While politely refusing the crewman offering his hand, Rose stepped off of the ship and onto solid ground. Sacred ground really, she was in Southampton.
With one piece of luggage in tow, she meandered through the streets. Quietly observant, she looked nothing like a woman with a purpose.
In actuality, she was there for a reason. The purpose of the trip was to uncover anything and everything possible about the mysterious "Jack Dawson." She asked herself if Jack was real, or just a figment of her imagination. She could have easily invented the character. Trapped in an unwanted engagement, Jack was the personification of all that she wanted for herself. She asked herself this constantly during the voyage, always coming to the same conclusion: Jack Dawson was truly there with me, and still is.
She came upon a small boarding house, run by an aged man. He welcomed her in, without any condescending remarks about young ladies traveling alone. She thanked him. He thanked her, after all, she had paid for a week in advance.
Rose sped up the stairs. She sat on the bed, which was little more than a slab of stone beneath a blanket. She took in her surroundings. She had learned to admire all things, savor them while they lasted. She would never take an object or, more importantly, a person for granted.
The room was a wooden box. Dim. Dreary. Plain. Perfect. She couldn't stop the grin that was moving across her face. After relishing the fact that she had paid for it with her own money, she began digging through her bag. One frustrated minute later, she dumped the bag on her bed.
"Where is that perfume?" She quickly realized the importance of traveling with numerous bags, and wouldn't make the mistake of putting enough for three bags into one bag ever again.
Looking radiant, and smelling fabulous, Rose left the boarding house to search for the ghosts of Jack Dawson. She remembered that he had won his ticket playing poker, so she looked in the window of every pub along the road. Nearly every one was hosting a card game of some kind. One pub was especially loud, and drunken men stumbled out onto the street.
This should be an adventure, she thought as she pushed her way in. This pub was directly across from the Titanic's port.
Rose kept her head up and her posture straight as she entered. She ignored the men, some enlivened with her presence, others offended. She went around the people in her way, sliding through the maze of bodies. When she reached an open area, she began asking the men if they had known a Jack Dawson.
With nearly all hope lost, Rose left the pub. Her questions remained unanswered, and she could find nothing to soothe her pain. I'll have to try Paris, she thought. I'll have to go back to Wisconsin, and try harder. She threw open the door to the boarding house, ready for sleep.
But the boarder wanted to talk to her. She agreed, only because she was too tired to put up a fight.
"Rose, I never did properly introduce myself. My name is David Calvert. I'm not married, and I have no children. My nephew is like a son to me though. Come to think of it, he'll be visiting later this week..."
The End.
