HOW I FOUND MY LOVE...JACK DAWSON: IN ROSE'S EYES ONLY
Chapter One
April 10, 1912
My name is Rose DeWitt Bukater.
This is a story of my life. Let's start off
on April 10, 1912.
As I started to change for the day, I stood
there looking at my big new wardrobe from Paris. I found my choice, the one
that was black with the ruffles. As I stood there getting my dress on, Cal, my
soon to be husband, came in, staring at me, and then said, "Good heavens,
Rose. What are you wearing?"
As I stood there, I looked at him and finally
said, "Black."
"Go change, Rose. I pulled every string
I could to book us on the grandest ship in history, and you act as if you are
going to your execution."
I looked at him, saying, "It does not
seem very glorious to me," and went back to my room to change. Frustrated,
I called for my maid, Trudy. "Trudy, will you please come here?"
As she came in, she said, "Yes,
miss?"
"I need your opinion. Which one should I
wear?"
She pointed to the one that was brown. One in
the way back, which was covered with moth nibbles. "I’m not sure, miss. I
am not good at picking out clothes," she said, shyly.
"Thank you for your help, but I think I
can manage. That will be all."
She curtseyed, and said, "Yes,
miss."
As I stood there, I finally looked at my
selection.
Then, I saw the one that was a white dress
with stripes.
That would be the one, I thought.
When I finally got dressed, Cal came knocking
at my door. "Sweetpea, are you ready?"
Sweetpea, how I hated that nickname. But
kindly, I said, "Yes, dear, I am."
"Good, we should be thinking about
getting in the cars." I grabbed my hat and my parasol. When I left my room,
there he was. Spicer Lovejoy. I really did not like him that much. The only
reason why we had Lovejoy is because Cal’s father wanted him to stay out of
trouble.
"Good morning, Miss Rose."
I gave him a cheesy smile, and said,
"Good morning, Lovejoy."
As we left, the only thing I could think of
was all those rich people and parties I would know that I would meet the whole
time that I was on a slave ship, and inside I was screaming.
When we finally got there, the only thing I
could see was people, lots of people. The car stopped, and the driver came and
gave me his hand for balance. As I stepped out of the car and looked at the
ship, I thought to myself, this is what we came here for? I looked at Cal, and
said, "I don't see what all the fuss is about. It is no bigger that the
Mauritania."
"You can be blasé about some things
Rose, but not about Titanic. It's a hundred feet longer than the Mauritania,
and far more luxurious. It has squash quarts, a Parisian cafe..." He
turned around to give my mother balance, and said, "Your daughter is too difficult
to impress, Ruth."
Mother laughed at Cal’s jokes all the time,
and only for one reason...the money. "So this is the ship they say is
unsinkable."
"It is unsinkable. God himself can not
sink this ship."
As I looked at the ship, the only thing that I
could think of was Cal showing me off like I was a piece of meat, a fine piece
of meat. As we came up to the ramp, Cal and I interlocked arms to make sure for
everyone to know that we were a couple, and we stepped in. Then, an officer
asked us if he could have our names. Before I could even say a word, Cal
immediately said, "Hockley, and DeWitt Bukater."
"Ah, yes. B-52, 54, and 56. To get
there, you will need to take the lift to B Deck. Go through those doors, and
you will be there in no time," said the officer.
"Thank you," Cal said, and led the
way. We went through the doors, and took the lift. We then went through glass
doors that had gentlemen opening them.
"Welcome aboard, miss," the
gentlemen said.
When we got there, Cal led us through the
corridors. "Ah, yes, here we are. Rose, this is yours, and Ruth, you are
over here." He gave me my key, and as I opened the door, fumes of fresh
paint came bursting out. I went into the bedroom and laid my belongings down on
the bed.
The first thing that came into my room was my
paintings. "Trudy," I said, smiling.
Trudy came in, and said, "Yes,
miss?"
"The paintings arrived. Would you help
me place my paintings out?" I asked with happiness.
"Yes, miss," Trudy said, smiling.
"Wonderful. Thank you," I said, and
I started to grab some of the paintings out.
"Would you like them all out,
miss?" Trudy asked, taking one out.
"Yes, we need a little color in this
room," I said, looking at one of my favorites.
"Oh no, not your finger paintings again.
They sure were a waste of money." And there was Cal, leaning against my
doorway with a bottle of champagne in one hand, and two crystal glasses in the
other.
"The difference between Cal’s taste and
mine is that I have some. They're fascinating. It's like in a dream. There is
truth but no logic," I told Trudy, looking at the same one.
"What is the artist name again
miss?" Trudy asked.
"Something Picasso," I said.
Cal barely spit his drink, and said,
"Something Picasso? They won’t mean up to a thing, they won’t, trust
me."
As Trudy looked around, she said, "It
smells so brand new. Like they built it all just for us. I mean...just to think
that tonight, when I crawl between the sheets, I’ll be the first--" As she
saw Cal come closer, she blushed and walked away as if she was actually scared
of him.
Cal looked at me, whispering in my ear,
"And when I crawl between the sheets tonight I'll be the first. The first
and only forever." Handing me a glass with champagne in it. "You
better get dressed. It is almost time for dinner." He kissed me on the
cheek, and went to his room. When he left, I wiped it off.