TITANIC: A STORY TOLD
Chapter Thirty-Two
Painted with orange light, Jack and Rose
leaned on the A-deck rail aft, shoulder to shoulder. The ship’s lights came on.
It was a magical moment...perfect.
"So then what, Mr. Wandering Jack?"
"Well, then logging got to be too much
like work, so I went down to Los Angeles to the pier in Santa Monica. That’s a
swell place, they even have a roller coaster. I sketched portraits there for
ten cents a piece."
"A whole ten cents?!"
Jack didn’t get it. "Yeah, it was great
money...I could make a dollar a day, sometimes. But only in summer. When it got
cold, I decided to go to Paris and see what the real artists were doing."
Rose looked at the dusk sky. "Why can’t
I be like you, Jack? Just head out for the horizon whenever I feel like
it." She turned to him. "Say we’ll go there, sometime...to that
pier...even if we only ever just talk about it."
"All right, we’re going. We’ll drink
cheap beer and go on the roller coaster until we throw up and we’ll ride horses
on the beach...right in the surf...but you have to ride like a cowboy, none of
that side-saddle stuff."
"You mean one leg on each side?
Scandalous! Can you show me?"
"Sure. If you like."
Rose smiled at him. "I think I
would." She looked at the horizon. "And teach me to spit, too. Like a
man. Why should only men be able to spit? It’s unfair."
"They didn’t teach you that in finishing
school? Here, it’s easy. Watch closely."
He spat. It arced out over the water.
"Your turn."
Rose screwed up her mouth and spat, a
pathetic little bit of foamy spittle which mostly ran down her chin before
falling off into the water.
"Nope, that was pitiful. Here, like
this...you hawk it down...HHHNNNK...then roll it on your tongue, up to the
front, like thith, then a big breath and PLOOW!! You see the range on that
thing?"
She went through the steps. Hawked it down,
etc. He coached her through it while doing the steps himself. She let fly. So
did he. Two comets of gob flew out over the water.
"That was great!"
Rose turned to him, her face alight.
Suddenly, she blanched. He saw her expression and turned.
Ruth, the Countess of Rothes, and Molly Brown
had been watching them hawking lugees. Rose became instantly composed.
"Mother, may I introduce Jack
Dawson."
"Charmed, I’m sure."
Jack had a little spit running down his chin.
He didn’t know it. Molly Brown was grinning. As Rose proceeded with the
introductions, Molly pointed it out to Jack.
The others were gracious and curious about
the man who’d saved Rose’s life. But her mother looked at him like an insect. A
dangerous insect which must be squashed quickly.
"Well, Jack, it sounds like you’re a
good man to have around in a sticky spot--"
They all jumped as a bugler sounded the meal
call right behind them.
"Why do they insist on announcing dinner
like a damn cavalry charge?"
"Shall we go dress, Mother?" Rose
looked at Jack over her shoulder. "See you at dinner, Jack."
As they walked away, Ruth scolded,
"Rose, look at you...out in the sun with no hat. Honestly!"
The Countess left with Ruth and Rose, leaving
Jack and Molly alone on deck.
"Son, do you have the slightest
comprehension of what you’re doing?"
"Not really."
"Well, you’re about to go into the snake
pit. I hope you’re ready. What are you planning to wear?"
Jack looked down at his clothes, then back up
at her. He hadn’t thought about that.
"I figured."