Garçon & Fille

                I ran my hand along the ship’s railings as I raced down the walkway. I held up my new toy boat. It danced up and down as I made it sail the roaring waves of the sea. The ocean crashed against the ship, spewing a mist up into my face. The air was crisp and the sun hot. I dodged the many guests who were leisurely walking down the ship, as I rushed on towards the bow.

I stopped my hurried pace when I reached the ship’s front. Before me sat a young girl on the metal railings. Her arms rested on the top rail and her legs dangled off the edge. A patched brown dress flowed down by her ankles, soaking up bits of mist from the spraying ocean.

I walked up to her and placed my hands on the railing. I leaned over the side and a shudder of fear crept up my spine as I viewed the far drop.

“Aren’t you scared?” I asked, glancing for the first time, to see the young girl’s face. A small grin reached across her small face as she peered out across the expanse of the sea.

She looked up at me and spoke in a petite French accent,

“Silly garcon. La mer ne pourra pas vous nuire.”

I was surprised at her French. I squinted my eyes in confusion.

“I don’t know French. My parents aren’t having my French tutor until next year,” I responded with quick prompt. “Do you understand any English?” I asked, speaking slow and using wide hand motions.

“Oui.”

“Good, I’m glad. It sure would be unfortunate if you couldn’t understand me.”

She turned her head back to the sea, and I quickly copied her.

The large ship hardly rose or fell with the waves, but instead just plowed on through the sea. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the girl’s eyes lit up with the sun’s reflected light as she gazed out across the sea. She just stared as if the water had something special to offer her.

I broke the silence.

“My parents said this would be a grand cruise. I think it’s just a jolly bit of rot. I’ve never liked boats myself.” She didn’t respond, just kept watching the waves.

“The parties at night aren’t too bad. Though I have to dress up in those horrible dress-suits like my father.” She wouldn’t say a word or take her eyes off the sea, so I asked her a question. “What about your parents? Who are they?”

She looked down as she answered in a half whisper,

“Mère gone. Père work sur bateau.”

“Oh, your father works here? Hmm, that’s, uhhh, interesting.” I commented as I realized that she wasn’t a guest. I twiddled my thumbs and stole quick glances at her as she kicked her feet out over the ship’s edge.
                That night I sat in a large wooden longboat with her huddled next to me wearing a life jacket. Tears streaked down her face as they did mine. The fire from the ship illuminated our faces. That was the day I met Riva. That was the day the Titanic sank.