The Explorer's Apprentice

50:Tearing Her Apart

Charlotte Mason

Charlotte Mason has never been so determined to do anything in her entire life.  If it weren’t for Eli, there’s no way she would’ve picked herself off the ground and forced her dead legs to work again.  One moment she was limp, useless, prepared to die on the ground at her father’s feet.  Now she’s rushing through the white hallways, her feet slamming hard against the cool cement as she runs.  The walls blur around her; room numbers are a haze of gold and black, passengers passing back and forth are a flurry of clothing.  She takes no note of the concerned looks on their faces.  For once, Charlotte doesn’t care.  It feels great not to care, to only have one purpose, and be so sure of what she’s doing.

                        She’s sure that she loves Eli, and that she needs to be with him.  She’s sure that she deserves better than what her father’s given her.  Charlotte is sure that she doesn’t deserve the harsh red mark on her cheek or the cruel words that penetrated into her heart.  For once, the weak girl believes in herself.

                        And she’s never felt so free.

                        Racing up the stairs, Charlotte pushes past the passengers.  They let out startled gasps as she brushes by them.  Words, most of which Charlotte doesn’t take the time to understand, are hissed harshly at her.  She doesn’t care.  She just needs to find Eli, let him hold her, and make sure that he hasn’t gone off looking for her.  All she wants it to escape the below decks.  The blank walls are a prison, and her father is the hideous guard.  She’s escaped, and she can’t turn back now, not even to utter an apology to the frail woman she’s knocked over.  She has to escape while she can.  For once, she has to do something for herself.

                        Charlotte breaks to the top floor, and breathes in the fresh scent of roses and baked bread.  The sounds have changed from throaty chuckling and drunken shouting to polite laughter and the tinkling of glasses.  Here, where each and every one of the spoilt passengers have their very own bathtub, everything seems perfect.  Charlotte is a harsh disagreement with the essence.  Her filthy pink dress, greasy hair, and curious eyes scream ‘intruder!’  They can see it too.  All of them, with their oversized hats, elegant attire, and tightly wound hair, stare at Charlotte with scrutiny in their eyes.  She’s clearly unwelcome.

                        Although Charlotte doesn’t have any sense of direction, her nose can smell the fresh, salty air.  It’s more appealing to her than even the delicate perfumes decorating the halls.  She sprints toward it, pushing through the crowds and through a delicate door, held open by a man in a tuxedo.

                        She’s thankful that she doesn’t have to wait long.

                        Eli’s there, leaning against a rail.  He’s dressed elegantly, and if she didn’t know better she would think that he’s one of the pompous first class citizens.  Perhaps he is a pompous first class citizen, on the outside.  Charlotte couldn’t care less.  She knows that what really counts is that, on the inside, he doesn’t care.  He loves Charlotte for who she is, which nobody has ever, ever done before.  As he leans over the side of the ship, overlooking the sea, his hair is captured in the wind.  He turns, almost as if to watch where it’s heading, when he notices Charlotte.  His twinkling blue eyes hold none of the scrutiny and disapproval of the other passengers.  Those eyes of his only hold one emotion, and it’s clear across his entire expression: love.

                        He approaches her with such a grace, almost like a dancer, with his hand held out.  She extends her hand to meet his, and lets him envelope it in his velvety embrace.  “Charlotte,” he breathes, pulling her close to him, so his lips are directly above her ear.  She can feel it against her head as he whispers, “Would you like to dine with me tonight?”