ARS LONGA, VITA BREVIS
Chapter One
Ars Longa, Vita Brevis
"Art is Long, Life is Short"
Seneca
My foot nearly slipped as I took
the first step off of the gangplank onto the pier. Though I thought my heart
could shatter no further, I felt a little piece break off when I imagined how
Jack would have laughed at my stumble. He would have smiled his crooked grin
and immediately offered his hand to keep me from falling. But he was not here.
I had to balance myself when my first step on solid ground had not been steady.
I dearly hoped that my misstep
had not been an omen. My new life, free from the social constraints of my
previous one, the life that Jack had paid for with his life, was waiting. I
knew that I would have to start anew one step at a time, propelling myself
forward. I owed that much to Jack. That first step should have been bold,
dignified, and courageous, as if I were stepping into the world for the first
time. Instead, it was a weak stumble. The stumble of someone who hadn't taken a
step for days.
Really, when I thought about it,
I hadn't taken a step in days. For what my step lacked physically, it held much
symbolic meaning. I was stepping away--away from him. Crossing the threshold
between old and new. It had physically been a small step, but I could feel it
was really a large step of progress. The last three days on the Carpathia,
which were roughly equal to the total time I had known him, I had done nothing.
I could do nothing but mourn him.
But I had promised him that I
would make it past that cold night. As I was thinking of him on the Carpathia,
I realized that I felt dead. He had exchanged his life for mine. The only
repayment I could imagine for the man I loved was to make full use of his gift.
Starting with a new name, I was ready to begin my new life--in New York.
My next few steps were easier. I
regained my balance and pushed myself through the crowd that had gathered. The
first thought on my mind was my tiredness. After everything I had experienced
the past week, the vast spectrum of emotions, I was physically and emotionally
spent. I blindly walked through the vaguely familiar streets of New York until
I came across a large hotel on a street corner that was offering shelter for
Titanic survivors with nowhere else to go. I practically fell onto the
makeshift bed in the lobby of the hotel and wrapped myself in Cal's coat that I
was still wearing and one of the blankets they had given me when I was so numb
on the lifeboat.
I quickly grew out of that
numbness. It was practically as early as sunrise, hours after the tragedy. It
seemed cruel that the world would actually continue to function after so much
blood had been spilt in its ocean. When the sun had risen, as if it were any
regular morning, I felt my numbness immediately dissipating. In its place,
however, the pain came rushing, filling every inch of my skin. That's when the
tears came. I knew that I would never be the same again, but after a short
while, I realized--I never wanted to be the same again. Rose DeWitt Bukater
would never exist again. Rose Dawson had taken her place. My life had changed.
And I was immensely thankful to Jack for giving me the courage to change.
When I woke up in the shelter
near the pier, I counted it as the first morning in my new life. I had dreamt
of Jack's face the night before, and just the simple image had made me remember
my promise to him. Just the clear memory of him was enough for me to want to
live out my life for him.
I did not let the thought of what
would happen when I no longer had a clear memory pierce my consciousness. Deep
down, I knew that in the distant future, perhaps when I am an old woman, dying
in her bed, that single image will not be enough to make me believe the last
three days were real. The idea that I would ever forget him sounded absurd, but
I still longed to have a physical reminder of the wonderful man, the first man
I had ever loved.
That was when I remembered the
diamond. I had discovered it just after I had told the steward my name, along
with several fat rolls of cash. The necklace was not what I would have chosen
to remember Jack by. It was nothing like him, gaudy, ostentatious, and
irresponsibly indulgent. It also had been a gift from Cal. But Jack's warm
fingers had been on the large blue diamond. I was in his presence the only time
I ever wore it, and only it. I knew that the Heart of the Ocean belonged
exactly there, in the heart of the ocean. I vowed that someday I would return
it there, but for now, I was selfish. I was keeping it a little bit longer so
that it could remind me of my love.
The cash was another problem. I
knew as soon as I saw it that I would never spend it. Perhaps that was foolish
and stubborn, but I wanted to believe that Rose Dawson would never accept
help--financial or otherwise from Caledon Hockley. Instead, I wanted to plan
something to do with it, rather than just setting it in the closet to gather dust
or get stolen. I wanted Cal's money to support something that he would
absolutely hate. A last act of defiance against my former life.
It was obvious what Cal hated the
most--poverty. But I couldn't just walk down the streets of New York handing a
twenty dollar bill to everybody who looked impoverished. That was simply
charity. I wanted to give the charity to a cause that would make Cal's blood
boil. When I realized what Cal hated second most, the brilliant idea clicked in
my head. I pulled the black coat over my shoulders and ran to the train depot.
There was a short line in front of the ticket taker's booth.
Soon, I found myself at the
front. There was a man with a thick, chocolate-colored mustache at the booth. I
dug my fist into the pocket of the coat and pulled out a few bills.
"One ticket to Wisconsin.
The closest to Chippewa Falls I can get, please."
"Where's that, miss?"
I had absolutely no idea. I
closed my eyes and thought about everything Jack had told me about his
hometown. The only thing I knew was that it was near the lake. "I'm sorry
sir, I don't know."
"There are train stations in
Milwaukee, Eau Claire, Madison, and Minneapolis. Where would you like to
go?"
I wished I knew about geography.
One of the Great Lakes divided Wisconsin and Minnesota, I was pretty sure, but
that didn't really help me. "Which one leaves the soonest?"
"A train for Cleveland
leaves this afternoon at three. From there, you can take the next train to Eau
Claire." I decided that would be the best. I finished my business at the
ticket counter and thanked the man. I had no luggage to consider, so I waited
at the train station, quietly thinking about the life I left behind, the life I
was beginning, and the bridge between those two lives, the love of my life,
Jack Dawson.
Finally, the train pulled into
the station. It was only fifteen minutes late by the large clock outside. I
stepped into the locomotive and found my seat, finalizing my plan for Cal's
money. As soon as I got off the train in Wisconsin, I would go to Chippewa
Falls and make an anonymous donation at the local orphanage, in memory of Jack
and his parents.