A DEEP OCEAN OF SECRETS
Chapter Eight
The air was crisp, stinging one’s
skin as it breezed across the Titanic’s decks. The sun shone down from the
heavens above, bathing each passenger in golden light. The decks were crowded
with anonymous people, talking, lying on deck chairs, staring out at the sea,
or playing games. Rose DeWitt Bukater and Jack Dawson were among the people.
Rose was dressed in a beautiful
day dress, tied at the middle with an oval belt. It was long-sleeved,
protecting her from some of the wind, the slim skirt flowing all the way to her
ankles, where her feet were covered in white heels. Her hair was tied into a
bun near the top of her head, some loose strands flying around her face in the
wind. Jack wore an outfit much simpler, white cotton shirt, suspenders, and
brown pants. Her carried a leather portfolio with him.
"Well, we’ve talked about
how nice the weather is and how I grew up," Jack started, "but I’m
sure that’s not what you wanted to talk about."
Rose nodded. "Jack, I want
to thank you for what you did last night." Jack didn’t say anything, but
stopped walking. "Not just for pulling me back, but for your
discretion." Rose followed suit. "Look, I know what you must be
thinking. Poor little rich girl. What does she know about misery?"
"No. That’s not what I was
thinking at all. What I was thinking was, what could have had happened to this
girl that made her think she had no way out?"
Rose sighed exasperatedly and
waved her hand around, gesturing to all the people around them. "Well, it
was everything. It’s my whole world. Everybody in it. Plunging ahead, and me
powerless to stop it." Rose held out her hand and revealed an expensive,
heavy, huge diamond engagement ring, sparkling in the warm sunlight.
"God, look at that
thing!" Jack cried, smiling. "You would have gone straight to the
bottom!"
"Five hundred invitations
have gone out. All of Philadelphia society will be there. But all the while I
feel like I’m standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming at the top of
my lungs, but nobody even looks up!"
"Do you love him?" Jack
asked, looking up into Rose’s deep eyes.
"Pardon me?" she asked,
astounded that Jack had asked that sort of question. "You’re being very
rude; you shouldn’t be asking me this!"
"It’s a simple question. Do
you love the guy or not?"
Rose chuckled in disbelief.
"This is not a suitable conversation."
"Why can’t you just answer
the question?" Jack smiled.
"This is absurd! You don’t
know me and I don’t know you and we are not having this conversation at all.
You are rude and presumptuous, and I am leaving now." Rose shook Jack’s
hand firmly. "Jack—Mr. Dawson--it’s been a pleasure. I sought you out to
thank you, and now I have thanked you—"
"And you’ve insulted
me."
Rose was still shaking Jack’s
hand. "Well, you deserved it."
"Right."
"Right…" Rose was still
shaking Jack’s hand.
Jack smiled smugly. "I
thought you were leaving."
"I am…" Rose turned
around, then found herself turning back around to face the man who saved her.
"You are so annoying!" she claimed. Jack just laughed. Rose began to
walk again, but then turned back around and walked towards him. "Wait. I
don’t have to leave. This is my part of the ship. You leave!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, well,
well, well, now’s who being rude?" Jack was still smiling smugly. Rose
opened her mouth in shock. She noticed Jack’s leather portfolio and grabbed it
from his hands.
"What is this stupid thing
you’re carrying around?" she asked, beginning to flip through it. It was
filled with all of Jack’s sketches and drawings. Rose gazed at them in
amazement. "What are you, some kind of artist or something? These are
rather good," she stammered. "They’re…they’re very good." Rose
sat down on a deck chair and Jack sat down beside her. "Jack, this is
exquisite work!" The shining light from the sun seemed to glaze upon
Jack’s drawings, illuminating them with such artistic design.
"They didn’t think to much
of it in an ol’ Paree," Jack said simply.
"Paris?" Rose asked in
disbelief. "You do get around for a poor—well, for a person of limited
means…"
Jack smiled. "Go on. You can
say it. I’m a poor guy."
Rose flipped the drawings and
came to a section of nude women posing for Jack. "Well, well, well,"
Rose said, looking at them. "And these were drawn from life?"
"That’s one of the good
things about Paris. Lots of woman willing to take their clothes off."
"You liked this woman,"
Rose commented, looking at one of the drawings. "You used her several
times."
"Well, she had beautiful
hands."
"I think you must have had a
love affair with her…" Rose said, smiling.
"No, no!" Jack laughed.
"Just with her hands."
Rose looked up at Jack, getting
lost in his deep, icy blue eyes, like the waters of the Atlantic. "You
have a gift, Jack. You really do. You see people."
Jack had become more serious,
like all playfulness had vanished all of a sudden. "I see you."
Rose smiled proudly.
"And?"
Jack’s expression didn’t change.
"You wouldn’t have jumped." Rose just looked down at the drawings
again, suddenly feeling the heaviness of her sad heart inside of her.
*****
The day passed, and before Rose
knew it, it was sunset. She and Jack had been out on the deck all day, and Rose
was enjoying every minute of it, glad to be away from her mother and Cal. The
young friends were leaning against the railing, staring at the setting sun.
"… and after that, I moved
to Los Angeles to the Santa Monica pier, doing portraits there for ten cents
apiece," Jack concluded about his travels.
"Why can’t I be like you,
Jack?" Rose asked, smiling and staring out into the water. "Just head
off into the horizon whenever I feel like it. Say we’ll go there someday, to
that pier, even if we only ever talk about it!"
"No, we’ll do it!" Jack
smiled. "We’ll drink cheap beer, ride on the roller coaster until we throw
up, and ride horses on the beach, right in the surf. But you have to do it like
a real cowboy, none of that sidesaddle stuff."
"You mean…one leg on each
side?" Jack nodded, and Rose laughed. "Can you show me?"
"Sure. If you’d like."
Rose nodded. "Teach me to
ride like a man!"
"And chew tobacco like a
man," Jack said in a phony western accent.
"And…spit like a man!"
Rose declared in the same voice.
"What, they didn’t teach you
that in finishing school?"
"No!"
"Come on!" Jack cried.
"What?"
"Come on! I’ll teach you
how!" He grabbed Rose’s wrist and dragged her farther down the rail as she
tried to resist.
"Jack, no! No, Jack! I
couldn’t possibly, Jack!" she cried, but finally allowed Jack to push her
into the covered area of the deck.
"Watch closely," Jack
said, and hocked up a gigantic loogie. He arched back his neck and spit it far
out.
"That’s disgusting!"
Rose cried.
Jack shook his head. "Now
you try." Rose looked around and spit the tiniest bit down below.
"That was pitiful. You really have to get some leverage to it, arch your
neck, use your arms…" Rose tried to follow this. Jack spit again, and Rose
followed. "That was better, you really have to work on it. You really have
to hock it up, and get some leverage to it…" As Jack continued to babble,
Rose saw her mother, Molly Brown, and the Countess of Rothes walking towards
them. They stopped behind Jack and Rose, and Just as Jack began to hock up
another loogie, Rose hit him on the arm, and he turned, and saw the trio of
woman. He nervously swallowed his loogie, a piece still on his chin.
"Mother!" Rose said,
shocked. "May I introduce Jack Dawson?"
Ruth stared icily at Jack.
"Charmed, I’m sure," she said, death in her voice. Molly pointed to
Jack’s chin, and he quickly wiped away the excess spit.
*****
"The others were gracious
and curious about the man who had saved my life. But my mother looked at him as
if he were an insect. A dangerous insect that must be squashed quickly."
*****
"Well, Jack, it sounds as if
you’re a good person to have in a sticky situation," Molly Brown said. The
dinner call rang through the decks, interrupting her. "Why do they have to
announce dinner like a damned cavalry charge?"
"Shall we go dress,
Mother?" Rose asked, taking her mother’s arm. She turned her head.
"See you at dinner, Jack."
As Jack watched Rose and Ruth
walk away, he could hear Ruth start to say, "Have you seen your sister
anywhere? I haven’t seen her since breakfast." Molly was still there.
"Do you have the slightest
comprehension of what you’re doing?" she asked.
Jack chuckled. "Not
really…" he said.
"Well, you’re about to enter
the snake pit. What are you planning to wear?" Molly asked. Jack shrugged
and looked down at his clothes. Molly nodded. "That’s what I thought. Come
on…"