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queerchoicesblog · 3 years

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Epilogue: Underwater (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele Series)

As promised, here the epilogue of the Zetta x Adele Series, folks.

This is the very end of a project that meant me quite a lot to me and got me through the last terrible year. Thanks to all those who supported it: hope you enjoyed it and will enjoy this ending.

In case you were wondering, this song inspired the whole series, particularly the last chapters:

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I will skip the tag list for once since it’s pointless anyway.

➡️ Ch. 1, Ch. 2/1, Ch. 2/2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8/1, Ch. 8/2, Ch. 9, Ch. 10/1, Ch. 10/2, Ch. 11/1, Ch. 11/2, Ch. 12, Ch. 13, Ch. 14, Ch. 15 , Ch. 16, Ch. 17

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Almost a century after the sinking of the RMS Titanic and to celebrate Canada becoming the first country outside Europe to legalise same-sex marriage, the Canadian Film Institute decided to work side by side with several LGBTQ+ organisations across the world to put together an exhibition focused on the early queer cinema and the many queer stars who were forced to hide their true selves in the Golden Age of cinematography, spanning from 1890s till the aftermath of Second World War. "A testament to the role the LGBTQ+ community played in the history of cinema and that we have always been here, even if people hardly saw us" as a journalist wrote on a queer magazine. After the recent discovery of some private documents, the curators were overjoyed to include an icon of the 1900s - 1910s cinema like Zetta Serda into the retrospective and cast a new light on her extraordinary career sadly soon forgotten after the advent of the sound era. Yet, the silent picture star was mentioned as a model and 'endless source of inspiration" by many queer movie stars like Cary Grant, Katherine Hepburn, Greta Garbo all part of the retrospective. Rumor has it that as soon as she landed in America, Marlene Dietrich demanded his agent a meeting with Mrs King.

A curator drove all the way to Montreal to meet the last known heir, a certain Mrs. Julia Nowak, who greeted him on the threshold of a cosy downtown apartment. She offered him a coffee and a slice of a Polish sweet bread: the recipe was a family heirloom, she explained, beaming. She was in her late fifties, a therapist, she said. Her hazel eyes gleamed when she added, in a pleasantly soothing voice that betrayed a hint of excitement: "I must confess I am so incredibly happy that you contacted me about the retrospective. I adore the idea and I will make sure to attend it. Also" she nodded to a wedding picture hung to the wall "did you know that my wife is in politics? She campaigned for the legalisation...yes, Madeleine Fournier: see, you know her! We got married right after the law passed. If anything, your call and project made me twice as happy". She took a pause, smiling over her coffee in remembrance. "Anyway, back to the matter of your visit...yes, as far as I know, I am Zetta's last heir. As you probably know, my family wasn't officially related to her but she stated otherwise in her will". She moved to the couch and gestured the curator to follow her as she opened up one of the boxes and chests piled into the living room and picked out an old album, the leather cover worn at the edges. Dust waltzed in the air as she opened it with caution and gentle care. She showed him a slightly discoloured black and white picture of a young couple kissing for the camera in front of a church. Another wedding picture, from a different era. "Nana Hileni and Papa Maciej's wedding picture. I still remember them even if they both died when I was barely a teen...as if one couldn't bear to live without the other. Or so I like to think. She would help me with the homework, mathematics particularly, and he baked this bread for me till he was too weak to do so. He always claimed that he won Nana's heart with his pastries but she always denied it laughing". She passed another picture of the same couple proudly standing in front of the Nowak family bakery in Hoboken. "Frankly, I believe that Papa's broad shoulders and Marlon Brando smile are more likely to blame for this coup de foudre" she laughed. "And he knew how to deal with her no-nonsense attitude and vice versa. They...balanced each other, if you wish". She picked another picture and handed it to him. A woman was looking down in tender adoration and awe to a baby nestled in her arms looking up at her, outstretching a tiny arm in an attempt to touch her face. "There! This is Dad" she pointed at the baby before turning the picture where someone wrote 'Alex meets Auntie Adele'. Turning it again, she pointed at the woman. "This is Adele Carrem. Or Auntie Adele as I've always heard calling her. Nana's sister and Zetta's publicist and companion" Putting it back into the album, she carefully picked a bunch of other old pictures. "You surely know who this one is" she smiled, handing out the one on top. The photo was rather grainy but you could still recognise the same kid, slightly older, around two, sucking his thumb, cuddled up in Zetta's lap. The actress had aged a little but her features were unmistakable and it was endearing to see her sitting by the fireplace to read that kid with the sleepy face a bedtime story. "Sadly, I have never met them. I wish I did, oh you have no idea...but stories of them lived through in our family" Julia continued. "My Dad loved his Aunties - as he called them - dearly and by what I've heard and read, they loved him in manner as if he was their own. He knew little of them or Zetta's career back then...to him they were just the sweet ladies who would buy him ice-cream in Central Park or take him to see his favourite pictures over and over again at the movie theater. He said he will never forget the afternoons he used to spend with them in a Manhattan cafe that no longer exists around Christmas: Nana and Papa worked like crazy as the festive season approached and the glorious cup of hot chocolate with an elegant puff of cream on top with the Aunties became a tradition to him. He kept it alive somehow as he did the same with me". She handed the curator a bunch of other pictures: Zetta cleaning up Alex's face smeared with jam, the both of them laughing; Zetta posing with Maciej and her Dad at a table in the Hoboken bakery. He eventually mirrored her smile seeing a five years old Alex at the beach all engrossed in building a sandcastle with Hileni and Adele, and he standing at the water edge hand in hand with Miss Carrem, looking out into the distance. "These are family pictures. I'll show you the Zetta's private memorabilia we cherished". Julia searched a little, opening an old chest and handling every item inside with tender care. When she found what she was looking for, she showed the curator an elegant set of smaller boxes containing letters, dried flowers and photos. "I have already received an offer to get these published. I'm still pondering it. Before agreeing, I want to consider throughly if this is a thing they would have wanted, even if they're no longer here" The curator nodded as she kept searching. He skimmed a few letters and smiled as his eyes fall on the photos hidden away in those boxes: the two women sitting together and chatting at Hileni's wedding, Zetta's reading a script, lazily sprawled on a chaise long in her apartment. Some had short lines handwritten on the back, like a promotional picture with "Missing you" written by Zetta herself. The curator showed another to Mrs Nowak: a visibly excited Miss Carrem proudly showing to the camera a document announcing her voter registration. On the back, in Zetta's penmanship: "On the way to vote...my sweet Adele won!". "Oh you didn't know? Auntie Adele was a suffragette! I couldn't believe it when I first heard it! Nana told me that she was in and out jail when they lived in London because of protests. You know, like those suffragettes you read about in history books but less famous. Yet she fought for women's rights and kept fighting for them even in America. She was quite disappointed though by some major decisions of some feminist movements and eventually joined a socialist Union 'more rightfully welcoming working class individuals, immigrants and black brothers and sisters'. It's all in those letters but yeah, you couldn't possibly know. So little is known about her outside family". A little smile drew on her face as she put back the photo. "That photo was taken the day of the first election open to women. I checked the date. I suppose Zetta wanted to immortalise the moment...it was sweet of her, huh? Auntie Adele must have been so proud and overjoyed that day! You know, my Dad was born in 1920 when women's right to vote was legalised nationally and Nana once told me that Auntie commented the lucky coincidence saying she was incredibly happy her nephew would get to live in a fairer world. She was a true force of nature...she never talked much of the sinking of the Titanic just like Zetta and Nana actually but when one day Dad asked...he was barely a child and probably found an old article about the tragedy...Auntie Adele minimised but Nana assured him that her sister saved her life that night, risking her own to go down to the belly of the sinking ship to bring her to safety. Auntie simply shrugged, saying that it was what sisters do and that they made it to the lifeboats only thanks to Zetta, who shouted protests to stubborn officers and eventually found them a spot on a boat. I cannot even bring myself to imagine how scary that must have been: I cried so much when Madeleine took me to see Leo and Kate...to think they were there and it was all real!" She picked a few other objects out the box: a Shakespeare Sonnets book in a leather cover with golden engravings, with a little handwritten dedication 'To Adele, my sonnet 116. Happy birthday! With all my love, Zetta'; old scripts with annotations, a framed photograph of Adele and Zetta slow dancing barefoot in the living room of a gorgeous Long Island mansion. "These have a sentimental value" Mrs Nowak noted, her voice betraying the flicker of emotions as she picked it up. She took a deep sigh and continued. "I remember the day I told Dad I was gay as it was yesterday. We had always been quite close so it came natural to tell him first. We were in his car, he had come straight from college to pick me up at ice-skating practice. I..I dropped it in the middle of a conversation, bracing myself for the worst. I heard so many bad stories about coming out to your parents I was terrified of the consequences but I couldn't hide it anymore. I mean, yes, in public: bullies get even nastier if they know and I didn't want people shouting me "dyke" at school. But I needed to get it out of my chest...with someone at least. He kept quiet for a moment and I felt like drowning in shame. But then he spoke". A nostalgic tender smile formed Julia's lips. "He said he had two amazing Aunties that contributed to make his life a wondrous adventure. It was thanks to them that he, the son of a baker, could attend a prestigious college, for instance: they offered to pay for it without asking a penny back. They also helped him write his first romantic letter to his childhood sweetheart and consoled him when the little girl turned him down. But his Aunties had a secret, he added. He said: to my kid eyes they were no less a couple than Mom and Dad and at home we all treated them in manner but one day Mom made me promise to behave differently when we were in public. In public I would refer to her sister as 'Auntie Adele' but call Zetta by her name. He didn't get it and it took some getting used to. He soon noticed that even the Aunties behaved a bit differently out in the sun: they wouldn't hold hands or use endearing words in the street or when other people were around. They simply behaved like good friends did. He understood it later when he, as stubborn as a mule, asked them directly". Julia gently grazed her fingers on the glass of the framed photograph, caressing it. "And they told me everything, he said. That they were in love, just like mom and dad were, but people out there could be uncomfortable and extremely rude to women loving other women and men loving other men. That they kept their companionship a secret in public because those people had no problems with women being friends and they didn't want to have bad words or worse happening to them. I remember asking him what he thought about it. He smiled. 'I cried. Since Auntie Zetta mentioned people claiming that women like them were sick and would burn in hell, I actually started crying. I sobbed desperately in her arms, crying that I didn't want them to burn in hell, I loved my Aunties and I was happy they loved each other. Eventually they explained me it was just a vile lie spread my malignant people. But I got quite a scare and kept staring at them with puffy red eyes and my face wet with tears for a while. It required lots of cuddling to bring a smile back on my face'. He shook his head, laughing of his endearing naivety. Then he pulled over and looked at me. He continued: 'I still don't get why people keep spreading those mean lies but I know for sure that my Aunties weren't sick and didn't end up in hell and so won't you. Don't believe bullshits like that for a split second, okay? And I also want you to remember that it doesn't change a thing for me and mom too. You will always be my little girl, our little girl and we love you'. We shared a long hug before driving back home. On the way back he insisted to buy my favourite chicken and waffles for dinner, saying mom's veggie soup could wait. For my birthday, a month later or so, he asked me to follow him to the attic and showed me this chest. To meet the Aunties that 'would have surely been there for me'". She tipped away a tear. "I told you I married Madeleine right after the legalisation of same-sex marriages. My wedding was also the last public event Mom and Dad attended together before his health worsened irremediably. He passed away last year". For a moment she looked on the verge of tears but she recovered quickly. "Sorry...anyway, that day Dad insisted on walking me down the aisle even if he was getting weak. He beamed with pride when a friend fixed a rainbow ribbon to his jacket. Later at the lunch he read a speech he had written for the day, his hand shaking. He shared the story of his Aunties. He said that despite the hardships their situation forced upon them, they had quite a happy life together, a happiness carefully hidden from the world. He wished us to find something similar to what they shared without needing to hide anymore. He said Adele and Zetta would have been so happy and proud to celebrate with all of us that day" Mrs. Nowak picked the Shakespeare Sonnet book and gave him a fond look. "He brought this to the wedding. And he read for us the sonnet 116, the one Zetta mentioned in her dedication. You know, the one that starts with 'Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments..." ----------------------- A few months later the exhibition on old Hollywood queer cinema and artists opened. Each artist had a room that soon filled with a crowd of enthusiastic visitors. In the first half, in a room arranged as a turn of the century nickelodeon with velvet chairs, all the memorabilia of Zetta Serda's public life: panels explaining the various stages of her career and the birth of her myth, promotional pictures of her performances, articles about her and a copy of a gazette announcing her wedding with the director Richard King. On the wall, on a screen her entire filmography rolled up in loop, bewitching spectators after a century. In display cases: the gorgeous sapphire necklace she wore on her last night on the Ship of Dreams and at the movie party of Surviving the Titanic, and a replica of her Cleopatra costume. The aging Queen of Egypt with a tragic love and destiny immortalised by Shakespeare was her last role back on the theater stage before retiring from the scenes. Old scripts with her personal annotation were displayed with photographs taken on sets and mundane events. The wall hosting the motion-picture screen cut the room in half. On the other side, the hidden half of her life. Her life with Adele no one suspected back then. A life kept secret that now unveiled in front of the eyes of the visitors. The curators discovered that finding public pictures of Miss Carrem was nearly impossible, true to the nickname she acquired as time went by: The Shadow. She stayed at Zetta's side until and even after she stopped acting, showing rare loyalty and devotion, but ever surrounded by this mystery allure. No one, even the most stubborn reporters managed to know anything about her and she was soon dismissed as a Titanic survivor, possibly a fan, who worked as Zetta's secretary and somehow gained her respect. Little they knew about the depth of their relationship and what stacks of secret letters and family memories revealed of the life of Miss Carrem. A panel finally told her story and her secret achievements: Adele, or better Adal, kept fighting for a fairer world and society her whole life and marched for women's right to vote on the famous parade in 1915. She also passed the teaching of Edith Garrud to her American sisters. The only pictures of her came from the Nowak family, except for one. The only photograph of a public appearance of Miss Carrem as well as the only known public appearance of Zetta and Adele. An old grainy photo accurately framed showed Adele shaking hands with The Unsinkable Molly Brown on a podium. In her free hand a shiny medal and a few steps behind the mayor of New York. According to the panel, the survivors' committee founded by Mrs. Brown decided to award Miss Carrem a medal for bravery and a generous check "to help her and her sister starting a new life in America". With great surprise, Miss Carrem received the medal and the check, thanked the board but refused the honors. Instead, she asked to deliver them both to the family of a certain Charlie Stoke, a stewart that lost his life in the sinking to save her life and those of many passengers. She added that her friend expressed the desire to study naval engineering one day and she wished that the money kindly offered to her would be enough to establish a scholarship for boys like him across the ocean. In another picture, Miss Carrem and her sister chatted with Moll Brown in company of Zetta. Eventually, other philanthropists and wealthy socialites signed checks for her cause so that the Stoke family received a generous contribution too. And today, as another picture confirmed, the faculty of naval engineering of the University of Newcastle hosts a marble engraving of Charlie Stoke: to his memory a scholarship had been instituted one year after on the anniversary of the sinking. Since 1913 it has been helping students of poor background to get an education and improve their life. Zetta herself became a philanthropist during her Renaissance and ever since. The first act of her new phase of her life was joining the Moll Brown survivors committee to provide help to the second and third class passengers families and survivors. Some said that the tragedy she witnessed touched her heart, other claimed that it was to be attributed to the influence of her publicist. Jokingly, she used to say that after all, she had too much money yet all she could have wished for in her life, so why not doing some good with it? A considerable donation under her and Mr King was received by the main hospital during the Spanish flu pandemic; she was particularly active in providing financial help to struggling neighbourhoods and female education institutions. In the middle of the room, a long glass display hosted the Shakespeare Sonnets opened at sonnet 116 and a selection of the private correspondence between Zetta and Adele. My darling, You will receive this letter tomorrow morning when I'll be already off to Chicago. The suitcases are ready and packed, this is a goodnight note scribbled the night before leaving you to remind you how much I love you and care about you. How much I'm going to miss you even if - thank God! - we won't be parted for long... Do not forget you promised me to write every day! Write to me, Adele, write to me whatever thought crosses that gorgeous mind of you: you know I could you rambling for hours without getting tired of the sound of your voice, of your sparkling wisdom. I wanna know everything. So don't be shy: I'll be waiting your letters with tender impatience. Can't wait to be in your arms once more. Adoringly yours, Zetta - Dear, dearest Zetta, I went to Central Park today with Hileni. It was a gorgeous spring day, sunny, a gentle breeze blowing: 'simply too beautiful to be wasted inside' as my sister put it. Did I tell you that she's still exchanging letters with the delivery boy from the hat shop? I thought they were over but apparently he invited her to the nickelodeon next week. Anyway, walking in the park with her I suddenly realised how I wanted to share that spring wonder with you. When are you coming back to New York? Tell me soon, please. And even 'soon' won't be soon enough: you're always on my mind since you left. But yes, tell me soon so I can make you promise we will go for a walk before the weather becomes too hot. Do you think I can wrap my arm with yours? Is it professional enough for a publicist? Even just for a few steps: oh you have no idea how I would love that! Or maybe you have? I hope so: it'd mean you miss me as much as I miss you when we are apart. Oh, I almost forgot: all settled with that magazine you mentioned before your departure! I negotiated a two pages long interview, plus pictures. And a cover mention. Hope I did well: you have already fired me as your secretary, I must prove you I am just what you're looking for in a publicist... Can't wait to see you again! Loving you always, Adele Only one letter was copied on a panel of its own on the main wall side by side with a blow-up of the picture of Adele and Zetta slow-dancing barefoot and free, for a blessed moment immortalised in a discreet shot. Adele pressing a tender kiss on Zetta's forehead, drawing a soft smile on the acrtress' lips. Many visitors commented it was heartwarming to see such a photograph that conveyed the intimacy and the warmth of affection radiating from the dancing couple. Some said that Zetta was even more beautiful like that: free, hair slightly askew and genuinely happy, loved. What stole their hearts away though was the letter attached to it. It was no surprise that the curators decided to name the retrospective Underwater. Dearest Adele, Forgive me for the tone of this letter. I am writing it down in bed while I cannot sleep and my mind runs back to you as if we could meet halfway between the miles separating us, in a world of fantasy of our own. It's ridiculous how much I miss you! I want you near, I need you near all the time. Take tonight: if you were here with me, I would be heavenly sleeping in your loving embrace. Most unfortunately, you are not and I'm lying here, insomniac, thinking of you. And about my life. No, don't frown. I am not getting all sad again. It's...bittersweet. And - I'll spoil you the ending so you will stop worrying, hopefully - it gets better the more you proceed. Have you ever felt trapped underwater? I did, my whole life. Always hiding, always measuring words, gestures, gazes not to let them see, not to let them know...so little time to go up and break the surface. Drop the mask and breathe. In, out. Once, twice. In my lowest moments I repeated to my myself: how are you gonna survive? One day an acquaintance with a remarkable passion for the sea explained me and the other bored commensals that you can keep someone alive by breathing oxygen into their mouth underwater. Pretty much like mouth-to-mouth resuscitation helps an unconscious person to regain consciousness. I found it interesting but doubted his words. Then I met you, Adele. My dearest, wondrous Adele. And I learnt that yes, you can't breathe if you're constantly underwater...but you won't drown if you have the right person swimming by your side in those deep waters. Put your lips on me, Adele. Touch me, hold me in your arms. And I can live underwater. With your love, I can live underwater. We can live underwater. I love you. I want to cover a full page of these three simple words: I love you. I want to cry them out and entrust them to the winds, to the night. But what for? Who cares if the world knows or not? I'll whisper them over your lips when we will be reunited. So you can breathe underwater. Counting down the hours separating us, my love. Eternally yours, Zetta

#titanic storyscape #sc titanic #zetta serda #adele carrem #zetta x adele #zetta x adele series

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queerchoicesblog · 3 years

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The Movie Party (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele Series, Ch. 17)

So, folks, the SC Titanic Zetta x Adele Series has come to an end: this is the final chapter. It’s time for Zetta and Adele to have a reunion at last.

I want to thank all those who supported this crazy project of mine. This series has been quite important and will somehow still be, even if the original story is no longer available and it’s the end. But I will be grateful to the authors who crafted it: it was one of the few times I felt truly seen as represented as a wlw in a game.

You must forgive me if this chapter will be a bit longer but I wanted to bid a farewell to the various characters who made this story one hard to forget. It’s the finale: you either go big or go home, right? And you will find the explanation of the title of the series, if you haven’t figured it out already...

Little disclaimer-favor: especially since the tags don’t seem to be working anymore, if you do enjoy it, please consider supporting the author & sharing this. A little gesture that means a lot!

Stay tuned next week for the Epilogue!

Zetta x Adele Tag: @storyscaped @storyscapefanficarchive @marmolady @animus-and-anima @hayley-carter19 @escako @everlastingchoices @indescribablechoices @ahrielstuff @bornonawdnsday @nazario-sayeed @h-doodles @adele-serda @marlcasters @brightpinkpeppercorn @michelleconnoly @charliejane-blog @ghost-of-yuri @choicesgremlin @lanzhansguqin @orange-elephants @wonder-falcon

Zetta x Adele Series Tag: @eternal-langdon @nydeiri

➡️ Ch. 1, Ch. 2/1, Ch. 2/2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8/1, Ch. 8/2, Ch. 9, Ch. 10/1, Ch. 10/2, Ch. 11/1, Ch. 11/2, Ch. 12, Ch. 13, Ch. 14, Ch. 15 , Ch. 16

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The night of the Surviving the Titanic premiere, I walk into the venue at the arm of Richard, my little Napoleon in tow, 'fashionably late' as my fiancé puts it. We are greeted by the flash powder and shouts of the reporters and the awe of the guests gathered in the dashing foyer, waiting in line to show a steward their invitation. I wave at them, smiling and searching the crowd, while Richard tips his hat. Sadly, I do not see any familiar face or I don't recognise any before we walk past them and disappear behind the red velvet curtains of the auditorium. Another steward takes care of our coats while a colleague leads us to the honorary seats reserved for us and the rest of the crew.

We seat and wait. To keep my mind busy, I fix Richard's bow tie leaning to the side. I chat a bit with Sabine and compliment her outfit once again: I'm touched she decided to wear the pearl headband I gifted her when I made it into the movie industry. A birthday gift: she kept repeating she couldn't accept a gift like that but eventually I prevailed. Seeing it again after all those years...I'm so grateful she didn't listen to me and refused to bring it with her on our trip to Europe: "I'd rather not, Madam: I don't think I will have occasion to wear it", she said. I'm incredibly happy she deemed this night a right occasion. I'm so used to see her in her maid uniform that I forgot how she looks in an evening gown and the little detail makes her look like the friend she is to me. I'm pretty happy and proud of my outfit too. I picked it myself: I knew exactly what I wanted when I commissioned it to a New York fashion designer à la mode. I don't usually wear black, I much prefer colors, but lately I've been reconciling with it. And it seemed appropriate for the night: black is the color of mourning, right? What is tonight, this movie if not a commemoration of all those who aren't with us tonight, all those who sacrificed their lives for people like me and all the other survivors we managed to trace back, gathered here tonight? I'm not naive enough to ignore there is more to it, something less poetic, but I hold onto the remembrance of the lives lost. Onto that night: I hope the meaning of my sapphire necklace, the same one I wore on my birthday night, is not lost to those who were there. A hand on my shoulder, a gentle touch. As my heart races a bit faster I turn...but no, it's only my colleague, my fictional sister greeting me at the arm of John, Richard's right hand. I kiss her cheeks and invite the two of them to join us. She is visibly excited when she announces that the foyer is packed: she had never seen a crowd like that. It's a delight to hear but I can only hope in that crowd are a few familiar faces I long to see. One dear face I desperately long to see. One last time, at least if that's what it must be but I need to see her, to make amends and tell her the truth. She must know: I owe her that. When the stewards eventually open the velvet curtains, the auditorium fills fast, women in fur stoles and men in tuxedo swarm in like bees, chatting lively as they take a seat. I stretch my neck to see if I can find her face but my eyes only meet tycoons, socialite and strangers. Is that man over there checking the night programme Felix? I certainly hope so: if he's here, Lawrence must be too. And God knows how I need him tonight. After what feels like an eternity, it's time. The premiere begins. "Here goes nothing" Richard sighs, taking my hand into his as they dim off the lights. I wish I could have spotted Adele before darkness fall on the auditorium and the projector starts crackling. Apparently, uncertainty must torture me a bit longer.

As story unfolds on screen, I hear the audience hold their breath in awe and fear and for a moment I am reminded why I love my job: to give people feelings, to make them live lives they would never live even if for a fleeting moment. Their wonder, their tears of sorrow and joy are the best reward, the only reward I look for, even more important than the generous checks I receive for my performances: it makes me feel alive, it makes me believe that for a moment our hearts beat at unison and we're connected. When my character and her sister hug in the lifeboat and watch the sinking ship, the muffled sounds and sniffling around me tell me that no matter how hard performing that scene was, the message got trough. I am incredibly happy about this.

After the screening and a round of thunderous applauses, stewards lead us to the theater lobby. I have a look around while reporters and guests join us. Richard insisted to take care of the decorations and the whole movie party himself...well, with his staff: he claimed that he had asked of me too much already and he was happy to help and give Sabine a few days off. My little Napoleon was taken aback by the decision: she has always supervised every party, every mundane event. I look at her and I have to stifle a laugh at her unimpressed face. She's right: just like the picture, the decorations aren't grand enough, not luxurious enough and I have no doubt she would have done so much better than this. There isn't even music... I hear the clinking sound of camera and flash powder igniting and before I know it, a bunch of reporters are taking pictures. I put on my best smile and pose with Richard. When he agrees we offered enough coverage of the events for the moment, he guides me away from them towards a waiter in high uniform offering champagne glasses. He hands me one and takes one for himself. "To our success, to our night" he smiles, rising his glass. I repeat his toast and we cling glasses. I have just tasted the cold alcoholic sweetness of it that guests approach us. I do my best to be polite and charming: I know it's my duty even if it distracts me from my most important search for my love. Is she even here? Maybe she just tossed my invitation into the fireplace after my disappearance...oh, no, I don't wanna picture such thing! And I know it's selfish of me, maybe even my note was selfish...it probably would make things easier for her if I disappeared and let her live her life, if I let her forget me soon. Strip away the memory of the time we shared together like a band-aid. Maybe even engaging romantically with her was selfish of me in my situation...oh, I'm tormenting myself again! Focus, Zetta, focus! The guests profusely compliment and comments are awfully predictable: the jewelled wife of a well known mogul dramatically claims that the picture was "a true masterpiece" and she totally felt "as if she was there too that night". A young socialite nods and echoes her words: is she her daughter? I flash them a smile and say I am overjoyed to hear so, it was the effect we were hoping for. I am stuck into conversations like these until the party is in full swing. My head almost hurt at the insane amount of stale nonsense I hear: maybe Lawrence was right when he once said that the problem with fiction is that the audience hardly takes it as such and cannot distinguish between documentary and fictional movies. They will go to bed tonight truly convinced they know what we survivors felt that night, they will tell friends encouraging them to go see the picture (hopefully) but the truth is...they know nothing. They have no idea how terrifying it was, how gruesome. They have no idea what suddenly not knowing if you or your dear ones will see another dawn or hearing gunshots and screams of terror all around you feel. It's like ice flowing into your veins instead of blood, a clutching fear I will never forget. Their heart would have broken in a thousand pieces too hearing the despair in the voices of the poor souls swimming in the frozen water begging for a help that never came. Maybe this picture was a mistake after all, I don't know. I keep jumping from one conversation to another, peering across the crowd gathered on the balcony and below but I cannot spot anyone I know. Instead, a young man out of the blue asks me news of James: they're acquaintances and he was hoping to meet him here tonight. I sense Richard tensing up at my side as he sinks his glass of champagne. He was on the ship too, the young man continues, is he alright. I have no idea if the rumor of what happened at my birthday party has spread or if it faded away after the tragedy so I offer him a quick smile. I conceal how his reminding me of my fallen little prince is making my wound bleed again. James is fine as far as I know - I tell him - but sadly couldn't make it tonight, a previous engagement he couldn't postpone. My merciful lie seems to be enough for him as he tips his hat and asks me to bring him his greetings. As we part from them, I excuse myself and head away from the crowd "to fix my hair and rouge". Thankfully, Richard understands. He takes my glasses and places a quick kiss on my temple, whispering that it's alright, he will cover for me. He winks at me before greeting a colleague. I make a beeline for the restroom to catch some breath: I'm starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by this party but I must be patient, this night is nowhere close to be over soon. I take a deep breath, one last check and return to the lobby.

At the corner of my eye, I finally notice a familiar couple quietly having a drink in a defiled spot by the railing. Friendly faces, at last! I call their names and they turn. "Here's the belle of the ball!" Lawrence exclaims, approaching. He is charming as usual: he takes my hand and gallantly raised to his lips, smiling. He still looks tired and older than he actually is. I pull him into a quick hug. "You came, you old dog!" I joke, making him laugh. "And you too!" I wink at Felix who blushes slightly. When we part, I throw the two of them a look that - I hope - will convey my deep affection more than my words can. "I am incredibly happy you are here tonight" I smile softly. "We were incredibly happy to receive your invitation to the party, dear Zetta" Lawrence twists my words with his kindness. I take a look at him and flash him a sheepish smile. "You hated it, I know" He sighs before laughing, a gentle laugh. I speak again before he can formulate an excuse. "I can only hope I made up for it. My performance at least, the champagne..." "You were magnificent, Zetta. As usual" His smile is genuine, affectionate. Sweet dear Lawrence... "Tell you what, I had to give the gentleman here my handkerchief in the finale" he adds, a playful yet equally affectionate smile on his lips, nodding to his companion. Felix sighs, shaking his head. He cannot refrain a smile. I laugh and hug him. "That is such a great compliment, thank you, darling!" He's always been a big fan of me, he notes and Lawrence is quick to confirm it. We share a long look, quiet, safely away from the loud crowd. When will I see the two of them again? "Lots of people here tonight" Lawrence comments, after a moment, his blue eyes roaming the lobby packed with guests. "Yeah..." I sigh. "Yet you are the first friendly faces I bump into tonight. Well, apart from Sabine. Can you believe it?". I'm not surprised that he understands the unsaid. I'm relieved, actually: concealing my vulnerability but not to the point a man like him cannot sense it, underneath my words. He shares a quick look with Felix before reaching for my hand and giving it an encouraging squeeze. "Maybe it's just because you got stuck with those socialites in high hats and furs and embarrassingly expensive jewels" He winks at me and I laugh, a liberating laugh I needed so much. "Maybe" I concede before adding, hesitant. "I don't even know what I should hope for, Lawrence". He considers my words and when his eyes meet mine again, I don't want to let go of his hand. I want to hold onto him. "The night is not over, right?". I smile weakly at him: he's right but I have no idea if it's a good thing or not. Maybe it will only mean my agony is far from ending anytime soon. He seems to be reading my own thoughts. "Chin up, dear Zetta. And if you need us, we will be downstairs. Just say the word" Sometimes I wonder what I did good to have a man like him being so kind and thoughtful with me. I nod and try to recollect myself. I wish I could stay with them a bit longer but I see reporters approaching and a proper host cannot disappear forever. Sadly I must go, they know it. After one last lingering look, I take my leave. Evading the reporters is a lost war, so I surrender and pose again. How many pictures do they need, goddammit? Oh boy, this flock of vultures wants statements too. Fine, I know what to say. Marvel at how many people gather here tonight, tell how important this movie is to you, how you hope it will help bring along the memory of the tragedy...and start over. Then, with nonchalance and a charming, unreadable smile, walk away. Thank God, it works. I look for Richard or Sabine but they are both nowhere in sight. I shake hands with a couple of New York socialites when I hear a voice behind me calling my name, quietly almost shyly. I turn and see a young woman in a floral dress, red hair in elegant waves and big green eyes looking at me in awe. "Miss Serda, I just wanted to thank you for your invitation and say how flawless your performance was tonight". I flash her a smile. Have we met already? I cannot tell... "Did you enjoy the picture?" "Yes, quite a lot! Even if it's not the same, of course..." she lowers her eyes as if ashamed to anger me with such an undeniable truth. "Were you on the ship?" I inquiry, in my most reassuring voice. "Yes" she nods. "I was..." she pauses before shaking her head, a brighter smile relaxing her face. "Actually I was Adele's cabinmate. Your secretary's cabinmate, I mean". I gape and take a better look at the redhead in front of me. But of course! I saw her on the deck with a Adele as we were playing shuffleboard with the Baron. I tell her so, hoping to make her happy. It works, apparently: she looks pleasantly surprised I remember her. "You're...Clorinda!" I exclaim, reminiscing Lucille's words at our dinner, when she recognised Adele's dress as one of her own creation, a gift to her favourite model. She laughs, but her laugh is weak. "I was Clorinda, yes". "Lucille sang your praises during our journey" I smile. "Will I see you soon at her upcoming show?". "I'm afraid not, Miss Serda" her lips twist in a pained smile. "I no longer work for Mrs Duff-Gordon". Seeing my surprised face, she continues.

"I had an accident during the sinking. I am no longer suited to work as a mannequin" she explains, quickly lowering her eyes before meeting mine again and adding, cheerfully: "But it's alright. I am here, I am alive and I am in America...it's all that matters, right?". We smile weakly at each other for a moment. I feel sorry for this girl even if she seems stronger than she looks. "Adele talked of you" I tell her and I'm glad to see the mix of surprise and excitement on her face. "You're the big fan of mine who kindly borrowed the posters and memorabilia for my birthday party at the Cafe Parisien. Seeing the old and new posters, reading the little notes you wrote...it meant so much to me, truly. I have never had a chance to thank you properly but I will always remember your kindness to me". A hint of red spreads over her cheeks as she smiles a big bright smile. "Oh, it was nothing, Miss Zetta...I was honoured to give my humble contribution to your birthday. If it made you happy, I'm happy, overjoyed!". I laugh softly at her contagious enthusiasm. Adele told me it was quite endearing and she was right. Her cabinmate speaks again, still gleaming but recovering the initial shyness. "Miss Serda, I was wondering if I could...well, if I could get your autograph? I was hoping to ask you during the crossing but then.." "But of course!" I smile and beckon a steward over. When he's back with a promotional picture and a pen, I look back at my fan. "What name should I write?" "Oh, Lena. Lena Montague but Lena is just perfect". I write my dedication and hand it to her. She takes a step forward, limping a little, and I get a glimpse of her wooden leg as she looks down at the picture with reverence. "There, for you. And your new collection, maybe" I wink.

She thanks me but I insist that it's my line. And a sudden idea crosses my mind. "Thank you for coming, Miss Montague. I am glad I got a chance to make your acquaintance. And I was wondering...I remember expressing the wish to invite you for breakfast after being informed of your lovely gesture, to thank you. Would you accept a belated invitation? Let's say next week?". I have never seen such starry eyes on a face of a fan. "And who would be so foolish to turn down an invitation from you, Miss Serda? Sure thing!" "Excellent! I'll send my maid to you then, she's here somewhere...enjoy the party, Miss Montague". I kiss her cheeks and offer her one last smile before going back to my guests. I search Sabine but I find Richard instead, who introduces me to a couple of survivors he shook hands with. It doesn't take long before I realise why he wanted me to meet them: they say they were on my lifeboat and it was thanks to my intervention that they survived that awful night. They will be eternally grateful. I...I don't know what to say. I see Richard smiling proudly down at me while a faint blush spread over my cheeks. I tell them I am sure they would have helped too if the roles were reversed and wish them a happy new life in America. As they part, I finally spot my little Napoleon approaching, imperturbable as the Sphinx, quietly observing the stewards moving from one side of the hall to other. You can take away her apron but not her inquisitive gaze, I suppose: no rest for Sabine... "Ah, here you are!" I greet her, before teasing her. "I feared I lost you in the crowd" She offers me a quick amused smile. "I wasn't lost, Madam, just mingling. An impressive crowd tonight, n'est pas?" "Beyond our wildest expectations, yes!" Richard confirms, eyes roaming the upper floor.

"I am glad to hear, Monsieur King. A well deserved success" my maid bows her head, concealing once again the disappointment for not being involved in the party setting. Then she turns towards me and continues, with a nonchalance that is only pretended. I know it quite well... "By a fortunate coincidence, I bumped into Miss Carrem just a moment ago". I can only hope my face doesn't betray my feelings, the turmoil her words provoked inside me. Adele is here, she came. I will get to see her at least one last time, I will talk to her. My words will be a poor consolation to her maybe but...I will see her again. "Carrem...Carrem, Carrem...oh right, your secretary on board, huh?" Richard exclaims but I barely register what he's saying. All I can think of is Adele, Adele here, tonight. Oh God, thank you! "Oui, precisement" my little Napoleon confirms on my behalf as I cannot speak. "An exquisite young lady, if I say so myself. The best candidate we had in ages, Monsieur, and I am not easily impressed, I assure you". Richard says something about how he would love to make her acquaintance and thank Miss Carrem personally but I am not listening just like the night of our arrival when he was stroking my hand but my head was far away with he woman I foolishly a abandoned at the pier. "I left her in the main hall downstairs. She's with her sister" Sabine adds, addressing me. Snapping out of my reverie, I manage to remind Richard that I talked a little about them. They were on my lifeboat too, we stayed together on the Carpathia...but I am extremely grateful to the providential steward who beckons him over. He sighs and excuses himself, saying he will be back before we know it. As soon as he's out of earshot and someone else interrupts me again, I wrap my arm around Sabine's and lead her to the side, by the railing. Now that Richard is gone, I can show my concern more freely. To some extent, obviously but I think I am safe with my little Napoleon.

"How is she? Did she look alright?" I inquiry, checking over my shoulder. Sabine ponders her words, as if thinking how to describe the impression her brief meeting with Adele left on her. After what feels like an eternity for my tormented heart, she speaks. "If I may, she looks...troubled". I knew it, I feared so. But hearing it put down into words makes me frown. "Troubled? But of course...what a fool I have been! I shouldn't have invited her here tonight, I should have visited her and-" But I can't bring myself to finish my own sentence. "Troubled with grief, I mean. With with the weight of what happened that night. Mourning, you would say, perhaps". Then she sighs, a deep sigh, shaking her head. "It's such a pity to see a young woman like her taking the world over her shoulders, all that sorrow, all that pain". "She wouldn't be Adele if she didn't" I smile, thinking of every time she spoke of her fight for women's rights, the days she spent in jail for it. My sweet revolutionary is indeed a little Atlas and I fear no one can change that, it's simply her nature. But it pains me to see her so miserable and I cannot shake away the feeling that my disappearance played a role in it. At the very least I added salt on her injury. "But Mademoiselle Carrem is strong" Sabine interrupts my somber train of thoughts. "She just needs time, that's all, I think. Time and a little joie de vivre, don't you think, Madam?".

I smile sadly at her words. "Don't we all need it, ma chére Sabine? A little joie the vivre...". Yes, it certainly would be nice. But is it even possible? Even for people like me and Adele or are we forced to be content with cheap surrogates that keep us floating on the water surface? I wish I had an answer... "I will go talk to her" I sigh, straightening my skirt. "I am sure MademoIselle Carrem will be delighted to see you, Madam". "I hope so, Sabine". Yes, I do hope so. We look at each other for a moment before I speak again. "Oh, before I forget...would you mind getting Miss Montague's address and find out when I can meet her for breakfast next week or so?" I ask, nodding at my fan's figure in the hall downstairs. "And book a table to the Plaza or the St Regis. They're both fine...oh and please, send Miss Montague a poster of Surviving the Titanic. I'll ask Richard to sign it too". I fill her in about the details of Lena's life before the sinking and her troubled arrival: the incident, the loss of her job and the end of her modelling career. Sabine bows her head. "Certament, Madam". "In the meantime, I'll see if I can find a way to do more. I wish I could do more for her, somehow" I continue, lost in my thoughts. My little Napoleon nods and goes quiet, pondering. Around us, the sound of laughters and clinging glasses. When she speaks again, she almost startles me. "I'll be on my way" she announces, standing straighter. Before taking her leave, she looks at me and comments quietly that it has just come to her mind that I still haven't found a new secretary since our arrival. I know that look, that pretended nonchalance once again. As Richard approaches, I give her arm a gentle squeeze, a faint smile crossing my lips. "Go find Miss Montague, Sabine. And not a word on this before I speak to the girl". She throws me a conspiratorial look and walks away. When I turn, Richard is offering me his arm. "Fancy a trip downstairs, darling?". "I thought you never asked!" I smirk, wrapping my arm around his.

As we start walk down the stairs, I can feel my heart beating faster in my chest at the thought of my proximity to Adele, how close we are after all this months...even if it's also different now. But it doesn't matter: I don't want it to matter now...what did she say on the deck of the sinking ship? ‘All I care about is that you're here with me, and safe’. Yes, that it's all I care about too. I...saw her. She's with Hileni by a small table with hors d'ouvres and a pyramid of champagne glasses. Be still my heart, I beg you, be still...but it doesn't listen. I cannot control it anymore now that I know for sure she's here. She's wearing a green dress that it or just perfect for her but it enhances her beauty, if it's even possible. Oh, Adele...you have no idea how badly I have missed you! I feel my face lighten up and my lips curl into a bright, happiest smile. See what hold you have on me, my love? I don't even pay attention to those who greet and part as I walk by: I only have eyes for one guest now, for her. The first who spots me is Hileni: her eyes widen at the sight of me. I suppose she has never seen me in all my glory before; on the Carpathia, even if I was still wearing the outfit of my birthday party underneath the coat a kind fan gave me, I was out of my element just like the rest of us. Adele turns a moment later, following her sister's gaze. When our eyes meet, I almost feel my knees get weak. I hope she can see that this smile is meant for her only. I think she does, she brightens up almost immediately I turn towards Richard. "Will you excuse me a moment? I want to say hi to a dear friend I haven't seen in a while...". Dear friend: the euphemism is an insult to what Adele means to me but it will do. Just like the fiction, it's what the world can take. "Sure, go ahead. I'll go find John" he smiles, parting. I immediately glide over to my love, heart racing in my chest. "Adele"

I call her name and the sweet sound of her name fills my mouth. I place my hand on her upper arms and kisses both her cheeks. Restraining myself from pulling her into a tight embrace and linger in that closeness is a Herculean effort. Her perfume, the shade of red spreading over her cheeks, her shy smile. How I missed you... "Let's you and I catch up" I say, still smiling so brightly. I turn to Hileni and ask: "Mind if I borrow your sister for a moment?". She nods, still looking awed. Without hesitation, I take Adele's arm and lead her to a corner of the room apart from the other guests. For a moment, none of us can't find words. Funny how words are most difficult to find with those who are dearest to our heart. But I know what it is...I feel it too. The weight of our past between us. The memory of our brief happiness together.

A last, I summon up enough courage to finally speak. "Ad-" "I-" We start talking at the same time, then burst into laughter. Look at us, two fools lost to love! "I feel...almost nervous. Ridiculous, aren't I?" I keep my smile on but I know, just know she sensed the vulnerability reverberating in my voice who has suddenly lost the confidence I had before with my guests. She smiles too, gesturing that it's alright. "Zetta, it's...so good to see you again". I am sure my mind now is less cheerful. Time for my poor apologies. "I'm sorry, Adele. I should have written or visited" I sigh. "I've just been so busy..." To my surprise, she interrupts me, understanding, smiling. "I understand. You've been making the film, and you're getting married..." But she suddenly lose the train of whatever else she had planned to say. Adele, you and I can try to behave normally around each other, to act as if nothing happened...but we simply fail all the time. Our feelings always get in the way, my love, and God knows if I don't know it too well. And this, this sadness cutting off your words is all my fault. "I know you're upset" I frown.

She meets my eyes again in a silent, unnecessary apology. You have nothing to apologise for, I do. And I owe you the cruel truth, at last. I take in a deep breath to steady myself and let my mask fall. I drop my voice to a whisper so that only she can hear. "I've been agonizing over what I'd say when I saw you. And I never came up with a good answer". Adele, if only you knew the nights I spend writing you the most ardent, sorrowful letters! "I love you. I want to be with you. But this marriage has to go forward or my career's done". Do you understand my impossible position, my dearest? But please, I beg you never doubt my feelings. "Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar...but never doubt I love". When she speaks, her voice is a pained whisper and her words an excruciating plea. "Zetta, please don't do this. I want us to spend our lives together". I couldn't ask for anything better, sweet Adele, but...there is always a cruel but for us. "Even if that life had to be kept secret?" I grimace. "If people knew about us, it would destroy everything I've worked for". Look what malicious rumours brought on Lawrence and Felix even without a solid evidence of their relationship. Look what the world does to people like us. These guests, my adoring fans crowd the movie theaters to see me fall in love with the hero, the dashing heartthrob 'every woman daydream of' without asking me what I really want. They smile and awe at me tonight but they wouldn't hesitate to drag me down into the gutter if they knew who my heart truly belongs to. "I...I can't have both you and my career".

I lower my eyes unable to sustain her gaze any longer. I am so incredibly sorry, Adele, so sorry.... She reaches for my hand, shyly, and I am reminded of the first time she took my hand into hers in my private projection room on board of the Titanic. The soothing warmth of her hand over mine felt so intimate, calming...just like now. I look back at her and I have to fight back tears. She looks over her shoulder then she speaks, her voice low. "I don't care if no one knows about us. All I care about is that there is an us. I need you, Zetta". My eyes widen as I register the meaning of her words. Does she...does she mean it? "Are you sure?" I ask her, unsure whether she is fully aware of what she's proposing. "This won't be like it was on the Titanic, bathhouses and stolen kisses. It won't be easy..." She searches my eyes and nods. I...I would have never thought nor hoped for such a hopeful end of this conversation I feared so much. Oh my dear...not losing Adele, being with Adele! Out of instinct, I move to kiss her but I refrain myself just in time, painfully aware of the surroundings. I must long for your lips a bit longer, my love...but it doesn't matter, we're together now. "We'll need to come up with a plan..." I consider. "How do you feel about being my publicist?". "About as confident as I felt about being your secretary" she beams. I laugh as I laughed with her in the most dire moments...incredible what a light she casts on me, even when I am at my lowest. I regard her fondly as a newfound sweet joie de vivre starts spreading inside me, and I put my hand to her cheek. "This is the happiest I've felt in months...knowing you'll be at my side" I whisper, my voice trembling with the swirl of feelings taking hold of me. "Always" she whispers back, slightly leaning to the touch.

Suddenly we're both brought back to the party by the flash powder igniting around us. As I unwillingly retrieve my hand we're surrounded by journalists shouting my name. I am too overjoyed by our sweet reunion to be annoyed by them. I wish they could have forgotten about me a bit longer, granting me more time with Adele but they are oddly bearable this time.

I see her leaning closer and putting her mouth to my ear. The words she whispers send my heart fluttering.

"I love you". I turn my face to meet her eyes. I must summon every ounce of strength I have to stop myself from pulling her mouth to mine, pouring my affection on her right in front of the photographers. I see the same restraint in her eyes. There will be other nights for that. Yes, there will other nights... "And I you" I whisper back. My voice is soft, adoring...how could I not adore her? I smile at her one last time before turning to the cameras and bathing into the flash lights. They better capture this moment, I think: I will never be as radiant as I am now. As they keep calling my name and taking picture of me posing, I slowly return to the party I momentarily left for my reunion to Adele. I spot Richard and John lightening cigarettes by the staircase and not far Miss Montague chatting with a man I have never seen before. Sabine is checking herself in a mirror, fixing her headband...a rare moment of vanity for her. Hileni is pondering whether going for the pastry mignons is a bit too much and once saw me looking at her, she shyly waves at me and walks away. To my delight, Lawrence is signing an autograph to a fan, under the proud gaze of Felix, who took a step back. Good old Lawrence... ‘Sometimes our secrets are what make our lives worth living. No matter with what high cost they come attached’, he said. And he was right. I used to repeat to myself that you can't breathe if you're constantly underwater. It turns out I was wrong. With her love, I can breathe underwater.

#titanic storyscape #zetta serda #adele carrem #zetta x adele #zetta x adele series

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