Early one morning Rose awoke with a new ambition. Today she would
clean Jay's (as he affectionately had come to be known) apartment. While
sifting through some boxes, she came across a small box with the name
Christian scribbled on it. She opened it up and found dozens of letters
from someone named Christian to Jay. Near the bottom she found a picture of
two men. One she recognized as a younger Jay, and assumed the other must be
Christian. Rose figured this must be his brother, because they looked
identical, but Jay was obviously the younger of the two.
"Jay," she nudged him awake. "Is this your brother?" Jay yawned and stretched.
"Where did you get this?"
"Oh, well I was cleaning the apartment, and I came across it. You look remarkably alike, you know."
"Yeah. He's fifteen years older than me, he left the house at age 20, and I haven't seen him sense. We wrote to each other, he spoke of a bohemian revolution, the Moulin Rouge, and a certain "Satine" but after a certain point I stopped hearing from him."
"Hey Jay?"
"Yeah Rose?"
"Um, well, we've been living together for a while, and I still don't know much about you. When are you gonna tell me about yourself?"
"Ah, you don't want to hear about me…"
"Yes! Yes I do!" pleaded Rose.
"Well, I left my house in London at age sixteen. My brother had left the year before, and with him my chance of being left alone by my father left. You see, Christian was the one that was supposed to inherit the family business. I had no interest in it anyways, so I didn't care. But unfortunately for myself, he didn't care about it either. So when he left to go to France and lead a penniless bohemian existence my father's interest shifted to me." He looked up to make sure that he wasn't boring her. She nodded intently and he continued his story. "When I realized that I couldn't possibly stay there, doomed to a life of business meetings and paper work, I knew I had to escape. I took all of the money from my savings over the years, bought a ticket to America, and turned up here. I paint for a living, as you know, but I haven't sold much. It makes me happy though, you know? Its my escape."
Rose nodded. She knew what he meant by escaping. She would sing. Just soft songs to herself, or, if she was sure that she was alone she would belt something out. It made her so happy.
"So, Miss Rosie, are you ever going to tell me about yourself?"
Rose felt her heart close up. She couldn't talk about it. Couldn't think about it. About the life she had left behind. About Cal. About Mother. About him. Her one and only. She couldn't tell Jay about Jack.
"I grew up in Philadelphia, moved to London and met my fiancé, and then we were traveling back home for the wedding. Then, you know what happened."
Jay was perplexed in the way she regarded her fiancé. In her eyes he saw not sadness, but disgust. "A-and your fiancé? He uh, d-died on the ship?" Rose thought a moment.
"Yes," she said coolly. "He died along with the rest of my former life." Rose let a tear slide down her cheek, but was ashamed at her self for crying again. Joshua wiped it away with his finger and held her, feeling her body shudder with the tears.
"Don't worry," he whispered to her. "Ill never let go, Rose. I'll never let go"
"Jay," she nudged him awake. "Is this your brother?" Jay yawned and stretched.
"Where did you get this?"
"Oh, well I was cleaning the apartment, and I came across it. You look remarkably alike, you know."
"Yeah. He's fifteen years older than me, he left the house at age 20, and I haven't seen him sense. We wrote to each other, he spoke of a bohemian revolution, the Moulin Rouge, and a certain "Satine" but after a certain point I stopped hearing from him."
"Hey Jay?"
"Yeah Rose?"
"Um, well, we've been living together for a while, and I still don't know much about you. When are you gonna tell me about yourself?"
"Ah, you don't want to hear about me…"
"Yes! Yes I do!" pleaded Rose.
"Well, I left my house in London at age sixteen. My brother had left the year before, and with him my chance of being left alone by my father left. You see, Christian was the one that was supposed to inherit the family business. I had no interest in it anyways, so I didn't care. But unfortunately for myself, he didn't care about it either. So when he left to go to France and lead a penniless bohemian existence my father's interest shifted to me." He looked up to make sure that he wasn't boring her. She nodded intently and he continued his story. "When I realized that I couldn't possibly stay there, doomed to a life of business meetings and paper work, I knew I had to escape. I took all of the money from my savings over the years, bought a ticket to America, and turned up here. I paint for a living, as you know, but I haven't sold much. It makes me happy though, you know? Its my escape."
Rose nodded. She knew what he meant by escaping. She would sing. Just soft songs to herself, or, if she was sure that she was alone she would belt something out. It made her so happy.
"So, Miss Rosie, are you ever going to tell me about yourself?"
Rose felt her heart close up. She couldn't talk about it. Couldn't think about it. About the life she had left behind. About Cal. About Mother. About him. Her one and only. She couldn't tell Jay about Jack.
"I grew up in Philadelphia, moved to London and met my fiancé, and then we were traveling back home for the wedding. Then, you know what happened."
Jay was perplexed in the way she regarded her fiancé. In her eyes he saw not sadness, but disgust. "A-and your fiancé? He uh, d-died on the ship?" Rose thought a moment.
"Yes," she said coolly. "He died along with the rest of my former life." Rose let a tear slide down her cheek, but was ashamed at her self for crying again. Joshua wiped it away with his finger and held her, feeling her body shudder with the tears.
"Don't worry," he whispered to her. "Ill never let go, Rose. I'll never let go"