Yearning

Sophia Clementine wondered if she had died. What gave her that impression wasn't a heavenly light beckering her towards it, nor the heat of hell's fire nipping at her feet either.

No, what gave her that impression was waking up in an incredibly cramped and confined space, filled with nothing but suffocating blackness; unable to feel the lower half of her body. 

The last thing she remembered was returning to her Downtown Manhattan apartment and going to bed armed with her 'combo of comfort'; her old faithful bear onesie and a pint of Dulce de Leche from Haagen Dasz. They never failed to take her mind of another horrific day in the 21st century. 

Sophia didn't know whether it was the thought that she was dead; or the regret that she'd never truly lived that made her contemplative as she thought back on her mundane, dreary life. 

She'd been born to an amazing and supportive family. But she'd always had the feeling that she didn't belong; a sort of dysphoria about the time period she was born into. She'd yearned for a life other than her own. And at times, that thought caused her immense guilt. 

As a sickly child she'd spent much of her childhood indoors and had immersed herself in books, hoping to get a taste of adventure she so lacked in reality. There she'd found a place she felt she could belong, the 19th century.

It wasn't merely because of the promise of adventure the period offered that had struck a chord deep within her. There was an allure attached to the time that drew her in, and from then on she'd become a bibliophile and passionate collector of all things 19th century-esque. 

Growing up, she spoke differently, acted differently and had different interests and ideals than others her age. All of which made her seem more mature, and at times lofty and 'uptight'. She was relentlessly ostracized and bullied for it.

She was used to the stares she received and the whispers that were too loud not to overhear. Sufficed to say, she'd faced a lot of hurt. But all of that combined couldn't compare to what she'd gone through in the last two days. 

Two Days Earlier

Sophia woke with a start. She had dreamed of him again. Her skin was flushed and her body felt warm even though it was mid-December. She'd dreamt of her mystery man once again.

In the beginning she could only recall bits and pieces of what he'd looked like; afraid she'd forget, she put memory to canvas. With each dream, more of his image was revealed, and finally; she had completely immortalized him. 

He gave of a pirate-ish air; what with his wild blonde hair tied by a simple leather strap, eyes that were a shocking shade of blue yet so crystal clear, a straight nose and wide lips that spread into a cheeky grin.

There was something familiar about the man; but she was sure she'd never met him before, she would have remembered. A face such as his was not easily forgotten.

She put it down to the historical romance novels she had indulged in recently. But she couldn't shake the unsettling feeling she got when she was in the same room as the painting. It was as though the man's eyes followed her.

She let out a snort at the ludacrity, her paranoia was obviously getting the best of her. She covered the canvas and hurriedly readied herself.

After twenty four years on this Earth, it seemed like the universe was smiling down upon her. After succeeding at obtaining her PhD she'd succeeded at becoming one of the youngest historians to be considered for a position at the Royal Historical Society.

She was scheduled to meet a representative at the New York Historical Society, where she was currently employed; to discuss some 'minor technicalities'. 

However, with her bad luck; it had rained cats and dogs, the trains were delayed and taxi's were piled up bumper to bumper. She'd arrived an hour and a half late, looking like a drowned rat. It turns out that the RHS had sent a representative; a Mrs Puffle, to feel her out, determine her suitability for the position and report back to them. 

Sophia's nerves; coupled with the cold that had seeped into her very bones, caused her to shake violently. Misfortune struck once more when she'd offered to pour Mrs Puffle a cup of tea, hoping it would ease the tension. Unfortunately; her body had other plans as a particularly brutal bout of shivering racked her freezing body, the steaming tea she had just poured, sloshed out of the dainty teacup onto the disgruntled older woman. 

After a round of apologies on her part, the rotund women looked down her snooty, hawk-like nose at Sophia; her sharp gaze slicing into her and crushed Sophia's dreams with a few words that were as sharp as the looks she directed at her. 

"Miss Clementine, we at the RHS were quiet impressed by the feats you have accomplished. But, now I think I know all need to know about you. As such, I cannot in good conscience deem you suitable to join the RHS after your poor showing."

The woman took her leave; shattering the hopes and dreams Sophia had weaved for the longest time. This marked the tip of the iceberg of heartbreak and despair.

Her younger sister, Chloe, phoned soon after and asked to meet up the following day. Thinking she wanted to talk about how the interview had gone, Sophia thought to decline but Chloe's sombre tone raised alarm bells in Sophia's mind and she agreed to meet her at a Cafe close by.

The next day Sophia stepped into the cozy cafe and spotted Chloe's blonde head in the corner of the room, her younger sister was oblivious to her presence.

As she approached, she noticed Chloe lean towards something, or rather, someone. When she saw who it was her stomach dropped and unease settled over her.

'This was not happening', she thought. 'Don't get ahead of yourself'.

Her best friend, Matt Jones, the man she had severely crushed on for several years, was sharing secretive little looks and intimate whispers with her little sister. 

"Hello you two. I didn't expect you both to be here. What's the occasion?", she tried to sound nonchalant but even to her ears her voice sounded strained. 

Matt spoke first. "I'm really glad you brought it up first Soph. Actually, Chloe and I have something important to tell you. Why don't you take a seat?", Matt suggested motioning to the seat across from them. 

She didn't fail to notice the nervous glance Chloe threw at her or the comfortong hand that Matt ran up and down her back in a soothing gesture. Sophia felt nauseous. 

" Forget about us for a moment, how did your meeting go?", Chloe asked cutting in before Matt had a chance to say anything. It was clear she was stalling. Sophia was so emotionally exhausted, she just wanted them to deal her the final blow so she could go home, cradle up in a ball and forget this horrid day. 

"It went well", she lied. She supposed that was better then "It was absolutely the worst possible outcome I could have hoped for". 

"That's great! I'm proud of you Soph" Matt said, looking genuinely happy for her. But all Sophia could think of was that he was the only person who had called her 'Soph'. The only person who'd bothered to befriend her, tried to understand her, and embraced her quirkiness while protected her from people who didn't. It was probably the reason why she'd developed feelings for him. 

"I'm going to come straight out and say it. Your sister and I, we've been seeing each other for some time", Matt said in a matter-of-fact way. It was another thing she love... admired about him. 

Even though Sophia had known it was coming, she reeled from the confession. 

She couldn't do anything else but nod in acknowledgment. 

"We love each other and I've asked her to marry me." he said cautiously,trying to gage her reaction.

"And I said yes", Chloe added.

The sounds inside the Cafe began to dim until it was all a blur and at first she thought she'd misheard. But the look on her sister's face said otherwise. 

"We know this is a huge shock but we hope this won't makes things awkward between the three of us" Chloe said in a rush, her eyes wide with uncertainty, her voice full of hope. 

"Why?" Sophia asked. The two didn't seem to understand what she was asking exactly so she continued, "Why would it make things awkward?" she clarified. 

Chloe spoke, "Because, we know you've always had feelings for Matt and the two of you are close. But I promise, just because Matt and I are together doesn't mean that you two have to stop being friends", Chloe assured her. 

Until this point Sophia didn't think she could feel sicker, she was wrong. She forced her gaze upward, looking at two people she loved, in different capacities, but loved nonetheless. 

"I'm happy for the both of you. I really am" Sophia said.

What else could she say. Anything else would be selfish of her. She did want them to be happy, and if they were happy together, then so be it. 

"I'm so happy you're okay with this" Chloe said in excitement, emotion glinting in her eyes as she clasped Sophia's hand. 

"Thank you, Soph, really. Your approval means a lot to us", Matt said looking at her meaningfully. 

Soon after, Sophia gave a flurry of excuses and made a quick escape. 

After that, she'd rushed home only to receive a call from her current employer firing her for her 'unprofessional conduct' the day before with Mrs 'Purse-mouthed' Puffle.

As her eyelids grew heavy, moonlight illuminated the man's features, making him seem almost ethereal. She'd fallen asleep with the thought that had she the chance, she would like to meet him...just once more in her dreams. 

Now back in the sufoctong space, one thought racked her mind. 

"I have so many regrets" she thought to herself. She regretted not living her life to the fullest. She regretted not falling in love, or going on adventures like the ones she so often read about. 

Is that why she was neither in heaven or hell? Is this where people with regrets came? Neither here nor there, just stuck somewhere in between? She thought frantically. 

Just as these thoughts bombarded her, she felt a shift and then her world was tilting and then tumbling. She let out a shriek in panic and reached out to grab at something, anything, to hold onto. All her fingers met was hard surface. 

Her breath was knocked out of her from the impact of landing against something solid.

As she recollected herself, she heard voices. There were people out there! Wherever there was. 

Not wasting time she took in a deep breath and yelled.

"HELP! HELP ME PLEASE! I'M TRAPPED IN HERE!" Her throat was parched and sore but she didn't stop until she heard voices grow closer. 

With a 'thunk' sound, light flooded the space she was in. She jammed her sensitive eyes shut, the sudden light to much for her to handle. Slowly she opened her eyes to what could only be described as a baffling sight. 

Men stood around her, looking as baffled as she felt. Rugged, dirty-looking men. She was so taken aback that she didn't realise she was being spoken too until a hand was waved in her face. 

"Ye think her daft, Davy?", one of the men said in a cockney accent. He directed the question to a man with an eye patch and bronzed, bulging arms. The man had an air of authority about him. 

"Seems so, but the same can be said of all women." That earned snickers from the other men and a few 'ayes'.

"Where be the Cap'n?", Davy directed question to the men, but his gaze never left her, as though she were some strange specimen the likes of which he'd never seen before.

"What sorta dress is tha' ?", she heard one of the men whisper which was followed by a few "Damfino".

"They're acting as if they've never seen someone dressed like me before", Sophia thought to herself, a little embarrassed.

She tried to cross her arms over her chest but met with resistance. It seemed that she was stuck in some sort of... barrel. 

"If you don't mind, can you please help me out?", she asked but her voice came out as a croak. She repeated herself loud enough to be heard over the growing din. The noise settled, but no one moved. She shot 'Davy' a pleading look, suspecting he had some say over the men, maybe he was the supervisor.

" elp her out" he spoke up after a moment of contemplation. No one seemed to move at first, until Davy barked out the order once more and the men closest scurried forward to comply. 

They hauled her out of the barrel by her upper arms. She was so relieved she felt tears prickle her eyes until they unceremoniously plopped her down on her feet, her knees immediately buckled and she landed on her backside with an 'oomf'.

Her cheeks stung as some of the men guffawed at her expense. Blood immediately began circulating back to her legs. Her aching muscles which were contorted into an uncomfortable position during her time in the began to relax. It was excruciating. 

In that moment she didn't care who was around to see or what they thought of her, she stretched her legs out in front of her and began to rub the pins and needles sensation away.

She thought the ground was swaying due to the rush of blood throughout her, until she realised that the ground was actually the deck of a ship... situated in the middle of the ocean.

"Surely this is a dream, or maybe I have passed on", Sophia thought dazed.

No matter how hard she tried, there was no way of making sense of this situation. She was on the brink of hyperventilating, or throwing up, or both.

Just then she noticed a change in the air through her panicked haze.

She was still sitting on the grime streaker deck. The sunlight cast shadows and her gaze tracked one in particular made by the approaching figure.

She could only assume this man was the captain of the ship, seeing as how the men had parted like the Red Sea to let him through. Perhaps he could help her.

When the boots stopped directly in front of her she automatically lifted her head. The harsh sunlight momentarily blinded her and she had quickly docked her head once more, shielded her eyes. 

"Who are you and how have you come to be in my ship?" the Captain asked, his voice low and gruff; his accent undoubtedly English.

"M-my name is Sophia Clementine a-and I don't know the answer to the latter either", she stuttered. 

When her response was met with only silence, she continued, "Where am I exactly?" 

"It is I who will ask the questions lass, and you who will answer", he ordered.

"I am telling you, Sir, that I do not know how I came to be on your boat-" she started but was cut off.

"Captain and it's not a boat it's ship", he corrected, spitting out te word 'boat' as if it were the most offensive thing.

"Yes, your ship. If you can lend me a cell phone or radio the coast guard I'll be off of your ship in no time at all", she said optimistically, staring at his knee directly in front of her. Which is why she missed the quizzical look he shot her, as if she were spouting nonsense.

"Aye, I would like nothing more. However, I want to know is why you're here in the first place? What is this cell phone and radoo you speak off?", he sounded genuinely puzzled.

Dread and doubt had long ago began to take root in Sophia's mind but she had refused to come to grips with her situation. She couldn't avoid it any longer. 

"Captain, I you could be so kind as to tell me today's date?", she asked, afraid to know the answer. 

"Lass, I have grasped that you're not from these parts, and have tried to be understanding of your situation. I can't do so if you do not answer my questions. Should you refuse to do so, I shall stuff you back into the barrel you emerged from and gladly become ignorant of your presence once more", he threatened not a hint of teasing in his voice.

Exhaustion and fatigue were taking a toll on Sophia, she was afraid, confused and anxious so she acted out of deaparation.

"Please! Just answer this one last question and then I'll tell you whatever you want to know, please!" she pleaded, throwing her hands over her face.

"Today is the 22 June 1820, lass. Now, make like Church Bell and start talking", he said imperially. 

Sophia felt as though she was tilting and tumbling in the barrel once more. The truth surrounded her like a crushing vice. This old vessel, the way the crew spoke, the fact that they looked at her as if she were an odd alien specimen, dressed as she was. She really was in the year 1820!

Just then she looked up at the Captain, into the last face she'd expected to gaze upon. Those deep blue eyes gazed intensely at her, the wind ruffled his long blonde hair, their was no sign if a cheeky grin, his lips pressed together, jaw clenched. The sunlight glinted of his gold hoop earrings.

'The painting had not done him justice' she thought.

In that moment Sophia wondered whether the universe was smiling upon her or conspiring against her. At least her wish had come true she thought hysterically, no missing the irony. She'd got to see her mystery man and had been thrown into the sort of adventure she'd only ever read about.

"My fate is in his hands", Sophia thought as everything became too much and she blacked out. She could only hope he handled it with care.