Hours later, after Ruth and the twins were asleep, Rose stood at her bedroom window, staring out into the darkness. She had cleaned up the mess she’d made—at least enough to satisfy her mother—but she had no desire to sleep.
The house was silent, except for the sound of the grandfather clock downstairs, telling her that it was now eleven o’clock. Rose knew that she should be tired, that she should go to bed, since she had school in the morning, but she was still too angry, too upset to relax.
When the clock stopped bonging, Rose took one more look around her room, then grabbed a sweater and opened the window. Carefully, she climbed out the window and down the trellis, wondering what her mother would think—or if she would even care—if she looked out and saw her.
After making her way across the dark yard, Rose climbed up in the oak tree, wrapping her arms around herself against the bitter chill of the February night. Reaching into a pocket of her sweater, she pulled out a cigarette and lit it, staring into the darkness and thinking of the bleak future facing her.
She saw no way out. Her life had been planned for her, whether she liked it or not. She would be married after finishing high school, and from then on out, she would irrevocably be identified with her husband. She would always be Mrs. Hockley, Cal’s wife, not Rose DeWitt-Bukater, student, artist, and a woman with a mind of her own.
Many girls would have been delighted to trade places with Rose—and she wished she trade places with them. They could have her engagement, her extravagant wedding, her life with no identity outside that of a wife.
Finishing her cigarette, Rose dropped the butt into the snow beneath the tree, hearing the faint hiss as it was extinguished. Just like my life, she thought miserably. All my hopes and dreams for the future are being put out as easily as that little flame.
Quietly, Rose climbed down from the tree. Though it had given her comfort many times before, tonight it was just cold and hard.
She wished she could talk to Jack. He had always helped her put things in perspective, found something to be hopeful about even when life was at its most difficult. She turned to go back toward her room, then remembered that she had broken her phone. She knew she could use the phone downstairs, but she knew that if her mother caught her using it at this hour, she’d be even angrier than she already was.
Rose looked up at her window, the only light still on in the house, and suddenly felt suffocated. She could not, would not go back in there—not right now. The beautiful mansion, her enormous bedroom, the closet full of expensive clothes—many of which she had never worn—This is what I’m giving up my future for, she thought.
Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to get away. Without a second thought, Rose turned and walked around the house toward the gate, opening it and heading for the street.
*****
Rose didn’t know where she going. She ignored the cold cutting through her sweater and her thin stockings, ignored the barking of dogs and the odd looks of the few people out and about at this hour, who wondered what a young girl was doing wandering down the street in the middle of a cold winter night.
When Rose left the neighborhood she lived in, there were more people around. Although it was late on a Tuesday night, many stores, theaters, and restaurants were still open, their light spilling out onto the sidewalk.
Rose didn’t linger at any of them, but continued on, her arms wrapped around herself against the cold. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she found herself standing outside a familiar building.
The apartment building where Jack and Mrs. Di Rossi lived was shabby, but not rundown. Though she hadn’t consciously been planning to visit, her feet had carried her there anyway. Not for the first time, Rose wondered what it would be like to live there, just an ordinary girl without all the pressures and expectations that her family’s wealth and standing brought.
Rose shook her head, pushing the thought away. What she wanted to do now was talk to Jack, not daydream about how things could be. She walked up the steps, intending to ring the bell to let them know she was there, when she caught a quick glimpse of her watch.
She looked again, startled. It was almost one o’clock in the morning. Most of the windows in the building had no light shining from them, and Jack and Mrs. Di Rossi were almost certainly asleep. Even if they weren’t, Mrs. Di Rossi would not appreciate her showing up at this hour and would call her mother to let her know where she was.
She couldn’t visit, not at this hour. Sighing in defeat, Rose turned to go back the way she had come.
Before she had taken more than a few steps, Rose changed her mind. She couldn’t stand the thought of going home.
Spinning on her heel, she turned and walked the other way, heading away from the apartment building and farther still from home. Soon, she was running, tears spilling down her cheeks.
I can’t go home! I won’t!
Before long, she found herself in one of Philadelphia’s more rundown neighborhoods. Neon signs blinked, advertising bars, strip clubs, and X-rated films. The streets were still crowded here, people enjoying the various entertainments in spite of the late hour. As she passed a pawn shop, its windows covered with bars, a man who had been lingering in the doorway stepped out and attempted to stop her.
“Hey, baby…”
Rose gave him a shove, continuing her headlong race down the sidewalk. He started to come after her, then changed his mind when she turned and glared at him, her face warning him that she was someone he did not want to mess with.
After a few more blocks, she passed the glittering lights. It was dark here, except for a few dim streetlights, and quiet. Her side aching, Rose slowed, walking slowly forward as she realized she had come to a bridge spanning the Schuylkill River.
Looking around, Rose realized that she was alone. A few vehicles passed by, but none stopped.
With an odd mixture of relief and regret, she moved toward the safety railing separating the bridge from the open air and the water beyond. I’ll show them, she thought. I’ll show them that I’m not just an object to be sold to the highest bidder. They’ll be sorry.
Glancing around once more, Rose climbed over the safety railing and balanced precariously on the other side, looking down at the icy river below. Her hands clenching the rail behind her, she extended one foot over the open water, trying to convince herself to let go.
Just do it. Jump. It doesn’t matter. What do you have to look forward to, anyway?
Her hands were loosening their grip on the railing when a voice came from behind her, startling her so much that she almost lost her balance.
“Don’t do it!”
*****
Half an hour earlier, Jack had been standing under a tree just down the street from his apartment, smoking one of the cigarettes Sophia Di Rossi had forbidden him to have and confiscated whenever she caught him with them. It was one of the few points on which she and Ruth DeWitt-Bukater saw eye to eye, and one on which Jack sincerely wished they disagreed.
Jack had been up late, finishing a project for school, when he had decided to have a quick smoke before going to bed. He had been outside, knowing that Mrs. Di Rossi was unlikely to catch him out there, when he had seen a young woman wearing far too little clothing for the cold approaching the building. He hadn’t thought much about it at first, but when she had climbed the steps, glanced at her watch, and then headed back for the street, his curiosity had been roused. He’d watched her for a moment, wondering who she was and why she was wandering around so late at night.
The girl had started to go back the way she’d came, then turned abruptly and run down the street. At that moment, Jack caught sight of her face in the light of one of the streetlamps.
“Rose?” Stubbing out his cigarette, he turned to follow her. “Rose!”
She didn’t appear to have heard him, because she kept going, racing across a narrow side street and causing a car to slam on its brakes. The driver honked angrily, but she kept running.
What the hell is she doing? Jack followed her, breaking into a jog to try to keep her in sight. Rose was heading directly for one of Philadelphia’s most dangerous neighborhoods. Why is she running around here, at this time of night? Doesn’t she know how dangerous it is?
Jack continued to follow her, pushing through some crowds of people who blocked his way. Some people, already annoyed at Rose pushing past them, shoved him back, deliberately blocking his way. One large man with a strong smell of liquor on his breath grabbed Jack by his coat collar, slamming him up against a wall.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asked, looking at Jack as though he hoped the young man would pick a fight.
“I…um…nothing. Sorry. Didn’t mean to run into you. I was just…uh…following that girl there…”
“Watch where you’re going, you little shit!” The man seemed about ready to hit him, but at that moment, one of his friends called to him. He gave Jack one last shove and moved back towards the bar he had recently emerged from, staggering slightly.
Jack didn’t wait for the man to come back, possibly with his friends in tow. He turned and ran in the direction Rose had gone. He’d lost sight of her, but he could still occasionally hear the sound of someone’s feet pounding against the pavement, so he followed, hoping he was going in the right direction.
He slowed as he approached the bridge, wondering if he was still following Rose. What reason could she have to be on a bridge over the Schuylkill River at 1:30 in the morning?
A moment later, he saw her standing on the sidewalk, looking out over the river—and then he realized her reason for being on the bridge in the wee hours of the morning, as she began to climb over the safety railing.
He moved forward, hoping he wouldn’t frighten her into letting go.
“Don’t do it!”
*****
Rose jumped, startled, when she heard Jack’s shout. She nearly lost her balance, but managed to tighten her grip on the rail before she could fall. When she had both feet more firmly on the ledge, she turned to look at him.
“Stay back! Don’t come any closer!”
Jack came toward her anyway, seeing the tearstains on her face. She was shivering violently. “Rose, take my hand. I’ll pull you back over.”
Rose loosened her grip on the rail again. “I mean it, Jack! I’ll let go!”
He straightened, trying to look casual. “No, you won’t.”
Rose glared at him. “What do you mean, no, I won’t? You don’t know why I’m here!”
Jack shrugged. “Well, you would have done it already.”
“You’re distracting me!” she cried. “Go away!”
Jack shook his head. “I can’t do that. I don’t know why you’re here, but if you jump in there, I’m going to have to jump in after you.”
“That’s insane! You’ll be killed.”
To Rose’s surprise, he took off his coat. “I’m a good swimmer.” Dropping his coat on the sidewalk, he added, “It would hurt. I’m not saying it wouldn’t. What I’m more worried about is that water being so cold.” He started to untie his shoes.
Rose looked down at the dark water, at the ice-encrusted bridge supports. “How cold?”
“Freezing, at least. Probably less, since the movement of the water keeps it from freezing solid.” He pulled off one shoe, then went on, “You know all the stories I’ve told you about Wisconsin?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, it gets really cold there, and one thing my family liked to do in the winter was go ice fishing. Ice fishing is where you—“
“I know what ice fishing is, Jack!”
“Sorry. Well, when I was eleven, we were ice fishing on Lake Wissota one Saturday, and Betsy and I were chasing each other across the ice, even though Mom and Dad said it was dangerous. Anyway, I fell through some thin ice, and water that cold—like right down there—it hits you like a thousand knives, stabbing you all over your body. You can’t breathe, you can’t think—at least not about anything but the pain.” He pulled off the other shoe, letting it fall to the pavement. “Which is why I’m not looking forward to jumping in there after you. But like I said, I don’t have a choice. I’m kind of hoping you’ll come back over the rail and get me off the hook here.”
“You’re crazy!”
“That’s what a lot of people say, but with all due respect, Rose, I’m not the one hanging off a bridge here.” He stood behind her, offering her his hand. “Come on. You don’t want to do this. Give me your hand.”
Slowly, Rose reached for his hand, grasping it firmly and turning around carefully. Jack gave her a tentative smile. “Whew.”
Rose tried to smile back, but couldn't quite manage it. Still, she kept her hand in his and began to climb back over.
It happened in an instant—one moment Rose was climbing back over the rail, and next, her shoe slipped on an icy patch, sending her plunging downwards. She screamed in terror, Jack’s firm grip on her hand the only thing keeping her from falling into the river.
“Help me!” she screamed. “Please, help me!”
Jack tightened his grip on her hand, his face red from the exertion of trying to pull her up. “I’ve got you. I won’t let go. Now, pull yourself up!”
Rose got her other hand on the rail and started to haul herself up. A moment later, she lost her grip, plunging back down, her screams echoing over the water.
Jack felt his grip starting to slip. Awkwardly, he grabbed for anything he could reach with his other hand, getting a grip on her sweater and finally pulling her back over the rail.
They landed in a heap, Jack on top of Rose. At that moment, they both heard the footsteps coming toward them. A cop who had been parked some distance down the bridge had heard Rose’s screams and come running.
He grabbed Jack, pulling him off of Rose and snapping handcuffs on him before he could say a word in his defense. “Stay back!” the cop ordered him. “Don’t you move!” He leaned down to help Rose to her feet, noticing that she was missing a shoe and two of the buttons were popped off her sweater. “Are you all right, young lady?”
Dazed, Rose accepted his proffered hand, getting to her feet. “I—I’m fine. I was just—“ She noticed Jack leaning against the rail, his hands locked behind him. “Oh…oh, he didn’t do anything…”
“That’s sure not what it looked like.”
“I know what it must have looked like, but…he actually saved my life.”
“Saved your life, huh?” The cop looked skeptical. “And what were you doing out here, that he needed to save your life?”
Rose looked at Jack, willing him to agree with her. “I…my dog ran off, and I was trying to find her—you know, before she could get hit by a car. I thought I heard a yelp from one of the bridge supports, so I leaned over to see if it was her, and I slipped—and…and Jack here saved me, and almost fell into the river himself…”
The cop turned to Jack. “Was that what happened?”
“Uh…yeah. Yeah, that was pretty much it.”
He looked at them both disbelieving, but unlocked Jack’s handcuffs. “It’s not safe to be out this late. For either of you! Anything could happen.”
Rose nodded. “Yes…you’re right. I was just so worried…”
“Your dog will probably show up when he gets hungry. Now, I want both of you to go home. There’s a storm brewing, and you’re liable to either freeze to death or wind up in some alley with your heads bashed in. Go home where it’s safe.”
“Yes, sir.” Rose bowed her head.
The cop watched her walk back towards the end of the bridge, his eyes lighting on Jack, who was putting his coat and shoes back on. “Interesting, isn’t it, how the young lady slipped so suddenly and yet you still had the time to remove your coat and your shoes?”
His radio crackled. Giving them one last look, the cop spoke into it and headed back towards his car, leaving Jack and Rose standing on the bridge.