Chapter Forty-Two

February 8th, 1914
New York City, New York

Jack was upstairs painting in the office space when he heard the door bell ring. He paused, still holding his brush to the canvas, and gazed over his shoulder towards the hallway. He heard Rose shuffling about downstairs and then the door opened.

"Oh!" Resounded up the stairs to Jack's ears. He furrowed his brow as her voice quieted. After a few moments the door closed and he heard a ruckus of voices from down below, "Jack!" Rose called, "Frenchie is here!"

Jack popped up from his stool, trying to remember if it was a work day or not. It was Saturday. They typically didn't work on those days. Jack set his palette down and carelessly tossed his brush onto a rag crumpled on the ground. Jack went to the stair railing and leaned down to look into the foyer. Sure enough, Frenchie was there talking to Rose.

"You're looking well," Frenchie told her kindly, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Rose grinned, "I think I'm in the easy part right now."

"Whatever you need, don't hesitate to ask for," Frenchie said. When he heard Jack's shoes on the stairs, he turned towards him and smiled bigger, "There you are! Hey, I needed to talk to you."

"Is everything okay?" Jack asked as he finally came to the base of the stairs.

"Everything's fine," Frenchie assured him, "I just needed to tell you something. Maybe we should sit down?" He gestured to their rather sparse living room. Together, the trio seated themselves in recliners, couches, and loveseats. Frenchie leaned forward, pressing his elbows to his knees, "There's no easy way to say this, so I just will: Iris is leaving."

"What... do you mean?" Jack asked slowly, furrowing his brow. Even Rose was rather perplexed, "Like, she's quittin' at the studio?"

"More than that," Frenchie cleared his throat, "She's bought herself a one-way ticket by steamboat to Southampton. She's decided she needs what you had. A trip by herself, hopping border after border. Iris said..." He paused for a moment and looked to Jack, "She needed her own desperate attempt at finding what she loved about life."

"So, that's it?" Jack sat up straight, seeming rather irritated, "Your mom's in poor health and she's just gonna skip town on you two? God dammit," Jack came to his feet sharply and paced a few steps.

"Why are you so angry about this?" Frenchie asked, gazing towards Jack.

"I need to speak with her," Jack said adamantly, "She's goin' for all the wrong reasons. I didn't skip town to a foreign country to find what I loved. I left because there was nothing in my current town for me. She has a family, she has an outlet. She's doing this for no other reason than to run away from her ownself. Because she's too scared to confront how she feels and she's too scared to deal with it."

"By all means, please speak with her," Frenchie stood, gesturing widely, "I don't want her to go, Jack."

"When does she leave?"

"Tomorrow morning," Frenchie replied, rather grimly.

"This is absurd," Jack scoffed, shaking his head, "Where is she?"

"At home, packing," Frenchie told him, "Momma was crying when I left. Iris was ignoring her. I've never seen her like this, Jack. I want my baby sister back. One that isn't so frustrated by life's events. One that doesn't feel like she has been scorned. Maybe you can be the one to talk her out of this."

"Well," Jack sighed, putting his hands on his hips, "she's not gonna like what I have to say."

...

When Jack made it to Frenchie's house, he was greeted by Irene sitting in the living room, dabbing her eyes and sniffling over a handkerchief. She looked up with her wet eyes towards Jack and Frenchie, who were shrugging out of their coats and hanging them by the door.

"Where's Iris?" Frenchie asked, rolling the sleeves of his shirt.

"Still in her room..." Irene's voice was heavy with sorrow. She stood and walked towards Jack, gripping his arm and making him pause, "You can't let her go, Jack. She can't go to Europe by herself. She just can't."

"I know, Irene," Jack said softly, nodding at her. He glanced to Frenchie who motioned for him to go ahead. Slowly, Jack walked towards the end of a hallway. He saw Iris' bedroom door was cracked, slivers of light from her room cascading against the wall. Jack's heart was hammering in his chest as he approached the door and lightly rapped on it with his knuckles. There was no response but he could hear her shuffling about. He pushed the door open, exposing himself in the threshold. Iris was at her desk organizing art supplies. She looked over her shoulder towards the visitor and he watched her face grow dark and exasperated.

"Let me guess," Iris spoke first, looking towards her collection cluttered on her desk, "Frenchie called for you to talk to me, huh?"

"We're concerned, Iris."

"There's no reason to be," She replied curtly, jamming her pencils into a pouch and taking it to a large carpet bag she had sitting open on her bed. Iris gripped the sides of the bag, glaring towards Jack, "This is what I want."

"Is it really?" Jack asked, taking a few more steps into her bedroom. He had never been there before. He glanced around fleetingly, seeing some paintings her father had painted mounted on the wall. Above her desk, she had several glamour stars displayed from different cinema releases. Her room smelled fruity, "I don't think it is."

"Well, what do you know about me?" Iris asked, sharply, looking to Jack with eyes that were steaming, "I don't think you really took the time to get to know me."

"Are you being serious right now?" Jack furrowed his brow, "Iris, your favorite color is yellow. Mary Pickford is your favorite actress. You love curry. You prefer white wine over red wine."

"Oh, good for you," Iris said as she crossed to her dresser and began yanking dresses out, "You know some minute, frivilous, irrelevant details about me," She began back to her carpet bag with her arms loaded with clothes, but Jack stepped in her way. She stopped curtly, a few cotton stockings falling to the floor.

"How do you expect us to learn anymore about each other, like each other more, if you're dead-set on moving half-way across the world?" Jack asked firmly.

"I guess I don't," She replied evenly, rounding Jack and continuing with her packing.

"So, what, you're giving up?" Jack turned towards her, his blood throbbing in his veins.

"No," Iris paused and lifted her eyes to Jack, "Consider this letting go."

Jack leaned forward, gripping the side of her carpet bag. He brought his face level with her's, "If this is because of me, Iris, I can guarantee you right now, this is not the answer," He spoke quietly. Iris felt her skin pucker in goosebumps, "If you get on that boat as a way to ignore everything that happened between us, well, then you're wrong. Because you're leaving behind more than that. You're leaving behind your brother and your mother. You're leaving behind Frenchie's studio. You're leaving much more than just me behind, Iris."

"This is for me," Iris shot back, yanking her carpet bag away from him, "It's my turn to do something for myself, Jack. Timing means nothing when you're desperate for a change."

"What are you going to do in Europe?" Jack straightened up, furrowing his brow, "You honestly don't think you're just going to couch-surf and draw pictures for dimes?"

"Isn't that what you did?" Iris asked, carelessly throwing her dresses into the bag.

"Iris, it was diff-"

"It was not!" Iris looked to him, a fire rising inside of her, "You left because there was nothing here for you, right? Well, the same goes for me."

"But there is something here for you!" Jack tried to mask any exasperation he felt, "Iris, we can't let you go. We care for you. We love you. And we're not about to let you walk out on this."

"What is all of this you're referring to?" Iris asked, "All I'm doing is living with my mother, greiving for my father, and simply following in the shadowed foosteps of my brother! I'm doing nothing for myself. I want this, Jack. I need this."

"I just feel like there's a different way to resolve this," Jack told her, "One that doesn't involve you putting an ocean between us."

"There's not," Iris resumed packing, "And there's nothing you can think of to convince me otherwise. I have to learn for myself, Jack. All of you do nothing but treat me as if I'm an infant. I can take care of myself and make my own decisions," She looked back towards him, "And for once, all of you will simply just have to deal with it."

"Iris, please, recon-"

"Don't you have a pregnant wife to get home to?" Iris asked while balling up some stockings and dropping them into the bag.

Jack felt his entire skin grow hot. It felt like his insides were baking over a flame burning in his belly. He bit down so hard on his lip, he tasted copper. His hands were beginning to quake as Iris continued with her packing, not even giving Jack a glance. After a moment, Jack turned on the balls of his feet and shut the door rather firmly behind him. He slowly walked towards the living room where Frenchie was now sitting on the couch, trying to comfort Irene, who still had tears falling from her eyes. Frenchie looked to Jack hopefully, but that was extinguished when he saw Jack's angry and pinched look.

"She... didn't change her mind, did she?" Frenchie asked flatly.

Jack walked towards the couch, leaning against it and crossing his arms over his chest, "I'm going to stop her, Frenchie. Even if it makes her hate me forever, I'm not letting her get on that boat."

"You didn't think to tell her any horror stories about sinking ships?"

Jack shot Frenchie a look, "That's the least of our concerns, Frenchie."

"So, what's your plan, then?" Frenchie asked.

Jack sighed and lowered his head, his blond hair dangling in front of his eyes, "Well... this is the only way I see it workin' out..."

...

February 9th, 1914
New York City, New York

Jack was awake long before dawn ever broke. He stared at the ceiling for hours. Rose slept soundly beside him and he was glad. He tried not to toss or turn so she could get her sleep. He listened to her rhythmic breathing in the darkness, trying to will his ownself to fall asleep, but he couldn't. He remained wide-awake, his thoughts pounding at his skull.

All he could think about was his interaction with Iris the day before. He remembered all the times before when they had had fun together, laughed together, and bonded. He thought about all the times they had, the times he cherished. Frenchie and Iris' friendships were integral to him. They had helped him through the darkest times of his life. Part of him was angry at Iris. He felt her lashing out was in direct response to Jack's moving on. He felt he had finally found happy days only to have them spoiled by the thought of de-railing the entirety of Iris' typical happy-go-lucky personality. Another part of Jack, however, was sad and almost scared. He was terrified at the idea of losing Iris in his life. He was scared of the unknown Iris so desperately wanted to leap head first into. His time in Europe had not been a luxury vacation. Some nights were spent sleeping on benches with a growling stomach. Some days were found in failure as he was not able to score a few coins. It took Jack awhile to adapt to a vagabond lifestyle. It wasn't easy at first. He worried Iris would face his difficulties and it pained him to think of her thousands of miles away with hunger pains, plagued in loneliness.

The sun slowly began to creep into the room. Jack's bloodshot eyes wandered to the windows as the new day welcomed him. He sighed and rubbed his tired face, immediately rolling out of bed. Frenchie had told him the ship had an eight in the morning departure time. Jack crossed to the door and leaned into the hallway to spy the grandfather clock near the stairs. It wasn't even five in the morning yet. Jack sighed and raked his hands through his hair, heading downstairs to the kitchen, resigned that he wasn't going to get any sleep.

He lazily got the coffee maker brewing and seated himself at the island, putting his head in his hands. Jack sighed deeply and shook his head. He slowly lifted his eyes to gaze out the window above the kitchen sink that overlooked the side yard. In that moment, all of his memories with Iris were dancing before him. Her smile, with her one slightly crooked tooth. Her laugh resounding across the studio. The sly way she cocked her head to the side. Her voice echoed through his mind as the taste of faint beer became apparent on his tongue.

The beep from the coffee maker startled him. Jack sat up as straight as an arrow, looking towards the coffee pot, which was steaming. He didn't move for a few moments, but finally sighed and got up, fixing his coffee. He wandered out onto the back porch, dragging a stool behind him. There were still dustings of snow and his bare feet stung as he walked across the dewey porch and hauled himself onto the stool. Jack's breath puffed before him as he pressed his back against the wall, cradling his coffee against his stomach. It was still, quiet, and dark. The first of the orange morning rays were beginning to fall across the wide open yard they had.

I shouldn't have to choose, Jack thought, anxiety rising in him as he imagined the ticking clock, growing nearer and nearer to the ships departure, I told Iris... all the way from the start... I never promised her anything. I can't lose her over this. How do I make this clear to her? How can I convince her there's more in New York City for her, more that stretches far beyond those shadows she sees...? Why does this all have to happen now? Jack heaved a sigh and took a curt sip of his coffee, I'm startin' to think I'm just digging my grave over here.

...

Jack left the house before Rose woke up. He left the coffee on a hot plate and laid out some fresh fruit for her to choose between. The air was nippy. He buttoned his coat as he left the neighborhood an hour before the ship was due to leave. Jack walked decisively, making his turns confidentally as he weaved through New York City, towards the docks. He didn't look at his surroundings or any people brushing past him. He kept his eyes locked forward, his breath streaming behind him. His nose had grown red, his cheeks windblown and flushed.

He saw a commotion of a crowd up ahead, a train of cars and carts lining up the street. There were some honks and as he grew closer to the crowd, he could hear jubilations and loud chatter. Jack's heart beat ferociously in his chest as he watched some children dart about between people's legs, taking sharp turns and giggling. It reminded Jack of himself and Fabrizio that crisp morning in Southampton, their feet beating against the cobblestone, the wind at their backs, and their fates in their hands. Jack paused at the outskirts of the crowd, gazing towards the dock over a sea of bobbing heads.

The boat sitting at the pier was large, naturally, but was no where near the scale of immensity the Titanic was. Stencilled along the side in bold black paint it said SS Mariana. Jack stared through the crowd at nothing in particular before willing himself to slowly thread into the people. He brushed past people carefully. Every shimmer of ashen or blonde hair in the morning sun had Jack's head snapping to further inspect. He walked past many people who were in the middle of tears and heartfelt embraces. Other people were talking in excited tones, waving their tickets in their hands. Jack paused, his heart hammering in his chest, his breathing shallowing. He cocked his head back to look at the ship again, which had grown taller the closer he got. Jack felt horrendously weak in that moment. He felt as if he couldn't catch his breath.

Quickly, he darted between the gaps of the crowd, feeling himself overcome in heat suddenly. He hurriedly unbuttoned his jacket as he staggered from the crowd and into an alleyway. His feet clattered against the cobblestone as he fell against the wall, letting out an uneven breath. The sound of the ocean washed across his mind and he lowered his eyes, cursing himself with every word in the book. He blamed his lack of sleep. He blamed the absence of breakfast that morning. He blamed being overstimulated by the coffee. He blamed everything except the damned ship in the dock. Jack pressed his hand to his throbbing head. He slid down against the wall and lowered himself to the grimey floor, holding his eyes shut. Around him, the world tilted and whirled as he felt a persisting ache through his body. He had never felt something so overwhelming in his entire life.

I have to find Iris... Jack told himself as he pressed his forehead to his bent knees, Pull it together and get off the ground, he sighed as his body didn't even budge. Still, his heart thundered in his chest, making him fidgety and ridden in anxiety, I think I'm losing my mind.

Just then, the ship blew its horn. Jack jerked his head up, seeing the smoke stacks beginning to bellow. He smelled the familiar burning odor of coal. It stung his nose. Jack gripped the wall and pulled himself to his feet, his red eyes gazing towards the steamboat. The crowd surged forward, the voices rising in unisons. Hands raised towards the sky. Many people lined the railings of the ships, dangling handkerchiefs over the edge, screaming down below, and blowing kisses. Jack watched with glassy eyes, his pupils slowly wandering down the railing of bright faces. He felt his heart sinking to the depths of his stomach as he heard the grinding of engines coming to life. He tilted his heavy head against the wall, watching as the Mariana bucked forward. The crowd, as if magnetically attached to the ship, migrated down the long docks as the ship made its slow descent towards the vast awaiting sea.

Jack lowered his eyes to his boots and heaved a heavy sigh. He turned away from the scene, trying to tune out the shouts of people and the resounding echoes of the departing ship. When he turned around, however, he froze, his breathing hitching in his throat. Standing in the alleyway before him was Iris, who had tears in her eyes, her suitcase forgotten atop a murky puddle. Jack rushed forward, embracing Iris' petite body in his arms.

"Iris..." He sighed. She felt his entire body shaking as he held her.

Slowly, Iris wrapped her arms around Jack. Silent tears brimmed over her eyes and slid down her flushed cheeks, "I couldn't do it, Jack... I couldn't go."

Jack opened his eyes, staring down the vacant alleyway behind Iris. He straightened up, gazing down at Iris' tear stained face. Jack weakly smiled, his eyes wet as well, "It's okay," His voice was uneven, the sounds and smell of the ship still stinging all of his senses, "We'll figure something else out."