Chapter Twelve

July 1st, 1913
New York City, New York

When Rose's eyes opened, she realized she was not where she had woken up. She was in Tim's bedroom. The curtains were drawn shut to help keep the room dark, but slivers of light snuck in, casting against the walls. As she shifted in the bed, she realized she was nude. Rose pressed the quilt to her chest and propped herself up on her elbow. Tim was sleeping soundly beside her, his face sunken into the pillow. Her eyes gently hovered over him before she laid back down, resigned to staring at the ceiling.

Jack was the only thing present on her mind. And yet, she still not dream of him. Frustrated, she turned her head away from Tim, holding in an impending sigh. Ever since the night before, her thoughts were prevalent with him. Recalling every detail, every word, every moment of contact. The sandalwood was no longer tingling her nose. All she could smell were the pine trees of Wisconsin. She turned on her side, facing away from Tim. She scrunched the quilts up in her hands as tears silently welled up in her eyes.

Last night, Rose had not captured the feeling she was longing for. Tim didn't touch her the same. He didn't ignite an electricity inside of her that she was desperate to rediscover. Rose felt her stomach constrict in a knot. So it had been true all along. Her gut instinct was right. Jack was her one true shot. He was the only person for her in that sense. Rose did like Tim, but afterall this time, he still was not Jack. Rose shook her head, hating herself in that moment. She couldn't help but consider herself nothing more than a picky petulant child. How could she be so cruel as to fault Tim for not being someone he didn't even know? Someone who was completely different from him.

In the next moment, Tim's arms were sliding around her waist, pulling her against his body. Rose blinked the tears away and turned her face to see his only inches from her, "Hey, good morning," He said, pecking her on the lips. He reached for his glasses on the night table and placed them on the bridge of his nose. He laid onto his back, stretching all the while, "Were you confused when you woke up? I couldn't fall asleep on the couch, so I just carried you up here with me. You're a heavy sleeper, you know that, right?"

She grinned weakly, "I liked to sleep past my wake-up call and be late for school."

Tim laughed open at this, tucking his hands beneath his pillow, "Did you want to go out for breakfast? Maybe some coffee?"

"Actually, I have some things I need to get done today," Rose sat up, reaching for her dress that Tim had gingerly folded on a nearby chair. She stepped into it zipping it up, "I appreciate the offer, though," She said, flinging her hair free from the collar. Rose turned towards Tim who was now sat up in bed, gazing at her, "How about a rain check?"

Tim finally grinned and nodded, sheepishly rustling hair hair, "Yeah, I suppose I do, too."

Rose came to the side of the bed and leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on Tim's lips. A flash of Jack came across her eyelids and left just as quick. Her skin puckered in goosebumps as she finally parted from Tim and put her shoes on, "See you soon," She said, closing the bedroom door behind her.

...

July 4th, 1913
New York City, New York

The night time symphony rang out into the darkness. Frenchie and Jack were sitting on the roof of the studio, their legs dangling over the side. Iris was still below putting her art gear away. Hurriedly, however, because she did not want to miss the fireworks show.

Frenchie fiddled with a paintbrush in his fingers, his apron smudged and dirty from an entire day of just painting. Jack's white shirt was dirty as well. Frenchie looked out towards the large bridge and then followed the river for a few moments before he took a curt breath and looked to Jack.

"I know what happened the other day..." Frenchie cast his eyes down as he spoke gently, as to not be heard from the attic door left opened, "Between you and Iris."

Jack clenched his jaw as he kept his eyes trained outward to the glowing city.

"Jack, I won't fault you for what happened, but I just want to know..." Frenchie paused for a moment, studying the side of Jack's face, "Why? Why isn't Iris good enough for you?"

Jack sighed exasperatedly, hunching his shoulders, "It's not that she's not good enough," Jack said flatly, meeting Frenchie's dark eyes, "In fact, it's not her at all. And I told her this. It's me."

"You're telling me that some girl of the past, who isn't here anymore, is better than my sister, who you can appreciate in the moment?" Frenchie looked incredulous, "Jack, the past is dead. There's nothing you can do to change the facts. The Titanic sunk. Those people are gone."

Jack looked to his hands, clenching his hands and unclenching to release the anger building up underneath his skin. He licked his lips and spoke calculating, "I don't ask you to understand, Frenchie," Jack looked to his boss, the cicadas ringing in his ears, "I just ask that you accept it."

"You want me to accept the fact you're depressed? You're letting yourself wither away. Jack, art requires emotions. You're chasing yours off. You can't resign to the fact that you'll never love again. It's simply not true. There's someone out there for everyone-"

"My somone," Jack said tensely, "is dead."

"Everyone gets a second chance," Frenchie shot back, "What do you want in life now, Jack?"

"Honestly," Jack's voice wavered for a moment and he paused, looking towards the sky. He anxiously ran his fingers together and let out a sigh, not daring to look at Frenchie, "I just want a life that's less frightening, Frenchie. I've never been so afraid of the world as I am now. I used to think it was an oyster, all mine to collect and relish in. I used to think my endless drifting was rock bottom," Jack shook his head disdainfully, "No... this is rock bottom. Without Rose."

"What about her was so grand, anyway?" Frenchie shrugged.

"Everything," Jack said firmly, knitting his eyebrows together. He could hear the wind whistling in his ear, the powerful ship slicing through the ocean as if it was nothing. He could smell the salty air. There she was, hair blowing in the wind, sweeping across her face, but not blocking that beautiful smile. There she was, waiting for him to take her hand, lead her off into that sunset, the one they had spoken of the most. Jack closed his eyes briefly, swallowing a growing lump in his throat, "She was kind," Jack's eyes were glassy as he looked out at the horizon. His voice was husky, oozing the last bit of emotion he felt he had left. Frenchie only watched him, "She was sweet... she cared about everyone, even those who had done her wrong. She was brilliant, Frenchie. I could listen to her talk on for hours on end. And her voice," He lowered his eyes, his whole body trembling, "... it was like an angel's. It was so harminous... so smooth," Jack smiled weakly as her face came to the forefront of his mind, "She was talented. She had so much promise. She could fight for herself, stand on her own two feet. And she'd stop at nothing to do it. I think that's what I loved about her the most," Jack looked to Frenchie, openly crying, "I loved that willpower in her. To get whatever she wanted."

"You don't think anyone could ever equate to her?" Frenchie seemed displeased, "Why don't you give Iris a chance?"

"Because I'm not setting myself up to break her heart," Jack shook his head, looking out into the distance again, "Because I already know what would happen if I let Iris get close to me. I'm not ready to commit to anybody. And I feel it's only fair that make myself clear on that."

"I just don't understand why you do this to yourself," Frenchie sighed, "The first step to recovering and forgetting is moving on and-"

"I would never forget her," Jack said.

"You have to go back to living a normal life, Jack," Frenchie cried, "You have to be a human. One that let's itself go, has some fun, lives again. You can't spend the rest of your days being this guarded. You have to let somebody in, Jack. Life is unfair, we all have suffered. But these are the cards you've been dealt. It can't be Rose so it has to be someone else."

"There is no someone else!" Jack had a fire in his eyes now, "For God's sake, are you even listening to me!? Why can't you accept the way I feel?! A whole year may seem like a long time to you, but for me, it's not. I still think about her every day. I talk to her every day. I don't want to go play around in the garden when I'm perfectly fine right here!"

"If you want a life less frightening, then why don't you stop living in those frightening memories?!" Frenchie shot back, agitation edging his voice, "Part of moving on is helping yourself, Jack! How can you ever expect life to feel better if you let her fester inside of you?!"

"Screw you," Jack growled, standing up and marching across the roof, "You don't understand, Frenchie."

"What don't I understand?!" Frenchie stumbled to his feet and threw his arms out at his side, not caring about the volume of his voice, "This entire time I've been making art with you, I think I've come to understand you just fine. I don't you understand yourself!"

"Oh, and what do I not understand, huh?" Jack put his hands on hips, his entire body radiating, "I get it. You think I'm pathetic. That I'm wasting my time pining over what could have been. And you're right. But I don't know how to fix this. I know, sure as hell, that it's not by being with Iris."

"But you don't know," Frenchie shouted, "You don't know because you won't let anybody in! You shut us all out! We're here knocking and you're leaving us out here. You're your own problem, Jack!"

Just as Jack was opening his mouth to reply, a whizzing noise broke out into the air and suddenly a red burst of light cackled in the sky behind Frenchie. He turned around to gawk his head up at the sky that was now being illuminated in many colors, the sounds of popping resounding across the quiet river. Jack watched with a face of stone, recalling the flares from the Titanic offering a brief moment of redirection from the impending fate of the ship. The shrill sounds of violins reached his ears momentarily and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

Iris popped up behind from the attic door in the next few moments, the biggest grin on her face, unaware of what just took place. She brushed past Jack, walking towards the edge of the roof to watch the spectacle. Jack looked at the back of Iris, the fireworks offering brief illumination over her. He then looked at Frenchie and shook his head. With a thundering heart beat, Jack went down the attic steps, slamming the door behind him.

...

The sound of fireworks surprised Rose. She had been laying on the couch wearing nothing but a white button-up, Jack's mugshot twisted in her fingers, staring directly back at her. Rose had called out of work the past two days as she struggled to cope with the bitter emptiness that now plagued her insides. She felt so absolutely dreadful. She thought she had wanted the right thing, but she couldn't help but think it was all a mistake. She desperately liked Tim but she knew she would never truly be happy with him. At least in the way he seemed happy with her. Rose felt awful about it because Tim had put in so much effort. It was clear he cared for her and she asked herself why wasn't it enough? He loved her in a capacity that was similar to Jack's and he had been consistent for much longer than what Jack was able to offer. Why couldn't Rose give herself in to that? Why couldn't she let herself go again? She had, without as much as a second thought, with Jack.

The cackling fireworks though drew her to the window, where she gripped the sill tenderly and watched with a face of sorrow. It reminded her of the flares on the Titanic. She sighed and closed her eyes, pressing her forehead to the cool glass. She untangled the picture in her hand and allowed her eyes to hover over it yet again.

What is it about you that draws me into you? She thought, her fingers gently grazing over his picture, There was something about you... something different. No one else saw it but me. In some ways, I'm also cursed that I met you... but I wouldn't trade those three days for anything. Not even for another shot at happiness, Jack.

A green firework illuminated the glossy photo in her hands. Her eyes fluttered upwards for the briefest moment before going back to the picture, which she lifted and planted a kiss on. She sighed longingly, pressing her back to the wall and sliding down onto the ground. Rose hugged her knees and set her chin on top.

"This is rock bottom," She told herself, her voice cracking as tears blurred her vision.