HERE AND NOW
Chapter Fifteen
The first week in Iowa was fairly
uneventful. Rose took Jessica’s advice and went to Nancy’s store. It turned out
that Nancy herself was looking for some extra help…she was an elderly lady in
her early seventies and it had become far too much for just her and her
husband, Abner, to run alone.
Jack, meanwhile, lay low, mostly
just hanging around the house. Though he tried to make himself useful by doing
odd jobs in the home…he wasn’t very good at chores at first, but he soon got
the hang of it.
Things had gone very well, until
Rose had discovered that the Cates next-door neighbor was a journalist.
Debra Kinder, mother of Meg,
lived in a small apartment in Chicago during the week so that she didn’t have
to travel to work every day, but she came home on weekends. Instantly, she’d
been suspicious of Jack, and Rose was sure that Debra knew who he really was.
Even though Jack had gotten a haircut and was dressing very differently since
they’d arrived in Cedar Rapids, he had been easily recognizable before the
sinking, and Rose knew their cover would be blown eventually.
And it was, and just two weeks
after they’d arrived.
It had been a day like any other
when Rose had come back from working at the store. She really hadn’t expected
to find George Bukater sitting in the living room and drinking tea with
Jessica, while Jack stood by the window with a look of defeat on his face.
"What’s going on here?"
Rose asked as she entered. She stood, shocked. "How did you find us?
Jack?"
Jack said nothing. He appeared to
have gone into some kind of catatonic state, staring out of the window
aimlessly, his eyes glazed and his face frozen in an expression of fear.
"Did you really think
someone like Jack DeWitt-Bukater could simply disappear, Ms. Dawson?"
George drawled.
"I…" For once, Rose was
speechless, but eventually she found her voice. "Who told you?"
No answer. Rose tried again.
"Someone must’ve told you. Who was it? Debra Kinder? It was her, wasn’t
it?"
"Yes," said Jessica,
speaking for the first time since Rose had entered. "Rose, she’s a
reporter. She didn’t do it out of spite. It’s her job. After she first met
Jack, she got very suspicious and did some digging. She snapped some pictures
and took them to her boss at the newsroom, who in turn sent them to Mr.
Bukater, and he was able to confirm that it was his son."
"I knew it was you,"
George addressed Jack. "Your hair and clothes may be different, but I
could still tell. Jack, let’s cut the crap. I want you to come home. Be a part
of the family again."
"No."
At last, Jack snapped out of it.
"Jack, we want you to come
home, especially your mother. She’s been in a real mess since the sinking. Come
back to us."
"Why?" Jack was almost
yelling now. He spun round to face his father properly. "So you can
control me? So I can live my life according to how you order me to? No. Why do
you think I tried to fake my own death? I hated you. And I still do."
George went to argue, but Jack
cut him off, continuing his rant. "You can’t make me do things. Don’t
waste your time threatening me, either; I won’t bow down to you anymore. Those
days are over. Now, get out."
George had risen from his seat,
but made no effort to leave. Madness flashing in his eyes, Jack picked up the
object closest to him–a glass vase. Before anyone could stop him, Jack hurled
the object towards George, but George was able to duck in time and the vase hit
the wall behind him, smashing into a million pieces and causing Rose and
Jessica to scream in surprise.
"My vase!" Jessica
wailed, heartbroken as she rushed to try to salvage its remains.
"Are you crazy? That could
have hit me," George protested, though he was still being annoyingly calm.
"It was supposed to! Maybe
I’ll be luckier on my second go!" As though he had turned into a madman,
Jack spotted a heavy marble ashtray on the coffee table and picked it up. He
aimed it at George’s head and went to throw…and suddenly felt his arm being
jerked backwards.
"Jack, no!"
Rose was holding him back, but
still Jack snarled at his father.
"I said get out. Just get
out! Leave us in peace, for God’s sake. That’s all we want! You don’t own me,
not anymore. It’s never going to go back to how it was, ever. So just let
go." Jack paused, realizing his father was actually listening to his
words. He carried on. "It won’t kill you. It won’t destroy you. I know you
had dreams for me, but a person needs to be allowed to follow their own path.
I’m not the same person I was before I boarded the Titanic. I can’t go back to
your world. And I won’t. Now, get out. I won’t ask you again."
Amazingly, George actually looked
defeated.
"What do I tell your
mother?" was all he asked, edging towards the door.
"Tell her that I still love
her…and that I’m happy and she doesn’t need to worry about me," Jack
decided. "Tell her that if she wants to visit, I hold no ill will against
her and that she’s welcome."
"What about me?" George
looked like he was actually softening, like he was realizing that the way he’d
treated Jack had been wrong. Rose watched father and son with fascination,
keeping out of it all and letting them handle the confrontation alone, as
should be done.
"I don’t know,"
admitted Jack. "Give me space. Then, maybe. But you have to stop trying to
run my life. I need to be allowed to be my own man."
"You need some money,"
George said. "Look at you. You’re a mess--"
George got out his wallet and was
about to open it, but Jack put his hand on George’s hand, stopping him in his
tracks.
"The handouts stop, too. I
need to make my own money now," said Jack.
George went to go, but Jack spoke
again. "By the way, do you ever wonder how Rose and I met in the first
place?"
George turned back, looking
actually curious.
"I was on the deck of the
Titanic with your gun, about to blow my own brains out."
Upon Jack’s confession, George
looked genuinely horrified. Not disgusted, not judgmental, but just alarmed.
And even guilty. Like the full force of the way he’d treated his own son was
really hitting him, like he was realizing what type of a man he’d been all
these years. In that moment, Rose almost felt sorry for him. It must be hard
for one to realize that they’ve been behaving like a heartless beast.
"Jack--" George tried
to speak, but Jack held his hand up, cutting him off.
"If it wasn’t for Rose
finding me, I’d be dead. Or possibly a vegetable…somehow I get the feeling that
even suicide is something I’d manage to screw up. But anyway, it’s Rose’s fault
that I’m even here. Whatever you feel about her, you’re wrong, more wrong than
you’ve ever been about anything."
"And I suppose it was me
that made you feel that way? That made you want to…" George couldn’t even
seem to say it.
"You, the media…everything,
really. But mostly you, yeah."
George released a sigh and looked
unsure of what to do next.
"I want to stay here with
Rose. We’re going to stay until we can get a place of our own. I know it
wouldn’t look like much to you, this place--"
"Hey!" Jessica
protested. She’d been silent the whole time, watching the whole thing while
pretending to be gathering up her vase shards.
"No offense," Jack
added quickly "And I’m really incredibly grateful that you’ve opened your
house to us. Thank you."
Jessica smiled, looking strangely
charmed by Jack’s words of gratitude.
"If you want to do anything
for me, Dad, leave us in peace. I’m still getting my head together, especially
after Parker dying…"
"We missed you at the
funeral," George said.
"I know. I’m sorry. I’ll try
to visit her soon. We were close."
George nodded in knowing.
"I just need time,"
Jack concluded "I don’t know how long. A while."
"Then there’s nothing more
to say," decided George flatly, though without any anger or malice.
"I guess not," agreed
Jack. "I’ll show you out."
Rose watched as Jack led George out
of the living room. She heard the front door opening, then being closed a few
moments later. Then Jack returned, looking emotionally exhausted, but relieved
at the same time.
"It’s over," was all he
said. He went to her and took her hand. He looked like he was going to cry with
relief as he repeated, "It’s over."