Waves of Tomorrow | Titanic

Day 2 (April 11th, 1912)

A slim ray of light makes its way to my face. It creeps through a small separation in the curtains, stalking me as I rest. First, it settles on the pillow beside me. It crawls forward as the run rises, inching towards its target. It reaches my hair, and then my ear, and then my cheek. Just as it had hoped, it reaches its destination: my eye.

It interrupts my dreams, and I awaken slowly, blinking my eyes to adjust to the beam of light. Finally conscious, I move myself out of the bright stream.

I yawn, checking the time, and am disappointed to see that it's only eight. I decide that, after such an altercation light, trying to fall back into a deep slumber would be futile.

I step down off the bed, my feet feeling the soft rug, as I make my way towards the window and open the curtains completely.

As expected, I am met with an endless sea of blue. I sigh, hoping we had reached Queenstown, our last stop, by now. It has only been a day and I already miss civilisation.

I look down, remembering I had fallen asleep in last night's clothes, and still wrapped in Mr. Andrews coat.

After considering the thought of changing, I decide I'm comfy enough in my current attire and begin to wonder how I should spend my morning. I have grown tired of the prestigious social circles of the ship, concluding that I would skip breakfast with a group.

I head over to the dark wooden desk in my room, finding my satchel sitting neatly atop the surface. Feeling inspired by my ephemeral home and its people, I grab my sketchbook.

I start with a portrait of Rose, just something quick to warm up with, though if its good enough, I'll offer it to her as a present. Next is the ship of course; I sketch the grand staircase and the clock and the glass dome.

One last thing, I think to myself. But what to draw...

Perhaps I should give Mr. Andrews a gift for giving me his coat, I decide. I can him the drawing when I give him back the coat. I smile to myself, perhaps I am a little too excited to draw this portrait.

Time flies, and before I know it, the pencilled portrait is complete. Although the drawing is from memory, I conclude that I captured his features well. My stomach flutters at the thought of giving him the art, and I'm taken aback.

I shake it off, it must just be because I'm just in a stressful position. I glance over at the tall, wooden grandfather clock situated by the window. Ten o'clock already. My eyes wander, and I see a small white card next to the clock on the window's ledge.

Walking over confused, I pick up the piece of paper inquisitively.

Oh, that's right, I think, seeing the phone number neatly written on the card. Perhaps I'll just give Mr. Andrews a call and see if I can drop his coat off.

After searching the intricate and decorated room for about five minutes, I finally find the phone, tucked away neatly on the wall behind the armchair. Plugging in the numbers carefully, I am relieved when the phone begins to ring.

"Hello this is Thomas, who am I speaking to?"

"Thomas? Who's that?" I tease. "I'm actually looking for a Mr. Andrews, would you be so kind as to pass me over to him?" I say chuckling.

"Ah, what a pleasant surprise," he says my name cheerfully. "How can I assist you this fine morning?"

"Just wanted to see if I could return your coat..." I pause suspensefully, "along with a small gift."

"Oh, a gift," he begins nervously but with a hint of excitement, "I'm looking forward to seeing what you have for me. I'm in room 202, please feel free to drop by whenever."