The sun had set. I had been wandering around Boston all day, without a
notion of where to go. I mean, I knew where I would be going eventually:
Paris. I was going to find my way across the ocean and go to Paris to look
for my father. There was no question about it. However, first I needed a
way to get there, and I needed a place to sleep tonight. Above all, I
needed money. After leaving the house, I had discovered that all I had in
my purse was a lipstick and twenty dollars. My dress and coat weren=t
worth very much, and the only jewelry I had on was the necklace my mother
had given me the year before she died. There was no way I could pawn it.
In other words, I was desperate. Night had fallen and I was getting cold,
and hungry too. I didn=t know what to do. Stay strong, Charlotte. Find
solutions. You can do this.
I had walked all the way to the Public Garden. The unforgiving November climate had destroyed any trace of flowers. I used to anticipate Springtime, waiting for them to return, blossom, be reborn. Would I even be here next spring? As I contemplated these worries, I found myself sinking onto a bench. I was so tired, so very tired. Before I knew it, I had lay down and fallen asleep.
* * *
When I awoke the next morning, I was understandably disoriented. Surely the hard surface beneath me wasn=t my familiar bed. It took me a few minutes to remember the events of the previous night, and to realize that I was in the park. My god, I actually slept on a bench! I congratulated myself; these were the survival skills I would need to cultivate if I were to be on my own, broke and alone. I would learn to sleep in scary, unfamiliar places; to cope with hunger; to live on hardly any money. My optimism surprised me, but it felt very real. I was ready. Paris, here I come.
So what if I was resolved to make it to Paris, and prepared to face the challenges I knew lay before me? I needed a way to get there. My first impulse was to head down to Rowe=s Wharf, where all the large steamers and ships in Boston would be docked. It only took me about half and hour to walk there: through the Public Garden and the Common, down Tremont Street, past Faneuil Hall, over to the Waterfront. When I arrived, there were three or four huge steamers docked. The crowd was huge; families lugging suitcases and parcels, chatting excitedly amongst themselves. It made me believe that at least one ship was imminently departing. I was reassured to know that at least boats were leaving from here, but I still had no idea whether any of them were headed towards Paris, or, furthermore, how I would even pay for such a trip. Searching for answers, I walked towards the Information Office.
AExcuse me, I=m wondering when the next boat leaves for Paris,@ I asked the clerk at the desk, a man not much older than myself.
AWe don=t provide service to Paris, sweetheart. There=s no where to dock the boat.@ He looked at me as if I were the stupidest person alive.
I blushed, embarrassed by my own ignorance. AWell, where do you sail to that goes relatively near there, and when do those boats leave?@
AHmm, let me see.@ He opened a book in front of him and began flipping through the pages. AWhen do you want to leave?@
AAs soon as possible.@
AWell, we do have a ship sailing tomorrow evening for Marseilles. From there, you=d have to take the train to Paris. Anyway, we still have cabins available, if you=d like to purchase a ticket. Steerage starts at fifty dollars.@
Fifty dollars! I didn=t have anywhere near that kind of money. What was I supposed to do? I felt uncomfortable asking if there was anyway I could get out of paying the money. Ask, Charlotte. Remember, survival skills. AThis is going to sound off, but is there any other way to get passage, without purchasing a ticket?@
ANice wishing, Sweetheart,@ he laughed. AAll the crew positions were filled weeks ago. Besides, they wouldn=t even hire a girl like you. I=m afraid it=s buy a ticket or stay here.@
AYou=re positive?@ I asked. APlease, I-I I=m desperate.@ The phrase felt funny coming out of my mouth. I longed so badly not to have to utter it.
ALet me check once more,@ he said, sighing as if he was doing me a grand favor. He picked up the telephone next to him and dialed a few numbers. AWallace? This is Al. Do you have any more openings for girls for tomorrow=s departure? . . . Marseilles . . . Uh huh . . . no . . . I=m not sure . . . Superb! . . . I=ll send her right over.@ He hung up, grinning. AYou=re in luck, Sweetheart. They=re actually short a few chamber maids. You get free passage, food, the like. Unless, of course, that type of work is above you or something.@
ANot in the least,@ I smiled. Yesterday I never would have guessed that I would be ecstatic about being a maid, but now I was. AThank you so much.@
ANot a problem,@ he said. ANow, hurry on over there before you miss the boat. I told them you were on your way.@
And I was. I really was.
I had walked all the way to the Public Garden. The unforgiving November climate had destroyed any trace of flowers. I used to anticipate Springtime, waiting for them to return, blossom, be reborn. Would I even be here next spring? As I contemplated these worries, I found myself sinking onto a bench. I was so tired, so very tired. Before I knew it, I had lay down and fallen asleep.
* * *
When I awoke the next morning, I was understandably disoriented. Surely the hard surface beneath me wasn=t my familiar bed. It took me a few minutes to remember the events of the previous night, and to realize that I was in the park. My god, I actually slept on a bench! I congratulated myself; these were the survival skills I would need to cultivate if I were to be on my own, broke and alone. I would learn to sleep in scary, unfamiliar places; to cope with hunger; to live on hardly any money. My optimism surprised me, but it felt very real. I was ready. Paris, here I come.
So what if I was resolved to make it to Paris, and prepared to face the challenges I knew lay before me? I needed a way to get there. My first impulse was to head down to Rowe=s Wharf, where all the large steamers and ships in Boston would be docked. It only took me about half and hour to walk there: through the Public Garden and the Common, down Tremont Street, past Faneuil Hall, over to the Waterfront. When I arrived, there were three or four huge steamers docked. The crowd was huge; families lugging suitcases and parcels, chatting excitedly amongst themselves. It made me believe that at least one ship was imminently departing. I was reassured to know that at least boats were leaving from here, but I still had no idea whether any of them were headed towards Paris, or, furthermore, how I would even pay for such a trip. Searching for answers, I walked towards the Information Office.
AExcuse me, I=m wondering when the next boat leaves for Paris,@ I asked the clerk at the desk, a man not much older than myself.
AWe don=t provide service to Paris, sweetheart. There=s no where to dock the boat.@ He looked at me as if I were the stupidest person alive.
I blushed, embarrassed by my own ignorance. AWell, where do you sail to that goes relatively near there, and when do those boats leave?@
AHmm, let me see.@ He opened a book in front of him and began flipping through the pages. AWhen do you want to leave?@
AAs soon as possible.@
AWell, we do have a ship sailing tomorrow evening for Marseilles. From there, you=d have to take the train to Paris. Anyway, we still have cabins available, if you=d like to purchase a ticket. Steerage starts at fifty dollars.@
Fifty dollars! I didn=t have anywhere near that kind of money. What was I supposed to do? I felt uncomfortable asking if there was anyway I could get out of paying the money. Ask, Charlotte. Remember, survival skills. AThis is going to sound off, but is there any other way to get passage, without purchasing a ticket?@
ANice wishing, Sweetheart,@ he laughed. AAll the crew positions were filled weeks ago. Besides, they wouldn=t even hire a girl like you. I=m afraid it=s buy a ticket or stay here.@
AYou=re positive?@ I asked. APlease, I-I I=m desperate.@ The phrase felt funny coming out of my mouth. I longed so badly not to have to utter it.
ALet me check once more,@ he said, sighing as if he was doing me a grand favor. He picked up the telephone next to him and dialed a few numbers. AWallace? This is Al. Do you have any more openings for girls for tomorrow=s departure? . . . Marseilles . . . Uh huh . . . no . . . I=m not sure . . . Superb! . . . I=ll send her right over.@ He hung up, grinning. AYou=re in luck, Sweetheart. They=re actually short a few chamber maids. You get free passage, food, the like. Unless, of course, that type of work is above you or something.@
ANot in the least,@ I smiled. Yesterday I never would have guessed that I would be ecstatic about being a maid, but now I was. AThank you so much.@
ANot a problem,@ he said. ANow, hurry on over there before you miss the boat. I told them you were on your way.@
And I was. I really was.
