THE TIME BEFORE THE LONG DECK CONVERSATION
Written by Doug Kuhlman
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.

As Jack finished his uncommonly good lunch, he wondered how he would spend the afternoon. Usually, he didn't plan even that far in advance, but he had a nagging feeling there was some promise he had to fulfill. He couldn't remember what it was, though.

He gave up his mental search when he heard the laughter around him. Fabri had been telling his favorite joke. Jack had found it funny the first twenty times, but he was quite sick of it by now. Still, he chuckled along with the other listeners. Someone turned to him and said in broken English through a thick accent that Jack couldn't place, "OK, we all tell joke. You tell now."

The pecking order among Jack's friends was often determined by how well they could tell a joke. He knew this was an important ritual in his life. Normally, he was very adept at joke telling, at riddles, and at games of all sorts. Today, though, his wit seemed just a bit off, a bit sluggish, perhaps caused by the previous night's drama. He quickly racked his brain for a suitable topic.

He was very disappointed with the story he finally dredged up, but at least it was something of his own invention. Something about the previous night and being near (and yet so far from) all the wealth around him made Jack remember this particular story.

"OK, there's this guy crawling through the Sahara desert when he sees another man riding up on a camel. When the rider gets close enough, the crawling guy whispers through his dry, cracked lips, 'Water...please...can you give...water...'" Jack's voice rasped rather authentically. He'd been in a similar situation before.

"'I'm sorry,' replies the man on the camel, 'I don't have any water with me. But I'd be delighted to sell you a necktie.' 'Tie?' whispers the man amazed. 'I need water.' 'They're only four dollars apiece.' 'I need water.' You can see the seller is getting a little frustrated by the crawling man's insistence on water, but he's feeling generous in his own mind, so he makes an offer. 'Okay, okay, say two for seven dollars.' But the man, starting to get delirious replies, 'Please! I need water!'"

"'I don't have any water, all I have are ties,' replies the salesman, and he heads disgustedly off into the distance. The crawling guy, losing track of time, crawls for what seems like days. Finally, nearly dead, sun-blind and with his skin peeling and blistering, the poor guy sees a restaurant in the distance." Jack started speaking very dramatically and slowly. "Summoning the last of his strength, he staggers up to the door and challenges the headwaiter. 'Water...can I get...water?' the dying man manages to stammer."

"The maitre d' looks at him in disgust and says. 'I'm sorry, sir, ties ARE required.'"

Despite his misgivings, the story proved popular. After a brief round of laughter, he was clapped on the back. "You're all right," the man exclaimed. "Want to join us for some poker after lunch?"

Jack was just about ready to agree when he saw Bert and Cora Cartmell weaving their way through the crowd toward him. The words of agreement died on his lips. He changed them to, "Sorry, guys. I can't right now. I made a promise and now I've got a pretty lady waiting for me." The last sentence was said just loud enough that Cora could hear it. She beamed with appreciation at the compliment.

Jack left the dishes and his cronies at the table and followed a few steps behind the Cartmells. They wound through the bowels of the ship, finally arriving in a large commons, filled with a potpourri of people.

The boisterous room played a symphony in Jack's ears. As he relaxed with Cora on his lap, he listened to the drumbeat of the boys' shoes as they tried to "whomp some rats." The dozens of languages joined together to form a sweet cacophony that no other sound could mimic. He truly felt in his element.

Cora looked up at him sweetly. "What should I draw for you?" Part of a deal he'd made with her the day before was that she had to draw a picture for him. Her father sat nearby, watching over Cora with her new friend. It wasn't precisely distrust that Jack saw in his face, more of a wary watchfulness.

As Jack pondered his answer, a new sound swelled through the symphony. An old piano had been brought to life by the talented hands of Tommy Ryan, playing some Irish tune that seemed innocuous but somehow managed to capture the mood of the crowd quite well. An infant, disturbed by the new sound, added his wailing to the noise.

Through the distractions, Jack saw a pair of men quietly playing a game of checkers or chess on a square table. He pointed them out to Cora. "Why don't you draw those two for me?" Their slow, steady movements would not be too much of a distraction and their hats and beards would make their faces easier to draw.

She screwed up her face at him. "Hmm...that'll be hard, but I'll try. Will you help me if I need it?"

"Sure."

As Cora began to draw (with his largest, thickest charcoal piece only), Jack focused on the conversation of Fabrizio with a young Norwegian girl.

"Hi," Fabrizio began, without even a hint of fear. Jack could remember a time not too long ago when Fabrizio was afraid to even talk about a pretty woman with him. Now...well, now, he was almost as big a flirt as Jack was.

The girl smiled back at his friend shyly. "Hi."

Taking this as a good sign, Fabrizio continued gaily. "I'm Fabrizio. I'm from Italy and I go to America."

Jack recognized the look that flashed through her eyes. She didn't speak English and had no clue what Fabri had just said. Jack thought the chasm separating the two immigrants almost as impassable as the one dividing him from Rose.

He thought again of the way she had looked last night, especially the way she had begged him with her eyes not to tell the truth. He'd been happy to lie for her, but he wondered what had made her so sad. From his viewpoint, she would have a pretty danged good life, never wondering where the next meal was coming from or where she would have to sleep that night.

Cora's tug on his shirt brought him back to the present. She'd finished her "drawing" and Jack looked at it with curiosity. He'd always been drawn to children. Their open exuberance for life and genuineness had been a consistent source of inspiration for his life. They, in turn, had been drawn to him as a kindred spirit. So, he had a pretty good idea of what to expect.

However, the actual picture surprised him quite a bit. Cora had a bit of flair for exaggeration and had drawn a caricature of the two gentlemen that was startlingly good. Unlike most caricatures, though, the actual faces were minimized and the clothing took priority. Their black jackets were like midnight and his pencil was noticeably smaller. Each man was shrouded in shafts of smoke shooting the other man. Jack giggled a little to judge her reaction. It was positive, so he gave a good laugh. "That's a pretty fair trade we made. If you keep at it, maybe you can be an artist someday too! Would you like that?"

Cora shook her head. "No," she shouted over the crescendoing drum roll of the rat-whompers approaching their part of the ship. "I'm going to be a teacher, like my mom."

Jack nodded in agreement. "That sounds pretty good. But can we try drawing some faces together?" This was a game he had invented a while ago that always was a big hit. "You pick eyes from one person, nose from another, mouth from a different one, hair, etc. Then I'll draw all those features in one face. Then you can do the clothes. Would you like that?"

Cora didn't look too sure, but she agreed to it--on one condition. "Well, OK, but only if you dance with me at the party tonight."

Jack stole a glance at Cora's father, who provided the details. "The main cargo hold. Eight o'clock. I thought everyone knew. You're welcome to come and to dance with my daughter."

Jack had heard about it, but he wanted to make sure it was the same party. The excitement of going to America for the immigrants had caused a number of celebrations to be planned or to spontaneously erupt. He nodded thanks to Bert and smiled winsomely at Cora. "It would be my pleasure to dance with you."

She smiled. "OK, then. Draw his nose, her lips, his teeth, his hair, and her eyes," she said pointing to a number of individuals in the crowd that she had picked out while the adults had talked. Jack started drawing. He had to focus completely on the specific trait of each person and that part of his drawing. Otherwise, it wouldn't turn out.

He'd only completed the hair, the eyes, and the nose when Cora started giggling. A few more strokes to add the mouth region and Cora was laughing openly. A couple of other people turned to see the cause of her amusement and started chuckling too. After Jack finished the face, he looked at it, too. It was pretty good, but it wasn't serious art. At least, it wasn't to him.

Somebody wanted to show it around, but Jack insisted that Cora be allowed to add some clothes to complete the look. She drew a funny hat and gave the person three arms. Then they passed their drawing around to boisterous laughter.

It was so popular that the unlikely duo was pressed to do a few more. They were making a nickel each for the drawings, which had Cora pretty excited. They both laughed as they worked, enjoying the sight of the funny faces coming together. Jack was just finishing his part of the last one, when he heard Fabrizio's slightly frustrated trumpet break through the din. "No Italian? Some little English?"

Evidently, he was working on the "If they don't understand, just say it louder" theory. The buzz of the other conversations changed pitch with the interruption but continued unabated. It was almost as if someone had struck a tuning fork and everyone was tuning their instruments to that pitch.

Jack struggled to hear the answer. "No, no. Norwegian. Only." It looked like Fabrizio wasn't making any headway.

The conversations, so synchronized only moments early, suddenly began to dissolve. The conductor had entered the hall and everyone stopped their dissonant warm-up, waiting for the cue to begin practice.

Seeking the cause of the disruption, Jack followed Fabrizio's gaze to see a princess in yellow descending the stairs to the common area. As Rose continued to hesitantly step down into the third-class area, the silence grew to encompass the entire room.

Jack was so intently staring at her that he missed the variety of reactions his fellow passengers were exhibiting. Some were impressed, many were simply confused, and others seemed annoyed or angered. Rose's eyes swept past them, searching for something.

When Rose's eyes caught Jack's face, her slow walk paused. She examined him from a distance, trying to match the face she'd seen the night before. Jack nodded almost imperceptibly and without fully realizing it.

Her doubts assuaged, Rose strode purposely, albeit self-consciously, through the still throng toward Jack. He smiled and started to rise to meet her, nearly dumping Cora onto the floor. She was still sitting on his lap and he'd completely forgotten about her. Now, she wobbled on the floor, regaining her balance. Jack apologized quickly. "Sorry."

Rose passed between two benches and hundreds of eyes to stand in front of Jack, who had now risen to his feet and gathered some of his scattered wits. Her words, "Hello, Mr. Dawson," seemed to be a signal to everyone to breathe again. Jack missed the priceless reactions of his two friends, who seemed to be in danger of having antelopes ride into their gaping mouths.

"Hello again," was what he said, but his mind was awash with questions he couldn't ask. "Why are you here? What do you want? How did you find me? Are you OK?" He swallowed to try to calm himself. He felt like he was on stage, with every eye trained on him.

Rose, too, seemed all-too-aware of the situation. She addressed it matter-of-factly with, "Could I speak to you in private?"

Jack was more than willing to leave the confines of the room. "Uh, yes. Of course. After you." He motioned her back toward the steps and the exit. As she turned to leave, Jack quickly gathered his wits and his few precious possessions, his portfolio and pencils, and rose to follow her.

The spell of the conductor's wand still seemed to hold the rest of the people in the room, with the shoes quieted, the conversations stilled, the piano unused. As Jack climbed the stairs after Rose, he couldn't resist a quick glance back over his shoulder. He raised one eyebrow in a "well, what do you know" manner, passed Rose on the other side of the rail, and opened the door courteously for her.

As they passed out into the open air, they left behind nothing but stunned silence.

The End.

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