Unsinkable

A Second Chance

It had been a miracle— Jacin's ticket onto the Titanic. One minute he had been bumming around on the street earning dimes for painting simple portraits, and then the next he was on the largest ship in the world, finally heading home. He could still see the man's face in his mind, and not just because he had sketched it. Jacin could remember the kind blue eyes, and dorky cap upon his head clearly.

"I can't sail across the sea," he said in his thick German accent, pulling a ticket from his pocket. It had been made of thick paper etched in gold. "I can't leave my work behind. Just promise me that you'll give this portrait to my daughter to remember me by."

Jacin had taken the ticket and vowed to give the portrait to this man— Darnel's daughter. Then he turned and booked it down the street, rushing onto the unsinkable ship before it could leave him in Southampton for another blasted second.

The man's ticket had been third class, but the room allowed to Jacin was still something to behold, with curtains of deep velvet, cherry blossom wallpaper, and clean blankets upon the feather mattress bed. Even in Jacin's youth he had never experienced such luxury.

Perhaps that was why Jacin chose to sleep out under the stars on the deck of the ship. With new, sturdy benches, his comfort already surpassed that which he felt every night in England, as he slept wherever he fell that night.

But as he had stared up at the stars, pondering the galaxy and the vast expanse of space, a girl had run past him and consequently changed his life forever.

She wasn't the type of girl that Jacin typically went after— her dress and manner far too sophisticated for him. But something about the way she stared at him— so defiant despite her evident fear— made her impossible for him to forget.

Even now, a day after Jacin had talked that girl— Winter— down from the edge of the boat, he couldn't get her out of his mind. His fingers itched to paint her: dark, unruly hair, chocolate skin, deep eyes, all set against a sunshine yellow dress. Even the three scars tracing from the corner of her right eye and down her cheek enhanced her beauty— like three incessant tears. The intensity of her beauty begged for him to paint her with his most vibrant hues, leaving out no details.

But he had no paint with him on the ship— he hadn't been able to afford anything as expensive as paint in months. So he had resorted to charcoal, allowing for the dust to stain a piece of parchment with the outline of Winter against the night.

Jacin drew his thoughts away from Winter, closing his eyes briefly and reopening them to stare at himself in a bathroom mirror. It was clean— and it amazed Jacin to see his own reflection with such clarity. He turned on the sink faucet and cupped his hands beneath the steady flow. Jacin scrubbed at his face with the water, and wetted his hair in a less messy manner. He would never be completely clean, but at least his face was no longer caked in dirt.

Striding toward the first class dining hall, Jacin held himself with a noble sort of dignity. He wouldn't let any rich old geezer hold him back and tell him that he wasn't enough. Jacin had left that all behind back in England. Now he was returning home to his father to begin a new life. This ticket was his second chance to live and fix his life— Jacin wouldn't squander it by being afraid.

"Sugar," a woman grabbed Jacin's arm, pulling him to a halting stop just before the entrance of the dining hall. Jacin whirled around, feeling his heart beat like that of a tromping horse. The woman who seized him was middle aged, and dressed in a gaudy red dress; but she was still somewhat beautiful despite this, with thick dark hair, tilted chocolate eyes highlighted in gold, and a mischievous grin. He put on his meanest face, prepared to tell this overdone woman to back off and mind her own business.