Chapter 11

New York

April 18, 1912

It was raining when we reached New York, sometime in the evening. I ran on wobbly legs to catch a glimpse of land and the Statue of Liberty. There was something intriguing, inspiring, about the statue that made me smile.

The rain pattered gently on my head and soaked my hair, making it even frizzier and flatter. It seeped into my clothes and stuck to my skin. Goosebumps formed and I shivered. It reminded me of when Nick pulled me into the pond. But I still didn't take my hazel eyes off of the statue; I was too pleased to see land, to be free.

"Jack told me we'd go to the Santa Monica Pier and ride horses into the sunset, along with many other things. Did you hear him say that to me?"

I nodded and looked at Rose, who was also soaked, her emerald eyes staring at the statue as well, possibly searching for an answer. I could still tell that she was heartbroken and damaged by Jack's death by the way it reflected off her eyes. "He said he would teach you to ride a horse like a man."

"And chew tobacco like a man."

"And spit like a man," I said in a western accent. We both smiled, but refused to laugh; the good memories that took place on the Titanic warmed our hearts.

"I remember seeing you at the steerage party, but it could've just been my imagination. I had too much beer, you see." She smiled, and her eyes glowed at how much fun it was to let go and experience new things.

"Yes, I was there, with my ex-fiancé, Charles. He… perished that night." I looked away from her eyes.

She nodded in understanding. "It's hard to lose, but it makes you stronger. We all learn that the hard way. Remember?"

Silence filled the air after Rose said her wise words about life again, and her gaze left me and went back to the Statue of Liberty.

"What are you going to do now?" I asked her, still not directing my gaze at her.

"What do you mean?"

"It's just you now," I said. "So, what are you going to do?"

Rose didn't respond for a few minutes. Her mind must've been filled with many thoughts and ideas, and she was probably trying to choose the one she wanted to do the most.

"I don't know," she whispered. "I promised I was going to get off the ship with him." She shoved her hands in her coat pockets and refused to make eye contact with anybody, even with my calm, hazel eyes. She looked at the floor and tried to hold in her own tears.

"It's okay," I told her. "I understand, too."

After a few silenced tears escaped her watering eyes, I said, "You're young, and so was he. If he lived, you would've had a long, happy life together. But since he's not, you have to go with it. He doesn't want you to mourn, Rose. Not over him. Live is all you really can do."

She opened her mouth to say something, but a steward came up to them with a black umbrella and a clipboard, and said, "Your names, please?"

"Danielle Fitz," I told him, saying it a little loudly over the pounding rain.

After scribbling my name down, he looked at Rose and said, "And you, miss?"

Rose looked at me, and I looked back. It was hard to tell what she was thinking of.

"Dawson," she finally replied, still looking at me. "Rose Dawson."

The steward nodded, wrote it down, and left. I gave Rose a look of shocked bewilderment. "What did you do that for?" I had to ask.

"I loved… love… him," she replied. "It's the only thing I'll remember him by."

"His last name?"

"And everything he's done and given me." She winked, and we both smiled. "I'm a new woman, Danielle. I'm no longer one of them. I'm one of the world."

"That's sweet," I said. "Really sweet. If he was here right now, he'd be happy."

"Thank you, D-"

She stopped, closed her mouth, and her face crinkled up in confusion. She was moving her hand around in her pocket, and what she pulled out made us both gasp.

It was a beautiful, sapphire-blue diamond in the shape of a heart, surrounded by smaller, white diamonds on a chain. "The Heart of the Ocean," Rose gasped. "But I thought-"

"Keep it," I said. "It's another thing to remember him by. Jack, I mean. Not Cal."

She nodded her head, and smiled as she put the necklace in her palm and felt it in her hand. "I'll never forget his touch," she said, with a slight laugh. "Every second I spent with him made my heart pound, and adrenaline rush."

"Then make sure you remember him that way."

Rose didn't seem to hear me, she was so mesmerized by the diamond. "Goodbye, Rose," I whispered, and I slipped away silently; she didn't seem to notice.

Rose clasped the necklace in her hands, closed her eyes, and said, "I'll never let go, Jack."

...

Reporters, people with cameras and notepads, swarmed around the dock as passengers began to leave the ship. They shot questions at them, hoping they would get answers, but the survivors tended to push them out of their way and continue on. My father, mother, and I made our way through the crowd, and I got to hear most of the reporters funny, bland accents. These were purebred Americans.

Nick with his family were behind us. He caught up with me, held my hand, and helped me through the crowd, yelling back retorts such as "Leave us alone!" and "Back off!"

He's been so sweet to me since the sinking, it almost made me think of the reason why. He was never so nice to me before; he was the one who pulled me into a cold pond when I didn't want to go for a dive.

Once we made it out of the crowd, we all kept walking until we reached the park. One time I tripped, but Nick stopped me by putting his arms around my waist and hoisting me up. "You just need to get rid of your sea legs," he joked, and then he had smiled.

I sat down on a bench I saw, Nick next to me, the parents still standing. "What do we do now?" my mother said. Lucy was sniffing around the new land, stopping every couple of inches to try and find some familiarity to it.

We all stayed silent. There was nothing we can think of to do. We had no belongings, no money. All we had was the clothes on our backs.

"I heard the Madison Hotel downtown is taking survivors in for free," Nick said. The way we were survivors sent a shiver down my body, which caused Nick to put his coat around me. I blushed a deep crimson.

The parents looked at each other, but didn't say a word. "That's our only choice," Mrs. Anderson finally said. So Nick and I got up and followed the parents as we made our way through the unfamiliar city.

"What do you think of New York so far?" Nick asked me, his eyes wandering to the scene. I looked around, too.

"Strange," was all I said. There was no other word to describe it.

"On what I've studied, Broadway is around here somewhere. How about we go catch a show sometime?"

I nodded. "That sounds great." I finally began to feel homesick again, for Jenny, Southampton, and home. Everything that happened during this whole journey was forced and rushed on me so fast, I didn't know what to believe. Was I really in love? Did he ever really care for me? Was she really my best friend?…

"What are we going to do?" Mother complained. "How will we earn the money to get the kids going to school again? How can we afford that and a new place?"

"Calm down, my dear," Father said. "Luckily, I sent a large portion of money to a bank in New York City. The Andersons did so, too. We can send the kids to school, but we'll have to save up for a place."

I couldn't believe my father trusted ships and people so much to send a whole stack of dollars to America without knowing who was taking it or what might happen. I didn't say a word, though. I felt very shy in this new city, and I barely had the courage to speak. I imagined how school was going to be.

"You'll be fine," Nick reassured me. "The Americans are a kind, generous lot."

I tried to think positively, but it didn't work. My mind could no longer trust people.

"Ah, perfect," Father said as we stepped into our hotel room. It was a little small, with two beds, a dresser, wardrobe, and vanity. The bathroom was posh with a sink and a bathtub. All was well in this room. There was nothing to unpack, nothing to put down or carry, and a awkward silence filled the air as the Fitz family stood and stared at each other.

"The best thing to do now, Sarah," my father said to Mother, "is go enroll the kids in a school. We can do the shopping later."

Mother just nodded her head, and Father then turned to me. "You and Nick, you two can explore the city if you want. Just don't get lost."

I had no words to say.

...

"Have you heard how these people talk?" Nick said as we roamed the streets of New York. "It's as though someone has ripped out their tonsils or something."

"Tonsils don't affect how you talk," I told him. He just rolled his eyes and said, "Whatever, but something's been ripped out of their throats. That's what they sound like."

We had stopped and looked through stores, and avoided nasty merchants who wouldn't leave us alone unless we bought something. One time, a man stopped us on the street and tried to sell me some perfume, (he even sprayed it on me, causing me to sneeze), but Nick took a firm hold of my shoulders and pulled me away, saying how we had no money.

Oh, how much we wanted to yell in people's faces that we just survived a terrible tragedy and to just leave us alone. It was as though the reporters could sniff out our salt water-smelling clothing, and then raid us with questions. The stores weren't any better. No matter how many times we told a clerk we were just looking and had no money, the more persistent they got. We ended up just roaming the streets and parks, avoiding all stores.

"You never said the Americans were so pushy," I said, after remembering the previous events.

"I just go with what people tell me."

"I wouldn't trust them."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't trust people."

And we ended our conversation with that.

...

"I don't want to go," I firmly stated, as Father and Mother told me of the school they just signed me and Nick up for. They said we started this week, on Monday, which was in three days. I knew that the reason was because of fear.

Father gave me a hug, and a kiss on the cheek. "You'll do fine," he said. "You've always been good with adjusting to change."

With that, my parents left to do some shopping. They asked me earlier if I wanted to come, but I politely declined, saying that I was still in shock and deeply fatigued. Instead, when both mine and Nick's parents were gone, I crossed the hall to his hotel room and shakily knocked on the door.

He answered, and a look of concern crossed his face. "What is it?" he asked.

Ever since the sinking, we became very close, a little too close, some would say. I began to tell him how I felt, what was on my mind, if he would listen or not. This time, I was also planning for complete honesty.

"I'm scared," I whispered. It was all I really could say. I was feeling afraid.

He led me into the room and closed the door behind him. He took my elbow and pulled me to the couch, plopping me down and asking me questions. The main question was, "Why?"

"Everything's happening so… so fast. Just a couple weeks ago we met; just a week ago we boarded the ship; just a few days ago it sank; and just today we got off the rescue ship. Now we're starting school on Monday, and I feel completely and utterly afraid a-and rushed into things."

Nick nodded his head. "It's a normal feeling. Everyone feels afraid. But you can't live your life in fear, Danielle. Don't let it control you."

He ordered room service to bring a couple cups of tea, and my mind whirled. I thought of how I changed. How I was no longer the social, careless Danielle Fitz. I cared more now, more than anything of what people would think of me: my personality, my accent, my experiences. I felt so annoyed to talk, and barely did; I tried to dodge Nick's many questions of my opinions of New York and life.

I never felt so alone. I used to have Jenny by I side, a best friend for many years, who I could definitely trust. Then there came Nick, John, Charles, and Naya, who even though they were true friends, I could never let them in on a deep secret.

I was alone.

That night, I dreamed. I dreamed of a world full of peace, of no death or sorrow. I dreamed a dream that was full of love and friendship, of forever living. I never thought the world could be so swell. Then I woke up, and I felt like Fantine from Les Miserables.

It was all just a dream…

Saturday sped by fast, with shopping and little speaking, but I dreaded when Sunday came. My parents had already bought me my school supplies, and some new clothes I could wear. (With my opinion, of course.) I sat through Sunday by staring out the window at the endless mass of buildings, and the ocean far ahead, the sun being drowned by it.

I was still alone.

I prayed that day that I would find friends. Friends that will care about me, not judge me or try to change me. Most of all, friends that will never leave me. I wished the day had never passed as I got into bed mindlessly and stared at the ceiling.

I was nothing.

I was still mourning.

The school bells rang, and my muscles tightened. I wore a simple lavender dress with part of my hair braided and pulled back. I had picked a white pansy and had added it to my hairstyle. I almost tripped over my white leather shoes. I was terrified to make a humiliation out of myself.

A strong, reassuring hand landed on my shoulder and helped me get back on balance. Nick was there with me, to attend the school and guide me throughout the day, of course. I didn't know what I could do without him.

A small group of boys and girls eyed us suspiciously, then walked up to us cautiously. "You must be the new kids we were aware of on Friday."

"Yes," Nick said, the American group's eyes widening at his "weird" accent. "We sailed here from England."

"Oh, England! That explains your accent," a peppy girl with short, curly blond hair gasped. "It's cool." And she smiled.

"Thank you," Nick replied, his face flushing red. "I am Nicholas Anderson." He gave her his hand to shake.

"Oh!" the girl exclaimed, blushing as well. "I-I'm Elizabeth Smith." And she shook his hand lightly.

One of boys eyed me, and I uncomfortably kept looking away. I wished I was a bug, or a crumb, whatever it took for him not to notice me.

"Who is this?" he finally said, gesturing to me with his chin, since his hands were in his pockets.

"Oh, you must mean Danielle," Nick said. "She's very… shy… That is, she was never like this until, well, a few days ago."

Everyone looked alarmed and sorry for me. "Danielle?" Elizabeth repeated, tasting it. "That's a pretty name."

I dropped my head and looked at the floor, fidgeting. I didn't say anything. I didn't trust this girl.

When the school bell rang again, everyone separated and started heading into the school, except for his Elizabeth, who motioned with her hand that she wanted to say something privately to Nick.

But I didn't leave his side. I tried not to listen, but I knew it was about me. Anger built inside me.

"What has happened to that poor girl?" she asked.

"A dark, tragic event has happened, Elizabeth," he explained. "You have heard of the Titanic, yes?"

"Oh!" Her hand flew to her mouth and she needed no more explaining.

"Settle down, class," Mrs. Burns, our homeroom teacher, demanded. She sat down at her desk and shuffled with some papers, waiting for us to quiet down. Even worse, Nick and I had to stand in the back of the room, waiting for us to get an assigned seat.

Mrs. Burns, with her gray hair pulled tight in a bun, looked at us through her spectacles, and a warm smile spread on her face. "Look who we have here!"

Scared by the woman's friendliness, I clung to Nick's shoulder so hard, my knuckles whitened. My eyes widened as everyone turned around to look at us.

I was alone.

No, I have Nick.

I am a coward.

No, you have just changed.

I have changed.

Yes. You have.

"Please, introduce yourselves."

My mouth turned dry. Speak. I will not speak. That was the one thing I refused to do. I looked down at the floor and tried to cover my face with my hair.

"I am Nicholas Anderson, from Southampton, England, Mrs. Burns." All the girls seemed to giggle fondly at his accent.

"Ah, that explains your foreign tongue," the teacher said, nodding her head, the smile still plastered on her face. "And you, young lady?"

My eyes widened, my pupils dilated. I shook my head and refused to say a word. Nick looked at me, worry embedded in his eyes. I swear that they said, "This isn't like you."

Mrs. Burns raised an eyebrow, and looked at me, waiting for a reply. I just stood their, frozen, rigid. I wanted to scream and dash out of the room. Instead, tears filled my eyes and I started to cry. I started to see those terrifying images again, of dead people. I started to think of John, hysterically looking for me, but being taken away by the waves. I wasn't ready for this.

I knew what the people in the class were thinking. Some had worried, confused faces, whiles others had humored, curious faces. I tried to calm myself, but I was beat. I was way too overwhelmed.

Mrs. Burns, shocked, walked fast and was soon in front of me. She put her hands on my shoulders and told me to breathe. Then she asked what was wrong.

"I'm reliving it, that moment," I whispered. Elizabeth, who was in the class, perked up her ears and looked stunned that I had finally spoken. "I have no one anymore."

And I just cried harder. I didn't speak again. Mrs. Burns looked at Nicholas for an answer, and he whispered the story in her ear. Once the kids near the back heard snippets of it, it started to pass around, and soon everyone, even the humored kids, had stopped laughing, stopped showing emotion. All was quiet.

"Oh, my dear," she said, tears in her own eyes. "I cannot think of how this must feel."

"He's gone," I whispered. For all I knew by the look on her face, Nick said nothing about John. "They're all gone."

...

At lunch that day, Nick and I were swarmed. People sat with us, asked us questions, and tried to avoid my quiet self. They dodged me as best as I could, but once Nick got boring, it was only me.

"Are you okay, Danielle?" Elizabeth asked, pushing through the crowd. I solemnly nodded my head.

Then, unexpectedly, she threw her arms around me. "I'm so sorry! I knew of it already, but I didn't know how much it had affected you."

I didn't move. I didn't blink. All I did was stare and process her words. I opened my mouth, to say something, and my voice cracked. I cleared it and started again. "I made three friends on that ship. But they're gone. One was my boyfriend, one was my ex-fiancé, and another was a stubborn girl I loved as a friend. It was all my fault. She died in my arms."

Elizabeth started crying, and everyone stood still, their ears perked up. I fidgeted to get into a more comfortable position, but nothing worked. Their eyes were still on me.

"I saw dead people," I said, trying to make conversation. When did I start talking about dead people so much? I felt like I was going hysterically insane, all this strange talk and weird emotions and-

Elizabeth shook her head. "Unbelievable."

...

Nick and I were walking home. I was looking all around me, at the new sights and sounds. I was strangely fascinated by New York.

"Your first day didn't go so well," he said.

I shook my head.

"When did you stop talking?"

"Since I changed," I replied.

"You haven't changed. You've just been affected a little. Once the shock wears off, you'll be fine."

I shook my head again. "No."

"What do you mean, no? This has to be only temporary. What has gotten into you?"

"Jack. It all started with those visions, those feelings, those knowings and such. I've changed. Maybe for the better, maybe not."

Nick didn't say another word the whole walk home.

The next day, I wasn't as scared as before. I still dreaded school, but not to such a large extent. I prayed I wouldn't cry, for I was overcome with emotion that day.

Elizabeth greeted me and Nick when we reached the school building, and I managed to say hello.

The day passed without any problems. I answered people's questions, but only in a few words. I refused to say more about myself, in fear that they would throw away my privacy. I didn't trust them.

"Danielle?" Elizabeth had said at lunch.

I looked up into her blue eyes.

"What were you like before?"

I blinked. What was she saying?

"I mean, what were you like before your life had changed right in front of your eyes?"

I didn't answer for a few minutes. I tried to create an answer in my mind. "Lively," I firmly said. "Very lively."

"Oh," was all she said.

...

I had another dream that night. This time, it was just me and John, in a meadow. He would pick me a flower, a red rose, and hand it to me. Then, the thorn pricked my finger and a drop of blood fell to the ground. The ground beneath me rippled, and all of a sudden the meadow was an ocean. I saw Jack, dead, along with Charles, John, and Naya.

Don't leave me.

A tear escaped my imaginary self. I had gathered enough courage to cry and weep. I cried for those who had died, for the lifeless friends in front of me, and for all that had happen. The rose that had pricked my finger floated, lonely, in the water; the drop of blood that had stained the meadow grass spread into a large, red puddle.

I was alone.

I was a coward.

I had changed.

That was all that had happened. I had changed.