Abbie's Side

I was born in 1889 to a good family of means and standing. In 1909 I began university and in the summer of 1910 while home for the holiday I died.

The times were exciting and uncertain for women. So many things were changing and becoming possible. It was certain since long before it was eminent, that I would attend university. Looking back at that time I, and so many of my peers, was a bit of a contradiction; always ambitious but well mannered and demure, outspoken and daring in my papers and poems but quiet and the picture of lady-like decorum in my personal life. But for one day in June 1910, a day that would change the course of my entire existence, I was an impetuous young fool.

As I strolled through the main street of Manhattan with may lady's maid Evelyn, it seemed like any other excursion. We looked in shop windowed and giggled to each other over this or that silly patron, excessive dress or attractive young man. Evelyn and I were more like sisters than master and servant. Her mother had been a maid in our house since before I was born and Evie and I, being only a few years apart, had been almost exclusive playmates until school began. At my insistence we stopped off at the book traders shop. I was an avid reader and liked to spend the summers in recreational reading after a semester of study. As we perused the shelves Evie and I drifted apart. I was one to wonder around in the stacks, Evie would stay closer to the front so she would be sure to see me when I finally made my way to the front prepared to leave. Somewhere in those stacks I ran directly into a dark destiny I could not have imagined.

He was tall with soft brown eyes and tousled light brown hair made lighter, perhaps almost blond, by the sun. He was very lovely. But it was not what held my attention. There was something underneath, something deeper that held me. It was not as if we fell under each others' spells but rather that we were under the same spell. But in the moment it did not matter a bit. It was the closest I have come to love at first sight. If that phenomenon exists however, this was not it in anything but imitation. This spell, or love or whatever power I was under was strong enough that without even being conscious of it until it was already happening I found myself leading us out the side exit into a back alley and out onto the street. Leaving my best friend behind with barely a second thought and not even a backward glance.

His name was Liam. An Irish sailor who had made port only the day before. I listened as he told stories of India and Africa, his shipmates and home town. I heard my-self joining in. Asking questions and making comments based on stories and histories I had read. Wishing I could see what he had seen. Eventually we conversed on poetry and some popular literature of the time. He too was an avid reader though not as academic as I and before I knew it the light was changing and I woke to the hour as the clock chimed 5:00. I was suddenly in a state of apprehension and panic, for Evelyn (she must be worried sick) and for my-self, my mother's warnings rang in my ears. Stories from the paper and novels swirled through my mind. Had I really spent the last four hours strolling with some stranger? Lost to the world? My panic had almost reached an apex that would have sent me dashing for the bookstore and Evelyn, or perhaps straight home and then he placed his hand on my cheek and gently pulled me toward him and kissed me softly on the lips. The calm was instantaneous. I was entranced once again.

As I walked back toward the shop, though calm and somewhat in a haze. I went over his proposition. Meet him. Tonight. 10:00. Right near the shop where we had met. Had I agreed? It seemed that I had. But I could not even imagine the words crossing my lips. How could I have said them? "Yes I will." "It might take me a little longer, wait for me." Who was I? Had I gone mad? The city was a different place at that hour. I wouldn't be safe on my own. I knew nothing about this man, not really. It could be a trap. It was too foolish. And yet, even as I argued with myself, I knew I would go. That I would be there. I was driven, it was already decided.

When I reached the bookstore Evie was outside looking frantic. She had clearly been crying. We would be late for supper and whatever chastisement my mother would have for me, she would have it worse. Even as I stood before my parents and her mother, taking full responsibility and stressing my carelessness and Evelyn's innocence, I could see her mother's growing anger. I would have much to apologize to Evie for latter. But even as we stood there I could see that Evie was having a hard time not giggling. I had partially filled her in on the way home and I new she was hungry to hear more. Evie was a hopeless romantic and my determination and confidence would be enough to keep her from any worry that might prevent her from helping me slip away this evening. We were both deprived of supper. I was sent upstairs with instructions to study some dry text of my father's suggestion. Evie was sent to do some particularly repellent cleaning.

Evelyn came up to help me change for bed at 9:00. My mother had sent up a small plate of dinner for me, which Evie and I shared as I dressed in a warmer dress for the evening and laid out a cloak for later. My mother would want to look in on me, so we unraveled my hair and Evie helped arrange the bed clothes around my neck so it was not evident I was still dressed. Then she gathered up the dishes and headed back downstairs.

As I lay there in the dark waiting for the crack of light that would tell me my mother was assured I was safe in bed and not ruining my eyes reading late into the night, I berated my self even as I went over our plan. I couldn't really do this. I would be caught. I wasn't going anyway. I was no fool, though I had played the part that afternoon. Evie would open the door after mother and I would slip out. Evie would go ahead, make sure the coast was clear. Young women did not run off into the night to meet with young sailors, unless they were simple, of ill repute or both. It shouldn't be too hard, most of the house was in bed the servants were likely in the kitchen making enough noise they wouldn't notice. The afternoon had been a minor lapse in judgment and nothing more, I was lucky nothing had happened then, tempting fate again would be insane. The back garden gate had a broken latch so it swung in the wind sometimes, no one would think anything of the sound if there even was one. A crack of light. Foot steps down the hall to the master bed room.

Another crack of light Evie's beckoning hand. Down the stairs. Tip toe past the kitchen. Out the back way. Though the gate. Into the alley behind the house. Out to the street. 5 blocks to the book store. The clock strikes 10:00.