by C. D'Angelo
I play with the anchor charm on my necklace and move closer to Brian so he can hear me whisper. “I thought you said I was dressed nice tonight.”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean? You are. That is a nice dress.”
“You know I don’t like to stick out. I might have chosen something a little more upscale if I knew about the level of this place.” At least I threw on my silver chain necklace.
“You’re fine. Don’t worry. Let’s get a table.” He rests his hand on the small of my back and leads me to the hostess stand.
How does he not understand?
My cheeks heat up as I smooth my dark gray dress in an attempt to make it appear less casual.
When the hostess notices us, I swear she looks me up and down. Or maybe it’s just in my head.
“Reservation for two,” Brian tells her.
“Name please?”
“Brian.”
Without a smile or change in her unenthusiastic facial expression, the hostess looks at her book on the stand. “Follow me.” Miss Personality leads us to our table and drops a menu in my hands as soon as I’m seated.
“See why I made a reservation? There are about six tables in here so I wanted to make sure we could get in and that your night is flawless.” Brian’s bright eyes have no trouble catching the light above us as he smiles, pleased with his planning.
I return the smile and let out the breath I’d been holding, thankful I’m able to hide part of my outfit under the tablecloth. I look down at the menu and notice today’s date printed on the top. Not only is this restaurant Italian, but they create menus each day, which means fresh ingredients and new ideas.
Glancing back to today’s date on the menu, a chill travels throughout my body. Today marks one hundred years since the Titanic hit the iceberg that sank it. The people on the ship would have received menus that night that read “April 14, 1912.” Obviously I knew this fact, but seeing the date in writing, even with the year 2012, makes my chest hurt.
“Rach? What’s happening over there?”
“Oh, I, I just noticed the date printed and it…never mind. All is okay.”
“If you say so. How about ordering bruschetta? I bet they grow their own tomatoes here.” He looks around as if searching for a rooftop garden.
“Sounds good.” I smile. “You’d love to see their garden, I’m sure.”
“In fact, I would, Ms. Granza.” He smiles as well.
Being with Brian in this environment, on this night, for this occasion, feels serene. I’m happy. Dare I proclaim that?
After our order is taken, I wait not so patiently for the delicious food to start rolling in. Not even my excitement for the movie can take my appetite away. “I hope they bring the app soon. I’m starving.”
“Aren’t you always?”
“Pretty much.” I nod my head.
“So, what’s happened with your research this week?”
“Not as much as I would like. I haven’t been able to find any new info yet.” My face drops.
“You will.”
Does he know my phrase? “I hope so.” I pause. “Oh, but there was a family listed in a census with my family who I never heard about, so maybe we did know someone here in the US. I almost forgot to tell you.” I’m so focused on my Grandpa that it slips my mind sometimes.
“Good news.”
“Yes, salute.” I hold my wine glass up to clink it with his glass. “I’m glad we are here together now.”
“There’s nobody else I’d rather watch over three hours of a ship sinking with than you.”
“How romantic.” I flutter my eyes to add to my sarcasm.
“Oh no, did I spoil the ending?”
“Yes. You jerk. I keep hoping it doesn’t sink.” I laugh and grab a slice of white bread. Brian pushes the tiny bowl of the mixture of olive oil and spices closer to me so I can dip my slice.
Three doughy slices later, I put down my fork after finishing my last piece with my lobster stuffed ravioli in lemon butter sauce. “I can always tell when the pasta is freshly made. Who told you about this place?”
“Jason.”
My eyes enlarge. “Well, he deserves a prize. I knew I always liked that guy.”
Just in time to keep the food high going, the waiter brings us dessert menus. I hold back a scream as soon as I spot a special choice. Instead, I whisper-scream to Brian, “THEY HAVE SPUMONI!”
Brian’s face lights up. “Why do you think we came here?”
“Oh, I hope they have real spumoni.”
He chuckles. “I called ahead of time to make sure it’s the way you like it. I think the menu is just for show.”
“You mean actual spumoni and not the fake crap, right?” I tend to get a little too animated when it comes to the right way to prepare Italian food. “People should not be able to call their knockoffs ‘spumoni.’”
The waiter sets two dishes on the table and I gasp.
“What’s wrong, miss?”
“Oh, sorry. I am just excited that this is true spumoni.” I stare at the plate, mesmerized by the culinary gift in front of me. Hopefully the waiter doesn’t take me as rude that I’m not looking at him, but I can’t get out of my bubble at this point.
“Thank you, sir,” Brian says to the waiter and gathers our useless menus.
I pick up my spoon, my mouth watering. “The time has arrived.” Before I can take a bite, I examine each layer. “The colors are precise. I see the pieces of pistachios in a green layer, chunks of cherries for the pink middle layer, and bits of chocolate for the last third. And it’s sliced and served on a plate, not in a bowl, as is correct. And no chocolate drizzle on top. Puh-lease, that’s sacrilegious.”
Brian rolls his eyes. “I told you. Now eat and stop analyzing before it melts.”
My first bite is heavenly. Angels must have brought it down to this restaurant from the skies above. It has the perfect creaminess and sweetness in each section. They do it right at this place. I feel proud, even though I had nothing to do with making it. Only my people could create something so delicious.
Even after a perfect Italian meal, Brian and I have no trouble making room for movie theater popcorn. As we stand in line, my eye is drawn to the Titanic posters and cardboard cutouts. The building excitement feels so foreign to me that it’s a bit scary.
Walking into the 3D theater, holding the precious tickets in one hand and popcorn in the other, I feel my heart beat faster with every step. We are about to see Titanic in 3D…with Leonardo DiCaprio…in 3D! Choosing our seats is important for the cinematic experience—not too close to the screen, not too far, and in the middle of the section. Brian likes an aisle seat, but this is my shindig tonight, so I get to sit where I want. As the theater fills up, I am glad that nobody sits next to me. I need my space and want to stay in my own little world. The only exception might be a little snuggling with Brian.
I look around before the lights dim. The moviegoers all look so young. This is probably the first time they’ll see the movie in a theater. They were probably in elementary school when it was originally released in 1997. Everyone needs to see this movie on the big screen at least once—and in 3D it’s even better. It’s a basic human need. Eat, sleep, see Titanic in the theater.
Finally, the opening credits start and the title Titanic is sprawled across the screen, with the dark blue water of the Atlantic in the background. Chills fill my body as the iconic song plays. It’s haunting and sad, yet a perfect melody to set the mood. I slouch further down into the plush red theater chair and let my mind wander to the world in the movie, both 1997 and 1912.
When the final scene ends, I realize I have been practically holding my breath for the last hour. I breathe in the moviemaking beauty with a deep intake of air. Oh, please stay in my memory forever, especially 3D Leo.
I’d sit here and
watch it again if they would let me, but when I see everyone in the theater getting up from their seats, I know I should too. Brian’s what-the-heck-are-you-doing look also convinces me. I follow him down the steps begrudgingly, toss my popcorn bag in the bin, and sadly exit out the door. It’s over. My head dips, but my mind doesn’t stop reviewing the masterpiece.
I’ve watched this movie dozens of times and am always able to enjoy every moment of it—even the sorrowful ones. Watching in 3D was a whole new experience though, almost overbearing. It was so large and so real; so heartbreaking. I can’t imagine losing a love like Rose did when Jack died.
Every time I watch Titanic, I fall in love with the sets, props, and costumes all over again. They are so accurate that I can imagine myself in those circumstances, which is part of what makes it eerie. The disaster could have happened to anyone. The movie truly is a work of genius and I agree with the many Oscars it won the year of its release. Leonardo DiCaprio should have won the Oscar for best actor as well. What happened, Oscar voters? Come on!
The word vomit begins as we exit the building and start our walk home (because how would I ever hold all this in?). “What captured my fascination this time was seeing the modern-day underwater scenes of the wreck. The 3D aspect of the movie made all the difference for the viewing experience. Don’t you agree?”
“It was awesome. The fish around the cameras looked like they were swimming right toward me.”
“Exactly! Also, the motion of the camera moving through the rooms of the ship made me feel like I was on that deep-sea rover with the explorers. Like I was in the movie and part of their world.”
“With Leo! Oh my God.” Brian imitates me with a high-pitched voice.
I punch him in the arm and giggle. “Well, it was a thrill we could see it in this format and that they re-released it.”
“And how about that dinner? I did well.” Brian puffs out his chest and shimmies.
“Yeah, the surprise dinner, the out of this world food, the best movie, and last but not least, the us having time together part.” I grab his hand and we swing our arms as we walk.
Our closeness tonight feels like we have a chance to survive as a couple. At least I feel closer. I think he does too. Fingers crossed. Putting my arm around him in the movie had to show my feelings because he later did the same. I think we have been more affectionate in general since the talk. Right?
I push aside my doubt and allow a soothing warm wave to flow through me. He is my Jack. Yup, he just has to be. I am sure. Can that sureness stay with me please?
I guess he did feel the closeness because as soon as we enter our apartment, he guides me to the bedroom. I know what this means.
“Um, Brian, I feel strange about having sex when we just saw a tragic movie about love lost. How can I forget about what I just watched?”
He stops walking, lets my hand loose, and turns around to face me. “The ship didn’t really just sink, you know. That happened a long time ago.”
“It is real to me right now because the event did happen, no matter when. It isn’t like we witnessed a movie about a fictional event. I’m not heartless and can’t move on easily from three hours of gut-wrenching distress.” Our new open communication seems to be the way to go. Lay it all out there, Rachel.
But his face grows red. Oh, this isn’t good.
He takes in a huge breath and releases it with force. “What do you mean? Should we mourn the tragedy?” he raises his voice.
“I don’t know.” I look down. My voice gets softer. “It’s the centennial and I feel weird being intimate in this time of loss.”
“Rachel, you are really illogical. You didn’t know any of those people. I thought I was reading your signals right, but it’s fine if you aren’t in the mood. I know this stuff means a lot to you and it is your night.” His voice remains loud, but a notch calmer. He gives me a tight hug then walks to the bathroom.
So, is he annoyed with me or not?
Brian is an understanding man and I am fortunate for that. It just feels wrong to celebrate, in a sense, when one hundred years ago so many lives changed from the wreck. He has to understand that, right?
I go over to the bathroom to hug and kiss him again. His reception is flat. Huh?
“Brian, I’m sorry! I don’t want the night to end this way. Please don’t be mad at me.” I wait, staring at him as he washes his face and prepares his toothbrush for use. When he puts down the toothpaste, I think how it would shoot out everywhere if the cap wasn’t on. He’s slamming everything.
“It’s fine, Rachel.” Only his eyes turn toward me but don’t meet mine, while his head remains down and away. He brushes aggressively and acts different than what he verbalizes. ‘It’s’ obviously not fine.
“I don’t know what else to say. I enjoyed the night. I really did. It was amazing how out of the way you went for me and I appreciate that so much. I can’t force myself to get into the zone after such a heavy experience.” A tear drops from my eye, but I don’t want him to see it. I turn my face away and wipe it fast.
“Don’t worry about it. Love you.” How could he have no emotion in his face? His body even looks deflated.
He walks to our bed. Whipping back the covers, he drops in and turns on his side so he can’t see me anymore. I’m standing here lost for thoughts and words. I still can’t read him. Is he just tired or something? This is out of character.
Why do I always mess everything up? Brian doesn’t completely understand me, but he does the best out of anyone. If not him, who does understand me then? He gets me most of the time at least. That is something. Maybe I am ungettable, after all. Except by Grandpa.
Stop it, Rachel. I need to tell myself to stop letting my mind go into catastrophe mode. He loves me and we will get through this shaky time. He still wants to spend time with me. Tonight shows that. I’m not completely awful to be around. Am I?
But what if his actions are band aids and they are not allowing me to address the real issues? What if there is something truly wrong with me? Do I need medicine? Therapy? But what even is the issue anymore? There isn’t an issue! My life is great. Ugh, I don’t know. It’s too much.
I go to the family room and turn on the TV to watch something before I go to bed. I need a transition time from the emotional waves of tonight. Reviewing it in my mind is draining, so I have to try to tune out.
I force myself to watch something light and happy on TV because I already broke my late-night Titanic rule and don’t want to watch any more on the topic tonight. My mind can’t take it. And Lord knows my heart can’t either. I don’t want any more of those lucid dreams.
Chapter 14
We have plans to go to the 6th Avenue Chelsea Festival with Maggie and Ray today, but after how last night ended, I’m not in the mood. I know I better get in the mood because it’s happening.
As I continue to lay in bed my mind races, reflecting on last night and what it means. It is always so up and down with him—with us. And I know I cause a lot of the shifts. Do nights like last night push him further away? Does he still want to be with me? What do I want? This is all too overwhelming for the morning. I need a coffee the size of the Titanic to get me through right now, so I crawl out from under the covers and shuffle into the kitchen.
“Hey.”
Brian looks up from his laptop. “Morning.”
“I’m sorr—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay… Um, are you still going to the festival?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” He keeps his head down and types.
“That…never mind. Okay great.” I try to carry on as usual, but my voice is three octaves higher. Grabbing my coffee and popping a quiche Brian made into the microwave, I stare out the window.
Brian’s silence is torturous, but I don’t want to cause more ripples and ask about his feelings again. That will jus
t annoy him further. Last night warned me of it. I know what I can say.
“I wish I could tell Maggie about my research today.”
“Why can’t you?” This causes him to look up.
Uh-oh, did I hit a nerve I wasn’t aware of? I thought this is a safe topic.
“I want to be able to say every last bit to Maggie. I can’t lay out all the details when we are walking around with you two guys.” I muster up a laugh to give off a this-is-a-normal-reaction vibe.
He rolls his eyes.
So, he didn’t buy it. Oy.
“Please, respect my wishes.”
“I don’t get it. It’s strange you wouldn’t want to talk about what’s up and that’s what’s up.” He folds his arms across his chest.
I feel a challenge energy coming from him, which is unusual. He’s the calm one. Crap, I really upset him last night.
“I just want to have a deeper conversation than throwing out pieces of my story. We need to go to lunch or something. You know, some girl talk stuff,” I re-emphasize but keep my tone light. He has to understand that.
I grab my food and a fork.
“I mean, if that’s what you want, but it just seems odd to me.”
Ouch. His re-emphasis isn’t good. I pause and take a deep breath.
“It’s just me. You know how I am.” I honestly could just tell her some of the story today. He has a point. It doesn’t need to be a big to-do.
“What, worried about everything, everyone, and everything in between?”
I hear the metaphorical record screech to a stop, like in the movies. Too far, my man, too far. Now it’s on.
“Brian, please? Just…please.” My words are short and pointed. “It’s important that I tell my best friend when and how I want to, that’s all.” I am trying hard to keep the pleasant tone, but the frustration keeps building inside and I have an urge to dig my feet in further to my stubborn desire.