Rose had made up her mind. She was finally here, the place where it all started, and ended all in one night. She was going to let go, it was finally time. It was late, dark, the sky was the same way it was that cold April night decades ago; deep blue marked by sparkling silver stars that where the only way of seeing when the sky ended and the ocean began. Everything was so similar, yet so different. She was on a ship, one smaller, but strangely safer. She was alone, but she was also comfortable with herself and her life.
Telling her story that afternoon had to put it simply, wiped her out. She was exhausted emotionally and physically. But she also felt cleansed, renewed, while at the same time feeling sad, seeing all those faces from years and years ago. The faces, voices, and memories were as fresh as they had just happened, and sometimes it seemed they had just happened, despite how much she has done since April 14th 1912.
The faces flashed in her mind as made up her mind, leaving her stateroom, barely a closet compared to the last ship she was on in these waters. Rose made her way to the back of the ship, reminiscent of another night all those decades ago, when she thought she had to end it all at 17.
She remembered all the faces and the incredible memories, the ceili dance below decks, dinner with Jack, the Renault.
Faces flashed before her eyes. Jack's friend Fabrizio's handsome dark eyes, hair, and skin passed by. She realized that she didn't even know what became of him. She remembered the beautiful young Norwegian girl Helga, who she barely knew and last saw falling to her death. Rose remembered the handsome and kind Mr. Andrews, how calm and at the same time sad he seemed that night. The life jacket he gave her saved her life, and she never forgot it.
Other faces flashed through the depths of her mind as she approached the railing of the ship, and put her worn hands on the top railing. She recalled the face of Mr. Smith, the captain that she had spoken to but once. His white beard, patriarchal like handsomeness and gentle demeanor were etched in her mind. She also didn't know what ever happened to him. The last she saw was him on the boat deck, trying to keep order, probably to his end. She couldn't imagine what was going through his had that night. That is why he had always drawn sympathy from her, despite the fact that only a few passing words went between them.
Climbing up the railing on the rear of the ship wasn't as easy as it used to be. She was old, she knew it. She felt it everyday in her bones, her heart, and her mind. She opened her palm slowly, revealing an 84 year old secret. The blue diamond seemed to glow in the dark; the stars and the sea were reflected in its light blue embrace. She smiled, she thought of a final face from this place. Jack, Jack Dawson The striking man, not much more than a boy who fate had put on the rear of the ship that cold night. The young man who god had taken away, along with almost 1500 others that night. He was but one face out of thousands, but it was one that stuck with her as she took a last look at the diamond. She dropped it; it fell quickly, sinking back to its home. She didn't see it fall, she saw Jack drifting away as he did on that night in the icy water. The diamond was on a long two mile descent to a home in the cold depths of the Atlantic when she gave a last look at the sky. It was a beautiful thing, a beauty only matched by that of the sea. The wind tossed her snow-white hair around, much like it tossed her thin veil of a nightgown around as she headed back to the stateroom.
She ran her hand over her pictures. Her first time horse riding 80 or so years ago, her first flight in an airplane, her favorite roller-coaster, and a picture from her acting days. Each picture a precious treasure, as much of a treasure as the faces and memories in her mind. It was quiet as she slipped between the warm, soft sheets of her bed. Mostly everyone else was asleep, or well on their way. They had dreams of her story, the people and emotions she put with the wreck two miles below them. She decided it was time. She fell asleep quickly, she felt herself drifting, almost flying out of herself. She left the Keldysh behind. She seemed to be floating, floating back to Titanic. She flew by the submersibles as they rose towards the surface, man's devices were still so clumsy and slow. She went over the dark rusted bow; she could feel the wind on her face. It was as fresh as it was at sunset on April 14th 1912, the last time many people including Jack, Fabrizio, Captain Smith, and Mr. Andrews saw the light of the sun.
She swooped and dove over the wreck heading for the exquisitely carved and detailed grand staircase. It changed gradually as she approached. Rust receded and was replaced by paint, years fled. The renewal of the ship went faster and faster. Wood paneling reappeared on the promenade. Milky ethereal light shone on the fresh paint and deck chairs as she rounded a corner. By now everything was back to life, it was April 1912 again. The doorman, the same one from her memory opened the door for her. She couldn't believe her eyes. They were all here, everyone. Both levels of the staircase were covered with people, all of them familiar faces. She made her way forward; she seemed to be magnetically drawn towards the young man standing at the clock, his back towards her. She looked down at herself, she saw and felt a 17 year old body, full of life, potential and vitality. It was covered by a gorgeous red and black beaded dress, identical to one she owned a lifetime ago. People gave bows and smiles as she walked by. The band-members, Tommy Ryan, Fabrizio, and Mr. Andrews all gave her a warm welcome as she approached the stairs.