And if I were the woman my mind had always aspired to and even believed I was, I should have taken the initiative there, should have touched him. I should have taken his face in my two hands and pulled him to me and I should have kissed him, for there was a kiss yearning on my lips even then, though at the time I did not clearly recognize it for what it was. I can recognize it only now. Nearly a century later.
I did hurry. I turned and we walked together toward a lifeboat very nearby. No more than half a dozen steps altogether, and yet I was very conscious of walking with him, a familiar act, an intimate act, our bodies moving beside each other, we’d let the carriage go and we were walking down Broadway and there were bright lights all around and we were talking about the play, about the flow of Mr. Ibsen’s ideas, and then we were before the boat and a hissing came from the sky and a pop and suddenly there was orange light all around, like the lights of Broadway. I looked at him and I wanted to take him in my arms, but I did not, I could not, I was being a lady, God forgive me, and I wanted him to take me in his arms but he did not — though I felt that he wished to, I felt it on my skin just as I’d felt the presence of death — but he was being a gentleman.
And he said something to a ship steward and it was this man’s hand who took mine and I was in the boat and I looked about me and I did not remember stepping in and I turned to look at my man but he was just then retreating into the shadows and the lifeboat began to descend and then I was on the sea in a boat full of women, our lives spared because of our sex, and I was ashamed, and all I wanted was to be on that deck beside him, and I sank down and my mind was empty of all ideas and my body was empty of any intent and after a while the bow of the Titanic disappeared and the stern lifted up and I did not let myself think where he might be and as the stern lifted, there came a great and awful noise from the ship and I realized it was from the silver and the pianos and the porcelain and the couches and the chairs and the steamer trunks and the wine bottles and the books — every loose object on the ship was crashing forward and breaking — and then all the lights suddenly blinked into darkness and a last tremendous noise rose, the ship cracking in two, and then the stern settled back for a moment as if it might sail off on its own and I thought of him once more, imagined him on this half-ship, sailing away to safety, but quickly the section began again to rise, a dark shadow against the bright night sky, and this time there was a terrible silence. No. There were voices all around, in the water, crying out. But from where I sensed him to be, there was only silence. The stern stood upright for what felt like a very long time and then it began to slide quietly downward, disappearing, faster, faster, and it was gone, and I might as well have been beside him, for I dropped at once into a sleep as dreamless as death.
And have I truly awakened, even now? I stand motionless in the center of this room. There is no sound, except the soft slip of the air. Perhaps I died in the very moment he did. Perhaps this is the purgatory I’ve been assigned to for my betrayal, a place to show me that the words must be made flesh.
I feel the weight of my clothes upon me and the burden of my breath. It is many years too late but I unfasten my dress and I slip from it and from all the layers of garments beneath, I shed them quickly, tearing at them, throwing them aside, and at last I am standing naked, and I call to him, I cast the words of my mind out to the distant sea. Look at me, I say.
I stand for a long while in the center of this room, praying that his spirit has found its way to me and is gazing on this vessel of my body, bright with lights and holding him.
I am no longer afraid. I move in my nakedness to this other room and I bend to the tub and by my own hands now I let the water rush in and soon this hard white sea is filled and I step in. The water is cold. It takes my breath away. No matter. I sit and it rises up my thighs, my hips, my sides, and it is over my breasts, and it is beneath my chin, and it ripples there, like kisses. He is nearby. I slide quietly beneath the water. I will find him and we will touch.