“My mother passed away four years ago, or so I read.” Rose sighed. “I didn’t know what to make of it. I hated her and I know she thought I was dead, but she was still my mother.” Rose closed her eyes and sighed heavily. “I know she died comfortably and painlessly, and that’s all I wanted to know.” She remembered that she had been working as a waitress in Santa Monica when she had caught a glimpse of a morning paper that a customer had left behind. She remembered how she had wanted to cry so badly, to shed one tiny tear for her mother, but she couldn’t. Instead, she had thrown the paper into the trash and continued with her work as though she had never known her, but in a strange way, it felt as though she never had.
“What about Cal?”
“Oh.” Rose rolled her eyes. She hadn’t thought of him in such a long time. “I never saw him again. The last I heard, he married a socialite a few years ago and they had children.” Rose knew that would have been her if she had stayed with Cal, her life completely planned out for her and no control over her future. She turned to Jack, who was lying beside her on her hotel room bed. The room was too opulent for him, but he knew it wouldn’t be forever. He was going home in just a few days. After all, he had only come here for a few days to do this job. She knew he shouldn’t be here, especially lying on her bed. If anyone knew, then she would be frowned upon for a long time.
“How about you?” Jack propped himself up on his elbow. “Rose Dawson.” He hesitated in saying those words. For a moment, it felt as though she was his wife. It felt so natural to say the words, as if she had been there the entire time.
A serious look fell over her face as she realized he knew that she had taken his name. “I lived in New York for a few months, but then I went to Santa Monica. I lived there for two years.”
Jack’s smile disappeared. She had lived out their plans alone? He felt as though he had let her down. If only he had searched on the list for a Rose Dawson. Looking back now, it seemed so obvious. “Oh, Rose,” was all he could manage.
“I loved it out there. I imagined how life would have been if we had married, maybe even had children.” She avoided eye contact with him, not knowing what he thought of her. “I took your name because I never wanted to be found by my mother or Cal,” she told him truthfully. “I felt as though I wasn’t Rose DeWitt Bukater anymore.” She flinched, having not said that surname for many years. It felt as though that Rose had never existed.
“That’s why I could never find you on the list, isn’t it?” He asked the question mostly to himself. Endless times he had scanned the list of survivors. He had seen Ruth’s name, and Cal’s, but never Rose’s. He thought that if she had survived that maybe she would have found her mother, but she never did. All of the familiar pain he had felt for eight years was stronger than ever, knowing that she had lived out the dreams they both had alone.
She nodded in answer to his question. “I came out here and started doing plays and such,” she told him. “Acting took away the pain for a while.”
“I know that feeling.” Jack reached down the side of his bed and pulled out a portfolio of his work. “Art was all I had when I lost you.” They were lost in each other’s faces for a moment, remembering the first time they had looked through Jack’s work together. The whole thing felt surreal, like a déjà vu. Rose opened the portfolio of sketches.
She came across sketches of Santa Monica, of Rose, and some of them together. “I created this world in my head that we had both been in and lived in together.” He laughed at himself, realizing how he sounded like he was insane. He remembered how he had pictured their lives to be, everything from how their children would look to the small but pretty house they would have lived in. She had lived on within him and given him a reason to live, especially during the war.
She reached for his hand and felt him shake, knowing that he, too, was still reeling from the events of the day before. It was still almost unreal to them both to be lying there side by side.
“I was in the lifeboat, Jack,” she whispered. “I was right there next to you, but yet we never found each other.” She felt so much pain in her body, knowing that if only they had looked harder, they would have found each other. They could have lived out their lives together.
“After I lost you under the water…” Jack closed his eyes, the memories still haunting him even after fighting in the war. “I kicked for the surface…I searched everywhere for you until I had no energy left, until I thought I had died.”
Rose pulled away from Jack and touched his face, as if making sure that he was there. “I thought you were dead,” she repeated, throwing herself at his chest.
He kissed her hair gently. Jack knew they had to figure something out. What were they going to do? Could they carry on with their lives as normal, knowing that the other was alive and well?
“Rose, listen to me. I’m not dead. I am right here.” Rose went to say something. Her mouth opened, but Jack hushed her gently by putting his index finger over her lips.
Rose took both of Jack’s hands and squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, tears went running down her cheeks. “I thought I had seen a ghost yesterday.” She laughed at her own idiocy.
“I saw you and I thought…” He smiled, touching her face. “My God, she is more beautiful than I remembered.” Rose’s stomach churned with nerves. She hadn’t expected him to say anything so lovely. “And I knew that you would live out your dream, Rose.”
Rose looked through her hazy eyes. She touched his face, remembering just how handsome he was. How much of an inspiration he had been to her and how she had to thank him for saving her life so many years ago. She studied his face. He wasn’t so different. His hair had grown darker over the years and, of course, it was shorter. He had a few fine lines around his eyes and he had lost a little of his boyish face. She knew then that she could just stare at his face intently for the rest of her life. She touched his fingers, their touch still roughened from his work, but yet so soft. They always managed to cause her skin to tingle.
“I want to see you perform.” Jack tucked a curl behind her ear, breaking Rose’s concentration. “When do you start shooting?”
“Three days.” Rose spoke quietly. She wondered when Jack would have to go. She was expecting him to leave right after the photo shoot. Jack nodded before laying his head down next to her. He knew he had to see her as much as he could before then.
“You will do brilliantly, Rose. I know that much.” He closed his eyes, picturing her on the Titanic, how passionately she had spoken about wanting to become a moving picture actress.
“But you have such a talent, Jack. I have nothing, even now. I love to act, but I think it’s a way to escape my own life.” She had felt lonely these past eight years, but she had lived out the life she and Jack would have had together. In the water, Jack had made her promise to go on and find a suitable man to marry and have children with, but she could never bring herself to even date a man, never mind marry one. That would be harder now, knowing that Jack was alive.