Sunday, May 2nd, 1915
The next morning bought rain and fog to the Lusitania and the waves were turbulent enough to infect a person with seasickness. Adrien was already dressed in a warm coat and he was walking with purpose. After a long period of church service in the first class saloon, he walked aft to the stern, trying to look for the entrance to third class. Taking the Shelter Deck, he went forward into the bow and took the stairs between the first and second funnels.
The third class dining room on D-Deck was busy with the voices of many languages (Greek, Russian, Persian, Swedish, Norwegian, Finnish and Indian), with children scarfing down their meals, women trying to act proper by eating slowly, and the men joking around in a rather boisterous manner. Alix was playing "Oh, That Navajo Rag" on the piano, followed by "Far Above Cayuga's Waters", hoping to impress the affections of a boy named Nathanaël, who was travelling with the Coughlin family back to Ireland to meet his parents. No matter where they came from, men, women and children were united in their journey to Liverpool. Within these walls, the uncertain world became a smaller, friendlier place.
Ivan and Mylene's eyes caught the attention of Adrien, walking into the room. At the moment he set foot in the room, the occupants took one glance at him before resuming their meals. He spotted Marinette and walked over to her.
Marinette was playing with Frank and Elsie Hook, drawing funny faces with her sketchbook when her eyes caught sight of Adrien.
"Hello, Miss Cheng."
Marinette felt her cheeks flush a tinge of pink.
"Hello, again."
"Is it all right if we could speak in private?"
"Where could we go? It's raining outside."
"How about the stairs?"
"Sure, we could sit by the stairs."
Ivan and Mylene observed the two, then at each other. It was like someone else had found love below the decks of the world's fastest liner.
All but the hardiest of passengers were back inside as Lusitania encountered fog. Adrien and Marinette walked side by side and sat down by the top left side of the stairs on C Deck. Some of the other steerage passengers, like Walter Dawson Mitchell and Rose Howley, found the odd couple as a fanciful curiosity.
"Miss Cheng, I-"
"Please, call me Marinette."
Adrien felt like the name had an unusual meaning...or at least it was the name that was unusual.
"Marinette...It took me all morning to get up the nerve to face you. I wanted to thank you for saving my life, as well as your own discretion."
"Thank you," Marinette smiled. "You seemed upset about something."
Adrien bowed his head mournfully, trying to find the words.
"I'm a poor little rich boy," he cracked. "What do I care about being upset?"
"What I was thinking was, what could have happened to this boy to make him think he had no way out?" asked Marinette.
Adrien began his story, a long story condensed within three minutes or less.
"Well, it all started when my mother died of consumption. Father couldn't find a cure, even with medical heath, so spent half of the family fortune on medical research which proved fruitless, but really factored a great donation to hospitals across the state of New York. When I turned fifteen last month, Father introduced me to Chloé, the blond haired girl you saw last night reprimanding me for forcing you, which I did not do. Chloé saw me as a potential husband and before I knew it, I was engaged to be married, and now we are going to Paris, France where Chloé lives so I can prepare to take on the role of husband. Being married is supposed to be the best day of my life, but it is too soon for me! Even though I am not actually going to be married until I am seventeen, my father thinks it will ensure his financial problems with the fashion company where I work as a model and now I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs because no one even cares what I think about this!"
His voice grew louder with every word he spoke, but not too loud at a volume that would upset the nearby passengers, who were going about their business as usual. Marinette started to sympathize with this interesting boy she had only known for a day and a half.
"So you wanted to jump off because you don't love this Chloé girl?" she asked, trying not to sound offensive.
Adrien nodded yes.
"So don't marry her."
"I wish it was that simple," Adrien sighed at the seemingly inane thought. "Chloé would get angry, and my father...all he ever thinks about is money. I told him seven times over that money doesn't solve anything, but he won't listen."
"I can see this happening with you being the ignorant one and your father telling you that money can't buy you happiness," Marinette added. "But not the other way around."
"Believe me, it feels like the other way around. If I couldn't reason with them, I could make them grieve instead."
Adrien had his back turned to Marinette like before when they first met. But then, looking over his left shoulder, his interest was piqued by an rectangular book of sorts under Marinette's left armpit.
"What is that...book you are carrying around?" he asked. "Are you an artist."
"Yes, I am," replied Marinette, and she opened the sketchbook.
Each sketch drawn and colored by her through strokes presented an expressive little bit of humanity: an old woman's hands, a sleeping man, George and Elsie Hook at the rail. The faces were luminous, colorful and alive. Her book was a celebration of the human condition.
"Marinette, this is exquisite work!" cried Adrien.
"I didn't too much about art when I went to Paris," Marinette was shy, but Adrien was willing to know more about France's capitol (aside from Chloé's heritage).
"I guess you do get around for a young lady of limited needs," Adrien said without a hint of rudeness in his voice.
Adrien turned four more pages and came upon a series of full frontal and rear nude. He was transfixed by the languid beauty she had created. Her nudes were soulful, real and graphic with expressive hands and eyes. They felt more like portraits than studies of the human form...almost uncomfortably intimate and erotic. Adrien blushed, raising the book as a steward. He tried to sound mature as he asked Marinette.
"Did you draw these from life?"
"One of the good things about Paris is that a lot of boys and girls are willing to go around, taking their clothes off like naturists."
Adrien giggled at the mental image of Chloé doing something similar to that, like skinny dipping in the Seine River.
He studied one drawing in particular, the boy posed half in sunlight, half in shadow. His hands lying at his chin, one furled and one open like a flower, languid and graceful. It was all too detailed down to the front of the uncircumcised genitals.
"Noticed how I used this boy several times? I was in love with his hands, considering he was a ruffian and all."
She turned the page over to a young lady with a long flow of hair covering her left eye.
"This girl Juleka sat by the Pont Alexandre III every night waiting for someone to recognize her for what her reflection showed on inside. They called her invisible, but I soon helped her find someone...a girl named Rose who was-sort of a Lesbian."
Adrien looked over at Marinette, expressing his feelings universally at the consortium of his newfound friend.
"You have talent, Marinette...you see people for what they really are."
"Sort of..."
"And what do you see in me?"
He closed his eyes, trying to be flirtatious, almost expecting a compliment.
"A poor little rich boy."
Opening his eyes, Adrien was stunned. Now she was the one going against his perceived words.
The two friends thought it was time to head back down to their own "stations" and Adrien, knowing that Chloé would be back inside the Regal Suite after service, hoped that he would not get into too much trouble during his absence. By the time he got back to the suite, Lady Allan and her daughters were having a small meal of foie gras in utter silence that was broken when Chloé stepped in, arraigning her gloves for tonight's dinner.
"Where have you been?" she asked. "Out enjoying the rain?"
"I am not wet, Chloé," Adrien interjected. "I was just going out for a stroll, dreaming about a new life ahead of us."
Adrien did not want to risk bringing Marinette into first class just yet, he was planning to spend the next day teaching her a six hour period of etiquette in hopes of impressing his upper class peers.
"Then I suggest you wake up and save the dream for when we're married," Chloé interjected. "We'll be having dinner in two hours."
Hearing this, Anna and Gwen rushed to their cabins for their evening dresses. Lady Allan called after them as they bumped into each other through the doorway.
"Remember ladies, self control!"
Stopping, Anna went first while Gwen let her older sister aside before she herself followed Anna in the proper ladylike pose of walking. Taking slow ballerina like steps, they and their mother left Chloé and Adrien alone in the room.
"I was wondering about that girl, Marinette."
"Forget about her, I don't think her story is worth interesting."
"But what about dinner?"
"Tomorrow, maybe. I never promised anything. It was simply an offer."
"An offer? Do you realize that you told her she could come to dinner sometime during the voyage."
Chloé grinned.
"Yes, I said 'perhaps.'"
Adrien felt like he had exposed his day in third class with Marinette, but he was thankful that he had only told Chloé half the truth. He went back to B-56 to write in his diary and prepare for dinner, almost hearing Chloé mutter "Maybe I should have given her the $20," as he made his way out the door.
In the afternoon, Gabriel sat in the smoking room with Isaac Lehmann and Maurice Medbury, a dealer in antique jewelry over the discussion of Adrien's predisposed marriage to Chloé.
"The purpose of university," he explained. "is to find a suitable wife. Adrien has already done that."
"I dare say," Lehmann looked upset about an uncertain topic. "I heard from the first officer that we are not traveling at full speed."
"It must be due to economic reasons," replied Medbury, who looking just about as bored as his fellow man.
"True," said Gabriel. "Perhaps our fellow Harvard graduate, Mr. Edwin William Friend can teach you many things about preservation, like the ship's coal or food supply."
Looking over his right shoulder for a brief thought, Gabriel spotted the twenty eight year old man, whom he believed, was for a fact the person in question.
"Speaking of which, here he comes now."
Mr. Friend greeted the trio with his best impression of being formal.
"Hello, gentlemen, I was hoping I could discuss business instead of war for a change. You three seem uninterested, so I thought I could introduce myself."
"I know who you are," interjected Gabriel. "You are Professor Edwin Friend from Harvard."
"How did you guess?"
"I might have seen your name in the passenger list."
Gabriel liked to be secretive. In reality when finding a school for Adrien, he had heard the name from a list of professors who had graduated from the school and taught there in Indic philology. He was travelling with Theodate Pope Riddle for the purpose of funding a psychical research organization for English Society for Psychical Research.
"Well then, perhaps Theodate and I could interest you in a lecture on classics? Maybe that will get your mind off of the war."
"No thank you," Gabriel apologized. "I was just about leaving for dinner. Perhaps we can discuss your lecture on classics then."
"What a good idea," replied the young professor. "Maybe then I can address it to everybody in the dining hall."
Lehmann and Medbury laughed at what they thought seemed like a boastful joke. Professor Friend would eventually give his lecture at dinner, though his only audience that actually listened to hear him speak at his table were Miss Pope, Dr. James Houghton and Marie Depage, who were on their way to find medical help on the Western Front.
In the second class lounge, Canadian newspaperman Ernest Cowper spoke with his publisher Richard Rogers about the former's telling interview with Elbert Hubbard up in first class.
"What did you talk to him about?" asked Rogers.
"The usual stuff, he told me he was on his way to see the Kaiser."
Rogers felt impatient at wanting to know more and more about what was going on behind the enemy lines.
"The Americans of course, want no involvement in the war but there are more Canadians wanting to join the British through the Corps. You should enlist too as a reporter for their own newspaper."
"Sir, I would prefer not to push myself into the battlefield just so I can grab a story. I'd rather wait until everything is ready."
"Ready for what? A truce? As your employer, I will decide what is best for you or anyone else in my company. If you can convince Hubbard that we are ready to help the British, will we do everything we can to make this war as short as possible."
Cowper stiffly nodded, but he had one final request before leaving the room.
"He did tell me one thing."
"Is it that important?" asked Rogers, smiling for the right answer.
"'The Germans have done some darned bad things since the war started, but I don't believe they're all that bad.'"
But of course, the darkest part of the journey was yet to come.