The Explorer's Apprentice

16:The Lovely Wedding

I only own Marley.

Marley Faulkner

Marley walks with Rose’s mother, eyes glazed over, staring at nothing. What a putrid human being strolls beside her. Every now and then Ruth Dewitt Bukater will touch her shoulder, and Marley has to fight the urge to scream, or throw up, or both. The babble of Ruth and her frilly friends goes in one ear and out the other, and she wonders how they can stand their own voices.

“…blah-blah-blah darling, Ruth, just darling, blah-blah…”

“Blah-blah! Blah…”

“…blah. And then blah…”

“Blah, oh, blah…”

Marley stares at the plastic flowers on the hat of the woman in front of her, and tries to find shapes in its petals. She’ll put on a dumb face. She’ll twitter and wear high heels and drink tea with them.

But she’ll never be like them.

She’ll never stop thinking. I need the locket… she contemplates, the gears of her mind churning wildly with impossible plans of action. I need to reverse what I’ve done. I’m not sure what triggered it to take me here but it’s my only way home…I’ll sneak out tonight. I’ll steal a flashlight. I’ll knock out one of then night guards and take his keys and check every single jewelry box on this whole freaking ship until I find it… No! I can’t wait that long! Lives are on the line! When we turn the next corner I’ll excuse myself and—

“Rose!” her mother repeats forcefully.

Marley looks up with her practiced ‘bored’ look. “Yes, mother?”

“Ahem. Miss Ophelia just asked you about the beautiful wedding I’ve—we’ve— planned for you. Please pay attention.”

“Do tell,” giggles the woman presumed to be Miss Ophelia. “I suspect my own proposal isn’t too far in the future, I want to hear all about your fabulous dress. Who is your designer?”

Oh no.... Marley doesn’t know this. So far, she’s been lucky nothing about Rose’s personal life comes up much in conversation—but her luck has just ended. Rose didn’t really mention the wedding in her journal, probably too disgusted by the very idea. If I guess and get it wrong, Ruth will know something’s up… I can’t find the locket from inside the ship’s loony bin…

“Um… well…”

“Rose. Stop dozing off.” Ruth pretends to trip, crushing Marley’s toes beneath her heel. Ruth turns back to her friends, demurely fanning herself with a sheet of lace. “That’s my Rose! A little bit of an airhead, she is, I’m always telling her…”

“NO! Shut up! Just shut up! You don’t get to tell anyone anything anymore, you sour-faced,revolting, black-hearted old fart! Do the world a favor and cut out your tongue! You want to hear about my wedding, Miss Ophelia? Well ain’t I a lucky little airhead to be marrying such a great, steaming stud like Cal! Would you like to hear about what he says to me? Would you like to hear how he beats me and screams at me and shuts me away in the dark all alone? Would you like to hear about the sheer disgust I feel when I have to look at his hideous face and know I’m going to give birth to his snot-nosed brats? Or would you like to hear about the freaking drapery I’ve picked out? All of you! Sitting there like corpses sneering at the poor until you rot away amid your wealth! You’re already dead! And you murder me with your rules and corsets and betrothals! And I refuse to let you murder me anymore!” is what Marley would have said if another thought didn’t suddenly pop into her head.

It’s a voice, and it’s not her own.

This voice is quiet, but strong. It’s a voice that has been leading her for quite a while, telling her when to curtsey, or which fork to use. Marley hasn’t thought much of it, but this is the first time it has ever spoken.

“Antoine. Mr.Claude-Pierre Antoine designed my dress,” she says with utter certainty. She even manages a facial expression somewhere between a smile and a wince.

“Oh, how lovely! You’llhave to get me his address. And what color scheme did you decide on?”

You know what would be lovely? If I were marrying someone who loved me. Isn’t that the whole freaking point? Isn’t the whole freaking point to— “Of course,” replies the voice, moving Marley’s tongue, Marley’s lips. “He’ll love to hear from you. I preferred some light ocean blues but—”

Ruth butts in, just as she always does. “Caledon suggested some nice neutral pinks. It’s goes gorgeous—absolutely gorgeous—with his eyes!”

“Oh, how charming, a man who finally knows his colors!”

Marley is surprised she hasn’t recognized the voice before. Who else could it be? Who else would know these details about Rose’s wedding?

Hello, Rose, Marley thinks. She doesn’t expect an answer. She is Rose.

“And what of your venue?”

This time Marley’s stomach physically convulses. She has to get out of here. She has to get herself—and Rose—out of here before that revolting, obscene ceremony to that that abusive, repulsive leech of a man. If the crash didn’t kill her, one day married to him surely would. “My fiancé suggested we get married as soon as possible, in New York,” she lets Rose answer. It’s almost surprising how easy it is to let the other voice answer. Marley should have let her speak along time ago. “We’re still discussing it.”

Inside, her head spins with all manner of possible escape plans. I hate it. I hate it all. This life is no life. I have to get off this ship. I want to live.

“How darling, absolutely darling!” Miss Ophelia looks over her shoulder and gives Marley a nauseating wink. “And what of the honeymoon?”

They don't even notice when Marley stops walking. She’s well away in the other direction before they notice her absence with small gasps of shock. She doesn’t hurry. They won’t follow.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know! I don’t know anything about this ship. I don’t know anything. Rose would know… Rose would know if she were here…

“Rose!” wails Ruth indignantly. “Come. Back. Now!”

No…She is here. I am Rose… Maybe Rose knows what to do… Marley stops walking, and grabs the rail with clammy hands. The other voice remains silent.

“Rose!”

Marley leans against the railing until her feet lift off the floor. She inhales the sharp, salty air.The smell of the ocean enters her lungs, calms the sound of blood rushing inher ears. Maybe if I let go… If Rose takes over completely…

“Rose, where are you?Caledon! Caledon, control her!”

Rose exhales, and eases herself back onto the deck. The ocean looks so beautiful, so inviting. Such a contrast to the horrible shrieks emanating from her mother. I hate it. I hate it all. This life is no life. I have to get off this ship. I want to die.