ROMANOV AUTUMN
Chapter Seven
Jack stood on the platform at the
train station, his deep blue eyes focusing on the currently empty tracks. He
couldn’t believe he was finally leaving, finally escaping the place he’d spent
most of his life in. A cool early morning breeze ruffled his blonde hair, but
he didn’t feel chilled at all. He smiled, taking it in, and glanced at the
leather-bound portfolio in his right hand.
Saying good-bye to Olivia was the
most difficult part of leaving, and he remembered their parting vividly.
*****
It was around midnight when
Olivia felt the bed move and opened her eyes slowly. She turned her head and
saw Jack sliding off of the mattress, going for his clothes. "What are you
doing?" she asked in a quiet voice, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
Bright rays of moonlight streamed through the curtains, leaving shadowy ripples
along the floor.
"I’m leaving," Jack
told her, and her mouth hung open.
"Leaving? What—what do you
mean, leaving? You’re running away, aren’t you? Jack, don’t. Don’t go!"
Her eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled. Jack pulled on his pants and
shirt before coming over to her. He sat on her side of the bed, pulling her
into his arms, and smoothed her curls.
"I have to go. This isn’t
the place for me, Olivia. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I have enough
money for a train ticket…I can afford it."
"You can’t just leave
without saying good-bye to Esther! Jack, after all she’s done for us…we could
be in an orphanage right now, and you’re just going to throw it all away!"
She tried to keep her voice as quiet as possible without yelling.
"It’s easier this way,"
Jack told her, shaking his head.
"Where will you go?"
Olivia asked as he began packing a small duffle bag with clothes and special
items he thought were important to take with him.
"California," Jack
replied, pulling the string on the bag to tighten it. "Santa Monica.
That’s where Dad took Mom on their honeymoon, and he said I should try to go
there one day, so I think I will."
"Will I ever see you
again?" Olivia asked, and Jack smiled.
"I don’t doubt it," he
told her.
Olivia pulled her blankets down
and swung her own feet over the edge of the bed. "Let me come with
you," she begged, and Jack shook his head.
"No. Esther needs you."
"And she doesn’t need
you?" Olivia asked, shocked. "Jack, she loves you just as much as she
loves me!"
"I’m too restless to stay in
one place. I have to keep moving."
Olivia stood in the center of the
room, watching as he finished packing, and then she walked towards her bureau.
She opened the top drawer, pulling out one of her several bright-colored hair
ribbons. "Then at least take something to remember me by when you’re
traveling," she whispered, and spritzed a bit of her light-scented
perfume. "Here." She brought it to him, tying it around his left
wrist. Jack watched as she did so and felt his heart breaking. Though he knew
sneaking out was wrong, it was something he had to do. He couldn’t avoid it;
the longer he waited, the more angry and frustrated he felt.
"Thanks," he told her,
and gave her another hug. "I love you," he insisted, and she choked
on a sob, her eyes following his figure as he made his way towards the window.
"I…" She swallowed.
"I hope you eventually find what you’re looking for, Jack." She
hurried to lean on the sill once he climbed through the window and watched as
he made his way very carefully to the empty sidewalk below.
*****
A loud train whistle startled
Jack from his thoughts, and he raised his head, blinking at the sight of the
enormous train rolling towards the platform. A second loud whistle, than
another…several people who stood on the platform as well gathered their bags
and prepared to board.
"All aboard!" the
conductor shouted, stepping onto the platform to motion for everyone to enter
the train.
"Good morning," Jack told
the old man, who tipped his hat cheerfully to him. He made his way down the
long aisle, picking a seat by the window. He had absolutely no idea what he
planned to do when he reached California, but he hoped to find something.
He eventually handed his ticket
to the conductor once the train began to move again, and resumed gazing out at
the familiar scenery of Wisconsin. It did make him feel slightly sad as it
whizzed past, but he knew his decision was for the best. Little did he know the
heartbreak Esther truly felt when Olivia told her of his leaving. She and
Olivia dashed to the train station, only to find out that they’d missed him by
two hours.
"He had to go," Olivia
told Esther, watching as the older lady covered her mouth with her gloved hand,
tears flowing down her cheeks. "He wasn’t happy here, but it’s not your
fault." She squeezed her guardian’s arm comfortingly, encouraging her to
follow her back to the apartment.
*****
"Traveling alone, boy?"
Jack jumped at the voice and
turned to see a man sitting next to him. He wore a brown suit with a matching
hat and carried a briefcase.
"Yes, sir," Jack
replied, feeling slightly awkward.
"Which part of California
are you headed for?"
"Santa Monica."
"Nice place. I’m headed to
Los Angeles myself…I’m an agent in the movie business. Charles Atwood." He
extended a hand, which Jack shook firmly, and smiled. "Are you interested
in acting, by any chance? We’re looking for fresh blood."
Jack snorted. "Not really,
sir. I’m sorry. I’m more of an artist."
"That’s a shame. You
certainly have the looks for the screen."
Jack raised his eyes with
surprise. "Thanks…I think." He nodded, starting to turn back towards
the window, but Mr. Atwood pointed at his portfolio.
"Might I see what you’ve
done?"
Jack tightened his grip on the
portfolio, not wanting to trust just anyone too quickly. "I assure you,
I’m as harmless as they come." Mr. Atwood chuckled at Jack’s hesitation,
and at last, Jack slowly handed his artwork to the man. For several minutes,
Mr. Atwood flipped through the numerous drawings, murmuring quietly to himself.
Jack held his breath, fiddling with Olivia’s hair ribbon, and wondered if his
work was really any good, if he stood a chance at becoming an important name.
"These are excellent!"
Mr. Atwood exclaimed, after glancing at the last drawing in the portfolio, and
handed the leather book back. "You know, I had a thought. Even if you
aren’t interested in the acting part of the movie business, you could possibly
help us with set design and such?"
Jack thought for a moment. That
was something he hadn’t considered, and it did sound interesting, certainly.
After a bit of silence, Mr. Atwood pulled a pad from his briefcase and began
scribbling something down on a piece of paper. "This is my name and my
telephone number in case you decide to give the business a try. It’s pretty
tough to make it out there as an artist otherwise. You’re good, no doubt about
that, but there’s always someone better."
Jack sighed, nodding in
understanding. "Thank you," he replied, accepting the paper and
glancing at it before putting it in his pocket. After that, Mr. Atwood buried
himself in his newspaper, leaving Jack to his own devices.
Jack slept most of the first half
of the trip, only waking when supper arrived. He didn’t feel all that hungry,
but slightly guilty more than anything else. Right now, judging by the
darkening sky, Olivia and Esther would be preparing the evening meal together
alone, wondering where he was and how he was. He would write to them as soon as
he arrived in California, and apologize to Esther for having left without
warning.
*****
The train didn’t arrive to Santa
Monica station until late afternoon the following day, and Jack peered through
the window at the station approaching. He checked his pack, counted the money
he’d brought, and sighed. He had just enough to last him a week or more, and in
the cheapest hotel possible. The rest of the money would have to go towards
food and possibly transportation, depending on where he decided to work. After
putting it away, he stood up when the conductor instructed, and followed a
small crowd of passengers to the exit of the train. He stepped onto the
platform, his heart pounding…he was on his own at last!
After walking up the steps and to
the main road, he pulled out the little piece of paper Mr. Atwood had given him
and wet his lips. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to get involved with the acting
business just yet, but it couldn’t hurt, as Mr. Atwood told him, to at least keep
the idea under his belt. He took a deep breath of the salt air and began
strolling down the sidewalk, trying to find a good hotel.
A few seagulls cawed in the
distance, and he turned towards the noise, watching the birds floating
aimlessly through the air. He smiled, listening to the chatter and laughter of
people around him and the sound of the ocean waves crashing along the shore.
He eventually found what seemed
to be a fairly decent hotel and opened the door. A mother with her two children
stood at the front desk, and she was signing a paper and chatting with the
employee. Jack smiled when the mother caught his eye, and he stood waiting
patiently for his turn.
"Hello, dear," the
woman greeted as she walked away from the desk, and the little girl waved her
chubby hand at him. He laughed, waving back, and knelt down.
"What’s your name?" he
asked when the mother paused to laugh at her daughter, also.
"Mollie," she replied
rather shyly, and he shook hands with her.
"What’s that in your
hand?" Mollie asked, noticing the leather folder, and her mother gave her
a warning look.
"Sweetheart, it’s not very
nice to pry into a stranger’s business."
Jack chuckled. "I’m not a
stranger. I’m Jack…Jack Dawson." He proceeded to tell Mollie that the
portfolio he held in his hand was full of sketches.
"Well, I am Sarah
Goodworth." The mother spoke up, shaking hands with him, as well.
"Mollie, perhaps you can see Mr. Dawson’s portfolio if he is indeed coming
to stay here for a few days. We just checked in ourselves."
"Yes, I hope to," Jack
admitted, and Mollie groaned with disappointment at the idea of having to wait.
"Oh, well, I’ll see you
later, then!" she chirped, and Jack waved, making his way towards the
desk. The person sitting behind it was a tall woman with graying hair and a
very wrinkly face.
"May I help you, boy?"
she asked, adjusting her spectacles on her nose.
"Um…yes! I was wondering,
what is the cheapest room you have available?"
The woman peered at him
suspiciously and then began flipping through a large book, licking her finger
as she turned each page. "Well, son, you’re just in luck. I have one more
room available on the third floor, which will cost you twenty-five cents a
night."
Jack reached into his trouser
pocket, checking to see how much money he had left. The train fare from
Wisconsin to California had cost him about eleven dollars, so he had about one
hundred dollars left. He hadn’t been working for the hotel very long, but he
made sure he worked long enough to gather as decent an amount to start him off
on his new adventures as he could. "Could I possibly book the room for
three nights?" he asked, and the hotel owner nodded, accepting the
seventy-five cents he gave her.
"What is your name,
boy?" she asked, taking a pen from its holder and dipping it into an ink
bottle.
"Dawson. Jack Dawson,"
he replied, wetting his lips, and she jotted it down into the book.
"Very well. Here is your
key. The room is simple, containing a bed, a desk, a couple of chairs, and you
will be sharing a public bathroom at the end of the hall."
Jack took the key, and on the
paper read, "314. Thank you, Mrs…"
"Donnelly. Anne
Donnelly."
"Thank you, Mrs.
Donnelly." Jack swung his pack over his shoulder, making his way up the
slightly damaged staircase.
"Mind the staircase, Mr.
Dawson. There’s a broken one about halfway up."
Jack glanced over his shoulder,
giving her a grateful smile, and then kept his focus solely on the steps as he
made his way to his floor. The hallway was narrow and awfully dark, with
scratched wooden floors and a cracked window or two. Jack heard laughter and
the sound of bottles clanging from the room next door to his, and took a deep
breath before sticking the key into the lock.
He pushed open the door, poking
his head inside. The room was tiny and cramped, with a single large window
covered with ugly brown curtains. Jack stepped inside, shutting the door after
him, and shivered as a draft blew through the half-open window.
He set his pack down on the bed,
covered with a brown comforter and white sheets, and sat down on the edge of
it. The desk sat in front of the window, containing an ink well, a pen, and a
candle with a wick. When he glanced to his left, he noticed a beat -p dresser with
a wash bin on top. He certainly preferred Esther’s living arrangements, but
this would have to do until he could afford better.
Jack began to unpack his things,
spreading his few items on the bed. It was just about seven o’clock, and it
would not be worth going out onto the town to explore right then. He would save
his explorations for the daylight hours, in case he got horribly lost. Which,
he thought with a smirk, wasn’t all that ridiculous of a thought.
He pulled a spare piece of sketch
paper from the portfolio and decided to write a letter to Esther and Olivia
once he lit the candle, flooding the room with a soft, orange glow.
August 1, 1898
Esther,
I have arrived safely in Santa
Monica, California. I am so terribly sorry to have left without notice, but the
time had come for me to make my escape, and I could not afford any kind of
barrier. I will be perfectly all right on my own, I assure you, and I do not
think I am the type of person to settle in any one place.
I did, however, want to thank
you for your kind hospitality to Olivia and I--we are most grateful. So far, I
have not found any employment, but I did speak to a man on the train who is an
agent in the film business. He possibly has a job for me to help design sets
for motion pictures, which I may consider one of these days. Right now, I want
to see if I can focus on my art and try to sell a bit of it. I have enough
money from working at the hotel to keep me going for at least a week, and I
have found a suitable hotel to live in until I find something better.
Again, I apologize for not
having told you my plans, but I hope you’ll understand. Olivia will help you in
whatever way she can, and I will one day, possibly, come back to see you both
again.
With all of my love,
Jack
Jack finished the letter, blowing
out his breath, and allowed the ink to dry for a few moments. It was hard to
believe his parents had been dead for a year already—the incident seemed as
though it only happened yesterday.
He felt a single tear roll down
his cheek, watched with a slight pang of irritation as it blotted a spot of ink
on the page, and leaned his chin in his palm. He was sixteen years old, and the
thought of resorting to youthful homesickness was almost humiliating. He’d
brought this on himself, and he would take his decision like the man he had
thought that he was.
He knew he wasn’t perfectly happy
living with Esther, even though he knew he would have been worse off living in
some crowded orphanage. However, he couldn’t help missing the comforts of
having his food, clothing, and shelter that was already provided for him in
Wisconsin.
Oh, get over it, Jack, he thought, finally folding the letter and
stuffing it into an envelope. He scribbled Esther’s address on the front before
deciding to get ready for bed.