Chapter Ten

May 2nd, 1913
New York City, New York

It was a fresh spring day in New York City. Rose had every window open in her apartment. She was sat at her writing desk, typing away, her keys echoing in her quiet living room. She let out a long breath and closed her eyes momentarily, willing herself to type the final words on the page. Rose slowly unmangled the paper from the typewriter, not even giving the words a second glance. She pulled a drawer open and withdrew an envelope. She then folded the paper in three and stuck the letter in. Rose took a deep breath as she licked the seal and pressed it flat. She flipped the envelope over and hurriedly scribbled, To Jack #4.

Rose went to her bedroom and opened her night table drawer and with shaky hands set the envelope on top of three other matching ones. She stared at them for a brief moment before she shut the draw and let out an uneven breath, hugging herself. Over the course of the year, Rose had felt an overwhelming need to write to Jack, to tell him all the things she didn't get to say to him. And to ask questions she dearly wanted answers to.

She slowly wandered back to her living room and her eyes fell on the neglected folder she had travelled far and wide for. Still, she had only seen his birth certificate. Rose bit on her nail for a moment, glancing out to the beautiful day. She found herself moving towards the coffee table without even telling herself to. She pulled the folder into her hands and sunk onto the couch, shoving some books out of the way.

Rose didn't give it another thought. She tore the folder open and moved the birth certificate onto the couch beside her. Her heart thudded to a stop and she felt her entire body flush, as staring directly back at her, was a picture of Jack. He was much younger. It was dated 1904. It looked to be a school picture. Tears sprang to Rose's eyes as she raised the picture up to inspect it. It shook viciously in her hands. She set it aside, taking an uneven breath. The next picture was from 1905. It was Jack sitting between his parents. His mother had light hair, his father's was much darker. Her eyes darted between each face staring at her. Jack didn't resemble much of either of his parents, in her opinion. She moved the picture aside and now found herself frozen, her eyebrows knitted together.

It was a mugshot of Jack facing forwards and sideways, dated 1908, when he was just sixteen years old. Rose reached for the small leaflet paperclipped to the back of the mugshots. The paper was crinkly, old, and stained.

Chippewa Falls Police Department
Case # 9028411
Arrested: John Cole Dawson
Wanted For: Theft of Food
Outcome: Served thirty-one days in Community Service

Rose found herself grinning with tears streaking down her cheeks. Something about the situation seemed almost comical. He was arrested for wanting to eat. Rose sighed and set the mugshot aside, though she caught herself looking back towards it. Despite being a mugshot, it was a rather good photo of him. Rose grabbed hold of the picture again, putting the folder back on the coffee table. She stretched out across the couch, holding the mugshot above her. She smiled, with tears brimming her eyes, as she simply stared at him.

...

Jack stood at the top of a ladder, gently brushing a darkened white across the border of what would become the debutaunte scene. He leaned back momentarily, gripping the ladder, as his eyes hovered over all his pencil marks. He let out a long sigh when his eyes fell on the debutaunte sketched at the base of the stairs. He glanced to the paint buckets gathered at the feet of his ladder, spying the red can. He wanted to give all the debutantes red hair.

Just then, the studio door opened and Iris came through with her portfolio tucked under her arm. The heavy door swung shut behind her, echoing through the empty space. She looked around fleetingly, her braid thunking against her back, before she finally spotted Jack atop the ladder. Iris grinned and went to the communal work table, setting her portfolio down.

"Good morning, Jack. I see you're already working," She said.

"Yeah, figured I'd get a start," Jack nodded, climbing down the ladder and stepping back to inspect the border that was coming along. He set his hands on hips and slowly wandered towards the table with Iris, leaning against it, his eyes still glued to the canvas.

"Frenchie isn't feeling well today," Iris told him as she seated herself in a stool, gingerly grabbing a charcoal pencil, "He isn't coming in. Why don't you work on your own art instead? I like when you draw at the table with me."

"Well..." Jack looked over his shoulder, raking his hair from his face. Iris was smiling eagerly. His eyes momentarily darted to her opened portfolio to see the beginning sketches of flowers; the only art she liked to draw. Jack rubbed his neck sheepishly and nodded, "Alright. Let me go grab my portfolio."

When Jack had come back to the table, Iris was pulling two chilled Coca-Cola's out of the ice chest over by the door. She popped the caps off and handed one to Jack as they seated themselves across from each other. They sat in silence for a few moments before Jack found himself peaking up at her sketching hands from beneath his bangs. He watched her slender pinky bend outwards, smearing some charcoal on a petal to convey shadows.

"What kind of flower is that?" Jack asked, nodding his head.

"This," Iris lifted the portfolio up and turned it towards Jack, "is a chrysanthemum."

"A chrys-what?" Jack echoed, earning a giggle from Iris.

"Chrysanthemum," She repeated, "It means 'gold flower'."

"I've never seen one before," He smirked and looked back to his paper, slowly drawing a wavy line. They continued in silence for a bit longer. Jack cradled his head in his hand, getting mesmerized by the lines tracing from the tip of his pencil. He made line after line, shading as he went. His pencil gently curved to create a rounded cheek as slowly, his lines came to make sense.

"Are you drawing... her again?" Iris' voice cut straight through his concentration and he blinked rapidly, raising his eyes, memories floating away from him in that moment. Sheepishly, he looked to what his drawing was becoming. It was the first time he had ever seen her, in that white and yellow dressed, hair pinned back. She had been standing against the railing. Jack remembered gawking at her beauty, radiating as brightly as the sun that day, but he couldn't help but focus at the displeased look on her face. Her eyebrows scrunched together, her eyes searching the horizon for something, but finding nothing.

Jack swallowed a lump in his throat and looked at Iris, "Yeah. It's Rose."

Iris reached across the table and grabbed his portfolio, inspecting the drawing closely. She then turned to the next page and the next. It was all Rose. She was wearing different dresses, her hair sometimes down, sometimes piled atop her head, sometimes adorned with jewels between all her curls. But Jack had captured her personality in each one of her facial expressions. Iris had never been good at drawing people. She was envious of Jack's talents. But also jealous of the mysterious woman plaguing each page. Her bright blue eyes peered over the top of the portfolio, spying Jack, still as a statue.

"How long did you know her for? I'd say by the amount of detail and consistency," Iris laid the portfolio flat to the table, "it was for quite a while."

"Three days," Jack said, surprising Iris greatly.

"Three days?" She echoed incredulously, reaching for her soda, "And you say she's your true love? The only girl for you? From a span of three days?"

Jack placed his head back in his head and shrugged weakly, "I don't expect anybody to understand. I don't even understand myself how somebody could affect me this much in seventy-two hours."

"Why do you allow her ghost to hold you hostage like this?" Iris seemed hurt by his discontent. She could see he was stewing in his mind. She liked to think he wanted to do something about it, but he seemed unmotivated to clear his conscious of Rose.

"She doesn't hold me hostage," Jack pulled his portfolio back towards him to look at it, "I do it to myself, Iris. I can't help but think..." He shook his head.

"What?" Iris asked softly.

Jack sighed and raked his hands through his hair, "She was my only shot at true love, Iris. I've met so many people and none of them were like Rose. I'm scared I'll spend the rest of my life regretting what I lost."

Iris closed her portfolio and set her pencil down. She reached for her soda and finished it, scraping out of her stool and wandering into the empty space, her lavender dress flowing as she moved. She turned back towards Jack, "Come on. Let's go out."

"What? Where?"

"I don't know. Let's just go somewhere," Iris shrugged, "You can't spend all day locked up in this studio. The sun would do you some good. You're very pale. Come on."

Jack glanced back down to his portfolio for a moment before he slammed it shut and followed Iris out of the studio, to the beautiful spring day awaiting them.

...

Frenchie's words about his sister were echoing in Jack's mind as he and Iris strolled down the sidewalk on the edge of the industrial district. They turned off on a sidewalk that descended down a winding hill, the river growing closer. Iris had a smile on her face as they came to stand on a large chunk of concrete that had algae growing along the sides where the water had rushed up against it. There was a pleasant breeze that carried her braid in the wind, her hands clapsed behind her back as she watched the rolling waves of the wide river. She looked to Jack who had his hands dug in his pocket, his eyes also trained on the water.

"I like coming down here," Iris told him, "The water is so calming. This is where Frenchie and I would come for inspiration before his art took off and he became too busy. I usually come by myself, but," She let out a content sigh, looking towards the tall skyline in the distance, "I like sharing this space with others. It's so tranquil."

"I would have agreed with you a year ago," Jack's voice seemed husky, full of hurt, "But after the Titanic I just see devastation when I see water."

Iris glanced towards her lacy flats for a moment before raising her eyes back to the river, "My Papa told me once that bad things will happen in this world. Some bad things we're in control of. But majority of bad things... we don't get a say in. All we can do is let them happen," Iris looked at the side of Jack's face, "But the most important thing to remember is that, though we don't seem to have control, we have control of ourselves. Our feelings, our thoughts. We're in charge of our own lives. And all we can do is survive," Iris smiled, "My Papa was very wise."

Jack removed his hands from his pocket, letting them dangle at his side, "I wasn't in control of the ship sinking... but I was in control of her safety, Iris. And... I just let her slip away. I lost her in a crowd. Even with that damned red hair, I couldn't see her or find her. I spent the rest of the sinking on my own, constantly looking for her. I was so bent up on getting to Rose again, I didn't care about my own safety. I lost control. And I'll never forgive myself."

"I think you're being too hard on yourself."

"I should have left her alone," Jack shook his head, "She told me to. But I didn't."

"What do you mean she told you to leave her alone?" Iris arched her eyebrows.

"She had a fiancé. She was due to be married when she came back to America," Jack's heart was thudding in his chest, "She was so unhappy, though, Iris. It was easy to see a mile away. In the end, she changed her mind, she said she wanted to be with me, get off the ship with me..." He closed his eyes painfully and longfully, "But I wish she hadn't changed her mind."

In the next moment, Iris wrapped her arms around Jack's torso, pressing her cheek to his chest. After a few seconds, Jack rest his arm on her shoulder stiffly. Iris squeezed him tightly. She could feel his bones quivering beneath her.

"I hate that you're so full of hurt," Iris said into his chest, "You're such a great person, Jack. I'd do anything to make your pain go away," She lifted her eyes to look at him, but he only gazed off into the distance, refusing to meet her eyes, "and so would Frenchie. We're here for you, Jack. We're your family. You don't have to go through this alone. I'm here for you."

She parted from Jack, her eyes never leaving his stoney face. He finally turned his eyes on her and she felt her body radiate with heat at the sight of his dazzling blue eyes, which were darker and much more exhilerating than her own.

"I know you two are," He nodded, "And I appreciate it. But sometimes..." Jack looked towards the distance at the towering buildings of New York City, "You just gotta go through it alone."