Chapter Forty-Nine

March 28th, 1914
New York City, New York

Rose got comfortable in the living room at Frenchie and Iris' house. She made herself a piping hot cup of tea and sunk into the cushions on the couch, sighing as her tired back finally was able to rest. She felt her spine radiate as she propped her feet up on the coffee table and set her manuscript on her swollen belly. She withdrew a red pen, ready to begin her corrections. As she made her way to the bottom of the page, a shrill piercing scream made it to her ears. Rose bolted forward, nearly knocking her tea cup off the coffee table. She dropped her work to the floor and sprung to her feet, hurrying down the hallway.

"Iris!" Rose was breathless as she burst through the bedroom door. Iris was hugging her knees, sobbing violently. Rose came to her bedside, sitting down and reaching for her. At first, Iris cringed away from the touch, but she gave in to crying again, uncaring of Rose's touch, "Iris, what is it? Was it a nightmare?"

"My life is a nightmare!" Iris screeched with a face that was the color of a tomato. She pulled away from Rose, flicking her hair from her face. She let out a frustrated whimper, trying to wipe the tears away. Iris stood and paced away from her bed, leaving Rose sitting on the edge of the mattress, who felt helpless to Iris, "I thought sleep would help, but even my dreams are as terrible as my real life is!" Iris angrily cleared her desk, sending tubes of paints, pens, pencils, and papers raining down onto the floor.

"Iris," Rose came to her feet and rounded her bed, "please, let's sit down. Take a big deep breath-"

"Screw you," Iris sneered, her eyes still bleary with tears, "You can't even begin to understand what I'm going through," Her voice cracked unevenly and she returned to her bed, sitting down and pulling a quilt over her. She rest her chin on her knees, still trying to rid the salty tears from coming, "I can't lose my mother... I just can't."

Rose was quiet for a while. She looked to her feet, gazing at the mess of art equipment surrounding her. The soft cries of Iris made it to her ear and she watched with a heart of hurt. Iris rubbed her red swollen eyes, sinking back into her pillows and attempting to catch her breath. Rose looked to her growing stomach for a moment and took a deep breath, slowly coming to the side of the bed, "I know what it's like..." Rose said quietly, gripping the wooden bedpost, "... to lose a parent," Iris lifted her wet eyes again, "I know how it hurts... how suddenly nothing makes sense..."

"I don't need you to relate with me," Iris croaked, her lashes heavy with tears.

Rose paused, biting down on her lip. She lowered her eyes and took a deep silent breath, "Why don't I make you a cup of tea? It might help you get back to sleep," Iris didn't reply. She remained propped up in bed, fiddling with the hem of the quilt, as misery festered inside of her. Rose left without another word and headed down to the kitchen.

Maybe Jack should have stayed with her... She thought as she pulled a tea bag out and poured a piping hot mug of water from the kettle on the stove, She would have probably been more comfortable with him, anyway... Slowly, she dipped the tea bag into the water, watching as the water began to diffuse into swirls of golden brown, What more can I do for them? It's not easy watching somebody you love die... It's not easy seeing them slip through your fingers. These are the stages of grief, however. I cannot blame Iris for how she's acting. Everyone handles grief differently.

Rose returned to Iris' room. Iris had been staring at the wall and looked to Rose with her scorching red eyes as the pregnant woman slowly approached her, holding a steaming mug out towards her, "Please, drink as much as you can. Your body needs something in it."

Iris clutched the mug between her shaking fingers. Rose decided to pick everything up off the floor. She used the bed to help lower herself slowly to her knees. Iris watched, taking a slow sip of her tea, "Why are you doing all of this for me?"

Rose stopped what she was doing and lifted her head, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, "Because I care about you, Iris."

Iris lowered her eyes to her tea, "That doesn't answer my question," She mumbled.

"What more can I say?" Rose asked as she gathered the art supplies into her arms and returned it to Iris' desk. She did her best to remain patient. She recomposed herself, moving her hair from the frame of her face. She turned towards Iris, who was already staring at her.

"How can you say you care for me?" Iris' voice was scratchy. She lowered her tea, her messy hair falling down her shoulder, "You don't know me."

"Well," Rose now came to the foot of the bed, looking over Iris almost maternally, "I know you mean a great deal to Jack, so now you mean a great deal to me."

Iris took another sip of her tea, her red eyes never leaving Rose, "Even after everything that has happened between Jack and I?"

"Iris, none of that matters to me," Rose shook her head, "What's happened in the past is exactly that; the past."

"We went on dates... we made art together... he kissed me," Iris said, seemingly lost in her memory, "And still, after all of that, you're willing to sit here with me?"

"Like I said," Rose replied, straightening the quilts out, "none of that matters, Iris," Rose grinned lightly as she came to the side of Iris' bed, "Besides... how could I blame you for liking Jack? He just has that kind of affect on people."

...

The café attached to the ground level of the hospital was rather grim. The decorations were bland and lacking color. The tables and chairs were blindingly white. The coffee was rather watery. Jack and Frenchie seated themselves at a table along the wall, their coffees unappetizing, but still they drank it anyway. Frenchie rubbed his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

"The doctor said we would be lucky if she made it through tonight," Frenchie finally said, lifting his red eyes to Jack, "I don't think I'm going home tonight. Just in case. If she really is going to pass..." Frenchie paused, his coffee cup shaking in his hands, "I need to be here, Jack."

"How did all of this happen?" Jack asked, making a face as he drank his coffee.

Frenchie sighed and shook his head all over again, "She's been sick lately... My only guess is she never truly shook it. Momma has always been a fighter. She's never wanted anyone to worry about her. She's always taken it upon herself to worry for everyone else. Losing my father was hard on her... I imagine it's taken quite the toll on her health."

"A broken heart is it's own disease," Jack agreed, lowering his eyes to his coffee, which was only lukewarm, "Frenchie, I'm just so sorry this is all happening. Rose and I of course offer our deepest sympathies."

"How did you deal with it?" Frenchie asked, "What did you do when you lost your parents?"

Jack waved his hand rather dismissively, "I, uh, really don't think my experience is relevant, Frenchie. My parents died in a freak-accident. And I was much, much younger."

"But how did you cope?"

Jack pursed his lips for a moment, rolling his shoulders out, "I didn't. For a long time."

"I'm worried I won't know what to do anymore," Frenchie told him, deflated like a balloon, "I feel like I have to be strong for Iris. But... I'm afraid all of that strength is gone, Jack."

"You'll know what to do when and if the time comes," Jack said before taking another sip of his coffee, "It always seems like the end of the world and yet the sun rises another day."

Frenchie cradled his head in his hand, "I wish I could take your head and screw it onto my body so I could know what to do. I'm a grown man. I should be able to just deal with it. But it feels like my entire world is falling out from beneath my feet, Jack. I'm about to lose the final person who inspired me to make art. My two biggest models, the people I adored most, are dying right in front of me. It was hard when we lost my dad... but my mom was my rock through it. Now, somehow, I have to be that rock for Iris."

"Everything's going to be okay," Jack insisted, "I'm living proof right here for you."

...

Rose was now busy working on her manuscript in Iris' bedroom. She was seated in her desk chair, facing towards her big window with a view of the small backyard the family had. Iris was still propped up in bed, unable to even dare to attempt to fall asleep. She had a new warm mug of tea and was simply watching Rose as she scribbled ferociously on page after page. Iris fidgeted with the lip of her mug for a moment before taking a curt breath.

"How did you know Jack was the one?" Iris asked. Rose paused abruptly from making a note and lifted her eyes. After a few moments, she turned in her chair to face Iris.

"You know... when I think back to the first time I saw him, I wonder the same thing," Rose told her gently, "I try to ask myself what it was about him. He was an entire deck below me. We were from two different worlds. At a first glance, it looked like we had absolutely nothing in common," Rose grinned as she recalled the memory, "But, I think the answer to your question would be his eyes. The way he looked at me. It was much different than how I'd ever been looked at before. I trusted him before I ever spoke to him."

"Did you seek him out?" Iris asked, tucking an ashen lock of hair behind her ear.

Rose lowered her eyes for a moment, her grin never wavering, "No, I didn't. But fate did for me. When we were on the Titanic, it wasn't a luxury cruise for me. It was a ship taking me to a prison. I was heading straight into doom and I decided I had to gain control," Rose paused, looking at Iris who seemed to be holding on to every word Rose spoke, "So, I decided I was going to jump off the ship. Whether I drowned or succumbed to the cold, I didn't really care. But Jack stopped me... He saw me and he talked me back over the railing. The most important part was he saw me. Not who I was supposed to be pretending to be."

Iris lowered her eyes to her tea, fidgeting with her blanket. Rose gripped the back of her chair, still watching Iris carefully.

"What about you?" Rose asked softly, "What drew you to him?"

Iris was obviously surprised by the question. She was silent for a few beats before she shrugged, rather helplessly, "I guess it was his eyes, too," She replied with a weak scratchy voice, "He so easily made me feel comfortable around him. He was open. And... he was willing to give, even when he had nothing for himself," Tears brimmed her eyes, her voice becoming pinched as she grinned weakly, gazing towards Rose, "My mother would always joke that I read too many romance novels. She would claim my head was up in the clouds with my standards to match. She thought I was too obsessed and picky with finding love, as if it had to echo the text I had read," Iris let out an uneven laugh, rubbing the tears from her flushed cheeks, "Maybe she was right. But when Jack showed up on our doorstep, it was like I was falling into the pages of another novel."

Rose smiled and came to sit on the edge of Iris' bed. She reached out, gently grabbing hold of her hand and lacing their fingers together, "I know exactly what you mean, Iris."

"I think I had forgotten the most integral element of those romance novels," Iris told her, grinning despite the tears in her eyes.

"What's that?" Rose asked, arching her eyebrows.

"That timing is everything," Iris replied, "If it didn't work with Jack, then my true love is still out there, right?"

Rose smiled gently, squeezing Iris' hand, "That's right, Iris."