THE ARTIST
Written by Maru
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.

Rose was walking down one of Santa Monica’s busiest streets. It was lined with small markets, so it was common to see women doing their shopping. There was a small bookstore, too, but no one cared about it.

However, this day was different. Rose saw a commotion and thought it came from one of the markets, so she was shocked when she saw that the bookstore was crowded with women.

"What’s going on?" she asked one of them when she was able to enter the small shop.

"Have you heard of Jack Calvert? No? He is a great artist--very good. You should see his drawings. Anyway…he wrote a book recently. People say it is terrific, and today it arrived here, so we are here to buy it," the woman said. "Oh, you should see him. He’s even handsomer than his drawings…"

Rose said thank you to the woman and walked outside. She started to think about this Jack Calvert. She had been shocked when she heard that there was a new artist that she didn’t know existed. She had always loved art. She used to know almost everything about artists, but now…how come she didn’t know there was an artist named Jack Calvert, who everyone seemed to love?

There was a simple answer to that--the name. Jack…

It had been more than two years since the Titanic disaster. Rose had moved on. She had left New York and moved to Santa Monica, where Jack had promised to take her. She had also changed her name to Rose Dawson so no one could find her. In fact, a few days after the Carpathia reached its New York port, almost all the newspapers said that Caledon Hockley’s young fiancée had died on the tragic night of April fifteenth. She had a decent job as a waitress in a bar, but she saved everything she could to go to Hollywood to try to make it as an actress.

On the outside, Rose was a normal middle class woman. None of her neighbors knew that she still cried herself to sleep every night. The truth was that she couldn’t even hear about someone named Jack without wanting to cry.

She arrived at her apartment, still thinking about the man she had once loved. A woman’s voice brought her back to reality.

"Rose, is that you?" It was Mrs. Bloom, one of her neighbors. "Come here. I want to show you something," she said, pushing the younger woman into her apartment. "I heard you love art, don’t you? Take a look at this. What do you think?"

The drawing she was being shown was indeed exquisite. It reminded her of something, but she couldn’t quite place it anywhere. It was a landscape--just a landscape. It showed the Statue of Liberty from an odd angle, so it was probably drawn from a ship.

"What do you think?" the older woman asked again.

"Well, I think it’s great…who’s the artist?"

"Jack Calvert. Have you ever heard of him? I suppose not. He’s quite new. He hasn’t been in this business for more than two years. His drawings are very expensive. My son sent this to me from New York for my birthday. Isn’t he wonderful? Rose, are you all right?"

"Yes, I’m all right. I am just shocked. I can’t believe I hadn’t heard of him until today!"

"Ah-ha. He has a new book, too. Have you heard about it? They say it’s not perfectly written, but the story is heartbreaking. I bought it, so I’ll lend it to you once I finish."

They said good-bye to each other, and Rose returned to her apartment, thinking about this famous Jack Calvert. That drawing…there was something strange about it, but what was it? Was it what it showed? She had seen the exact angle of the statue when coming in on the Carpathia. But that wasn’t strange. Dozens of ships arrived every day in New York, and the people on all of them could see the statue from this artist’s point of view. What was it, then? She hadn’t seen another drawing by this man, had she? No. Since the sinking, she hadn’t cared about most of the things she used to love. Art had disappeared from her mind.

She decided to do the same with this artist--put him out of her mind. The drawing was good, but so were many drawings. There wasn’t anything special about this Jack Calvert.

*****

"Here’s the book," Mrs. Bloom said one morning.

It took Rose several minutes to understand what book her neighbor was referring to. She had been dreaming about Jack when some knocks on her door had awakened her.

"What book?" she asked, trying to concentrate on the woman standing in front of her instead of on her lost love.

"The one I promised you. Jack Calvert’s book."

The young woman had almost forgotten about it. It had been two weeks since she had seen the drawing, and she hadn’t thought about it since.

"They were absolutely right. The story…oh, my goodness. You must read it. It brought tears to my eyes. I wonder where he came up with this idea. It isn’t real. It can’t be real! Anyway, read it. You’ll love it…trust me. I must leave now. See you!"

Rose closed the door and looked at the book. She had heard several people talking about it, and all of them had come to the same conclusion--a heartbreaking story. She couldn’t believe a book could give so many people the same feeling. A book that wasn’t even well-written.

She looked at the clock and found that it was eight in the morning. This was her day off from work, and she had planned to sleep until almost noon, but Jack Calvert wouldn’t let her do that.

She decided to read the first few pages, so as not to let down Mrs. Bloom. She sat on her bed and started to read.

Chapter One

A Lucky Hand

John was sitting with his friend, Tony, in a bar near Southampton’s port. There was a big ship ready to leave for America docked nearby. John wished he could be on that ship. He had been born in the United States and wanted to go back home. His friend was Italian, and also wanted to go to the United States. But that was a dream, because they couldn’t afford two tickets, especially on a ship as luxurious as the one they were watching.

Their luck was about to change.

Two men approached John’s table and offered to play a hand of poker. They said they needed cash because they were leaving for America. They accepted and played. Tony bet the few pounds they had saved, and the other two bet the only things they had--their tickets.

She read that John and Tony won and were able to board the ship. Chapter two was called A Vision, and the name of chapter three was The Dinner. In chapter two, John, who seemed to be the lead character, had fallen in love with a first class girl and saved her when she tried to kill herself.

Rose skipped lunch that day. She was so focused on the story that she didn’t care. The last chapter was called The Sinking, and it was heartbreaking. Apparently the ship had sunk. John was able to survive, but the girl, Josephine, had died. The story ended there. It didn’t say what had happened to John, what he did once the ship which had picked him up docked, but Rose had an idea.

That night, she couldn’t sleep. That story was too similar to her own story, but from Jack’s point of view. How could that be? Jack was dead, wasn’t he? Could she be Josephine? No. Josephine died. But she had died, too. The Rose Jack had met was dead. It was confusing--could it be true? Rose decided that she was imagining things, but…it couldn’t be just a coincidence, could it?

*****

Mrs. Bloom had a knack for showing up at the worst moment possible. This time, Rose was opening her apartment door when the old lady almost knocked her down.

"You’ll never guess who’s coming! Oh, my goodness! I’m so excited!"

Rose said she didn’t know and went into her apartment.

"Jack Calvert!"

The younger woman almost fell again.

"Are you sure?" she asked

"Absolutely. By this time next week, he’ll be here. I wonder why he’s coming here. I don’t care. I’ll get him to sign my book. Oh, I think I haven’t been this excited since my son graduated from high school!"

But Rose wasn’t listening anymore. She hadn’t told Mrs. Bloom that she thought she was Josephine. It was just a stupid coincidence. But now that the author was coming…everything was different. She would meet this Jack Calvert and make sure that he wasn’t the same Jack she had known.

The week went by faster than Rose would have liked. According to Mrs. Bloom, Mr. Calvert would arrive on a Monday, but it was Wednesday, and no one had seen him yet. The young woman was starting to believe that it wasn’t true that he would come. She even doubted that he really existed.

That afternoon, she decided to take a walk to the pier. Jack had talked about it, and Rose had found that he was right. She grabbed her coat and left the apartment.

*****

The sun was setting and everyone was hurrying home. Almost everyone. A tall, blond-haired man remained sitting on a bench, watching the sun set over the water. The deep ocean…when he had been a kid, he had loved going with his parents to Santa Monica and swimming in the ocean. But that had changed.

He hated it now. All he had left in the world had been taken away from him by the ocean. It had been more than two years since then, but he still felt miserable. He blamed himself for what had happened. He kept thinking that he could have done something. But what?

He couldn’t steer a ship, and he couldn’t prevent her hitting an iceberg. But he could certainly have done something for Rose. His sweet Rose. Why had she had to die? He remembered the last moments he had with her. The ship was going down and they were on the back of it. Jack had told her to take a deep breath and hold it. He had also told her to hold tightly to his hand. But she hadn’t. Suddenly, Jack hadn’t felt Rose’s hand anymore. He had looked around, but he hadn’t seen her. Finally, he had been able to reach the surface and shout her name, but no one had come. She had died.

Jack stood up and started to walk. He was wearing a hat so no one would recognize him, because he was a famous person, not only for his drawings, but also for his book.

He had never been much of a writer when he was young. He hadn’t liked to read very much. But one day, a year after the sinking, he had taken a pen and started to write. Words had just come to him. It had taken two days to finish the book--only two days. Once it was done, he had read it and discovered that he had written his story. His and Rose’s story.

The book was very successful. Everyone used the same word to describe it--heartbreaking. Jack was happy that people thought it was like that, because he felt that way. Heartbroken. When he had lost Rose, he had felt as if everything was lost. He had even considered the possibility of killing himself, but he had remembered what he had told Rose when she was the one wanting to end her life, and changed his mind.

There were only a few people were left on the pier. Almost everyone was at home, eating dinner with their families. Lucky them, he thought. Unexpectedly, something caught his eye. It was like fire. But it couldn’t be fire--it was moving. What was it? Jack followed with his eyes and found that it was someone’s hair.

He had known only two people who had hair that red. But neither of them could be on that pier this afternoon. Ruth DeWitt Bukater was too rich to be there, and her daughter was too dead. Nevertheless, Jack followed the woman. He had nothing to lose, anyway.

*****

Rose stopped walking and looked into the ocean. She wanted to curse it and make it disappear. It was another ocean, but it was still a great amount of water altogether, and she hated it for that.

Suddenly, she heard someone following her. She walked faster, and so did the person behind her. She was about to turn around and tell him to stop when she realized that maybe it was someone from her past--Lovejoy or Cal, she feared--who had finally found her. She was starting to run when she heard a young woman’s voice. She wasn’t talking to her, but she felt a cold chill down her spine when she heard it.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you Jack Calvert?" she asked the man following Rose.

Jack cursed under his breath. He couldn’t believe his luck. He was about to find out if the woman standing in front of him was Rose, and a girl had to appear. She can’t be more than twenty years old, he thought. She gave him a book and a pen and he signed an autograph. She walked away.

Rose heard her leaving, but didn’t move. So…Jack Calvert was behind her. Did she dare to look? Ever since she had read that book, she had been dreaming that she was Josephine and that Jack was the author of that book. But it was impossible, wasn’t it? There was only one way to find that out. She had to turn around. She took a deep breath and faced the man.

"Mr…Mr. Calvert?" she asked.

Jack was shocked. Didn’t she recognize him? Then he realized that he was still wearing his hat and his face was covered with his coat.

"Well…I suppose you could call me that," he said. He was about to show himself, but thought twice. It was Rose, he was sure, but it had been two years, and he wanted to know what she thought about him.

That voice…Rose knew it so well. No, she was dreaming. That wasn’t Jack. If he were, he would have taken the hat off so she would recognize him.

"Mr. Calvert…I’ve read your book and…and…well…let’s just say it’s incredibly similar to something I’ve been through, and…"

"And you wondered where I got the story from?" Jack finished. "It just came to me. Did you like the story, Miss…?"

"Dawson. Rose Dawson." Jack smiled to himself. "Yes, I liked it very much."

"Thank you. So…did your husband happen to read it?"

"No," she whispered, holding back her tears. What was this man doing? "No. He died."

"Oh. I’m so sorry." Jack was enjoying himself. He knew that Rose would be very angry with him, but he had to know what she had been doing. She had taken his name. That was a good sign.

"Well, Mr Calvert…"

"Jack," he said.

That was too much for her. It was just like Jack--her Jack. But then…she had an idea. It was kind of stupid, but…

"Jack. May I ask you another question? I saw one of your drawings, the one of the Statue of Liberty. And some of the people, the angle of it…I don’t know, everything I guess, reminded me of the time I came to America. Do you think it’s possible that we were on the same ship and missed each other?"

Jack smiled. She knew. She had recognize him, but didn’t want to have false hope.

"Well…I’m sure about that. I guess you were on the Carpathia, weren’t you?"

"I was indeed." Rose would have jumped into Jack’s arms, but she gave it a second thought. It was pretty clear that he had already recognized her, but would rather stick to his game. Well…she was going to do the same. She replied, "Jack…Mr Calvert. That was all I wanted to know. Thank you for your time." She started to walk away.

"Rose, wait!" Jack shouted. He took his hat off and ran to where Rose was, but she ran, too.

For five minutes, they ran along the pier. People looked at them and whispered. Finally, Jack, who was getting tired, said in a loud voice, "Well, I suppose that means you don’t want me anywhere near you, right? Good-bye, Miss Dawson." He turned around and started to count to five under his breath. "One…two…three…four…"

"Don’t you dare do that to me," Rose’s voice said from behind him. "Suddenly, you’re the victim? I don’t think so."

Jack turned around, and said, "Victim? I’m not pretending to be the victim."

"Good."

"Good."

The two of them looked into each other’s eyes, unable to say anything. After a moment, Jack said, "What the hell have we been doing? It’s been two years, and we were playing? What’s wrong with us?"

Rose smiled, and replied, "Well…I believe Mr. Calvert had something to do with it, don’t you?"

He also smiled and got closer to her. He had waited too long.

"Oh, God, I’ve missed you! I thought you were dead! I’m so sorry," he said.

"I thought that, too. I looked all over for you, Jack. I did. I didn’t see your name on the list, so I thought the worst. I feel so stupid. I should never have changed my name."

"No, Rose. It was perfect. You couldn’t keep your name. I should have realized that and checked under another name. I was the stupid one, Rose."

"Let’s just say we were both stupid."

"Fine by me. But it doesn’t matter whose fault it was. We’re together now, and nothing will come between us, right?"

"Right."

They kissed each other, and everything was good again. The ocean, the people, everything. They started to walk to Rose’s apartment.

"Wait until my neighbor sees you," she said. "She won’t believe that my dead husband is the famous Jack Calvert."

"Right…husband. I don’t think it’s good to lie to the neighbors."

"What do you suggest? That I should tell her that we are living in sin?"

"Actually…I was thinking another thing."

"Is this a marriage proposal?" she asked.

"No way." But when he saw her face, he added, "I know women. I know they must have a very romantic proposal and all that. Don’t you deny it. I will ask you to marry me, but not today…just wait."

"So…I was going to invite you to my place, but I guess that it would be wrong, wouldn’t it? You know…neighbors." Jack could hear a little anger in her voice.

"No. I just say that we can’t be seen."

They smiled and went to Rose’s apartment, where no one saw them.

*****

One week later, Jack proposed. He took Rose to the pier one night, and in front of the ocean, he asked her to be his wife with a big diamond ring--he was now almost as rich as Cal. It was very romantic.

A month later, all the newspapers published the news--the great artist Jack Calvert had married Rose Dawson. People all over the United States commented on the event. But Jack and Rose didn’t care. They wanted the whole world to know.

They were married for more than fifty years, until they died. They had four children, two girls and two boys, all of them named after people they knew on the Titanic. The last girl was named Ruth, after her grandmother.

Jack didn’t publish anymore books, but he kept drawing. Rose became a very successful actress and worked in several plays, even after having children. When Rose had to work, he would take the children to watch her.

After they died, they returned to the Titanic, where everybody was waiting for them, and they spent eternity together.

The End.

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