Free (Titanic)

Part I

This prairie is so beautiful. It sits directly behind the house I share with my mother in New York, and if I sit on the ledge of my bedroom window, I can see it all perfectly. All the details suddenly become clear. When the right time of year comes around, I can even make out individual petals on individual flowers, and then follow them as they are carried away by the wind.

I am walking in the prairie now, but today I don’t see any of the little details. It’s not that I’m not trying, because I am. In fact, I desperately want to be able to focus. But I can’t. I just can’t. The memory this date brings is far too painful for me to focus on anything else. It is April 15th, 1917. It has been five years and I still think about him every day.

I guess I should explain things a bit more. My name is Hazel Grace Brown. When I was fifteen, I had a baby boy. He was the most beautiful thing in the world to me, and I loved him with all my heart. His father wanted nothing to do with either one of us when he found out I was pregnant, so I never heard from him after I told him. But that really didn’t matter to me. I knew my son was going to be my world, and that I would give him everything he would ever need.

Things started to go downhill for my family shortly before Raymond’s first birthday. Almost every other night, my parents would argue. For a while, I didn’t get the chance to hear what they were saying. I was far too pre-occupied with my schoolwork and raising Raymond that I couldn’t be bothered with, what I assumed, were just petty arguments. But one night, I forgot Raymond’s bottle in the kitchen, and I had to go downstairs to get it so I could feed him before bed. That was the night I first heard one of my parents’ arguments, also the last. I will never forget the conversation as long as I live, because it finally showed me who my father really was.

“Okay Ruth, the show’s over.”

“What on Earth are you talking about, Edward?”

“This has gone on too long. We’ve let Hazel have her little experiment for a year, and now it’s time to fix our reputation.”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” My mother folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow, staring directly into my father’s eyes.

“That child is going away.”

“I’m sorry to tell you Edward, but Raymond isn’t going anywhere.”

“Oh, I believe he is. That little heathen has caused far more trouble than he could ever be worth in a hundred lifetimes. I refuse to be dragged into the gutter because my daughter is a harlot!”

To this, my mother said nothing. She simply walked over to my father, who was at least a head taller than her, and slapped him as hard as she could. I could see the tears falling from her eyes, but they were not enough to keep my own under control. My mother had always been there for me. She had always been my biggest supporter, and because I had made a foolish decision, she was now in the middle of an argument that was causing her pain. I set my back against the wall and slid down to the floor, doing the best I could to keep my breakdown under control. I didn’t want to let them know that I was there and could hear everything that was going on.

“How dare you say that about our daughter!” Her voice was hard and full of venom.

I peeked around the corner to try and see my dad’s reaction. His hands were behind him, gripping the edge of the countertop. I strained my eyes and was able to see a vein popping out on the right side of his forehead. “Ruth, let me be perfectly clear about this: you have a decision to make. Hazel and Raymond, or me.” He spoke through gritted teeth, and his tone scared me to death.

Later that night, my father’s bags were packed and he was gone. After the divorce hearing, I never saw him again.

To say the divorce was messy wouldn’t ever cover the half of it. It was clear that my father was out to get my mother, because he even told the judge that his “harlot of a wife” had committed adultery against him. Because men have far standing when it comes to divorce, the judge granted him the request with a fair amount of ease. And he didn’t stop there. He didn’t just want to ruin my mother’s reputation: he wanted to ruin her financially. He was a lawyer, and therefore had close connections with the sheriff court in Glasgow, the city we lived in. My mother got to keep the house, but that took weeks of arguing between her lawyer and his. In the meantime, the three of us had stayed in the least expensive hotel we could find.

The judge granted about half the aliment needed for my mom to support herself, me, and baby Raymond. We were in a bind, and even I was forced to find any work that I could just to help support us. It quickly got to the point where my mother, quite regrettably, had to sell nearly every piece of jewelry she owned. She was only able to keep one ring and its matching necklace. The ring had a silver band, and on it rested three pale-blue stones, each encrusted with diamonds around the edge. The stone in the middle was shaped like an upside-down teardrop, and the other two were circular. The necklace was simpler, containing just one of the circular pale blue stones and no diamonds.

Eventually, things turned around. My mother was able to find a stable job as a nurse, which allowed me to quit mine and stay home to take care of Raymond. We worked on the finances together, and put a little money away each time she got paid. While we certainly never got back to the lifestyle we had when my father was around, we always had enough of everything to go around. My mother was even able to buy a couple new pieces of jewelry with some of the money we saved up. Things were never “normal” again, but it was perfect for us because we were able to form a much stronger bond than we’d ever had before. In a way, I guess I owe thanks to the divorce for that.

When I turned nineteen, my mom proposed the idea of going to America on the Titanic. By that time, my parents had been divorced for four years and my mom wanted to start a completely new life. I realized that I wanted the same thing for myself and Raymond – he was five by this time – so I told my mother to go ahead and buy tickets for the two of us as well. She splurged and got us two separate first class cabins, the biggest purchase she’d made in quite a while. I was shocked when she brought the tickets home and even insisted that I pay her back, but she refused. She told me that this was a once in a lifetime occasion, and that she was going to do everything she could to make the voyage one to remember.