Chapter 2
I continued to sit quietly at the dinner table, ignoring everything around me. Nathan and Cal were talking about a new company that Hockley Steel had acquired, Mother and Elizabeth were talking about some function that they were attending in a few days. I sat and spent my time on the same activity: worrying about Mia's future.
I knew what I wanted for her, but what Cal would allow was a different conversation altogether. If Cal had his way, Mia would be sent far away to a finishing school in Europe before being married off to some high society man. She would then be his, just like I was Cal's. I hated the idea of her having that horrible future. I wanted her to be able to study what she was interested in and marry a man that she loved, regardless of class.
I hoped Mia knew how much I loved her. I would die just for her to have the freedom I wanted her to have, I would sacrifice everything so that she wouldn't have to live the life that I had. She would never have the life I had, I wouldn't allow it. After all, she had one thing that I didn't have growing up: a real parent who loved her. Both my parents were like Cal. They were detached, uncaring, and indifferent towards my existence. That is, until it was time for me to save the family name all on my own, at which point my mother hovered around me constantly.
Mia would have a different life, I would make sure of it. I would let her decide where she wanted to go to school, whether it was in Pittsburgh or elsewhere. I would allow her to court suitors the way she wanted to and decide who she wanted to marry. I wanted her to feel the way I felt about Jack with her husband, not just know that she has no choice in her life. And I would always be there every step of the way to provide her with love and support, something that Cal clearly wouldn't.
Finally, dinner was over, and I left immediately to return to my room. Cal and Nathan would be returning to the study to discuss more "business matters" over brandy while my mother and Elizabeth continued their gossip in the tea room. Too exhausted for such dull and worthless chatter, I escaped to my bedroom.
I opened the door to my sitting room, where there were two large couches, separated by a mahogany table. The fancy gold colored couches were uncomfortable to sit on, and so I hardly ever used them. I turned around and turned the brass lock, locking the door. It was useless to lock the door, however, because once Cal started banging on the door, demanding I open it, I had no choice. All the lock gave me was a few seconds to collect myself before needing to interact with him.
I slid off my shoes, letting my feet hit the cold hardwood floor. Just as I picked up my shoes and went to put them away, there was a knock at the door. I glanced at my watch, noticing it was too early for Cal to be finished with his father. It couldn't possibly be Cal; the knock was too gentle, too soft to be him. "Mrs. Hockley?" I recognized the voice: it was my maid, Mary. I didn't know much about her, though most of the blame for that fell on my shoulders. After losing Trudy, I blocked off other maids. Trudy had been one of my best friends and closest confidantes, and after losing her, I couldn't bare to open up to someone else who could disappear like she had. It felt wrong to move on from that loss, somehow.
It must seem strange that I can't bear to move on from the death of my maid, but I moved on from Jack's death rather quickly. I hadn't moved on from Jack's death in the least, but I covered it up and used Trudy as my outlet to grieve the losses I experienced with the sinking of Titanic. I couldn't openly grieve for Jack, not in any recognizable way, anyway. In the first few weeks after Titanic, I wasn't bound by Cal, and I was able to get a small tattoo on my hip. His initials were written in a black script in permanent ink, so at least in that way, he'd be with me forever. I'd touch the area of the tattoo from time to time, when I needed to feel like he was with me, or to somehow summon his incredible strength.
I wrote letters to him from time to time, every year on April fifteenth and whenever else I needed him. I could sometimes hear his voice, sending me in the right direction and helping me. I wished he was here, that I had been able to marry him instead of Cal. But if I had, I wouldn't have Mia.
Mary called for me again, pulling me out of my rabbit hole of thoughts. I walked over to the door and unlocked it, allowing her to enter. "Sorry, Mary. I was… well, I was lost in my thoughts," I chuckled sadly.
"No need to apologize, Mrs. Hockley," she smiled. She took the shoes from me and put them away. She walked back over and smiled politely. "Shall I help you undress?" I hated the fact that I needed to be assisted in getting undressed, but honestly, I couldn't do it alone. The zippers on my dresses were stiff and my corset was always too tight. I nodded, and Mary began unfastening my dress.
Why was it that women had to be the fairer sex? Who decided that women were to be only beautiful, unconcerned with anything but finding a husband? Why was women's appearance and the idea of having the perfect hourglass figure put above the health of women? I knew women who passed out from the tightness of their corsets, who couldn't move while wearing it. Luckily, none of those happened to me, but wearing such articles of clothing was a nuisance.
I exhaled sharply as my corset was loosened, and I was simply standing in my undergarments. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Mrs. Hockley?" Mary asked.
I smiled politely. "I'm alright. Thank you, Mary." Mary curtsied before leaving me alone in my room once again. I sighed tiredly, drained both physically and mentally from the day. After locking the door again, I took out a nightgown and pulled it over my head before sliding into bed. I picked up the book I was reading, Shakespeare's Hamlet. I liked Shakespeare quite a bit, the lives of the doomed characters somehow made me feel better about my hopeless life. I no longer had any interest in his romantic plays. When I was in finishing school, Romeo and Juliet was a staple in my life, and I would read it over and over again. After experiencing the heartbreak that Shakespeare speaks of in that tragedy, I don't have the strength to revisit it.
I read a few pages, but I couldn't concentrate on the words in front of me. Instead, my mind wandered, going far far away from the Hockley estate. I wished Mia could be closer to me, to feel her little squirmy body in my arms, to feel her lean her head against me, to just know she was there. Her room was right next-door to mine, but it often didn't feel that way.
She was the one thing keeping me afloat. No matter what Cal and my mother were torturing me with, she kept me from losing my mind. She kept me grounded, content on some level, instead of the depressed, suicidal girl from Titanic. If not for her, I probably would have tried to end my life, and I would have succeeded, since there was no Jack Dawson to stop me anymore.
Was my life really so awful? I asked myself this question often, and the answer was never simple. It kept me up at night, wondering what kind of example I was setting for Mia, staying in an unhappy life. I knew that if I had a future with Jack, everything would be simpler: we would have our love, our possible children, and that would be enough. I wondered if not for Mia if I would've tried running away or getting a divorce. I couldn't get a divorce now, of course, since it would take away my rights to Mia and I would probably never get to see her again, at least for the next many years.
Not being in Mia's life would be unbearable for me, as she was, after all, my daughter. But abandoning her and leaving her entirely in Cal's care was possibly the absolute worst thing I could do as her mother. I needed to be here to take care of her, to protect her, and to love her.
I dreamt of one day, when Mia was grown and independent, leaving Cal and the whole high society life behind, living somewhere on my own, with no one to answer to. This dream was an indulgence to me, something that helped me believe that things weren't as gruesome as they sometimes seemed.
The pessimistic part of my brain would always step in, convincing me that it would never happen, that Cal would never let me go. And there was truth to that, of course. It wouldn't be easy to escape, to free myself from Cal's grasp, but I had to hope that it was a possibility.
I wondered sometimes what Mia thought of me. Did she see me as this distanced relative - the way I saw my mother when I was little - the kind that you only see for a few moments here and there? Did she feel closer to her caregivers than to me, her own mother? I couldn't blame her if she did feel that way. After all, I spent a few hours with her, while the caregivers did everything else, from feeding her to bathing her to playing games with her. I wished I could do all of those things, and whenever I had the opportunity to, I did, but it didn't come around often enough. Too often I was called into a ridiculous meeting to plan a function, or requested by my mother to be scolded for whatever I did that bothered her. And, I hate to admit it, but when those things needed to be taken care of, I neglected Mia as a result.
I desperately tried to balance it all: caring for Mia, running the household, organizing everything for Cal, and keeping up my active social life. I was only one person, however, and I constantly felt that I was stretched far too thin. I wished I could throw all of those obligations away and take full care of Mia, but I couldn't. I desperately hoped she understood that.
I glanced at the clock, noticing it was quite late. I set down my book and closed my eyes, seeing a certain scene in my head. Jack was sitting on a large, worn, brown leather couch. Sitting on his lap was Mia, squirming in his arms while he tickled her. Her little, infectious, high pitched laugh filled my ears, as Jack was smiling next to her.
I opened my eyes, realizing that it wasn't true. I was still in the Hockley estate, I was still Rose Hockley, and Jack was still dead.
