Part 17 (1/2)

”Well, don't you worry, I'm getting to it. Thing is, I was really enjoying the Hollywood lifestyle, such as I was able to partake. When I wasn't working as an extra, I parked cars for a valet service that did all the big parties in Beverly Hills and Hollywood. And let me tell you, I met lots of film folks. Most of the guys would joke with you when you handed them their keys, and if you laughed hard enough, they'd lay a nice tip on you. I learned to laugh real hard.

”The ladies were a different story, the ones who had studio jobs. See, I'm not a chauvinist, not like you'd think a Texan would be. I think a woman ought to be able to do anything she puts her mind to-and get the same pay for it. No, my problem is that some of them get this att.i.tude, like they know better than anyone what's the right decision to make. Anyway, this lady executive at a party I was working had me get her car and I make this offhand remark about this script I saw sitting on her pa.s.senger seat. Told her I thought it was a lousy t.i.tle.”

”Don't tell me, she got you fired.”

”Yep. The next day my boss calls me and tells me to come and pick up my check. When I asked him what had happened, he didn't want to tell me at first, but we'd been friendly, and I wore him down. He told me the b.i.t.c.h-excuse my language-had complained that I'd gone through her things. Now, I never would do that. The t.i.tle was right there on the spine of the script in black magic marker. You couldn't miss it, especially 'cause it was so lame.”

”So, what did you do?”

”A part of me wanted to confront her and tell her what for. But the other part, the one that reins in all my boyish fantasies about getting even, held me back. I decided it wasn't worth the trouble. So I went on home.

”Wouldn't you know it, she was waiting outside my little hole-in-the-wall in her big Mercedes. Seeing her there, I got angry all over again, thought she'd come to rub it in. Turns out, she'd got to feeling bad about what she'd done, told me I was right, that it was a lame t.i.tle, and did I have a better one?”

”Did you?”

Kevin laughed. ”She thought so. Hired me on the spot. From there it was easy street. And it turns out Robin, that's her name by the way, had the hots for me. It wasn't too long 'fore we were keeping company in and out of the office. We went to all the A-list parties and I met everyone who was anyone, got real friendly with a couple of famous actors, and we all hung out everywhere.

”Now, I promised to get around to your question, didn't I? Well, about a year after Robin and I became an item, we were invited to a party over at some bigwig's house up in the hills, had this house perched up on stilts with a view you'd kill for. Turns out he was showing the director's cut of t.i.tanic as part of the fun. I think maybe Cameron was there, too, but I didn't see him. Now, you're going to laugh. Up until that time, I'd never seen the film. Oh, I'd heard all about it, I mean, who hasn't? It was only the biggest thing of all time 'til Avatar, right?

”Anyway, when Robin heard I hadn't ever seen it, she dragged me into that screening room and plopped me down. And all she said was, 'I envy you,' just like that.”

”And....”

”Well, three and a half hours later, I knew what she meant. Seeing that movie for the first time was like a lot of firsts, some of which I need not mention. Aside from being put through the emotional wringer, something no movie had ever done to me, it left something with me, a little kernel of itself. I can't really describe it. Call it haunting, maybe. Yeah, I'd have to say it haunted me. I knew I had to see it again, if nothing else to see if it was just a fluke, a one-time thing. Turns out, Robin had the DVD version at home, the one that's got all the 'making of' stuff on it.

”I watched it for the second time a week later, and let me tell you it walloped me even harder. I started crying during the opening credits. That music, the piece with that Norwegian woman singing? Man, it just cuts right through your soul, you know?”

I knew. I knew exactly. ”So how did you hear about Harlan's t.i.tanic?”

”I suppose it was when the news broke back in February. I was in my doctor's waiting room and CNN was on. As soon as the story started running, I was called into my appointment. Well, I made them wait while I watched it. From the moment I heard about it, I knew I wanted to be on it's first voyage, that it would be something special.

”Funny thing, it's turned out to be more special than I'd ever imagined. You see, the reason I was at my doctor that day was because I'd started feeling poorly, had been for two months. I'd wake up lightheaded and weak, and the feeling would hang with me the whole day. Still, I was a stubborn cuss when it comes to going to the doctor; and the only reason I went was because Robin threatened to leave me if I didn't. So, I went.” Kevin paused, his mouth tightening. ”I got to give those medical boys credit where it's due. They ran every kind of test imaginable. You name it, they poked and prodded me with it. The long and the short of it was I had what they called a 'pernicious' form of leukemia; my only hope of surviving it was a bone marrow transplant.

”Robin was beside herself, but she really kept it together for me, paid all my bills and started trying to locate a donor. See, my problem is I have a real rare type: AB negative. I hear it's something like one percent of the population have that. When the weeks and months went by and there was still no donor that matched, I tried one last thing. You remember hearing about that DNA project?”

”You mean the one where they clone bone marrow material from a dead relative?”

”That's the one. My one hope at that point was exhuming my parents and hoping they weren't too far gone. You see, them being Baptists, they didn't believe in embalming. For them the right and holy thing was getting back to the dust as fast as nature would allow. With them being dead for almost a decade, I didn't know if I had a shot in h.e.l.l. I know it's kind of creepy, and if I wasn't dying I sure as h.e.l.l would think so, too. But my options were used up.

”I know I'm going on, but you did want to hear this, didn't you? Anyway, to cut to the chase, both my parents were what the morticians call skeletalized, and the DNA was too far gone to re-map. The day I found this out was the day I decided I wanted this one last thing in my life: to sail on this s.h.i.+p. You been finding others saying this?”

”Yes, it seems Harlan has allowed a good many ill people on this voyage.”

”And I'll bet you didn't know he paid for my ticket out of his own pocket. Not that Robin couldn't afford it, but he wouldn't take it, ripped up her check and sent it back with the ticket.”

”My friend has a big heart.”

”You're d.a.m.n right he does. When I e-mailed him about wanting to sail on the new t.i.tanic, he set up a video interview for the next day. The rest, well, here I am.” He sat back in his chair, looking tired and satisfied. ”Is that what you wanted, Mr. Hughes? Did I do okay?”

”You did just fine. I have only a couple of more questions. Is that okay?”

”Sure, no problem. Shoot.”

”Why isn't Robin with you?”

”I'd rather not talk about that.”

”You and she break up?”

”You might say that.”

”Okay, last question.... Has the voyage been worth it?”

Kevin remained silent for a minute, then looked me directly in the eyes, his expression sober. ”Every d.a.m.n minute.”

14.

Dinner that evening proved anticlimactic. Besides myself, the only other occupants at the table were Hoyt Asbury, as churlish as ever, and Gavin Reynolds, who managed to spend the entire meal in self-absorbed silence. But it was the three empty chairs that disturbed me the most: Mrs. Bates's, Harlan's...and Maddy's.

From what little I could pry out of our steward, Harlan had decided to take his meal in his suite. He'd looked tired the last time I'd seen him, and was no doubt taking it easy. That didn't bother me, other than I missed his wit and style. With Maddy, it was a different story. I'd hoped to see her and take the opportunity to apologize for what had happened in my suite. It seemed, where she was concerned, I couldn't help putting my foot in it, in one fas.h.i.+on or another. And what did that spell for us down the road?

I'd begun to realize the voyage would be over in a few days and I had a book to write, which meant a lot of hard work and solitude, hardly the stuff on which to build a long-term relations.h.i.+p.

And then there was the fact we both lived in different cities.

Even though she'd retired from interior design, was it reasonable to expect she would move to Boston, give up her old life for mine?

And what about me?

Would I move to New York for her, a city I loved to visit but loathed living in? Did each of us love the other enough to make that kind of sacrifice? And others?

I knew the answer for me was an unequivocal, yes. But what did Maddy really feel for me? Did she love me the same? More? Less?

The answers eluded me. Too many questions a.s.saulted me while I sat there in my evening clothes trying to eat the rich food that was becoming ever more cloying by the mouthful. I longed for a sloppy burger, or a pizza from Santarpios, that much-loved landmark in East Boston. Anything but fancy French food with a heavy, highly-caloric sauce poured over it.

With my stomach turning somersaults, and a dull ache throbbing behind the eyes, I made my excuses and left the Dining Saloon for the solitude of the Boat Deck, where I wandered for over an hour in the evening chill in the hopes I would run into Maddy. I was out of luck there, too. Like Harlan, she'd apparently decided to stay in.

Annoyed and concerned, I took one of the lifts down to E-deck and stood in front of her door an entire minute before knocking. As with the last time in steerage, she did'nt answer. Either she was not in, or was refusing to acknowledge me, something that angered and worried me. After five minutes, I gave up and returned to my suite and put in a solid two hours of writing. I was just finis.h.i.+ng the third chapter when I heard a soft knocking. My heart soared, thinking it was Maddy, and my face must have made a silly picture when I threw open the door and found Sammy Richards standing in the hall, his fist poised for another knock.

”Sorry to bother you, Mr. Hughes,” he said, ”but you have a Marconigram.”

I hid my disappointment and took the proffered paper from him.

”Is everything all right, Mr. Hughes? You look a little worried.”

I smiled and nodded. ”Everything's fine, Sammy. Just trying to get the words right.”