by Maya Wood
Alexis scowled at this severe thought, and she sat deflated atop her trunk. She had not spoken to Philip since their brutal exchange in the park. At first he had barraged the house with telephone calls and unannounced visits, frantic in his desire to restore peace. But gradually his attempts dwindled, and when Alexis finally wished to hear his voice, the telephone had ceased to ring. Her heart wildly urged her to find him before she left, but her mind triumphed with the realization that she would only invite him to perpetuate the fraud of their relationship.
“Rest assured, Alexis. You will understand this better with time and distance. If Philip loves you, and truly respects you as a partner in life, then he will be waiting for you when you return.” Lawrence stroked his mustache and wrapped his short fingers around the head of his new wooden cane.
Alexis’ mind ballooned with her deepest wishes. She would return from her travels, a new woman, walking down the ship’s plank. And there among the sea of smiling strangers shouting welcome would be Philip, his golden face beaming up at her, his arms open to her forever. She could almost hear the symphony of music to accompany such a moment.
The hallway boards creaked, and Marion stepped into the room, a frozen expression of bewilderment on her face. “Oh, my,” she breathed as she took in the catastrophe of the bedroom. Eyes wide, she looked gravely at Alexis. “Philip is downstairs, Alexis. What should I tell him?”
Her chest contracted tightly, and she could feel the thunder of her heart in every muscle. Attempting to control her breathing, she inhaled deeply through her nose, but her mind spun. “Um…I…I think I’ll go down. Thank you.” Unconsciously she patted at her hair and straightened her dress as she trekked through spaces of floor unclaimed by potential luggage. It was as if her heart had mounted a fatal blow to the power of her rational mind, and Alexis all but ran through the hallway and down the stairs.
Philip stood stiffly in the foyer, hands buried in the pockets of his trousers. His face was dark, deep crescents underlining his icy, green eyes. She couldn’t read him, and she had no idea whether to keep her distance or to fling herself at him. He swallowed hard, his voice was raspy. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
“Can you talk?”
Alexis nodded, her body rigid and quaking. Her limbs went numb, and she reached clumsily for the gray cashmere shawl hanging on the coat stand. Neither had made an invitation to touch the other, and so they danced awkwardly to avoid contact, like two nervous strangers in a tiny elevator. Flinging the corner of the shawl over her shoulder, she opened the door and the pair descended the steps. They walked in silence through the trees, the bulbous bodies of fireflies popping aflame around them.
They stopped at the swinging bench suspended by old, rusted chains beneath an impressive oak tree. Neither of them moved to sit, and the bench swayed solitarily with the soft, cool current, the metal rings groaning against the wood in the night. Philip looked ahead into the blue shadows, his back to her. As though feeling her way along the precipice of a building ledge, she inched tenuously toward the swing, feeling the sanded wood beneath her hands. The chains complained noisily under her.
“What time do you leave tomorrow?” Philip said finally, his voice dry and emotionless.
“At noon.”
In the moonlight, Alexis could make out the silhouette of Philip’s profile, the rigid angle of his chin jutting out stubbornly. He lowered his head, and turned to her, but he did not meet her gaze. “Alexis…I came here tonight, because I wanted to tell you one last time that I love you…I love you, but I absolutely do not want you to go on this trip.”
Alexis flinched as though he’d handed her his heart enveloped in shards of razor sharp glass. Fire ballooned wildly inside her, but her voice was calm.
“I’m going, Philip,” she said. He turned his seething gaze to her.
“So,” she spat defiantly, and against her better judgment, asked, “what now? Is this it?”
Philip cursed, and he kicked hard at the earth. “Damn it, Alexis. Be reasonable.”
Alexis leapt to her feet, her heart lashing combatively. “If you came here to fight with me, I’m going back inside. You’ve made it clear what you think of me. I no longer have any doubts about that. So let me be clear about where I stand. I’m going to New Guinea. For three months. And when I come back, I’m going to keep working. I may go on other trips. This is the life I want for myself. I’d hoped you would be a part of it, at the very least, supportive of me. Otherwise, what’s the point?” Alexis turned and moved to leave him, but she heard the swift movement of his body come for her and felt his hand grope her arm.
He spun her around, and held her firmly. Philip shook, and she felt a tremor of fear quake through her. She had never seen him so antagonized and she understood that there was more to him than she could have known.
“God damn it, Alexis,” he panted, his voice high and broken. “I want to marry you.” The words were sharp, and desperate, almost involuntary.
Alexis reeled back, but he held her firmly in his grasp. “What?” she coughed in disbelief.
He let out a breath as though he’d been socked in the gut, and when the light caught his eyes, she saw nothing short of agony. “I need you, Alexis,” he said.
Alexis squirmed against him. She wanted to believe him, but she could not shake the evidence of the past weeks. “But you said…” She shook her head. “Why do you want to marry me, Philip? Because I’m so ‘good-looking’ and you won’t take anything less? Because you think I’m a trophy?” She was reclaiming her hands from his grip, her anger winding up with every memory. “I heard you say those things!”
Philip sagged backward, his face falling into the palm of his hand. “It was that.” His voice was flat and ruined. “You were a trophy. God, I remember. I saw you, and you were so beautiful. And so untouchable. It was the ultimate conquest. It was like I wanted to collect you.”
Alexis’ jaw snapped open, and her chest rose instinctively. It came straight from his mouth and it was more than she needed to turn and leave him for good.
“But,” he continued.
“But what?” Alexis jabbed, her voice hard. She couldn’t believe she was still standing there.
“I had no idea what would happen to me. What you would do to me.”
Alexis swallowed hard.
“Alexis, I fell so hard for you, even though I didn’t expect to, or even want to. You’re so much more than I could have imagined.” His voice petered out, and his hands dove deep into his pockets. He laughed and wagged his head. “I guess it became obvious to my family and friends that I was…falling for you. There were so many objections coming from every direction, even from myself. I had no idea how to handle it, and I didn’t know any better than to try to fit you into my life. I guess I felt I couldn’t lose you, so I ought to try to mold you.” His head fell back and he closed his eyes. “But I don’t want that now. You wouldn’t be the woman I’m absolutely crazy about. I’m powerless against you.”
He neared her now, almost trembling. She felt his mouth breathe against the crown of her head. His body labored with anguish against her, and he gathered her in his arms like a blanket. “Please forgive me, Alexis. I can’t let you leave without you knowing how I love you. I need you. Please,” he begged against her ear. “Please be mine.”
For a moment, her mind was black. The past weeks of relentless inner doubt and struggle quieted into nothingness. And then she heard herself laughing, and her body shook with joy. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and cried against his chest. He had loved her after all, truly, almost to the point of madness. How absurdly wonderful, she exclaimed inwardly.
Philip reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. “I’ll be here when you get back, Alexis. If you’ll have me.” He took her hand, and she watched as he slipped the band over her finger. The large flat diamond caught in the moonlight. “Please don’t leave me without telling me you’ll be mine.”
He kissed her finger and brus
hed her cheek with his lips. His mouth opened over hers. He was warm and strong, almost furious. He had never kissed her like this, and she returned all that she had to him. For the first time in her life, Alexis felt that everything was absolutely perfect.
“Yes,” she whispered in the night.
***
The small apple-shaped wind-up clock jangled frenetically, and Alexis’ hand surfaced through the cocoon of her bed blankets to silence its piercing shrill. Roused from just a few hours of fitful sleep, Alexis’ eyes shot open and she remembered the day of reckoning had finally arrived. An iron knot twisted in her stomach and she instantly forgot the giddy excitement that had swirled about her head the previous evening. Her body was now stiff with dread, and she didn’t budge from her spot nestled in the safety of her own bed.
She was no longer brave or bold, and a band of nervous perspiration bloomed along her hairline. She felt small and vulnerable, and she wanted nothing more than to march downstairs and tell her father to forget the whole thing. She was happy at home. She was happy with her work at the museum. She was going to marry Philip. She didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. These were the tempting sirens of her subconscious fear.
Yet she climbed from her bed and performed the functions of her everyday routine, a ghastly expression of loss on her face from the realization that everything had now changed. There was no longer any sense of familiarity in combing her hair at the vanity set, or adjusting the shower faucets to get the right temperature. It was as though she were acting out the ghost of a past life, and the bud of nostalgia burst viciously inside her heart. She pulled apart her bedroom curtains as she did every morning, and as she watched the sepia morning light filter softly through the trees she’d climbed as a little girl, she saw only a still-shot memory of a life that no longer belonged to her.
Showered and dressed comfortably in a calf-length burgundy crepe dress, Alexis sat frozen at her vanity table. Resting her chin in palm, she closed her eyes and traced her lips. She could still feel the fever of Philip’s mouth against hers, the all-consuming, totally blinding passion of the moment. Her blood seemed to bubble and flood her brain. How could she possibly leave now? Fingering the diamond which sparkled loudly on her hand, Alexis stood and walked to her bedroom door. This is it, she said to herself, casting one last look at a life no longer hers.
The drab industrial brick architecture of the port jutted upward conspicuously against the crisp mid-morning sky. Seagulls swooped in covetous circles as they scavenged for scraps along the docks. The Scott’s trusty gray Buick coughed to a stop in a row of gleaming cars lining State Street. Lawrence pushed his brown Fedora cap firmly on his head and craned backward to Alexis. Dressed up smartly in her khaki trench coat, she looked positively hopeless as she heard him pull the key from the ignition. The finality of the sound wracked her, and each movement that carried her forward cost the greatest of effort.
“Here we go,” he said, straining to inject his tone with enthusiasm.
As she helped retrieved her baggage from the deep barrel of the trunk, Alexis suddenly understood her father’s warning the previous night. Already her possessions seemed to weigh her down. Marion and Lawrence exchanged wry looks, and the trio limped slowly toward the Long Wharf with the bags clumsily in tow.
She noticed her father eyeing the diamond on her finger, and his mustache lifted at a peculiar angle. He had remained inscrutably quiet when Alexis burst in the cottage wild with excitement of her sudden engagement. “Why didn’t Philip come with us this morning?” he asked her sideways.
Alexis reached for the rock on her hand and pinched it between her fingers. The thought of Philip smashed her heart. “We both agreed it would be easier to say goodbye last night.” Alexis could feel the hot sting of tears pooling against her vision. Just now she felt desperate to touch him, just once more. But she knew the desperation would chip at her courage, what little courage she had right now, and tempt her easily into chucking the luggage in the trunk and heading back home. She swallowed the mounting trepidation in one gulp and lifted her gaze to the scene before her.
Hundreds of people were milling about the pier, a sea of couples, friends and family preparing to say farewell to loved ones. Alexis found renewed strength in the solidarity of her fellow travelers and she felt a pinprick of excitement. She watched them and wondered which of these faces she would come to know in the coming days.
The crowd seemed miniature against the immense black hull of the ocean liner, the Oceanic. Stretching seven hundred feet, its gargantuan body dominated the elements, the freeboard thrusting boldly toward the sea. The ship was an iron wall and it rested solidly in the harbor, unfazed by the insistent undulation of the dense blue waves goring its side. “What a beast of a boat,” she murmured. The rows of circular cabin windows wrapping its immense exterior looked like nothing more than hundreds of neatly lined punch holes.
Lawrence’s shadowed eyes took in the behemoth, and lifting up his cap he exclaimed, “My, you folks are traveling in style.” Forgetting himself for a moment, Lawrence grinned and remembered the countless times he had boarded similar vessels, though none this sleek and modern. He had never grown immune to the sense of wonder and adventure that gathered at the pit of his stomach each time he climbed the long, glinting black traction of the boarding ramp. His gaze fell on Alexis, and he chuckled inwardly. Her face was frozen into a familiar visage of thinly veiled terror. “Come now, dear,” he chuckled. “You have plenty of time to feel terrified. Enjoy this moment.”
Twisting through the mesh of stalling bystanders, Alexis spotted the luggage couriers, their young, able bodies swathed in starchy, navy blue uniforms. An attractive young attendant examined Alexis’ baggage claim, his soft eyes twinkling flirtatiously. “Are you traveling alone?”
Alexis nodded distractedly, oblivious to his body language and overly casual inquiry. Free at last from the cumbersome leather suitcases, Alexis joined Lawrence and Marion, both battling their apprehension with jumbled, trivial conversation.
Marion’s eyes darted back and forth, and finally she reached out her arms and patted Alexis’ face. “My dear, we’re going to miss you. You have a wonderful time. Be safe. And make sure you write us as often as you can!” Alexis sank into her downy embrace.
Pulling back, she saw her father’s eyes were pools of calm. The edge of anxiety dulled, and again she allowed herself to feel a ripple of excitement. Alexis plunged forward, her lumbering arms encircling Lawrence’s shoulders. When they finally separated, Lawrence fixed his gaze on her and said, “This is going to be an adventure of a lifetime. You’ll do magnificently. I know it.” Pushing his spectacles high onto his nose, he added in a professional tone, “We’ll be expecting regular communication from you at the museum. Keep us updated on your itinerary, and uh…that way we know where you are.”
Alexis murmured in agreement, only half listening to her father’s instructions. It was too much. Her heart expanded in her chest and up into her throat. If she didn’t leave them now, she never would. “I love you both,” she howled, squeezing their hands in her sweaty palms. Her lips quivered, and she squeaked, “I’ve got to go now.”
Alexis turned abruptly toward the ship and swerved into the queue of passengers. Her chest rose as she pulled a deep breath of air in her lungs. She straightened her swooping cloche hat and climbed the gangplank. Turning, she offered a solemn wave to her father and Marion, their faces tight with bittersweet smiles.
The band of travelers swarmed restlessly around the ship’s deck rail, and she claimed a spot high above the crowd lingering on the wide, concrete pier. Her father and Marion were two specks in a sea of waving bodies. The ship’s engine thundered with purpose. A deep, low horn sounded and the vessel launched imperceptibly into the harbor. Alexis broke into a sweat. Suddenly the collar of her coat was too tight against her throat. She was combing the masses on the pier with her eyes when they caught on a figure cutting a quick path through the stubborn throngs of waving
hands. He was small in the crowd, but she could make out every perfect line of his body.
Philip stood at the edge of the dock, his hand reaching up. She could see his mouth moving, and she knew he was calling to her. She heard herself screaming out his name. It was useless. Every person, on boat and pier, was broadcasting last wishes and sentiments at maximum volume. Gripping the rail furiously, she locked him with her gaze. His eyes were sad and helpless. He stopped waving and she saw him mouth, I love you, Alexis.
Alexis felt her insides collapse. How could she be on this boat? Every atom of energy pulled her magnetically toward him, now growing smaller. She could not wrench herself from that spot, and neither could he. When all others had given up on last waves and glances and turned toward home, she could still make out his lonely silhouette. Alexis buried her face in a gloved hand. She saw the searing image of Philip then, and her father. She thought of her mother. She thought of every event in her life, minute and grand, which had added up in order to reach this very spot.
The Oceanic plowed ahead indifferently.
Chapter Nine
Alexis swung her legs over the edge of the plush mattress. The air was still and the morning light caught the fine, golden hair on her naked skin. She grabbed the cream silk robe draped over a small dresser, and tied it with a knot below her breasts. Yawning widely, she pressed her face close to the round window of her cabin. The obscure belly of the ocean distended eternally beneath the raw blue of the unblemished sky.
Alexis sighed cheerfully and took in her new abode. Though modest in size, it was cozy and distinctly nautical. The narrow beige walls were embellished discreetly with decorative wooden helms and inky prints of framed antique maps. The rustic wooden furniture was bolted to the floor, an idea which appealed to Alexis in this emotionally tumultuous moment. Even the homey upholstered reading chair cramped low in the corner was rooted inextricably to the ground, and she imagined herself after a long day at sea, reading into the late hours with only the flame of a candle, burned low into the pit of the brass holder.