Residuum

by ID Johnson

  Her eyes were darting around again, and it took her a moment to answer. Finally, with a gulp, she said, “I guess that makes two of us. Jonathan, I have no idea who I am either.”

  Taking a step forward, he pulled her against his chest and patted her back. “It will be all right, Meg. The important thing is that we are all alive and together. We will help each other figure out what comes next. For now, we’ll see if Charlie is up to explaining things to them. If not, I’ll just tell them you’re Meg and leave it at that. If you decide you want to explain, you can, and if not, be Meg West for as long as you need to be.”

  She pulled away, nodding. “I don’t want my mother to know. I already reminded Kelly. If anyone should happen to ask her about me, she’s to tell them she doesn’t know if I was on Titanic or not, and that for all she knows, I’m somewhere in Southampton. I don’t think anyone will realize she was my lady in waiting, but should they ask, she won’t give away any clues to my mother that I’m alive.”

  Jonathan nodded. “That makes sense to me, Meg.” The boat wasn’t moving anymore, and he realized they’d reached the first port, pier 59. He tried not to think about the alternate reality where Titanic was pulling into port instead of Carpathia, or that John Jacob Astor, Ben Guggenheim, and so many others should be finishing up their brandies preparing to escort their wives and lovers off of the ship. It would do no good to dwell on those thoughts.

  Meg seemed to notice the stop as well. Her eyes widened. “We’ve arrived.”

  “I hope so,” Jonathan muttered. “I hope so.”

  Chapter Two

  Every time Charlie opened his eyes, he had to stop and think about where he was supposed to be. It never quite added up to him. Occasionally, a face he did not know would be next to his bed. Sometimes it was a nurse or doctor. Sometimes it was someone he was meant to know. This time, he knew he was aboard Carpathia. He was aware that he had died, but now he was alive. He did not see anyone he knew, and the people scurrying about in his room were all dressed as if they were medical professionals. If any of them noticed he was awake, they didn’t acknowledge him as they shouted orders to each other about preparing the gurney, whatever that meant.

  Eventually, an older woman with her brown hair done up underneath a cap said, “Oh, Mr. Ashton, you’re back with us. Good. Are you in any pain?”

  “No,” he replied. “A sip of water would be nice, though.” Sometimes he felt capable of moving his arms and other times he knew any such sort of requirement could be a disaster.

  “We are in New York,” she explained. “You will be transferred to a local hospital. An ambulance will meet us at the pier.”

  All of that made perfect sense to him, but it did not help the scratchiness in his throat or the fact that his tongue felt thick and sticky. “Might I have a drink before we go?” he asked.

  She looked a bit annoyed, as if she was in the middle of something quite important and couldn’t pause for a few seconds to raise the glass he could still see next to the bed to his lips. With a sigh, she did it, however, and though he didn’t quite get enough down to make the sandpaper feeling go away, it was better than nothing.

  Once she’d set the glass back down and returned to her important task, he asked, “Where’s Meg?”

  “She’s waiting in the hall,” the woman replied. “She’ll accompany you.”

  Charlie nodded. He wondered what was so complicated that it was taking them so much work to get him ready for an ambulance, but he didn’t ask. A few minutes into the ordeal, a man he didn’t recognize wheeled in a gurney, which the nurses went about preparing with sheets, and he decided watching them was only making his head hurt, so he closed his eyes.

  When he opened his eyes again, he knew he was on dry land. The rocking sensation he’d been feeling for more days than he could count had declined substantially, though from time to time he still felt as if he were swaying just a bit. He was staring up at a stark white ceiling. At first he heard absolutely nothing—not the ticking of a clock, the pounding of feet in the hallway, the labored breathing of a restless soul nearby, nothing. The silence was calming for the few moments that it lasted. But then, he began to hear screaming, thrashing, clawing, begging, and he shot up in the bed, looking around for the source of the torment.

  “Charlie? Are you all right?” A petite woman with blonde, wavy hair and blue eyes rose from a chair just a foot or so away from his bedside. She was dressed in the simple clothes of an immigrant from the European mainland, the same type of outfit he’d seen crossing the Atlantic many times, but her accent sounded English. She was beautiful, but her eyes showed concern. Somehow, clearly, she knew his name, but he couldn’t place her.

  The woman took another step forward. “Do you need the doctor?” she asked, her voice quivering a bit. “Or some water?”

  Attempting to calm his racing heart, Charlie glanced around the room again and saw that the source of the screaming must not be nearby. Perhaps, if he was in a hospital as he suspected, it was coming from another room. “What’s that noise?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

  She let out a small sigh. “There is no noise, Charlie, darling. It’s in your head. You’re still hearing the people in the water. Take some deep breaths, and it will go away. I promise.”

  At first he thought she must be mad. Of course there was a noise, plenty of noises. But when she mentioned people in the water, then it came back to him. Pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, Charlie took several deep breaths.

  “Here, take a sip of this water,” she suggested, lifting the glass from beside the bed to him. “It usually helps as well.”

  He did as she recommended. The water was lukewarm, but it did help the dryness in his throat. She was holding the glass for him, but he soon took it out of her hand and drained it. Once it was empty, she took it back and set it down on the table, looking at him expectantly.

  “Thank you,” he said, readjusting the blankets and leaning back. The noises faded, though he could still hear them if he let his mind focus on them. He tried not to do that.

  Returning his attention to the woman, he thought perhaps they’d had a shortage of nurses with so many people being injured. Possibly this woman had volunteered. Maybe she had been a nurse in her home country. She looked nice, though worried. She continued to stand by the side of his bed, that same expectant look on her face, and he wondered if there was something else he was forgetting to say.

  Before he had a chance to ask, the door to the small room opened, and another woman, this one much plumper and older, dressed completely in white came in. “Aw, Mr. Ashton. I see that you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m all right,” he managed, glancing from one woman to the other. He wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. Why would he need two nurses?

  “That’s good to hear,” she replied, though her no-nonsense expression didn’t change. She went about checking the room and bed to make sure nothing was out of line and then looked at a piece of paper he assumed was his medical information. “Do you need the bedpan?” she asked.

  Charlie felt his face flush. “No, thank you,” he replied, and since she’d asked, he did distinctly remember having had to use one of those recently, which wasn’t the most dignified experience of his life.

  “Well, Dr. Hunt examined you while you were sleeping, but I will let him know that you’re awake, and he’ll make his way in shortly.” She cut her eyes at the other woman. “You know you’ll have to go when the doctor comes in?”

  “Yes, I know,” the blonde woman replied, her voice indicating she didn’t need the reminder. She crossed her arms. “He’s hearing them again.”

  The nurse’s eyes went back to Charlie. “Are you hearing them now, Charlie? The screams?”

  Her face indicated that the wrong answer might land him in Belleview. “No, I don’t hear anything right now,” Charlie replied, ignoring the wails that seemed to whisper to him in the distance.

  “Good,” she
said, and the first smile she’d managed since she came in the room briefly shadowed her face as she gave the blonde another look of annoyance. “The doctor will be in soon.” She turned on her heel and made her way the few steps to the door.

  The blonde shook her head in disgust. Still looking at the door, she said quietly, “They don’t know who I am.” She turned her head so that she was looking at Charlie. “I told the stewards who brought you over from Carpathia not to tell them but to let them know I am to stay with you until your parents arrive or Jonathan catches up to us.”

  She looked familiar now, he realized. Asking who she was seemed rude, especially if she knew Jonathan. There must be a way to discover her name and significance without admitting he couldn’t remember ever seeing her before. “Are we in New York then?” Charlie asked, thinking perhaps he might gather a clue that way.

  “Yes, we disembarked about an hour ago. You’re in hospital. I’m not sure the name of it. I know Jonathan will be able to tell you when he arrives. I believe it’s the closest one to the port, but he said something earlier about making sure you had the best medical care available, so it’s possible he’d already arranged to have you taken elsewhere. I’ve never been to New York before so I haven’t any idea if we went across town or not. It didn’t seem far.”

  She was looking at the small window across the room by the end of her statement, as if she was trying to see New York through the panes, but it was near the ceiling and it was very dark out. Eventually, she dropped her head and unfolded her arms so that her hands were clasped in front of her. Even though he still couldn’t place her, he realized, even in this disheveled state, she was quite lovely. Obviously, she was worried about him as well.

  “I’m happy to be back in New York,” he said quietly. “It really is the most amazing place on Earth. If you’ve never been here before, you’ll want to see everything. Perhaps when I’m feeling better, I can take you to Central Park. There’s a zoo there, you know?”

  Her blue eyes flittered over to him, and he could see they were glistening. “I know,” she said quietly. “Charlie,” she took a step in his direction, “have you forgotten who I am again?”

  He felt his face flush a bit, though not as deeply as when the other nurse had mentioned the bed pan. What had given him away? “I’m sorry,” he admitted, watching her face fall. “I remember very little, actually. I do remember the water.” He didn’t feel the need to elaborate—to add that the water was freezing, that it was sucking him down into an abyss, that it was alive with screaming souls.

  She nodded and swallowed hard enough for him to see it in her elegant neck. “Do you remember what ship you were on? What the ship was called that sank?”

  Sank. He hadn’t considered that word, but it made sense. Why else would so many people be in the water all at once? And then he remembered—he was aboard a ship that wasn’t supposed to be capable of sinking. “Titanic.” He said the word as if it were a curse, and then looked up at her face. Her nod let him know that he was correct. “It hit an iceberg.”

  “Yes,” the woman replied. “And you decided not to get on a lifeboat because you wanted other people, women and children, to have a chance.”

  He remembered that as well, now that she mentioned it. Except, they hadn’t had a chance. There were plenty of them thrashing around in the water as well. Plenty who stopped thrashing rather quickly.

  Before he could elaborate on the thought, she asked another question. “Do you remember where you had been? Before you boarded Titanic?”

  It wasn’t a difficult question. Surely, he knew where he had been. And yet, it took him a moment of consideration. He knew he’d gone to England for… something… and that he was coming home sooner than expected. Why would he need to go to England? Suddenly, he remembered. Flickers of images from a ball crossed his mind, and then a house, an older woman crying. He was angry, embarrassed, about something. He’d told Jonathan he was done and to book passage on the next ship to depart… Southampton.

  “Mary Margaret!” The words flew out of his mouth before he had any context for them. A look of relief spread across her face, like he knew everything, though he’d still have to admit all of it was coming back together very slowly, as if he were doing a jigsaw puzzle without benefit of seeing a picture of the completed work beforehand.

  “Yes, that’s right. You were in Southampton. To see me.” A cautious smile adorned her pretty face. “Do you remember me now?”

  Something about what she was saying did not quite seem right. He began to slowly shake his head. “No, Mary Margaret Westmoreland. She… we were supposed to meet at a ball, but she didn’t show up. She ran away with one of the house boys. I boarded Titanic swearing never to have anything to do with her again.”

  The woman let out a deep sigh and clutched her hair at the roots with both hands. It took her a moment before she let go and turned to face him. “Charlie, I am Mary Margaret. I didn’t meet you at the ball, but I explained everything to you while we were aboard Titanic. I told you why I didn’t go. You understood. We danced together.” She took a step toward him. “You kissed me. We fell in love.”

  He was still shaking his head. There was no question that if what she was saying was true, he would remember it. “No, that’s not possible. I will never forgive Mary Margaret Westmoreland.”

  This time, her exhale was so audible her entire upper body seemed to vibrate. “Charlie, please? We’ve been over this so many times in the last few days. I am Mary Margaret—Meg. I’m Meg. You do love me. We are getting married.” She dropped her eyes to the floor. “Damn, why do they have to insist on giving him that same stupid medicine.” She looked back up at him. “Every time they give you that medicine, you forget who I am.”

  He wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about, although his brain did still feel a bit foggy, as if he had recently taken some sort of medication. He had no way of knowing. He did know, for certain, he would never forgive Mary Margaret Westmoreland for what she did. “I’m sorry, miss, but whatever it is you want, I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you. If it’s money you’re after….”

  “Charlie!” Her eyes were pleading with him more than her voice. “I don’t want your money. I want you.” She shook her head. “I know when Jonathan gets here, he will explain all of this to you again, but dammit….”

  Before she could complete her sentence, there was a brisk knock at the door, and then it opened without anyone having the opportunity to call out that it was okay for the older gentleman dressed in a white coat to come in. “Aw, Mr. Ashton, you’re awake.”

  That seemed to be the greeting of the day, and Charlie said, “Yes, I believe I am.”

  He chuckled and scratched the top of his bald head, short tufts of gray hair jutting out around his ears the only evidence that he’d ever had anything at all atop his crown. “I’m Dr. Stephen Hunt. I’ll be taking care of you while you’re here with us.” He looked at Meg. “I’m afraid you’ll need to step out now, miss.”

  “Yes, I know,” she replied tartly. She looked at Charlie and shook her head slowly, as if she was exasperated. Returning her attention to the doctor, she continued, “Every time he takes whatever medicine it was they were giving him aboard Carpathia, he awakens having no recollection of anything that happened on the boat. If it is at all possible, will you see if there’s something else he can take instead—if he still needs a sedative at all?”

  “A sedative?” Charlie echoed. “Why would I need a sedative?”

  “You’ve been through quite the traumatic experience, Mr. Ashton,” the doctor replied. He had Charlie’s paperwork in his hand. He read through a bit and then nodded his head. “Yes, that sort of medication could do that.”

  “I don’t want to be sedated,” Charlie said, looking the doctor squarely in the eye.

  He forced a smile. “Mr. Ashton, I assume you had some… emotional outbursts while aboard Carpathia. It’s difficult for people to adjust after such intense experiences.”
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br />   “Emotional outbursts?” Charlie repeated. Surely, if that had been the case, he would remember.

  “It wasn’t that so much as… the voices,” the woman, Meg, as she called herself, explained, looking at Charlie out of the corner of her eye. “He was hearing screams from people in the water, long after everything was over.”

  “I’m not hearing anything now, I assure you,” Charlie spoke up, looking at her as if she were a classmate who just told the entire class he’d wet his pants. It didn’t matter that he actually was hearing screams at that very moment. If the doctor knew, he might well lock Charlie up in an asylum.

  “I’m glad to hear that you are feeling better,” Dr. Hunt said, smiling at Charlie and then looking at this Meg person again. “It is normal, I assure you,” he replied.

  She didn’t look as if she was willing to accept his definition of normal. “Well, forgetting someone you’ve known most of your life isn’t normal,” she muttered. “Dr. Hunt, please do whatever you can to help Charlie, but please don’t give him anything else that might alter his memory.”

  The doctor rested his hand on her arm. “If Mr. Ashton is no longer hearing voices, and he feels well, I don’t believe any more of that sort of medication should be in order. Now, if you’ll excuse us, miss, I need to examine him in private.”

  “Of course,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder. “I’ll see you soon.”

  The words came out of her mouth as if she was asking a question, and Charlie almost felt compelled to answer. While he didn’t know who she was, Jonathan must, and therefore, he assumed he would see her again, so he nodded, and then she walked out the door. He was fairly certain she was wiping tears from her cheeks as she went, though he couldn’t tell for sure. Whoever she was, she was pretty and seemed to care about him; he hated to make her cry.

  Meg was sitting in a small waiting area near Charlie’s private hospital room, attempting to take deep breaths and calm herself when she heard multiple sets of urgent footsteps and looked up to see Jonathan leading an older, well-dressed couple, followed by a younger, equally as nicely outfitted couple, and a few servants down the hall. She knew this must be Charlie’s family, and her anxiety over Charlie not remembering her morphed into nervousness at the thought of meeting them. She had no idea if they even knew who she was.