It was later that night around nine o'clock or so. Gabbie was asleep in Rose's arms and Rose was sitting on a bench near the stern of the great ship. She was crying. Crying for her parents and Gabbie.
She heard footsteps coming toward her but she ignored them.
Jack heard someone sobbing. A woman, sobbing. He walked up to her. "Miss? Are you all right?"
"I'm-I'm fine...I'll be fine," she said without looking at him.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm sure," she said, annoyed. She then looked at him. The man in first class! her mind screamed.
The woman from steerage! he wanted to shout. "She's adorable," he said, indicating Gabbie. "When did you have her?"
"She's my sister," Rose said, smiling.
"Oh...why are you out so late, miss? If you don't mind me asking," he said. "Where are your parents?"
"My parents died, sir. And what is a rich fellow like yourself doing in this part of the ship?" she asked.
"I decided to take a walk," he said.
"Why here? It's horrible here. You wouldn't like it at all," she said, somewhat rudely.
"Why not?" he asked naively.
"You wouldn't survive a day. Being poor. You're used to all of that money. Being poor would kill you," she said, an air of smugness surrounding her.
"Oh really? I find that hard to believe," he said.
"Oh really? Why?"
"Because, well...I hate the rich life. I've always wanted to forget about my business, worries, everything and become an artist. I don't care about money. All I want is food, clothes, shelter, and a few blank sheets of paper," he explained, leaving her shocked.
"But...you say that now. I'd give you a week, then you'd be back at mommy's doorstep." She grinned.
He chuckled slightly. "What's your name, miss?"
"Rose Dewitt Bukater."
"Can I get you to write that one down?" he asked, smiling.
A laugh escaped her lips. "What's yours?"
"Jack Dawson. Nice to meet you Miss Dewitt Bukater."
"Nice to meet you Mr. Dawson. And please don't call me that. It's so annoying. Call me Rose."
"Only if you call me Jack," he said.
"Deal." She held out her hand. He took it and kissed it, lightly.
"Is that what you rich fellows do? No one has ever treated me like that." She blushed.
He chuckled softly. "I guess so. May I sit down, miss?"
"Cut out the miss thing. And yes you can," she said. She was somewhat sorry for her rude behavior. He seemed like a nice man. Decent, at least.
He smiled. He liked her already. "So, Rose...where are you from?" He was very intrigued by her. She was really beautiful. Even more beautiful up close. She was like a wonderful dream. It may not come true but it's beautiful to think of.
"Philadelphia," she answered. "Where are you from?"
"Originally, I was born in Wisconsin. But I was raised in Boston."
"So, you're one of them Boston Dawsons', eh? I've heard about all of you." She grinned.
He smiled. "I hope it wasn't bad."
"No...just business stuff in the paper. Stuff like that."
"Yeah."
There was silence for a long while. He kept staring at her. She noticed but she didn't say anything. She just kept looking at Gabbie. Who was still sleeping. She finally looked up at him and he blushed. She giggled quietly.
"I'm sorry...you're just really beautiful," he said and was shocked that he had said it.
Her face turned red. "Th-thank you," she laughed at herself. She couldn't believe that he'd said that. He had no ring on his finger, she had already checked. But... "Won't your lady friend get upset if she knew you were saying this to me?" Rose had to ask just to make sure.
"How would you know if I had a lady friend?" he asked.
"I don't know...you just seem like you would. You're quite handsome, to tell you the truth," she smiled.
He smiled too. "Well, thank you. And yes, I'm engaged. I shouldn't be though. I can't stand her," he admitted.
"Why is that?" she asked. Somewhat disappointed that he was engaged.
"I don't love her. She's very rude, conceited. The list goes on. It was a business deal. That's all it was," he told her.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Why don't you call the wedding off? You don't want to waste your life with someone you don't love do you? Make your life count. If you want to be an artist, be one!" she urged.
"I don't know.. What would my father think? Would it matter?" he asked.
"No one else matters when it's your life, Jack. Unless you're married to them or they're your children. Take advantage of your art skills, Jack. You may lose it, if you don't use it."
"I guess you're right," he smiled again.
"Of course I'm right." She smiled back.