I didn't quite remember getting off the train and walking down the confusing streets, looking for the familiar house. I must have been a sight to see with my "borrowed" clothes, messy hair, unmade up face, and three bags. In my defense, one of the bags was in fact a purse- a very large overstuffed purse, but still a purse. I still wore that big black coat Cal had put on me, not because it was his, but because Jack had simply touched it and been near it. I would wear the dress too, but it smelled pretty bad and was in bad shape. The last thing I needed was for someone to mistake me for a whore. But in these clothes I was numb to the world and didn't notice the people staring at me, or the fingers pointed my way.
Now I stood across the street from my Aunt Katherine's house, staring at it with an unmoving expression. I wanted so badly to run inside and throw my arms around her, but I was pretty sure that wasn't the right thing to do. In any case, she probably thought I was six feet under. Oh, this was going to be interesting all right.
Perhaps I should back up and explain to the reader just what I am doing here and who my Aunt Katherine is. The response to the first is not a short one, nor one to be ignored. After arriving in New York, I didn't know what to do and had dinked around for a couple of weeks, sleeping wherever anyone would take me- or sometimes simply on a park bench. Then, too, I must have been a sight for sore eyes; I didn't shower or bathe for a week, I kept my sinking clothes on, and I hardly ate. I was a mess. Not to mention I couldn't think straight all the time, thought only of Jack when I did, and could hardly sleep for more then two hours a night. I was offered a boarding room a couple of times, but I declined, saying I had other plans. But I had no other plans. After a fortnight of this listless existence, I finally decided that enough was enough. The only person I could think that would take me in- or much less understand me at all- was my Aunt Katherine.
Katherine had always been an enigma to me- a wonderful, free enigma that I placed on a high pedestal. She was my father's youngest sister. There were six DeWitt Bukator children born to my grandparents; my father was the first. After he came two girls, two boys, and then Katherine. And by the time she came along, my father was already seventeen. He married my mother at twenty-six and was just about twenty-eight when they had me. Katherine was the closest in age to me of any of my relatives, though she was eleven years my senior, and we always kind of looked out for each other. Well, she more then I. We were alike in the sense that we both headstrong and had ideas of our own. Katherine used to tell me these things when I was just five or six, and I liked to think it was because she trusted me. It was all very well until Katherine turned eighteen and announced she wanted go to college. This was absolutely unheard-of in my family at the time and my grandfather had a fit. He told her that she was to get married and have children, that her job was no more. But Katherine had different plans. She told him she wanted to be a nurse and didn't want to get married just yet. My grandfather became so angry when she would not leave him alone that he finally provided her with an ultimatum- she would either do as he wished or she would be disowned. Katherine chose disownment.
I had never been more proud of my Aunt, though I was not allowed to say so. I was to be cold toward her, I was told, and with that the visits to see Aunt Katherine soon ceased. It was more my mothers doing then my fathers. He loved his little sister, and probably would have kept contact with her if it had not been for his wife, who told him that Katherine would be a bad influence. And besides all that, Daddy was head of the business now since grandfather had retired and must show his father that he believed the same, if he wished to keep his position.
So for eight years I hardly knew of my Aunt, only heard of her once and a while. She not only became a nurse, she went ahead and was one of the first women doctors in Illinois. Other then one time when I was ten, it was not until my father's funeral when I was fifteen that I saw her again. She arrived discreetly and hid in the back, but afterward she pulled me aside quickly, slipping a letter in my hands before disappearing again. Once home that night, I read the letter over and over. It was quick and to the point- if I ever needed anything I was to contact her and she would help, that was a promise. At the bottom she left her address in Chicago.
All those nights in Philadelphia after learning of my father's debts and our money problems and knowing that before long mother would try to marry me off, I often wondered if I should write her. I wanted so badly to leave like she did. But it was different with my mother and I. I was her only child. Katherine had been the youngest of six. Without her, the family still survived. Without me, no such thing would happen. I was stuck.
It was in New York that I remembered her promise and got on that train. I had long sense memorized the address and quickly found my way to her house. Now here I was.
She thinks you're dead, a loud voice in my head kept going saying over and over. And if she finds out, who knows if the rest of them will or not. But I had to remind myself that this was not the rest of my family, this was Katherine. She and I were cut from the same cloth, we had both been ostracized by our families, well, one of us surly would have been if she were still "alive." I decided I could trust her.Taking a deep breath, I walked across the street and marched right up her front steps. I finally stopped before her front door, set my bags down, and with a trembling fist, knocked. It took a minute for Katherine to answer, but when she opened that door and looked at me, her face went white and she stared as if she were seeing a ghost.
She is, you idiot, I reminded myself. I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there, waiting for her to do something, anything! Finally, after a minute I mumbled a soft hello.
"Oh my God!" Katherine exclaimed, as if my greeting had brought her back to reality. She placed a hand over her heart. "Is that really you Rose?" she asked in breathless wonder.
I nodded. It was I. Not some stupid sheep that followed whatever society demanded she do. Not that DeWitt Bukator girl who was suppose to marry Caledon Hockely. It was the real me. Me. Rose Dawson. No one else.
Katherine's blue eyes got really big now, but some color came back to her face. "They told me you were dead," she stammered. "I got a telegram from your mother. She said you had died…. on the Titanic…something about giving up your seat for her."
I raised my eyebrows. Was that what she told everyone? I hadn't read any of the papers, I didn't really want to for reason that something like this would be pulled. It disgusted me to think that it actually had been said. First of all, I wouldn't give up my seat for her and second of all, it was wrong that they tried to cover up the real account with bullshit like that.
"There's more to the story," I explained to my Aunt. There was so much more.
Katherine looked surprised, but she kind of smiled. "Huh, I guess so." She paused and looked me over, her hands on her hips. "You don't look so well," she commented.
Gee, really?
Before I could answer though, she had moved aside and motioned for me to come inside. "C'mon, lets get you some clean clothes and then we can talk."
That's one of the reasons I loved my Aunt; no questions, just care. She looked the same as she had a few years ago; short physique, auburn hair with the classic DeWitt Bukator-blue eyes. Same old Katherine. I followed her inside with my bags and stood looking around the hallway as she closed the door. I had only been here once, when I was ten and we were in Chicago. My father and snuck me here for a couple of hours. I'd thought her house was a magic place then, a haven for those who wanted out of their gilded society restraints. It still seemed a bit this way to me, even now.
She led me upstairs and down the hallway. There were three bedrooms: hers and two guests, and a bathroom. I often wondered why she had so many rooms when it was juts her, but when I asked my mother I was told to shush and not to talk of such things. I was ten; I didn't know what such things were.
We stopped in front of a closed door and Katherine pushed it open. I immediately recognized my surroundings. This had been my favorite room when she had given us the tour so many years ago. The paint was a soft peach color, as were the drapes that covered the two big windows. There was a big, cheery-wood dresser with a huge mirror attached, desk made of the same material, and best of all, a huge four-post bed. I remembered lying down on it before and how comfortable it had been. The same comforter still graced the tops of the cotton sheets. It was a softer peach then the walls, but around the edge was about a foot and a half of embroidered silk that fell to the floor. The whole bed was complete with a down comforter under the peach one and about a dozen pillows.
"I've started calling this the Rose Room," Katherine remarked, bringing me back to the present.
I turned and looked at her, realizing this was because of me. I had spent half the visit in here and the other half thinking about it. I was flattered and told her so.
Katherine laughed softy and then motioned to the dresser. "There are some older clothes of mine in there that you can put on. The bathrooms across the hall," she reminded me. With a smile, she told me she would be downstairs and then left, closing the door as she did.
I dropped my bags on the floor and looked around. I wanted desperately to flop down on the bed and just lay there, but I didn't think Katherine would appreciate me doing so in this coat or my dirty clothes. So instead I walked over to the dresser and started pulling drawers open. I was now taller then Katherine, so most of the things looked like they would be too small. But I finally found a white shirt and a khaki coloured skirt that looked like they might fit. I undressed, throwing my clothes in a heap on the floor, and then stood in front of the mirror, really looking at myself. I had gotten thin, my hair was a joke, my breasts sagged down, and there was still a considerably large purplish bruise on the left side of my body where I had hit that gate. I was disgusted with myself and quickly put some clothes back on.
After a few minutes, I cautiously opened the door and peeked out the hall. I wasn't sure what to do with my clothes, so I just left them and started downstairs. It was odd behind out of my same old things, almost as if I were naked without them. I nearly went back to get the coat, but the told myself it was better if I don't and continued on. My bare feet made no sound on the wood floor and I was able to get to the livingroom without causing too much noise.
Katherine was sitting on a couch, holding a cup of coffee. She handed it to me when I came in and then picked a mug up off of the coffee table for herself. I sat down across from her in a chair and sipped my coffee. It tasted really good. Katherine didn't say anything, just stared at me and I eventually realized I should probably talk.
I set my cup down and sat back in the chair. "You know we were crossing on the Titanic," I stated. Of course she did. She nodded and I continued. Without realizing what I was doing, I told her the entire story. About Jack, Cal, everything. I kept watching her reactions. She looked concerned when I told her about trying to jump, but laughed when I told her about spitting in Cal's face. And when I told her about Jack dying, tears welled up in her eyes. I was afraid she was going to cry so I finished the story quickly and just sat there. I wished I could cry. But I couldn't.
Katherine kept her composure however and kept telling me how brave I was. Brave? I hardly thought that was the word for it. Starved, heartbroken, dizzy, confused, hurt, lost…. those would all work. But not brave. Brave was for people who fought dragons and who went to war. Anyone would have done what I did if they were in the position. But I kept my opinions to myself and let Katherine begin to fuss over me. First she started to ask me all these insipid questions that I answered numbly. Then she tired to get me to eat, but I wasn't hungry. It all passed in a blur and the next thing I remember clearly is lying in the big peach bed, staring up at the ceiling and listing to the sounds of the city.
What would happen to me now? I wondered, my mind to occupied to sleep. I didn't know what to do with myself. All I knew is that I better get over whatever the hell was wrong with me…and fast. And the best way I knew how to do that was to try to forget about it. As far as I was considered, it never happened.
I tried to sleep after that, but every time I closed my eyes, I felt an overwhelming sense of dizziness come over me and I saw thrashing water. So I just laid there and counted the little bumps on the ceiling. This too, however, made me dizzy and I soon abandoned the task and simply stared.
"Come Josephine, in my flying machine," I sang softly to myself. The silence was really getting to me. "Up she goes….up she goes…" God, my voice didn't even sound like my own. It was distant, aloof.
After about another hour, I rose from the bed and crept across the room, putting my hand on the cool doorknob and slowly opening the door. My clothes were still sitting on a heap on the floor, so I tip toed out there and began to search through them. I found the coat quickly and was about to go back, when I saw the dress. On impulse, I grabbed that too and then hurried back to my room. Once inside, I wrapped the coat around myself and wrapped my dress around my freezing cold feet. Digging into the pockets, I retrieved the Heart of the Ocean and the several wads of cash. Franticly, I looked around and finally decided to stash them in the very back of the top right dresser drawer.
Then I climbed back into bed and snuggled under the sheets, unable to get warm. But the coat helped. I felt a little bit better this way. Slowly, I drifted off into sleep, more dead to the world then I was conscience, but not by much.