Help

Dr. Morgan’s office was on the third floor of a five story building, nestled between two similar looking offices, and Charlie attempted to be discreet as he slipped inside for the first time. He knew that the field of psychiatry was growing in acceptance, yet he didn’t necessarily want to make an announcement to the world that he needed help. However, the accompanying chorus of voices that stepped off of the elevator with him was a reminder that he hadn’t been capable of getting better on his own.
The receptionist was an older woman with a nice smile. She asked Charlie to wait one moment while she informed Dr. Morgan that he was there, and though there were a few leather bound chairs to choose from, Charlie chose to stand instead. He peeked beneath the curtains at the few autos and pedestrians traveling about below and wondered if any of those people belonged in here as much as he did.
“Mr. Ashton!” Dr. Morgan said, his quiet voice still showing excitement. “Nice to see you again.”
Charlie turned to grasp his outstretched hand. “You as well, doctor. Please, call me Charlie,” he reminded the psychiatrist.
“Won’t you come in?”
The doctor led him into a cozy office with more leather furniture and a dark desk and bookshelf, almost black. The smell of leather and a faint whiff of cigar smoke filled his nostrils, and he absently thought one of the doctor’s previous patients must be a smoker since, as far as he knew, Dr. Morgan was not.
“Would you care to have a seat there, on the lounger?” Dr. Morgan asked, sitting in a chair across from it. “You can sit or recline. It’s up to you.”
Charlie chose to sit and settled himself in the corner. Dr. Morgan held a pad of paper and a pen but said nothing as Charlie took in the rest of the room. The paintings were what one might expect; hunting scenes, a picnic, the seaside, all in darker hues. On a small table next to the doctor sat a lamp with a white fabric shade, a picture of Dr. Morgan and a woman about his age in a golden frame underneath.
“Is that Mrs. Morgan?” Charlie asked, nodding in the direction of the photograph.
Dr. Morgan tipped his head down and looked at the portrait next to his elbow, as if he’d forgotten it was there. “It is.”
“She’s lovely,” Charlie said politely, though there wasn’t anything particularly striking about her.
“Thank you.”
“Have you any children?”
“We have. Two boys and a girl. All in various levels of study at universities here in the city.”
Charlie nodded. Ordinarily, he might ask more questions about Dr. Morgan’s family, but he knew this was not a conversation. This was about him.
Dr. Morgan offered, “My wife, Rachael, decided not to travel with me to visit my mother after having had a premonition of a ship sinking. After Titanic, all she could say was, ‘I told you so.’”
Charlie raised both eyebrows. “You don’t say? Do you think there’s anything to it?”
“Possibly,” Dr. Morgan shrugged. “It’s difficult to say. I suppose we’ll know someday exactly what the human mind is capable of, though we don’t know for now.”
Charlie nodded again and cleared his throat. He was out of objects to stare at. He looked at his hands, folded in his lap.
“Tell me about your family, Charlie. How are your relationships with your mother and father?”
“Wonderful,” he replied, no thought needed. “I’ve always gotten along quite well with them. My father is very nurturing. He’s allowed me the opportunity to learn the business on my own, under his guidance. My mother is quite loving. She has become a bit more involved with the social scene these past few years, but I think that’s more my sister’s influence than anything else.”
“And you get along well with your sister?’
“Oh, yes. Grace is a wonderful older sister. She’s a bit overprotective from time to time, but nothing outrageous. She and her husband Peter live in Buffalo.”
“No nieces and nephews?”
“Not yet. Although, Meg’s friend—who is really more like a sister to her—she has two little girls. Ruth and Lizzie. They are like my nieces.”
“Is that so?”
“Oh, yes. Precious little girls those two. Ruth is a bit of a troublemaker, I suppose. But I love them. Getting to see them… lightens the load, I guess. It makes me feel like all of my worries are gone, at least for a bit.”
Dr. Morgan nodded. “Sounds lovely. Tell me about Meg.”
Charlie knew he was grinning like a school boy with a crush, but he didn’t care. “Meg is… perfect. I’ve always known she’d be my wife, but I had no idea we would love each other so completely. It really is quite a relief to know that I will spend the rest of my life with such an incredible woman.”
“It doesn’t bother you at all to know you had little say in who you would wed?”
“No, not anymore. Oh, there were times when it did, I suppose. As a matter of fact, I know that there were. But that was before I knew her. Now that I have Meg in my life, I can’t imagine living without her.”
“How wonderful,” Dr. Morgan offered with a small smile.
“It is. It really is,” Charlie nodded, still grinning ear to ear at the thought of her.
“And the wedding is soon?”
“Yes, in two weeks. You must come. I’ll make sure my mother gets you an invitation.”
“I don’t typically attend events held by my patients….”
“Dr. Morgan, if my mother and sister get their way, everyone in town will be talking about this wedding for years to come. You simply must be there.”
Letting out a low chuckle, Dr. Morgan said, “I suppose Rachael will have my head if I say no.”
“Likely,” Charlie agreed. “Bring your man. Edward, is it?”
“That’s him,” Dr. Morgan nodded. They shared a knowing smile but said nothing more on the topic they both had in mind. “Now, Charlie, what is it exactly you’d like for me to help you with?” Dr. Morgan asked, setting his notepad aside.
Charlie swallowed a lump in his throat. “I should like to get back to my former self. I feel that, ever since Titanic sank, part of me is missing. As if it were dragged down beneath the sea, and I can’t get it back. It’s been replaced with… thoughts of despair and distress. I don’t like feeling that way, Dr. Morgan. I don’t like jumping at loud noises or feeling as if I’m about to cry—or shout at someone—for no apparent reason.”
Dr. Morgan was slowly nodding, his hands bridged in front of his face. “All of that is normal, Charlie.”
“Is it? I mean… Meg’s been through so much more than I have, and she seems just fine. Jonathan has gone on about his life, as have Kelly and Daniel. Other people from the ship are making the papers, going on like nothing has ever happened. And I’m… a puddle of emotions.”
Dr. Morgan straightened his glasses. “I am aware that some of the other survivors are also having a hard time, Charlie. You are not the only First Class passenger seeking psychiatric help. I have heard that one of the other gentlemen has already turned a pistol on himself, ending his life. There are others who may never recover, Charlie. You were wise to ask for help. It will do your friends good for you to keep an eye on them.”
While he was glad to know he wasn’t alone, the stories were tragic. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Dr. Morgan.”
“Why don’t we start at the beginning, Charlie. Why don’t you tell me about what it was like to board Titanic? Slowly, over the course of the next few weeks—months if necessary—we’ll get to the dismal part, the part of the story you’re trying so hard not to remember. I believe, if we go slowly and truly work through all that has happened, we will restore you to your former self. What do you think?”
“I like that idea very much,” Charlie nodded, relieved that they would take it slow and that he wouldn’t have to try to remember the worst of it right from the beginning.
“Very well, then. Charlie, tell me about how you arrived on Titanic.”
With a deep breath, Charlie thought about the beginning of the story and replied, “I boarded Titanic at the last moment in an attempt to change my fate. I had no idea I was really walking into the hands of destiny. It’s funny how we think we can control our lives, but honestly, Titanic has taught me that we are all part of a much bigger picture, and while we may have a bit of influence on our circumstances, there’s no avoiding the inevitable.” He set his hat next to him on the sofa and ran his hand through his hair. “Do you believe in fate, Dr. Morgan?”
“I’m not sure, Charlie. Do you?”
“Yes,” he said without a moment’s thought. “And fate had decided I was going to wed Mary Margaret Westmoreland or die in the process. As a matter of fact, I did die—and even that wasn’t enough. Thankfully, my fate is one I no longer wish to escape.”
Dr. Morgan smiled. “Tell me about that first day—when you came aboard.”
Charlie closed his eyes and remembered that morning, only a few months ago. He could smell the sea air, feel the breeze on his face. He was standing on the deck, looking down. A crowd stood on the pier waving, shouting goodbye. The vast ocean spread out all around them. And there, below him, looking around at the crowd as if she was missing someone, was the most beautiful blonde woman he’d ever seen. He’d had no idea the person she was looking for was him.