Chapter Eleven

June 29th, 1913
New York City, New York

Jack was knelt in the backroom of the studio, prying lids off of paint cans. He had to get working on creating a bubblegum pink exactly how Frenchie wanted it for the second large painting he had in mind, of women in loungewear laid out across velvet furniture. Jack pulled the white and red cans near to himself and rolled the sleeves on his dark red button-up that was tucked into his black corduroy pants. He let out a sigh before hauling the two paint cans up onto a counter. He crossed to a tack board and began collecting the few tools he would need to begin mixing. Jack decided to play it safe and make a small batch first. He turned from the tools and stopped in his tracks when he saw Iris had come into the backroom and was at the counter, peering around the cluttered mess he had left.

"Hey," She said, her face poking in between two paint cans from the opposite side.

"Hey," Jack greeted cooly, reaching for a small bucket and wiping it down. He then picked the red paint up and poured some along the side, giving the bucket a good shake, "what're you up to?" He asked, peering into the bucket and reaching for the white paint.

"Oh, I'm bored," Iris grinned, setting her chin in her hand, her elbow propped up on the counter, "Frenchie is busy sketching and muttering to himself about the twelve other paintings he has yet to come up with ideas for. I don't feel like drawing myself, so… I'm just wandering around, looking for something to do."

Jack was peering into his small bucket intently as he poured the white on top of the red. He reached in with a mixing stick and beat at the paint furiously, back and forth, his dirty hands gripping the rim. He grinned and looked towards Iris from beneath his blond bangs, "Well, would you mind grabbing some black paint off the shelf over there? This pink is way too bright."

"Aye, aye, captain!" Iris giggled and did a playful salute. Jack smirked, his eyes darting to her before back to the mixing stick in his hand, which was oozing with a bright pink paint, much more assaulting than what a wad of bubblegum looked like. Iris got onto her tip-toes and reached for the full bucket of paint. It was slightly heavier than she intended and she staggered for a moment before she corrected herself. She hauled the paint can onto the counter and sighed, "You and Frenchie make lifting these look so easy!"

Jack laughed breathily as he pried the lid off the top of the can, "Well, I reckon a paint can is at least a quarter of what you weigh."

"I'm not that small," Iris chuckled, leaning against the counter. Her eyes were bright and her grin was wide. Jack noted she seemed to be in rather high spirits that afternoon. He dribbled a bit of black paint into the bucket and stirred a little, before adding more white. He was so focused on the bucket, he was beginning to forget Iris was even there until she spoke again, "How long have you been doing art for, Jack?"

His eyes were still trained on his task at hand as he replied, "For as long as I can remember."

"I should have guessed," Iris grinned, absent-mindedly twiddling a chisel in her slender fingers, "You seem so at ease making art. I should have guessed you had been doing it for that long," She was silent for a moment, sneaking a glance at Jack who was preoccupied, his tongue just touching his lips as he checked the paint again, letting it dribble from the stick, "How old are you, Jack?"

"Twenty-one, now..." He muttered, deep in concentration.

"When's your birthday?" She asked eagerly.

"November 8th," Jack now turned his eyes on Iris, who was beaming, "When's yours?"

"January 4th."

"Happy late birthday," He chuckled, dropping a little more black into the mixture in the bucket, "How old did you turn?"

"Eighteen."

She's Rose's age... Jack thought as he gave a final beat in the bucket and leaned in, "I think this is what Frenchie is lookin' for..." He said, tilting it towards Iris, who craned her neck to peer inside.

"Oh, that looks nice, Jack," She grinned, "As usual."

"I'll let this sit for a few minutes," Jack crossed to the window, balancing the bucket up on the sill. He then turned and grabbed the green paint, hauling it onto the counter, "Now... for the hunter green," He was more of talking to himself at this point as he confidentally poured half the can into another bucket, reaching for the black after that.

Iris came around the counter, glancing to all the paint buckets queued up for Jack to work on. She knew he had been back here for majority of the morning, intently pouring and mixing, absolutely lost in his work. He hadn't even joined them for a break and a small snack, like he usually did. Recently, he had seemed very preoccupied. Iris could only guess it was because of Rose. She folded her hands behind her back and looked at Jack again, who was hunched over the bucket, not even paying the slightest attention to her.

"Jack, where are you from?" She asked, looking to the dirty windows.

Jack lifted his eyes for a moment, gazing across the room in front of him. He barely turned his head to peer over his shoulder where he could see Iris, "Wisconsin," He said, lowering his head again and working on the green paint.

"Is it pretty up there?" Iris asked, tilting her head back to allow the sun to sink into her skin.

"Lots of mountains," He replied, tilting the bucket back and forth, watching the paint ooze, "Tons of pine trees. I remember it always smelled so fresh. Well, at least compared to New York City," He smirked to himself. He finished the hunter green and took the bucket to sit next to the bubblegum pink. Jack reached for a rag and rubbed his smudged hands back and forth, turning to Iris, whose blond hair and blue eyes were accentuated in the bright lighting of the windows.

"We should go sometime," Iris told him, "Do you ever want to go back?"

Jack leaned against the window sill, crossing his arms over his chest, "I never think about it. There's nothing left for me there. I have no family. They're all dead."

"Even... your parents?" Her braid fell over her shoulder as she cocked her head to the side.

"Yeah," Jack nodded, "I lost them in 1905 to a fire. Lost the entire farm I grew up on, actually."

"Oh, Jack, that's terrible," Iris folded her hands together, "We should make an effort to invite you out to lunch with Mama. She loves taking care of people."

Jack grinned lop-sidedly and glanced to the floor for a fleeting moment, "That's alright. I'm used to not having a family. I haven't thought about it for awhile."

"I hate thinking of you so alone," Iris moved closer to Jack, her eyebrows arched upwards, "Do you feel like you have no one truly to talk to? You know you can always talk to me, right? It's better to get it all out, instead of bottling it up inside. You'll implode if you just let it build up."

"I'm fine," Jack shrugged, shaking his head, "Really, Iris."

"Are you sure?" She asked softly, now standing in front of him, "I want to believe you."

"I am," Jack nodded, "All we can do is take it day-by-day, right? I'm surviving, like I always have. Nothing has changed. And you don't have to worry about me. I'm not going anywhere."

Iris fidgeted with the cuff on her dress for a moment before she stepped closer to Jack. To his surprise, she placed her hands on his chest and tilted up on the balls of her feet, pressing her soft lips to Jack's. He was shocked for a moment as he felt her lips against his. His heart jolted in his chest and he immediately staggered away from Iris, knocking some paint cans over. They thundered loudly across the floor as Jack windmilled his arms, red paint splattering up his pants and speckling his shirt. He steady himself after a moment, standing in a puddle of oozing red paint. Jack's shoulders were rising and falling, his nostrils flared, as he glanced to Iris and then to the mess he had made. The red paint gleamed in the afternoon light as it ran across the floor, hungrily taking over any empty space it could. Jack's heart was thundering beneath his skin as he watched the red paint. It was such a deep and vibrant red. It was like seeing Rose's curls splayed across the couch cushions, flying in the wind, tickling his neck as he held her from behind. With glossy eyes, he looked back to Iris who looked startled, hurt, and bewildered.

"I'm... I'm sorry," She stuttered, her small frame shaking, "I-I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Your pants- Jack, I'm so sorry."

Jack panted as if he had just run a mile, he felt so breathless, stunned himself. He simply shook his head and took in a deep breath, "It's fine."

"No, it's not fine," Iris stepped towards him, carelessly putting her shoe into the mess on the floor, "I made you uncomfortable. I did something you didn't want me to do. I acted too rash. I'm sorry, Jack," Tears pricked her eyes now, "I just... I really like you, Jack."

"Why?" Jack shrugged and shook his head, still meekly standing in the paint puddle, "There's nothing to like about me. I'm just some tumbleweed blowing in the wind, too preoccupied to find some ground to latch on to. I don't even know where my mind is, Iris."

"There's more to you than that," Iris had tears falling down her cheeks now, "Why do you discredit yourself like that? I see what a wonderful person you are. Life isn't all about having money and nice clothes. It isn't about climbing the ladder and squashing everyone beneath you. I know you know that. You've never been like that. I like your carefree spirit. I like your talent. I like how comfortable you seem in your own skin. I like that..." She took an uneven breath, "even though everything goes wrong... you still find a reason to get out of bed in the morning."

Jack sighed and took a few steps in the paint, his shoes slopping more around him. He glanced to his dirty pants and reached up, rubbing some speckles that had reached his face, "Look, Iris," Jack finally said, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice, but it was evident and Iris felt wildly stupid, "I'm flattered... but, you know where my mind is. I just..." He sighed all over again, "Just never mind. It's stupid. I'm sorry, I just don't have an explanation."

"But you do," Iris replied, "Just say it, Jack."

"It's not you, it's me," Jack looked directly at her, "I've been to over fifteen other countries. I've met the most interesting people, experienced many different cultures, foods, and seen the prettiest cities. And still, after everything I've experienced... it all leads back to her. To Rose. I can't just let her go, Iris. It's my burden to deal with, not your's. You can't fix this. Rose is everywhere I look. I blink and I see her face. She was unlike anybody I ever knew and... well, I don't know when I'll be done pining after her. I don't know if I'll go the grave thinking about that woman. She lit a fire in me. A fire I keep burning for her. I can't let her go. You're young. Find someone who isn't fucked up like I am, okay? I'm broken and there's no fixing this. Rose is in my mind, my soul. She's in my blood, Iris. I don't know how to get her out. She has a special place in my life and I'll spend the rest of my days wondering what I could have done differently. I'm prisoner to these thoughts and feelings, Iris. But I allow myself to be. It's just the way it is. And I'm sorry, but..." He shook his head, "I'm just sorry."

"You have so much promise," Iris' voice was shaky and uneven, "You could rule this world with your smarts, your wit, your attitude; you are a magnificent person. How could you allow yourself to sink this low?! Rose isn't coming back, Jack. Is this how you want to honor her memory? Being miserable like this?! Is this how Rose would want you to be?!"

"Don't," Jack's voice rose unsteadily, "say her name."

"If you believe in Heaven, don't you think she's up there right now watching you!?" Iris threw her fists at her side, her tears now falling angrily, "Don't you think she'd be disappointed you've allowed yourself to do this!? You're destroying yourself, Jack!"

"I'm not yours to fix!" Jack snapped back, "I'm broken, Iris! Do yourself a favor and find someone who isn't a mess like me!"

"How could you not expect me to fall in love with someone who makes such beautiful art! Your art reminds me of the kind my Papa and I would make in his studio. Before Frenchie ever had one! You're what I've been looking for, Jack. I care for you. I can't sit here and let you take yourself apart and wallow in your grief."

Jack threw his rag into the mess on the ground, his face tinging red, "I don't expect you to understand, okay! We don't choose who we love."

"Exactly!" Iris shouted, "We don't! Rose is gone, but I'm here now, Jack!"

"I'm not your responsibility," Jack said with a clenched jaw, "I'm not some project for you to work on, Iris. I'm a burden. I live in an attic, I'm a pathetic loser! You don't want me and you sure as hell don't need me. Got it?!" Jack kicked the empty paint can out of his way and staggered from the mess. Angrily, he pushed his shoes off and stormed out of the backroom, leaving a trembling Iris by herself.

...

June 30th, 1913
Tarrytown, New York

Rose and Tim came through the white picket fence of his childhood home. She was wearing a short sleeve olive green dress with dark green leaves embroidered into the chest. Rose had a glass dish gathered in her arm. She glanced to it rather nervously as she followed Tim along the side of the house. The sound of music and chatter was becoming louder as they came around to the backyard. Many long tables were set up with gold and white linens spread across them, covered in food. Balloons of matching colors were tied to the end and waved in the wind. The smell of meat on a grill wafted Tim and Rose's direction as they came across the backyard social, pausing at the corner of the house. There were many people standing in groups, smiling and laughing. Dozens of others were gathered in chairs, sipping on drinks and chuckling with each other.

"I hope my cookies are okay..." Rose muttered to herself, glancing up at Tim, "I've never cooked them on my own before."

"I had one before we left, they're delicious," Tim assured her with a grin, "Besides, my parents will just be happy you're here. It's not about the cookies."

"How many years is it for your parents today?" Rose asked.

"Thirty-five," Tim told her, "Maggie didn't come along much longer after that. Then it was just a domino affect when the rest of us were born," He laughed at the idea, "My sister's are actually all together in a group over there," Tim pointed across the yard to the porch, where six girls were sitting and standing together on the stairs, each with a flute glass of champagne.

"So, that's all six of them?" Rose looked over towards the girls. Each one of them had the same olive complexion as Tim with brown hair. The genes were obviously strong with the Calvert family, "Who is who?"

"Well, you know Kate right there in the yellow dress. She's the youngest," Tim told her, "Beside her with the chin length hair is our oldest sister, Maggie. The two girls with braids are the sister's right behind me. They're twins. The one in the purple dress is Lena and the orange dress is Penny. And finally, the second youngest with her hair in a bun is Diana."

"Gosh, I hope they like me," Rose bit down on her lip for a moment.

"They're going to love you!" Tim took the cookies from Rose's arms, "Come on, let's go say hello to everyone," Tim pressed his hand to the small of Rose's back, guiding her further into the yard with him. They went directly to a large table. Tim set the cookies down and grabbed them both awaiting champagne.

"Timothy Calvert, is that you!?" Came a voice that resounded years of chain smoking. A man who was balding approached them, using a cane to walk. He had a round belly. He grinned as he approached the two, "It's been awhile, partner! You still livin' in New York City?"

"I am," Tim confirmed, shaking hands with the man, "It's good to see you, Mr. Longoria."

"Still a lawyer?" Mr. Longoria asked in his typical loud manner.

"Yes, sir."

"And whose this pretty little gal?" He asked, using his cane to gesture to small Rose standing beside Tim, "Don't tell me you got married and I didn't know!"

"No, no," Tim smiled and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, "This is my beloved Rose."

"Glad to meet you, little lady," Mr. Longoria offered his hand out to Rose. She shook it daintily, "I'm a neighbor of the Calvert's, but back in the day, I was Timothy's rowing instructor in school."

"You didn't tell me you rowed," Rose grinned, looking to Tim.

"Oh, I think if he had kept at it, he would have been in the olympics!" Mr. Longoria boasted, "He was the best the team had."

"No, I wasn't that good," Tim smiled modestly, "It was more of for fun."

"Whatever you say, Timothy," Mr. Longoria chuckled airily, "I'll let you make your rounds and say hello. Rose, if you want any fun stories about Timothy's childhood, you know where to find me," Rose giggled at the thought as Tim linked their arms at their elbows and steered her towards the group of people sitting in the garden chairs near the alley. Rose recognized Eileen sitting in a chair beside another man who Tim was nearly the spitting image of. They even wore the same kind of glasses. Eileen spotted them first and her eyes lit up. She came to her feet, clasping her hands together.

"Timothy! Rose!" She squeezed between two chairs, throwing her arms around their necks and pulling them in, causing the couple to bonk their heads together, "So glad you could make it!"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Mom," Tim pecked her on the cheek, "Hey, Dad," Tim leaned over his mother's shoulder, giving his father a curt but firm handshake, "Dad, I don't think you've met Rose before."

"Nope, but I sure have heard a lot about her," He grinned, shaking Rose's hand. He placed his other on top of her's tenderly, "So nice to meet you, Rose. My name is Dan. I have to say, I'm so glad you're seeing my boy. He needs a good girl to reign him in."

Tim rubbed the nape of his neck sheepishly and laughed, glancing towards Rose, "Don't mind them, I think they've had a lot of wine to celebrate."

"We have!" Dan chuckled and Rose smiled at the friendly banter the family exchanged, "Help yourselves to anything. We have burgers on the grill right now. Plenty of dessert, too. Oh, and lots of wine and champagne, so please, dig in."

"Thank you," Rose nodded towards Tim's parents, "and happy anniversary. Thirty-five years, that's amazing."

"Oh, it's easy when you love them," Dan wrapped his arms around Eileen's shoulders, drawing her against him. She smiled warmly at her husband, squeezing his side. Rose grinned and her eyes darted away for the slightest moment. She took a deep breath, making sure her smile never wavered.

Not now, please. Not here, She begged her mind, anxiously clenching her hands for a second.

"Timothy, take Rose to your sister's. They've been dying to meet her. Kate has them all excited," Eileen told him, reaching for her wine glass on the arm of her chair, "Don't let them eat her alive, though. They're a rowdy bunch."

"I think I know that better than anyone here," Tim laughed, stepping away from the group so Eileen and Dan could go back to chatting with friends. Together, Rose and Tim began across the yard, but he paused, throwing his champagne down his throat, "Let's get another drink first. You're going to need it," He directed her towards the table where they chose white moscato this time, "Be prepared for a lot of questions. My sister's are nosy. They mean well, though."

Rose glanced towards the girls who were already sneaking looks at their brother and the mysterious girl with him. Tim drank more of his wine and licked his lips, looking down to Rose, "Are you ready for your interview, madam?" He jokingly asked, making Rose snicker. Together, the two walked over to the porch where the girls quieted down and turned their signature hazel eyes on Rose, "Hey, everyone."

"Good to see you, Tim," Maggie grinned, showing off the most beautiful smile, "Are you going to introduce us to your friend here? Kate has been telling us how lovely she is."

"Yes, yes," Tim shuffled his feet for a moment, "Everyone, this is Rose. I expect you to treat her like another sister."

"Wow, how did you know I always wanted another sister?" Lena laughed from where she sat on the steps. Rose smiled between all the girls. She already felt welcomed.

...

Rose found herself in the kitchen with Maggie and Kate a little while later. Kate was sitting on the counter drinking wine while Maggie chopped up some vegetables to make a platter for the continuing celebration. Rose loved the kitchen. The cabinets and drawers were white and the countertops were green, just like the outside of their house. There was a large picture window overlooking the backyard where Rose watched the festivities.

"So, Rose," Maggie lifted her eyes for a moment before she continued cutting, "where did you meet Tim?"

Rose spotted Tim just outside the window, speaking with an elderly couple. He looked so relaxed. It was amazing how charismatic he was, "He comes to the diner I work at every morning. He eventually started asking to spend time with me," She replied, taking a sip of wine.

Maggie laughed at this, "Tim is obsessed with a good breakfast," Maggie looked towards Rose with a smile, "And obsessed over coffee."

"Oh, yes, he's very particular," Rose nodded.

Kate snorted, kicking her boots back and forth from where she dangled on the countertop, "Our brother likes thing perfect. He's a perfectionist. Pretty funny 'cause he shared a room with Maggie and I. We are very messy girls."

"It made him stronger," Maggie winked at her youngest sister, "We can't tell you excited we are that Tim has finally met a girl. You look compliment him well."

Rose grinned and fingered the lip of her wine glass. She looked back out the window towards Tim who was surrounded by many people now. He had all of their attention as he spoke with wide animated gestures. Rose slowly walked closer to the window, peering down on him. He raked his brown hair back, out of his face, as he set his hand on a woman's arm, joining her in laughing. Rose couldn't help but simply just watch him.

...

The full moon was just rising above the tall oak trees of the neighborhood. Rose glanced to it fleetingly as she helped pile stacks of dirty dishes up and clear out the backyard with Tim and his sister's. The cicadas chirped loudly, their symphony filling the entire night. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the stars littered as far as the eye could see.

Lena hauled a stack of dishes into her arms. Rose copied and followed her up the stairs and through the propped open screen door to the house. Eileen was at the sink washing dishes. Lena immediately planted her feet, "Momma, stop! We're going to wash the dishes. Why on earth do you think you'd be expected to clean up your party!"

"It will help things go faster," Eileen said, glancing over her shoulder, "There's a lot of dishes to clean. Is that the rest of them?"

"Yes, I think it is," Lena replied, taking them to the counter, "Momma, really, stop. We can clean it up. Why don't you go rest with Papa?" Lena gripped her mother's wrist and took the sponge out, pecking her on the kiss, "Thanks for trying, though."

Eileen sighed, but her smile remained on her face, "You kids... always taking care of me. I thought it was supposed to be the other way around."

Lena gave her a goofy look, "You know the drill."

Just then, Maggie, Tim, and Diana came through the door, crumbling trash in their hands and taking it to the bin, "Oh, Timothy," Eileen called, undoing her apron and passing it to Lena, who was readying herself to continue the dishes, "Why don't you take the car back to New York City? I don't like the idea of you two walking all the way back since the trains have stopped now."

"Oh, shoot," Tim began tying the full trashbag off and pulling it out, "I had forgotten the trains don't run all night here. I don't know..." He shifted the weight of his feet, "I don't want to take your car for the whole week. I wouldn't be able to come back until next Saturday."

"Fooey," Eileen waved her hand dismissively, "We barely even touch the thing, it's too shiny for your father and I. Please, take it back. At least so Rose doesn't have to walk, please."

"Well... alright," Tim finally resigned. He perked up, however, and looked to Rose, "Have you ever seen New York City from the bridge at night when it's all lit up?"

"No, I haven't," Rose shook her head, leaning her hip against the counter.

"Oh, here we go, Hopelessly Romantic Tim," Maggie laughed, "Did you get your tricks from those novels you stole from Momma when you were a kid?"

Tim's face grew beet red, "You can't deny it's pretty."

"Oh, girls, leave him alone," Eileen laughed, not at all concerned, "It's settled, then. You're taking the car. It's a lovely night, anyway. You should put the top down. Rose, I have a hair tie you can use. Wouldn't want those curls getting knotted."

A bit later, the entire family came out onto the porch to bid Rose and Tim farewell, their arms full of left-over's. The couple descended the creaky step and turned to look at the family illuminated by the lemony-yellow porch light.

"Thank you so much for having me today," Rose told them, "I greatly appreciate your openess."

"The pleasure was all our's, dear," Eileen replied maternally, "We love having you. Please, never hesitate to come visit, with or without Timothy."

"Probably better if you come back without him," Penny smirked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Oh, we got a whole stash of baby pictures of him," Maggie pointed towards her brother.

"Alright, and we're leaving!" Tim immediately turned Rose towards the alleyway.

"Be safe, my love!" Eileen called, waving from the porch steps, "Try to phone the cornerstore from your office to let me know you're home, okay! I'm going there tomorrow morning."

"Will do, bye! Love you!" Tim shouted over his shoulder as they descended into darkness, piling the dishes at the floorboards and climbing into the car. Tim started the car and took a moment to sigh, falling back against the leather seat. A shadow cast across his face as he cocked his eyes towards her, "So, was that overwhelming?"

"No," Rose shook her head with a small smile, "it wasn't," She let out a long sigh and laughed, "I cannot believe you're so lucky to have... well, a community of loving and accepting people. Everyone I talked to today had something grand to tell me about you. You've touched all these people, Tim. They care for you as you do for them. It was phenonmenal to see, honestly. You're so lucky. And it's funny, because you know you're lucky."

Tim slowly sat up a little, tilting his face closer to her's, "You know... you're part of this 'community' now, Rose. All those loving and accepting people feel the same about you. You should feel lucky, too, to know all the great people I do now."

Rose grinned, her face growing warm, "I guess I am lucky."

"Not as lucky as me," Tim pressed his lips into her's.

...

The drive back to New York City was fun for Rose. The roads were winding and at night, everything seemed to fly past even faster. Tim was a good and calculating driver. It was obvious he knew the roads by how at ease he took the sharp, rounding corners. He had his arm propped on the door as he steered them towards the hill. The streetlamps became more abundant as Rose guessed they grew nearer to New York City. She hadn't the faintest clue how long they had been driving.

As they chugged up the hill, Rose saw tall iron pillars with long steel ropes descending from it. She had to assume it was the bridge. She had never crossed it before in her entire life. Tim shifted the car as they came to the crest. The car bumped up and down as they crossed the threshold of the bridge. Rose looked to the tall bridge structure, feeling very meek in that moment. She gawked in awe at the idea mankind could even make things this big. Slowly her eyes trained down to the dark gleaming waves of the river beneath them. She watches the waves lap up against a large chunk of concrete on the shore of the industrial section of the city. Then her eyes looked forward and she was breathless.

There was New York City glowing in the inky darkness surrounding it. The tall skylines seemed so beautiful. The city looked to be so alive. Rose gripped the top of the windsheild and slowly pulled herself to her feet, standing straight up in the convertible. Her ponytail whipped at the nape of her neck as she got a clearer view of the city growing near. Tim cast a grin up at the distracted Rose as he slowed his speed a bit to allow her to relish longer.

"Tim, this is magnificent!" She leaned back to look at him, "It's beautiful! This is unlike any view I've ever had of New York!"

"I told you," Tim chuckled, keeping his eyes on the road.

Rose looked back to the city in delight, her mouth carelessly hanging open as she admired the buildings, the small streetlights dotting the way, and the small figure of people roaming the streets. Here it was, New York City, entirely in front of her eyes. She felt as if it was all her's suddenly. She could be anyone she dreamed to be, just as she had wanted after everything that had happened. Rose DeWitt Bukater was dead, it reminded her. She was free. Rose howled in ecstasy. Tim grinned, watching her scream into the darkness. It was the same thing he had felt after graduating and packing all of his things into a taxi, hauling it to New York City. He had sat on the sill of the door coming into New York City, hanging over the very asphalt he drove across now. He had been screaming, cheering, hollering, as if the city beckoned him to celebrate. It was enlightening to see that was finally unlocked inside of Rose. Tim pushed the pedal down and the car accerlated. Rose's body tingled as they booked it hot into New York City, into an entirely new realm as Rose could see it.

...

Tim pulled in along a curb on a street Rose didn't completely recognize. They had passed the dark diner and had continued north for good other eight to ten blocks before he had pulled over. The area was quiet. She glanced up to the different colored townhomes compactely built side-by-side. Across the street was a park, dimly illuminated. Rose could make out the faintness of a jungle gym set in the shadows. Tim looked to Rose, arching his eyebrows.

"I just thought, well..." He stuttered for a moment, clearing his voice, "It's pretty late. I thought it'd be easier for you to just stay here tonight. Is that alright?"

Rose glanced towards the townhouses again and opened her mouth for a moment before she finally found her words, "Oh, yes. That's... that's fine. I've never been to your place before, actually. I just realized that," She looked back towards him.

"Well, let's go," He opened the door and collected a couple dishes. Rose was able to get rest into her arms. He lead her towards a dark blue townhouse, the second from the left. He unlocked the door and when she walked in, she was surprised to find it smelled like sandalwood. Just like always did. It was rather refreshing. They had immediately entered into a small entry way that lead to a spacious living room with a slanted ceiling and a fire place. She loved the accented wood rafters above the living space. To the right was a staircase leading to persumably the bedrooms and bathrooms. Around the back of the staircase was a marble kitchen, shiny clean, just as Tim liked it. His entire house was in pristine order. Everything had a home on a shelf, in a chest or on a table. Rose took a moment to marvel at it. It was much better than her apartment.

"This should all fit in my ice box for the time being," Tim's voice interrupted her thoughts. She blinked rapidly and looked at him.

"Okay, great," She said and followed him further into the home. She noticed he had a rather spacious patio at the back of his kitchen, with a lovely sliding glass door. They piled all the dishes onto his kitchen island and he set about to sorting them meticulously.

Rose took that time to wander about, admiring every detail. The brass curvy cabinet doors, the plastic chrystal knobs on the drawers. The gleaming marble floor with grout packed into the crevices. The deep ceramic sink that was free of any stains or blemishes. She looked out to the living room, which was arranged to feature the fireplace as the centerpiece. Tim owned matching black leather couches, love seats, and recliners. There was a grand oak coffee table with many magazines cluttered atop and some candles. The oriental rug of vibrant colors gave the room a cheery and sophsticated look.

"If you want, you can wash up or take a shower before bed," Tim glanced to her as he began setting the dishes into the ice box, "The bathroom is the first door on the right at the top of the stairs."

"A shower sounds nice after my hair was in the wind for an hour," She chuckled and Tim smiled.

"Sure, go ahead. I'm probably going to head to bed."

"Where should I sleep?" Rose asked, folding her hands together.

"Well, actually," He rubbed his neck sheepishly, "Why don't you take my bedroom? I'll sleep on the couch. My only other room is my study. There isn't a bed in there."

"No, why don't I take the couch?" Rose suggested, "I'm a guest."

"No, I insist. It will be comfier," Tim shook his head.

Rose inhaled deeply, looking towards Tim. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest as she lunged forward, pressing her lips passionately against his, gripping the sides of jaws beneath her palms. Tim was stunned at first, but regained control of his arms, wrapping them around Rose's slender body. Rose's hands travelled through his loose brown hair, pushing glasses askew as their lips met over and over again in urgency. She grabbed hold of the top of his vest, giving him a tug.

"Why don't we just make this easy?" She whispered, her lips inches from his. Rose began walking backwards, tugging him after her, guiding him. She pressed her thighs to the arm of the couch and wrapped herself around his neck again, kissing him. Tim's hands gripped at her hips as he dipped in, deepening the kiss. He pulled his lips away in the next moment, however.

"Do you want this?" He asked breathily, "Is it... what you want?"

With trembling hands, Rose took Tim's glasses off his face, lowering them to the coffee table. She let her slender fingers graze along his cheeks for a moment. She then pressed her palms flat to either side of his face.

"Yes," She simply said.

Tim immediately claimed her lips again, slowly lowering her onto the couch. His lips trailed down her chin, gently pecking at her neck. She let out a content sigh as she pressed her fingers through his silky hair. Tim's hands ran along her arms and that's when she felt something inside of her shake. His hands were so smooth. They lacked any callouses at all. His hair wasn't bouncy. His lips felt differently. Tim's lips met her's again and she closed her eyes. When she did, all she could imagine was Jack hovering over her. His sticky blond bangs stuck across his forehead, his cheeks pink. She could recall those beautiful blue eyes. They were like the oceans waves and she was ready to fall into them. But most of all, she could feel his hands on her. She liked how rough they felt, how they tickled her soft skin. His body heat emanating against her made her ache longingly. Rose had nearly forgotten it was Tim as she kept her eyes closed, imagining a different time in life.