Titanic Summer

by Russell J. Sanders

  “In our private place, Jake and I planned our lives in the new world to which we were journeying. I was devoted to Jacob Hardy, and he to me.”

  Were Jacob and Charley…?

  “The fourteenth of February was a lovely day. There was no indication that disaster loomed.

  “Day turned into a particularly dark, moonless night. Jake finished in the dining salon around 2300—11:00 p.m.—as he had the previous two evenings.

  “He came bearing French pastries. He beckoned at our cabin door for me to join him in our private alcove. We devoured the creamy pastries, laughing. At one point Jake gently removed cream from my upper lip, and then he licked it from his finger. I looked into his eyes and said, ‘I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be than here with you, sailing to a new life aboard the grandest vessel in the world.’

  “Then, a jolt. It was not a huge thing, but it gave us pause.

  “‘What say we get our overcoats and go up on deck to investigate, Charley my lad?’ Always the Thinking Machine, I thought to myself, smiling at Jake.

  “With our black overcoats atop our white uniforms, we made our way to the promenade deck. People in evening clothes milled about, agitated. Stewards reassured them: ‘No cause for alarm… no cause for alarm.’

  “Husbands were comforting wives. ‘Stay calm, my dear,’ I overheard one. ‘This ship is unsinkable, you know.’

  “And, indeed, the HMS Titanic was advertised as being the safest ship ever constructed.

  “Jake and I roamed the promenade deck, clasping our coats, trying to look inconspicuous. We didn’t want to attract attention. Rather, we wanted to blend in among the elite, first-class passengers.”

  I thought of Leo, roaming the ship in the black coat he’d stolen, in pursuit of Kate. What Charley described was like that but much more intense. Jacob and Charley were real, real boys with real feelings. Not some made-up Hollywood stuff. But I could see how that movie spoke to Dad so deeply. They may have been fictional characters, but it was easy to get caught up in their story. And if a movie could accomplish that, what I was watching was a million times more intense, the genuine tale of two guys who cared about each other above all else.

  “A commotion started building. Stewards ran franticly across the deck and headed below. They ordered passengers to awaken, to come up top. Passengers in lifebelts and sleeping clothes complained as they arrived on deck. Thinking this was a drill, there were threats to stewards, who kept amazingly calm. The chatter rose, a hubbub of alarm and indignity.

  “Finally we discerned the truth. An iceberg had ripped the side of the ship. Despite earlier reports that nothing was amiss, we were sinking. It was only a matter of hours before we would plunge to icy deaths.”

  At that, I heard Mom begin to softly sob.

  “Jake embraced me, then he pushed me away. ‘Go, Charley my lad. Do what you can to help. I, too, shall offer my assistance.’ Word had gotten round that the RMS Carpathia, a passenger ship bound for New York City, was nearby and would soon be there to save us. Jacob added, ‘I shall meet you on the rescue ship.’”

  Once again, Mom stopped the video.

  “Oh, come on,” I yelled.

  “I have to get tissues. We women aren’t as stone-faced as you men.” She got up to get her tissues.

  When she was safely out of the room, I quickly swiped the tear rolling down my cheek.

  Chapter 26

  WHEN SHE returned with her tissue box, I said, “Can we see the rest now? Without interruption?”

  “Okay, okay,” she said, seating herself back down.

  I grabbed the remote and brought the video, and Charley, back to life.

  “I proceeded to the boat deck to help lower the lifeboats. It was soon evident that there were not enough boats for all the people aboard. There were only twenty boats, the capacity of which was about twelve hundred. There were over two thousand on the Titanic.

  “It quickly became clear that I could better serve by helping passengers board the boats, rather than in the lowering. Officers shouted, ‘Women and children only!’

  “Inexplicably boats were launched that were only partly filled. Men were being allowed in them because, in the madness, crew members were not thinking—or being bribed, as I was informed later.

  “And all of this madness was being accompanied by the ship’s orchestra, who sat on deck, playing their entire repertoire. Today, it would be dubbed surreal, but then it seemed simply like an attempt at maintaining civility.

  “All this time, I had not seen Jake. I constantly scanned the deck, searching for him, but he was nowhere in sight.”

  Mom spoke, her voice breaking through the sobs, “Oh, Jakie, how frightening that must have been. For Charley, for Jacob, for all of them.”

  Wincing a bit from the pain, I stretched across the couch and placed my hand on her arm.

  “You’re such a good boy, Jacob,” she said.

  I comforted her, thinking of the gut-wrenching Charley must have gone through, fearing for Jake and not knowing his whereabouts. I bet Dad was sobbing when he watched this. That thought sent me reeling. He cried over Kate’s loss of Leo, and I thought he was loony. But this was real. And it occurred to me that he would have immediately gone to What if I lost Paul? Dad could be overly sensitive, but in this case, I knew if he shed tears, they were genuine. After all, as I watched all this, my mind wandered to Finn.

  Mom and I smiled at each other, then turned our eyes back to Charley and his story.

  “Finally the officer looked at me and said, ‘Can you row, boy?’ I had no idea what he meant, but I answered affirmatively. He thrust me into a lifeboat, shouting, ‘Row, lad, row like your life depends upon it, for it does, as does the lives of all the people in this boat. You must get away from the vessel as quickly as possible. If she goes down, the undertow will suck you with her.’

  “And then there was a splash as our boat entered the water. There were three crewmen in the boat. We quickly grabbed the oars. One of the ladies also went for the oars. I looked at her. ‘No, madam. We can’t have you doing the labor of a man. It’s unseemly.’ She looked at me, and with defiance firing her face, she exclaimed, ‘What’s unseemly, young man, is dying in these icy waters. Now, you need a fourth oarsman, and I shall row.’ She took the oars, and together, the four of us rowed away as we’d been instructed, all the while the strains of ‘Nearer My God to Thee’ coming from the deck.

  “We were several yards clear of the ship when there was an explosion. Many of the women screamed. I was in shock as I watched the ship split in two and sink into the sea.

  “It was several hours before the Carpathia arrived. We were the first boatload of survivors to be loaded onto the passenger liner. When I realized that, I stayed close by, helping the others onto the ship, always searching for Jacob.

  “I spent the ensuing daylight hours roaming the decks of the Carpathia, combing them for Jacob. I could not believe that he wasn’t there among those who had made it out. Jacob, if anyone, would be a survivor.

  “But he was nowhere to be found. As the days wore on, as we arrived in New York City, as the dead were collected, there was no word of my Jacob Hardy.”

  Shots of early twentieth-century New York City, of a man, of a steamship filled the screen. Charley’s voice lay underneath.

  “Surviving crew members were sent back to England. Jacob was gone. Our dream of a new start in a new world was dashed. I would never again hear his cheery ‘Charley my lad.’ I suppose I could have stayed in New York, but I didn’t. My life was over.”

  Four simple words that cut me. Slashed me. Ripped me. I mourned for Charley. I mourned for Jake. I thought of Dad and Paul. It’s not easy. Life gets in the way of happiness sometimes.

  Mom dabbed her eyes.

  “As the months back in Portsmouth dragged on, Jacob’s mother and father received word that his body had been identified, apparently from not only his waiter’s uniform but also from his spectacles and most specifically f
rom the autographed book he was carrying in his inside overcoat pocket. His parents were paid compensation by the White Star Line, but it was not enough to have the body shipped back to England. Jacob was buried in Halifax, where his body had been taken after being collected.

  “I became obsessed with the notion that I had to immigrate to Nova Scotia. I needed to see Jacob’s grave. I needed to be near him.

  “I began to read more, to educate myself. I was determined to become more like Jacob. I obtained a waiter’s position on the staff at Swans-next-the Sea. I saved every penny I made so that I could book passage to Halifax.

  “It took me four years, but I was successful. I purchased a third-class ticket and set sail.

  “Upon arrival and passing through customs—I told them I was there as an agricultural worker because I had discovered that Canada needed farmhands—I immediately went to Fairview Lawn Cemetery. As I approached Jake’s final resting place, I was filled with a strange mixture of feelings… of sadness for my lost Jake, of elation because I was once again near him.”

  I reached for one of the tissues.

  “I searched for his simple stone. As I examined the graves, my eyes alighted on his. Standing there, next it, was a young man. I supposed he was looking at the adjoining grave.

  “As I stood, silently, tears streaming down my cheeks, the man spoke. ‘Did you know Jacob?’

  “I was abashed! He spoke as if he, too, had known my Jacob.

  “‘Yes,’ I said. ‘We sailed on the Titanic together.’

  “‘Even in death, he was a lovely young man. I was the undertaker who prepared him for burial. Makeshift facilities were erected at the Mayflower Curling Club where volunteer embalmers worked night and day to prepare the victims. When we finished, there was a mass viewing. I waited by Jacob’s body. No one came. I vowed then and there that he would not be alone in death. I have visited his grave each day from then forward. Samuel Sarkovsky,’ the man said, holding out his hand.

  “I shook his hand. ‘Charley Robinson.’

  “Samuel and I became fast friends. He gave me lodging as I looked for employment. I eventually got a job clerking in a law office and was able to purchase a plot of land. My employer took me under his wing, and I became a solicitor myself.

  “I think that Samuel wanted more from me than I could give him, but I was still tied to my Jacob. I was his Charley my lad and always would be.

  “As the world began changing, I saw things—though it took many years—that gave me hope that people like Samuel and I and Jake would not have to stay hidden. First, it was the incredible outpourings of love and peace that were expressed during the San Francisco Summer of Love. Then I saw how so many disparate people lived in harmony at the Woodstock Festival. But the crowning achievement was the Stonewall Riot. I was there, you know. I witnessed what an enormous segment of society would call misfits, the drag queens of the Stonewall Bar, rebel. I saw them fight back against the oppression of the police. And I saw a revolution begin not just for homosexuals, but for everyone.” His voice was full of pride, love, and hope.

  A shiver ran through my body. An electricity flowed through me, a love for Jacob, for Charley, for D’Andre, for Mal, for Alex, for Finn, for Paul, and yes, for my Dad.

  And Charley’s words taught me what all that pride was about. Gays have endured so much throughout history. No wonder they feel pride they can be open and out now, no matter how much some try to keep squashing them—us—down.

  “Jake and I had to clothe our love in euphemisms; we had to hide our private moments in shadows; we had to place our hope in the freedom we sought from sailing away from our homes.

  “But now, homosexuals like Jake and me can come into the light and proclaim proudly, we deserve to be happy too.

  “That is why I did this interview—so that all people in this world can loudly shout, we deserve love too!”

  Chapter 27

  “YOUR JACOB Hardy was a remarkable young man,” Mom said, wiping tears from her cheeks.

  “Yes, he was,” I agreed. But my mind wasn’t on Jacob Hardy. I was thinking of Charley Robinson and the sadness in his eyes at the end of the video. I was thinking about all the days, hours, minutes Charley and Jake had to live in secret. That was the loss I was focusing on—poor Charley’s lost life with Jake.

  That must have been what Mom was thinking too, because out of the blue—a sea-change. “You know, I heard there was an opening at Resurrection Metropolitan.”

  “Huh?” I was dumbfounded. Why’d she say that? She loves her job, and besides Resurrection Met is a gay church. “So?”

  “Well, I’m not sure anymore if Pastor Stillmore is right about gays.” She looked at me. I had to have had an incredulous look on my face because she added, “I know, I know. You’re thinking how could what we just saw change my mind so fast.”

  I nodded but said nothing.

  “Okay, here’s the deal. My mind raced last night when you got hurt. Thoughts came to me a mile a minute. I kept asking myself if your getting hurt was a result of my church. And if it was, why was I affiliated with a church that could cause my own precious son grief? My own precious gay son. I always admired Pastor Stillmore, and you know me. I put myself into something whole hog. And yes, I guess I blind myself to things that I shouldn’t. Charley’s taught me one thing—denying someone the right to love is wrong, wrong, wrong. And, though I tried to tell myself that I was in the fight for bathroom rights and defeating the rest of HERO would be okay, that was wrong of me, Jakie. If Pastor Stillmore and the others get their way, they will be telling gays, telling my son, that loving who you want is wrong. So maybe it’s time for me to change. Maybe it’s time for me to look into that job.”

  She could be exasperating and annoying and pigheaded, but at that moment, she was being the loving mom I knew she always was. But being secretary at a gay church?

  “Mom, I hear what you’re saying, and I love you for it. But are you ready to plunge right into a world that is foreign to you? I know nothing about Resurrection Met, but I do know you would be surrounding yourself with a lot of gay people, and you only accepted us yesterday.”

  “Not yesterday. This was a long time coming, and it took me a while to make progress. I just needed a final push to come around totally.”

  “You know there are other, more mainstream, churches who are gay-accepting you could join? St. Phillip’s Presbyterian or Bering Methodist, to name two.”

  “Since when did my church-avoiding son get so knowledgeable?”

  “I read, Mom, I read. My point is that you might be more comfortable not jumping right into the middle of a really, really gay congregation.”

  “Well, baby, I haven’t heard of any job openings at those two you mentioned. And if I’m leaving my longtime church, then that means I’m leaving my job as well. So I might as well start swimming in the deep end. Besides, there is no guarantee I’ll get the job.”

  “You’ll get it, Mom. When you set out to do something, it gets done.”

  She smiled, and it said so much. She was happy about what I’d said, but she also seemed more content than I’d seen her in a long time. Maybe she had found a new cause, but this one was far better than trying to keep people from peeing where they wanted to.

  And with my mom’s life lessons revealed and Charley’s message firmly in my brain, I said, “I’m going to call Mal.” I stood and went to my room, still wincing from the pain, but feeling that I deserved every stab.

  I sat on the bed, punched speed dial for Mal.

  “How do you feel about going to Halifax with me?”

  “I’m going crazy over here all day, waiting. Finally, you call—to enlist me in a plan to destroy your dad’s wedding.”

  “Mal—”

  “I thought I knew you. You were a great guy, loving and sensitive. But this hatred you’re showing—for your dad and his partner, for transgenders and the other gays in Houston—don’t think I haven’t seen the news—is more than I can take. Jake,
you don’t even see it, do you? What you’re doing is all because you hate yourself. You talk a good game. You say you’re okay with your being gay. But I know better. You’ve got it in your head that you are somehow inferior, broken. That’s what this all is. Believe me. And I’m not sitting around, watching you destroy yourself. It’s too much for me to take. I’m through, Jake—through.”

  And she hung up. I called back, but she didn’t pick up.

  I deserved her tirade. After all, hate expressed comes from hate deep down, and that can only be hate you have for yourself spilling over, tainting your world. I latched on to Mal all those years ago because, even then, I knew she was full of understanding, and she was absolutely right. It wasn’t my dad I was mad at. It was me. I should have reached out to Dad. He could have gotten me through all this… what? Turmoil? Denial? Fear? Self-hatred? He would understand. But, no, I immediately cut him off. Thank God he sent me that video. He knew it was something I needed to see.

  The world works in strange ways. Sixteen years ago, when Dad named me after the perished Jacob Elias Hardy, he had no way of knowing that Jacob and Charley were like him—well, like Dad and me too. He wanted to honor someone who was just a name on a victims list, and the cosmos, serendipity, karma, God led him to do it so when I needed to get my head on straight the most, this DVD would land in Dad’s hands and in my mailbox. I’d never let myself truly believe in Mom’s God before, but Charley’s story was making a good case for God’s existence.

  And Mal had it all wrong, in a sense. She was right about me, but she’d not let me explain my call. I wasn’t calling to enlist her aid in destroying the wedding. I was trying to tell her that I wanted her, my best friend forever, to go with me so I could make amends with Dad.

  I had to go to her house right then and make her understand how I was feeling. I threw on some clothes and rushed out.

  Before I could get to the door, there was a pounding on it.

  I peered through the window. There was Finn, looking totally worked up.