“I wish the weather hadn’t turned so cold,” Damita groaned. “I’m sure we’ll freeze to death on that old boat. I know it doesn’t have any heat.”
Juanita Mendez looked up from putting Damita’s undergarments in a small gray valise. She shook her head with displeasure, saying, “You complain about everything, Damita. Why don’t you concentrate on the bright side of things?”
Damita was standing at the window. She looked out at the gray skies, and then at the ground below. “We should have gone to Savannah before winter got here.”
Indeed, winter had proven to be harsh along the river. It was the middle of November, and people walked the streets bundled up beyond recognition. New Orleans seemed to be a different place when this happened: most of the frivolity, singing, and joy was frozen along with the ground and the trees. Damita turned and put her arm around her aunt. “I’m sorry, ma tante. I won’t complain anymore. Here, I’ll finish my packing, and you go see to yours.”
“I packed last night. I’m all ready.” Straightening up, Juanita gave Damita a questioning glance. “I wish that Rissa hadn’t gotten ill. We could have used her on this trip.”
“Yes, it is inconvenient, but I’m sure she didn’t do it on purpose. I’m just relieved it isn’t something serious.” Rissa had been perfectly well until two days earlier, when she developed a sore throat and a high fever. As always in New Orleans, everyone was watching her carefully to be sure that she did not have cholera or yellow fever. The doctor had pronounced it some sort of throat infection.
“Actually, I don’t think she’s too sad at not going, ma tante,” Damita admitted. “I’ve tried my best to be nice to her, but she just won’t receive any kindness. Still, I’m going up to tell her good-bye.”
“All right. Then send Batist up to get our suitcases. It’s almost time to leave.”
Leaving her room, Damita climbed the stairs up to the third floor. Stopping before the door of Charissa’s room, she knocked once and then pushed it open. She was sitting in a chair beside the single window. The light came in, breaking over the slave girl’s face, revealing a wan countenance. She was wearing a robe that had once belonged to Damita, and she did not speak.
“Are you feeling any better, Rissa?”
“I’m all right.”
“I’m sorry you became ill.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
The wall that Rissa had built up between the two of them frustrated Damita. She still felt bad about the whipping that had scarred Rissa’s back. Though she had been kinder, she had no success in befriending her servant. She concluded that she was wasting her time.
“You should have an easy time while you get well. We won’t be back for a month. So, I will see you then. Good-bye.”
She waited for Rissa to speak, and finally, the girl nodded almost imperceptibly and said, “Good-bye, Miss Damita.” Then the words came grudgingly: “Have a safe trip.”
“Thank you. I will.” Turning, Damita walked outside and closed the door behind her. As soon as she stepped into the hall, she shook her head angrily. I don’t know what else to do. She’ll never forgive me for what happened. She descended the stairs and found her parents waiting in the foyer. “I’ve come to ask Batist to get our suitcases.”
“He’s already gone upstairs,” Alfredo said.
“Are you all packed?” asked Elena.
“Oh, yes. We’re all ready. It’s a beastly morning to start a trip, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” Alfredo agreed. “I wish you’d gone earlier. The weather’s not good at all. This is no time for a sea voyage.”
“Now, Papa, we’ll be fine. Don’t worry about us.”
Fifteen minutes later, the bags were on the carriage, and the four of them were inside. Batist climbed up to the driver’s seat and spoke to the horses. They pulled the vehicle forward, and Damita looked out to see Monica, her mother’s maid, shut the iron gates. The woman waved. Damita returned the wave and settled back in the carriage.
“I wish we were already there,” Juanita said. “Long journeys can be so tiresome.”
“I hope you brought plenty of warm clothes along,” Elena fretted. “I know that those ships are as cold as can be. What’s the name of the ship again, dear?”
“The Orestes. A good ship,” answered Alfredo.
“I thought we might get to go on one of those steamships, Papa.”
“No, I know the captain of this one. We’ve done a lot of business together. Captain Williams is a fine fellow and a good seaman. I don’t trust those newfangled steamships. They’re always blowing up.”
They chatted all the way to the dock. Then Alfredo said, “I’ll see that your luggage is taken on board. We have a little time before the ship sails.” The group stepped down from the carriage.
Despite the frigid air and her numb fingers, Damita was excited. She had never been on an oceangoing ship before and was eager to start her trip to Savannah. She had slept little the previous night, and now she followed the men her father engaged to transport their luggage. They had brought one large trunk and two smaller ones, in addition to the small night cases that both women carried. As they crossed the gangplank, Damita looked up at the tall masts that seemed to touch the sky. The sails were all furled, but she saw ropes everywhere. She could not imagine having to keep track of which was which.
When the group reached the deck, Alfredo inquired about the women’s stateroom. A short but strong-looking Asian man smiled and nodded. “This way, please. I will show you.” He led the party downstairs and then through a corridor. The hall was dim, lit by only two flickering lanterns, and when he opened the door, he stepped inside, carrying one of them. There was no window, and he lit a lamp that was mounted on the wall. “Very nice cabin,” he said.
“It’s so small!” Damita exclaimed.
The four of them had trouble crowding in, and Juanita looked at the bunk beds, the small table, and shook her head. “We won’t have room to turn around when our luggage gets in here.”
“Best you leave your big luggage in the hold,” the steward said. “I will bring your small luggage here. Better hurry. The ship is due to leave in fifteen minutes.”
“This is a miserable room, but you won’t be in it long,” Alfredo said reassuringly. “Come along. Let’s go see if we can find Captain Williams.”
They left Batist to put the smaller luggage inside and see to the storing of the trunks and went topside. They found Captain Williams, a robust, red-faced individual with direct gray eyes and windblown white hair. He greeted them all fulsomely and said, “So, Señor, you’re sending these ladies to Savannah?”
“Yes, Captain. I want you to take particularly good care of them.”
“I’ll be sure to do that.” He started to speak, then ran to the side of the ship and said, “No more! Don’t bring any more cargo on this ship! You hear me?” He came back, shaking his head, and said, “The Orestes is a good ship until she gets heavy laden—then she wallows like an old lady. I’ve already got too much on now. It works the men hard to keep the sails trimmed when she’s loaded like this.”
“Captain, the weather looks bad,” Elena said. “Do you think it will get better as you travel?”
“I wish I could say so, Señora Madariaga, but I fear it’s not going to improve much.”
“Do you think we’ll meet a storm?” Damita asked with alarm.
The captain grinned, and his eyes were twinkling. “Ma’am, there’s always danger of a storm at sea, but I trust we will be in Savannah before we have any really bad weather. We should make it without trouble. I wouldn’t try it if I thought it was dangerous.” A sailor called for his attention. “Excuse me,” the captain said. “I hope you two ladies will have dinner at my table tonight. I will see you then.” He rushed off, shouting directions to the crew. The sailors, agile as monkeys, began climbing up the masts.
“They’ll be setting sail soon,” Alfredo said. “We’d best say good-bye.”
Damita embraced both her parents and kissed them. Her aunt did the same.
“You take good care of Damita, won’t you, my dear sister?”
“Yes, I will, Alfredo. And I will give all the family your best wishes when we get to Savannah.”
The Madariaga family crossed the gangplank, and almost instantly, the captain began issuing orders through a large trumpet-shaped object that amplified his voice. The lower sails fell into place, the wind caught them, and the ship began to move. Damita felt slightly afraid as she stood at the rail. She waved at her parents, and they waved back.
“I wish we were setting out in better weather,” Juanita said.
“So do I, but we’ll soon be there. You say they have a fine house?”
“Oh, yes. You’ll have a good time—you’ll meet lots of young people. I’m sure they’ll be having balls.” She looked up at the sky and shook her head and said, “I hope I won’t be sick, but I fear that I will.”
As soon as the ship left the harbor, Juanita began to feel nauseous, and she ate almost nothing at the captain’s table. Halfway through the meal, she turned pale and whispered, “I feel so ill. I must go to our cabin, Damita.”
Damita had barely managed to get Juanita undressed and into the lower bunk before the older woman began retching. The ship was rolling as ships do, creaking and swaying, and the cabin seemed to close in upon them.
The night passed, but no one slept well. Juanita suffered frequent bouts of seasickness, and Damita could only nap fitfully. Though she brought her aunt water, Juanita was too sick to swallow it. It was a miserable night.
The next morning, her aunt dropped off into a comalike sleep, and Damita dressed and left the cabin. She felt dirty and droopy from lack of sleep. Since they had dined in the captain’s quarters the night before, Damita had no idea where the dining area was. She asked a sailor, who led her to it. “Right in there, ma’am,” he said.
Damita entered and found the same white-clad Asian who had welcomed them on board. “My name is Wong, Miss.” He shook his head apologetically and said, “I am afraid you will either have to wait or share a table.”
Damita was very hungry. “I don’t mind eating with other passengers.”
“Very good. This way, please.”
As Wong led her through the dining room, she saw that there was indeed little room. The tables were full. Damita smelled coffee and frying meat. Wong paused beside a table where two men and one woman were sitting and said, “Excuse me, please. This is Miss Madariaga. Miss, will you take this chair?”
As Damita sat down, a young man no more than twenty, she thought, with glowing cheeks freshly shaved and warm brown eyes, bowed slightly. “I am Robert McCain, and this is my wife, Esther.”
Damita smiled and said, “I am happy to know you.”
“And this is Mr. Yancy Devereaux.”
Damita had been aware only of a large man wearing a gray suit. She turned quickly, and her eyes widened when she recognized Devereaux. He said smoothly, “Miss Madariaga and I have met before. It’s good to see you, ma’am.”
Damita felt blood rush to her cheeks and knew it showed. She could only say, “How do you do, sir?”
Wong asked, “Would you have coffee or tea?”
“Coffee, please.”
Wong left. Damita sat, keeping her eyes on her lap. Devereaux spoke and made her look up. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”
“Nor I you, sir.”
Devereaux nodded at the couple across from him. “Miss Madariaga and I met at one of the balls in New Orleans.”
“Is that right?” Robert said. “Do you live in New Orleans, then, Miss Madariaga?”
“Yes, my family is there. I’ve always lived in New Orleans.” Damita turned toward the petite young woman at Robert’s side. She had large, expressive brown eyes and a happy glow about her. “You’re going to Savannah, Mrs. McCain?”
“Oh, yes. I’m so excited. I’ve never been on a ship before.”
“Neither have I. We don’t have the best weather for traveling, though.”
“That won’t bother these two,” Devereaux said. “They’re on their honeymoon.”
A rich color rose in Esther McCain’s face, and she laughed. “Yes, we are. We were married just two days ago.”
“And I’m out to make the best husband the world ever saw,” McCain said, beaming. He reached over and laid his hand on his wife’s. “I must say, married life is the thing. You ought to try it, Yancy.”
“Not everyone has your good fortune, Robert.”
The three chatted with such familiarity that Damita could not help but ask, “Have you known each other for a long time?”
“Oh, no,” Esther said. “We just met Yancy yesterday. We boarded the boat at the same time.”
“You make friends quickly on ships,” Yancy explained. “I trust that by the time we get to Savannah, we’ll all be warm friends, Miss Madariaga.”
Damita knew he was teasing her. She glared at him and said coldly, “I think that is unlikely, sir. In my opinion, friendship needs a good foundation. It takes a long time to make friendships really work.”
“Do you think so? I’m of a different opinion. Some people I’ve known for twenty years and can’t bear, and others, the first time I lay eyes on them, I say, ‘Now, there’s a chap who is going to be a good friend to me.’”
“You’re that kind of fellow, Yancy,” Robert McCain said with a laugh. “What do you do for a living? Are you some kind of a confidence man or card shark?”
“Robert, don’t say such things!” Esther protested.
Yancy chuckled, saying, “No, nothing quite that romantic, I’m afraid. I’ve been a farmer most of my life.”
“A farmer! You don’t look like one. Farmers don’t usually dress so well.”
“I don’t either, when I’m grubbing in the earth. You’d hardly know me then, with dirt up to my eyebrows! But I sold my plantation in Shreveport six months ago. Since then, I’ve been learning how to become a gentleman. It’s difficult. Old habits die hard.”
Damita met his gaze. His vivid blue eyes seemed to dance with some sort of humor. She understood that he was daring her to speak of their first meeting, and she took up the challenge. “At least you have learned to dance. That’s one step forward. Fine manners usually take a little longer than learning to dance does.”
“Perhaps you’ll be able to help me on this voyage—you and Mrs. McCain. I’d like to achieve some of the polished manners I observed in some of those young men in New Orleans, at the ball we attended.”
Damita knew that her face was reddening. He was mocking her about Lewis Depard! She answered sharply, “I don’t think I’m qualified to give lessons in manners.”
“If I didn’t believe you to be an honest man, I’d think you were mocking us all,” McCain commented. “Your manners are finer than most—than mine, certainly.”
“I doubt that.”
“Why are you going to Savannah, if I may ask?” Esther queried. “Do you have family there?”
“No, I’m thinking of buying half-interest in a ship.”
“You’re also a sailor?” McCain asked, his eyebrows lifting.
“No, not really, and I’m too old to start. You really need to go to sea when you’re twelve years old, I understand. But a good friend, who is a sailor, offered to split ownership of his schooner. He tells me we can get rich, making the run from the Bahamas to the coast.”
“What sort of cargo?” McCain asked.
“Slaves are the most profitable ones, and my partner is inclined to that—but I’m not in favor of selling human beings. I’ve got him convinced that we can do well shipping cotton to England.”
Esther McCain looked distressed, and Damita saw that she found the subject unpleasant. She turned to Yancy, saying, “You’re opposed to slavery?”
“Yes, I am. I used them on my plantation, and it disgusted me. I was glad to get out of it.”
“I think there’s going to be trouble over slavery, sooner or later. The feeling in the North is strong against it,” McCain said.
“You’re probably right. So I’ll have to make my money quickly and get out.”
When Wong brought Damita’s meal, she ate hungrily. The food was delicious, and she felt refreshed. McCain and his wife excused themselves, and as soon as they left, Yancy said, “This is awkward for you, I’m afraid.”
“Yes, it is.”
For a moment he did not speak. Then he said, “Miss Madariaga, I would like very much to apologize to you.”
Of all the things that Damita had assumed about Yancy Devereaux, one was that he was not a man to apologize. She saw a hardness about him; he seemed a man unlikely to admit wrong or make himself vulnerable. She looked up with surprise and met his eyes. “Apologize, sir?”
“Yes, I was quite a boor at that ball. I suppose I did offend in some way. I wasn’t joking about learning some manners. You don’t learn manners planting seeds and harvesting crops, and that’s what I’ve done for most of my life—first in Virginia and later in Shreveport. So, without meaning to, I know I broke some sort of rule that your friend called me to account for. I behaved badly to him and to you. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Damita searched his face for some sort of mockery in his expression, but she found instead a guilelessness. She answered, “Of course. I’m sorry it happened.”
“And if you notice that I make any more impolite moves, I hope you’ll feel free to correct me.”
“I wouldn’t feel qualified to do that, Mr. Devereaux.”
“Are you traveling alone?”
“No, my aunt is with me. We’re going to Savannah to see her family. She’s a widow, but she has a son and two grandchildren there.”
Devereaux nodded, then changed the subject. “I’m afraid we’re going to have some bad weather—at least so the captain says.”
“I hope not. My aunt’s already terribly seasick.”
“Maybe it will clear off,” he said lightly. “I hope so.”
Damita rose, and he stood with her. “We Americans sometimes have fallings-out, and when we make it up, we shake hands. Is that impolite?”
“Why, no, I think not.” Damita put out her hand, and his large one swallowed it.
“All is forgiven, then?” he asked.
“Yes. Now, I must go to my aunt. Good day, sir.”
“Good day to you, Miss Madariaga.”
On the third day of sailing, a calm came over the sea. The wind died down, and the Orestes, although its every sail was unfurled, barely moved through the water. The captain was anxious, and the sudden weather change bewildered Damita and Juanita. Damita asked one of the sailors if such things happened often, and he replied, “Pretty often, ma’am. Don’t worry. The wind will pick up soon.”
Juanita felt increasingly better, and that same evening, she went to the dining room. Robert McCain spotted them and strode to their table. “Please, Miss Madariaga, would you and your companion join my wife and myself?”
“That would be fine! This is my aunt, Juanita Mendez.”
“Señora Mendez, I’m so happy to meet you.”
“Good to meet you, sir.”
Somehow Damita was not too surprised to see Devereaux seated with the McCains. She watched as Robert introduced Juanita to Yancy and to Esther. When they were all seated, she turned to her aunt and said, “Mr. and Mrs. McCain are newlyweds.”
Juanita smiled broader. “Is that so? My congratulations to you. May you have a long and happy married life.” She looked at Yancy and asked, “Are you married, sir?”
“No, ma’am, I’m not,” he replied. “I haven’t had that good fortune yet.”
“Mr. Devereaux was a planter, ma tante, but he’s going to buy part-ownership in a schooner.”
Devereaux nodded, then turned to Robert. “What do you do? You never said.”
“I’m a lawyer.”
“Yes, and a good one, too,” Esther said, smiling. She squeezed his hand. “The best lawyer in Alabama.”
“You’ll have to forgive my wife. She overestimates my talent.”
After the meal, Juanita and Damita strolled back to their cabin. Juanita sat down on the lower bunk. “That man, Devereaux—he’s quite attractive. You met him at the ball, I understand?”
“Oh, just briefly.”
“I don’t want to preach, but that’s exactly the sort of man you don’t need to be connected with, Damita.”
Damita laughed and sat down beside her aunt. She put her arm around her and said, “Connected with him? Don’t be foolish. He’s simply a passenger.”
“He’s handsome, though, don’t you think?”
“Oh, I suppose he’s good-looking enough, but he’s a Kaintock. I’d never marry an American. You know that.”
Her assurances seemed to make Juanita feel better. “That’s good to hear. He’s not our kind. But young girls are impressionable. You be careful.”
“Oh, I will, ma tante. Don’t worry.”
The Orestes traveled few sea miles for the next two days, but on Thursday, when Damita woke, she felt the ship moving and exclaimed, “I think the winds have come!”
“I know they have,” Juanita said with a moan. “I grew sick as soon as the ship started rocking. I’m not going to breakfast this morning.”
“I’ll bring you some hot tea, and perhaps a soft-boiled egg.”
“I don’t think I could keep it down.”
“You must try, ma tante.”
Damita walked alone to the dining room. She noticed Esther McCain by herself at a table, and the young wife waved her over. Esther said, “The men are meeting with the captain in the front of the ship. I think they’re worried about the weather. Will you join me?”
“Yes. Afterward, I’ll have to take my aunt something. She’s not a good sailor, I’m afraid.”
In their lively conversation, Damita learned a great deal about Esther McCain—mainly that she was completely in love with her husband.
Esther admitted as much when she said, “I feel sinful, loving Robert as much as I do.”
“Sinful! There’s nothing sinful about loving your husband.”
Esther smiled and shook her head. “I’m ashamed to tell you this, Damita, but I almost worship him.”
Her words amused Damita. “Well, you have become an idolater, then.”
“I almost have, but I know that I must love God first and Robert second. But I do love him as much as a woman ever loved a man.”
Damita had never talked with a young bride like Esther, and she was interested. She inquired, “Do you mind if I ask you a very personal question?”
“Why, of course not. Anything.”
Damita colored slightly. “I don’t know anything at all about being a wife, I mean about—” She broke off and sought the proper words. “I mean, about, well, the intimacies of married life.”
Esther McCain put her hand over Damita’s. “I didn’t know a thing about it, either,” she admitted. “I was scared to death on our wedding night, but it was all right. It will be all right for you, too, if you marry a good man. Robert was so gentle. He knew I was afraid, and he spent, I think, more time talking to me and telling me he loved me than any man ever did.”
Damita felt the young bride’s contentment. She sighed and said, “I’m so glad you’re happy, Esther.”
“We’re going to have a wonderful life, Damita. We’re not going to get old the way other people do. We’re going to stay fresh and young. Robert has promised me that. Even when we’re gray-haired, he’s going to write me love letters, and I’m going to write them to him, too. We’re going to have children, and I’m so excited about the days and years to come.” She asked Damita, “Have you ever been in love?”
“No, I never have.”
“Then you must pray that God will give you a man as good as Robert.”
Damita felt a warm glow in her face. “I never met a woman who loved her husband the way you love yours. I hope the same thing happens to me.”
The sea grew rougher all day, and word came that the ship’s staff would serve no evening meal in the dining room because of the vessel’s pitching. Instead, stewards would bring sandwiches to the passengers’ cabins.
Juanita could only cling to the bunk silently; she could not eat at all. Damita ate just half a sandwich. She was frightened. The ship not only nose-dived and then rose up slowly, it also wallowed from side to side. She had no more appetite than her aunt did. She finally jumped down from the top bunk and told Juanita, “I’m going to see what it’s like up on deck.”
“Be careful, Damita. Don’t get near the rail.”
“I’ll be all right. You lie still, ma tante.”
As she climbed the stairs to the deck, Damita felt as if a hand were closing around her heart. The sky was black, and although most of the sails had been furled, the wind was whipping through those that still gave the ship forward motion. The sailors had rigged ropes to hold on to while moving from place to place, and Damita clung to one just a few feet from the staircase. She stood watching as the prow went down and slowly rose again.
“Pretty rough weather, Miss Damita.”
Startled, Damita turned to see Yancy Devereaux, who had come up from another set of stairs. She nodded and said, “This is terrible.”
“I’m hoping it’ll get better.”
“Have you talked to the captain?”
“Yes, but he says the glass is still falling.”
“The glass? What does that mean?”
“It’s an instrument that tells what the weather is, more or less. He’s afraid it could get even worse.”
Damita’s hopes sank. She had never had occasion to fear much in her life, but now she felt helpless. She said as much to Yancy. “I wish I hadn’t come on this voyage.”
“I’ve had the same thought.” He was not wearing a hat, and the wind blew his auburn hair over his forehead. He ran his hand through it and shook his head. “We may have to turn back and get to a port to wait this storm out.”
The two studied the waves that seemed to rise higher than the ship. They lifted the Orestes, then the bottom seemed to drop out. “My poor aunt,” Damita moaned. “She can’t stand much of this.”
“I think we’ll just have to stand it.”
A thought came to Damita. “Not a very good honeymoon trip for the McCains.”
“No, it’s not.”
Her eyes still on the white waves that seemed to reach out for the ship and slap it with a huge hand, Damita asked, “Do you suppose that they’ll love each other as much in a year as they do now?”
“I hope so. They’re good people.”
“She told me a lot. It’s almost frightening, how much she loves her husband.”
“Frightening? I think it’s a good thing. You know, I heard about some geese that fly in from Canada. They mate for life, and if one of them dies, the mate stays with its partner and mourns.” Yancy shook his head faintly. Light spray showed on his face. He wiped it and said, “I wish human beings were that faithful.”
“They can be. My mother and my father are.”
“Are they? That’s good news.”
“What about your parents?”
“My father died when I was two. My mother died when I was fourteen.”
“She never married again?”
“No. She loved my dad until the day she died. I always liked that about my mother.”
The ship suddenly rose up, throwing Damita off balance. She cried out and fell against Devereaux. He held her and kept her from falling.
Damita heard the screaming of the wind through the sails, but she was more aware of the fact that Devereaux was pressing her tightly against him, and that his arms had closed about her. She had known for a long time that a lone man’s attention always moved like a compass to a single woman. She knew that she was attractive, and at that instant, as their eyes met, she knew that even with her storm-swept appearance, he studied her with a hungry glance.
Then he lowered his head, and she felt his lips on hers. She could have turned aside—she knew that—but she did not. Whether it was curiosity or passion, she didn’t know, but she made no attempt to avoid him. His arms tightened around her. There was something demanding about his kiss, and though he was rough, he was also tender. He held her, she thought, as a man held something he was afraid he might lose.
For a moment they stood in an embrace, something besides the storm whirling rashly between them. And then she put her hand against his chest and pushed away. She was angry, not at him as much as at herself. She had responded to his advance, and she was embarrassed. “You keep your hands off me!” she shouted through the wind.
Yancy studied her face and shook his head. “Damita, you’re living in a little box. You’re afraid to reach out and touch life.”
“You—you leave me alone! You’re nothing but a rude Kaintock!” She whirled away, and clinging to the sides of the cabin, she stumbled toward the stairs. She felt her way through the dim corridor to her door, went inside, and checked her aunt’s bunk. Damita was relieved that Juanita seemed to be asleep.
She quickly traded her damp clothes for the warmest nightgown and heaviest socks she could find, climbed silently to the top bunk, and slipped under the covers. She felt the ship continue to thrash, but again and again, her mind turned to Yancy’s caresses. She knew she would not forget that scene, not for a long time. She thought furiously. He dragged me down with him. It wasn’t my fault! She settled on that. I’ll be glad when we get to Savannah so I won’t have to look at him ever again.