1952 (continued)

As Olivier was being motioned toward the ship, Maria's eyes became large. She realized she would be on the same boat as him. The guard didn't seem to notice that Maria was walking with them toward the boat. Or perhaps he didn't care. What could he do about it anyway? Reaching the boat, Olivier was quickly ushered on by two large guard-like men. To be honest, there was no need for them to grab him as rough as they did. It seemed that most of his treatment in the near future would mimic this. If only people knew him the way she did. There just was no need for it to happen to him. Maria felt herself becoming very tired, realizing that she had to leave him again, even though they would be on the same boat. The jailer who had brought them to the boat was about to turn and leave. He looked at Maria for a second, expressionless.
"I take it you're getting on this boat as well."
"Yes sir." She wiped away her tears hurriedly, as if not to share them with him.
He nodded his head in understanding. "You have your ticket?"
"Here." She said, taking it out of her coat pocket.
"Hang on to it. You should uh...." he paused. "You should read the fine print on that ticket." He looked at her, nodding his head seriously. "Read that ticket real good." He kept on nodding his head as he turned to leave. Maria looked down at her ticket, wondering what he meant. The sun was glaring bright on the paper. She stuffed it back in her coat pocket and walked up to the door of the boat.

Chapter 6
It was a beautiful scene outside, the sun going down over the hills, the wind sweeping the grassy field she had just walked through minutes earlier with Olivier. Maria sat in her seat at the window, looking out at the dock that seemed to be swaying in the water. The boat bobbed from side to side, as they were still boarding.  She sat and watched the water, her fingers moving up and down the creases of her folded ticket, until she remembered.... her ticket! She looked down at the writing, her mouth quickly moving mutely reading the words of the small print.
......THIS TICKET ALLOWS ONE (1) PASSENGER. ALLOWANCES: ALL DECKS.
How many decks were on this boat? It was no steam-liner, that was for sure. There weren't even any cabins. It was like a train, but on the water. Just one long aisle with about 50 rows of seats. Perhaps on a full trip, seating may fit 200. Maria tapped the shoulder of the man in front of her. He turned to her, taking his pipe out of his mouth. "Miss?"
"Sir, why does this say "allowances: all decks"? How many decks are on this thing?"
"This thing is called a boat. Have you never been on one before?" He answered her snarly, turning back around. She stared at the back of his head lined in straight dark hair, waiting for a reply. After a minute the middle aged man let out a deep sigh. "3." He said. "Two actually, unless you count the cells below. This boat seems much larger than it is, but don't worry, you won't get lost. It might not be a steam-liner, but it sure can act like one. Been on more sails than I suppose you have." He turned around again to face her, ready to laugh off his sarcasm only to find her empty seat.
Maria made her way down to the cells below. Her stockings caught on the metal staircase going down into the deck below as she tried to peer into the cells. It was a sad scene. Almost every cell had a man in it. Some were standing, some were sitting, some were leaning their arms through the bars. She gathered her voice strong as she tried to say his name, "Oliviaaaaaaack!" She screamed as she felt a man's hands move in around her mouth and pull her back toward the cell bars. One of those hands was tightly grasping her arm, the other around her mouth. Her heart raced frantically, as she tried to break free. She struggled, until she realized she recognized those dark hands. Olivier.
She turned around to face him. "You must be quiet!" He yelped at her. "I can't protect you from behind these bars. What if someone sees you here?"
"I am allowed to be here! My ticket gives me allowances on all decks!" She said, smiling proudly. He stared at her for a minute. ".....really?"
"Yes." She felt accomplished, feeding her prideful nature.
"Well, you might be "allowed" here," he said with quotation fingers, "but don't be surprised if that changes real quick. You're a lady. Why would they "allow" a lady to be down here with prisoners?"
She crossed her arms, correcting him, "Remember, I am a light-skinned lady."
He laughed. "Yes, this is true also. Maybe they will let you stay." He threw his head back in laughter. "How about you go use your light-skin advantage and bring me back some food down here. And coffee! My goodness, I can eat good with you here. Bring me a crumpet. Is that how it's pronounced? Or is it krum-pett?"
"I would not know that, I have never heard of this krum-pett thing. And you are a crazy man if you think I will bring you coffee. They will smell it on your breath."
"They won't. Ok. Just some champagne will be fine." He laughed. "Maria, I haven't laughed in a long time. I keep getting to see you again, from behind bars, out of bars, back behind bars again. Everything that happens to me ... you keep finding me." His laughter turned to teary eyes. He said with a sad tight lip, "Hey. You keep finding me."
She stood there, in front of him, nodding her head.
"You love me." He said, soberly. "More than I realized. I thought it was the idea of living in America. And instead, I've only given you heart ache. Oh yes, we get to go to America together. I just can't be the one to do it for you. Black man. You can't do that!" He threw his hands up angrily. "We'll make sure we take care of her. And you? Don't worry, after you rot in your jail cell, we'll give you a proper service. See? Everything will work out just fine!!" He buried his face in hand.
Maria stomped her foot, wiping away her own tears. He pointed at her tears strongly. "Those!" He managed to whimper, pointing back to his chest. "Those are mine."
"......You have never kissed me. Not once."
Olivier was caught by surprise and thought for a moment. "Never?"
"No. Never."
"Well, I mean..." He stood there confused. "Well! I can't kiss you if you're standing way back there! Look how far back you've moved from me. Why are you standing so far away?"
"Oh stop it. I am standing in the same spot I was. But I'm just saying, if you wanted to kiss me, I would think you would have done it by now. Maybe you don't want to."
Olivier tilted his head, looking at her sarcastically. "Well....come closer." He said.
Maria took a step backward. Olivier's eyes flinched. "See!? I knew it!"
"What? I'm still standing here." She said, smiling.
"Well why would you even bring up the subject and then not give me the chance? You're probably glad I never kissed you." He pranced around doing a mock imitation of her, "Olivier ... what are you doing ... eew stop!" He said in his worst imitation female voice.
Maria laughed out loud. She stepped closer. "Listen to me, you can kiss me when we get to America. Together." She stepped backward again. "I am going to find a krum-pett."
"You can kiss me when we get to America. Kiss me goodbye. Make sure my funeral service is nice, I want a lot of flowers, remember. And make sure..."
Maria rushed up to his cell angrily grabbing the bars like a caged monkey. "STOP! JUST STOP!! I was sure you were dead already, stop putting my heart through this!" She watched his shoulders slum. "We do not have to wait until we arrive in America to start living. We can do it right here, right now. You are here, I am here. We are together at the moment. Air to breathe, food to eat, and thoughts to share."
Olivier wasn't buying it. "Maria. I understand what you are trying to do. But look! I'm in a jail cell, filthy, sweaty, can't work, watching you cry. This is not living! This is dying slowly."
"What did you expect our life to be like in America? Do you have a mansion to bring me to? Butlers and maids? Do you even have your own house? Tell me this."
"I have a small apartment. I'm sorry, I had a small apartment." He said losing interest, flinging his thoughts to the wind like an old cigarette.
"Ok, so we would start out poor anyway. Life would be hard even then. The only difference is this tiny jail cell. Which will be gone when we get there."
He quickly raised his head up, looking at her surprised. "Wait, you think I'm going to be free when I get there?"
"Well... they are taking you back home... right...?" Maria said, innocently oblivious.
"Oh, Maria..." He said, hanging his head.