nowhere to go. Jack stared at me, worry written all over his face. "Going somewhere?"

I walked to the front door, hesitated, then turned back around. I felt like a spinning top, in motion but with no real destination. "Yes." I hesitated. "I mean, no…I mean, I don't know."

Jack looked at the table as if he were afraid to see my reaction. "You know, some people find it helps to talk about it."

I swerved around. "There's nothing to talk about. They got sick and died. Nothing spectacular happened. They weren't murdered. They didn't save someone from a runaway train. They just got sick and then they left…forever."

Jack just nodded like he agreed with me, but I could tell he was yearning to say more. It was obvious he was worried about me, and I didn't like to feel vulnerable. Exposing my weaknesses made me feel like a mouse in a world full of ravenous cats.

"I've already had a good cry about it," I reassured him. "Then, I decided not to shed any more tears over the matter ever again. There's no point in wallowing in misery."

My supposed reassuring words had only made him look even more concerned. "You've only cried about the death of your parents once?"

"Yes. Like I said, feeling sorry for yourself gets you nowhere. I had to survive, and crying all day long is not the way to go."

Jack stood up slowly. "Perhaps, but there's nothing wrong with having a good cry now and then."

"I know that." My voice came out shriller than I intended it to.

Jack crept a little closer, slowly, as though I was a horse he didn't want to spook. "Kristana, you can cry."

"I know that. I just said I know that."

He kept moving towards me. "You can cry," he repeated.

I felt myself growing defensive. "Why do you keep saying that?" He was face to face with me now.

"Kristana…" His voice was barely a whisper. "You can cry."

I shook my head, not at him but at myself, as though I was trying to tell my eyes not to do what I could feel was coming. I cried. I cried like I had never cried before. The tears kept streaming and the sobs kept coming, and I realized that I had never fully gotten over my parents' deaths. That I had merely been bottling up a torrent of emotions, and now the bottle was too full. It had finally cracked under the pressure, allowing many years of tears to come spilling forth. Jack put his arms around me, and I sobbed on his shoulder like rain hitting the pavement.

"It's okay," Jack murmured. "Ne volnooysya. Ti ne odna."

I lifted my head from his shoulder and drew back a little. "You can speak Russian?" It felt so nice to hear the words. They wrapped around me like a warm embrace. How had he known his comforting words would be so much more reassuring in my native language?

"Yes, I speak a little. Remember, I've been to St. Petersburg. I had to know a bit to get by."

"Right. Well…thanks for letting me know I'm not alone."

Jack released his arms from around me, and the lack of his embrace made me feel like a flower missing its petals. I knew I shouldn't be so drawn to someone I barely knew, but I couldn't help it. To try and not feel something for him would be like trying to stop my heart from beating. I silently cursed myself for harboring such affections, especially since I could tell Jack did not feel the same. He only saw me as a friend, and if friendship was all he would offer then I would take what I could get with alacrity.

"Sure, no problem."

I sat back down. I started fiddling with my hands. I had never cried like that in front of someone, and I couldn't think of what to say. Words seemed as useless as a pile of dried up leaves. We were both quiet, Jack probably not wanting to say anything until I did.

"That song," I said quietly, "That Russian song that I sang yesterday, my mother used to sing that me. She sounded so beautiful when she did. My father always used to say I had gotten my voice from her. Now, every time I sing, it's in tribute to them."

I looked up to see Jack sitting across from me. I had been so lost in my thoughts; I hadn't even noticed he had moved.

He was practically a stranger yet he made me feel so safe. His presence was like a rainbow after a mighty tempest. I longed to have that luminous glow shine on me.

"I think your parents would like that very much," he replied.

I smiled reflectively. He was right. They would like that.

Jack stood up. "I should get going. I've got to try and make some money." He began making his way up the stairs to where his room

"And how are you going to do that? Are you going to make people cry on cue in exchange for a pound?"

"Very funny!" He called as he dashed up the stairs.

A minute later he came back down holding an easel and other various art supplies.

"You actually work as an artist? I just thought you did it as a hobby."

"Nope, it's more than a hobby. This is how I make the big bucks."

"So, are you going to paint outside?"

"Yeah, I set up shop so to speak at some busy corner and hope for the best. Although, drawing in London is pretty terrible. It rains constantly. It was much better in Paris. But oddly enough my art seems to sell better here than there. Not that that's saying much."

So, he and I were alike in that sense, both of us making a meager living doing what we loved the most. I really felt aligned to him somehow, and I remembered Jack's words from the other day. "I have no idea, but I feel as though I would regret it forever if I didn't." I had no idea why either, but I knew he was right. Some things were just meant to be. I believed in destiny. I didn't know where it would take me, and I believed I could help shape it, but I hoped whatever path it led me to, Jack would be right there next to me ready to tread it.

I opened the door for him since his hands were pretty full. "I'd wish you luck, but I don't believe in it."

"That's funny. Me neither," he replied as the door shut behind him.

I sat back down at the table and picked up Jack's newspaper. I absentmindedly scanned the articles. One headline caught my eye. It read: Work on the White Star's Titanic Proceeds Rapidly. I had heard about this a Titanic—a ship that fit its name about as perfectly as a nut in a shell. It was supposed to be the biggest ship ever made, and there was talk about it being unsinkable too. I could barely fathom such grandeur. I read a little more. The rise and progress of the leviathan liner now building is an absorbing topic of conversation at Belfast, where the rapid advance in her construction is visible to all. The article provided a picture of the construction of the great ship. It already looked overwhelmingly huge.

I had only been on a ship once, on my way to England with my parents. It had been a meager vessel, not even half as large in scale as the Titanic was going to be. Such magnificence almost frightened me. It seemed tantamount to being faced with climbing a lofty mountain. As apprehensive as this soon to be built Titanic made me, I felt drawn to it somehow. I was a moth and the picture was the tantalizing flame. As I stared at it, I couldn't help but wonder if I could somehow get the chance to see it in its final form. And not just in the paper but in real life. I didn't know at the time that you don't have to say things out loud for destiny to hear.

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