Chapter 5

July 4, 1912

It was the Fourth of July. A day to celebrate. That was what everyone else was doing that clear night.

But not Cal. He just couldn't go outside, not today, and he was scared he wouldn't be able to leave his house without worry again.

Things had changed since June. For one thing, Ruth was no longer ill, and now lived in the house Cal bought for her. She was very comfortable, and no longer feared losing her lifestyle. She'll spend the rest of her life in bliss.

At least she was happy. You couldn't say the same thing for Cal and Rose. At first, things seemed to improve with Rose, but shortly after her mother left, she fell back into the old pattern. She stayed in her room, she stopped eating, she was severely ill. The only change was that her eyes no longer showed fear when Cal was around. They showed eyes of hate instead. And the look of hate in her eyes was uglier than the look of fear.

Cal wasn't any better. He began to neglect Rose, since he had his own problems to deal with. He never knew that getting over something would be this hard. He had flashbacks, painful ones, all day, every day. Everything reminded him of the Titanic and Jack, and those dead bodies, and the people struggling, screaming for help . . . it was becoming too much to bare.

He couldn't control them. And that was the worst thing about the Titanic and the flashbacks, and Rose's depression. For the first time in his life, he was met with something beyond his control. He knew this was going to drive him to insanity, but in the end, he decided to fight for as long as he could.

And now, it seemed as if his days of fighting were ending today. His mind wouldn't stop showing flashbacks, and he spent his entire day in a trance. How was he going to stop this before it was too late? Everything was out of control, and he found it impossible to stop it.

He heard Rose that night. She was in the bedroom of course, pacing the bedroom for a few seconds. He heard her cough and choke and gasp. When no more sounds were heard from her room, Cal got up from his chair in the hallway and knocked on the door. As usual, she didn't answer, so he invited himself inside.

Rose was sitting on her bed, looking out the window, with a look of emptiness on her face. Her eyes were as pale as her face.

Cal closed the door and came closer to Rose. "Did you eat it?" he asked referring to the bowl of soup in a tray on her night stand. He had Marta send it to her room.

He sighed when he looked into the bowl and found the food untouched. "Rose..." he began, mustering as much patience as possible, "You need to eat something. Now."

She looked up at him. "I feel too sick–"

"Well maybe if you ate something, you wouldn't have to worry about that, wouldn't you?" he said in a cold voice, hitting the tray.

"I'll try to eat it tonight, if that will make you feel better," she said, calmly.

"Good to know you'll do something else besides cry over that gutter rat you call Jack," said Cal, in a very sarcastic tone.

And then Rose did something she hadn't done in a long time. She talked back. "What makes you think I'm crying over him? Maybe it's you I cry over."

Cal knew what that meant. He glared at her. "I more than understand you don't want to be here, with me."

"Good you understand," she said. She stood up, and looked at him in his brown eyes. "Remember on the Titanic? When I told you that I would rather be his whore than your wife? I never changed my mind over that. I'd rather be anyone's whore than your wife!"

"Well, why don't you leave and find another bum and go live with him!" said Cal. "I can do better without you!"

"I'm sure it'll be better for both of us!" she screamed. "Why the...heck did you bother finding me after the sinking! You could have just left me alone, and I would be just fine without you!"

"No you wouldn't," said Cal calmly, reaching a very true conclusion. "Please, tell me how you're going to make it without me hm? Open your eyes dammit. You wouldn't make it with Jack, let alone by yourself. You don't know a thing about taking care of yourself in this world. You never worked a day in your life, you never did a useful thing in your life, so tell me how you'll make it? Sewing clothes for a couple of dollars?"

No answer from Rose. She knew he was right.

"Once Jack saw all that you could do, he would have got up and left you...if you two made it this far..."

"We would have," said Rose.

"Really!" Cal laughed. "Oh God, is Rose right, or is she just an idiot after all!"

"I am right. Maybe you're the idiot."

"Oh I'm the idiot? Really? Did I try to run off with some kid as silly as you, after I knew him for only two days, and said I loved him so very much?" He said this all in a mock voice.

"Well, I'm sorry if you think that way, Cal. I think differently."

"That's lovely. You naive fool! Jack never loved you! Do you hear me? Never! He was after your looks, and he was trying to get close to your money. He took advantage of you. And you? You made a mistake."

"Yes he did, and no I didn't make a mistake. He didn't care about my money."

"Really? Tell me something: did Jack ever tell you he loved you? Did he?"

She stepped away from him, stunned.

"I guess that means no, right?"

"Well...it doesn't matter anyway. It's not as if I'd get anything better from you. I don't know who's right in this...maybe Jack did love me, maybe he didn't. But at least I didn't have to worry about being slapped and treated like a caged animal with him, like I have to worry with you. That's why I would rather be with some street bum half dead with consumption than be slapped around by you."

For once, Cal didn't have anything to say for that. It was true. He did hit her before. He was a little sorry for doing it. But now, with Rose making him so angry, he was thinking about slapping her. He balled his right hand into a fist, and held it behind his back. He was determined to say all he wanted to say, without losing control of his temper. Since his temper was the only thing he could control nowadays.

She glared up at him, hurting him with the truth and then she walked past him, out of the room and into the hallway. Cal followed her.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I just don't want to be in the same room as you. I'd rather be in the living room, where I can get some space."

"I'm not done with you yet," said Cal.

"I am. I'm losing my voice, and I don't want to make it worse. So excuse me."

"I have more to say," he said grabbing her arm. He grabbed it out of anger, and out of fear. He was feeling dizzy. The arguments, the reminders, they were sending him into a shower of disturbing flashbacks. He was losing control, and he was going to lose his temper if Rose didn't stop and listen to him.

But Rose didn't see the disturbed look in his eyes. She pulled her arm from her grasp. He tried again.

"Enough!" she screamed. She pushed his arm away from her.

And before either of them knew it, Cal's hand moved forward to her face and then slapped her hard, causing her body to slam into the wall. She nearly let herself fall to the floor.

When Cal did that, he snapped out of his trance. He wasn't even thinking when he did that. His mind was in another world. He didn't mean to do that. And he grew more guilty when he saw the pale thin girl holding her pale face as tears rolled down her face.

"Rose..." He walked towards her.

That was a bad choice. Rose was prepared for him. When he came close enough, she did something she never did before: she took her hand and slapped him back. He felt that sting immediately and he stepped back, shocked. He came to her again and this time she used her long nails to scratch his face.

Neither of them could describe what happened next. He tried to placate her, but he couldn't control her as she screamed hoarsely and kicked him and slapped him. Finally he gave up and stepped away from her as she stood up.

"Now you understand how it feels!" she said in a cold voice. She shook her head at him. "Why don't I just leave. How I hate you."

"Rose..." He was speechless.

"Why did I.." She didn't finish her sentence as she tipped a chair over. She sobbed. "I can't take this anymore. I spend all day, remembering everything. I don't want to remember it, I just want it to go away! I can't spend my life living in a flashback!"

"I understand..." And he did.

"And I'm scared. I'm scared of you. And I'm sure you enjoy my fear do you?"

"No, I don't," said Cal. "That's not true."

She wasn't listening to a word he said. She was on the floor, sobbing. She was shaking, sobbing, screaming, pulling at her hair. It was a sight Cal couldn't bare seeing. He was about to fall to floor and start screaming himself.

But instead of falling to the floor and falling into a breakdown, he did something else. Before he knew it, he was kneeling on the floor, wrapping his arms around Rose. She resisted, but she was so weak she didn't have enough strength. She just let him hold her, as she cried and cried.

Time passed as they sat in the middle of the hallway, Cal holding her, and Rose crying. He was truly scared and concerned for Rose for the second time. He patted her back, he kissed her hair, and finally, when she began to show signs of calming down, he scooped her up in her arms and carried her into the bedroom, and laid her down gently in the bed. He sat next to her until she fell asleep.

When she finally cried herself to sleep, he quietly left the bed and sat down on a chair. The room was completely dark, and he wanted to keep it that way. He wanted to think, now that his mind was clear.

He thought about Rose. Not about what happened, but Rose. Just her. He wasn't the only one dealing with letting go of the past. She was also losing control of herself. And he was scared for her. He was scared for her just like on that April night on the Titanic. And worse, he didn't know what to do. He couldn't control her mind, his mind, nature, anything. Everything was out of his control. And there were more things coming his way, that would be out of his control. They were coming soon too.

He didn't love Rose, never did. He liked her pretty face, but never loved. But, as he just found out, he did care about her. He wanted to help her. And for Caledon Hockley, that was a new feeling. For the first time in years, he was showing a little bit of humanity, and was thinking of someone other than himself. Now, he had a purpose in life: to save Rose and himself.

He stopped thinking when he heard Rose stir in the bed and then sit up a little. "Cal?" he voice was weak and small.

"I'm here," he whispered.

He heard her crying now. "Cal..."

"Yes..."

"I know you won't be happy with me. You'll hate me."

"I don't hate you Rose."

"You will hate me, when I tell you this. I wish I didn't have to, but now I do. I have to tell you."

"Just tell me."

"It hurts to think about it."

"I'm sure–"

What Rose said next was something Cal never expected. It was something else out of his control.

"Cal, I'm pregnant."