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Chapter Three

First Glance

We were invited to the Palm Court to have lunch with Bruce Ismay and company that afternoon. I really didn't want to go, but Mother gave me no choice.

"Really Rose, must you always be so obstinate?" she asked under her breath as we made our way down the A deck.

"Only when I'm forced to do something I don't want to," I replied rather coldly to her. I didn't want to feel this way toward my mother but I couldn't seem to help myself.

"Cal is expecting us and I expect for you to be on your best behavior. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Mother," I answered stepping ahead of her.

When we reached the Palm Court, Cal greeted us and immediately pulled out a seat for mother and myself. "I was beginning to wonder where you were," he said turning his head slightly to me.

"I misplaced something but I found it."I told him as I reached up for my napkin. I folded it and laid it across my lap.

"Sit up straight, Rose." My mother whispered. "Your back is touching the seat."

I bit my lip to keep from responding but did as my mother had asked. I felt frustration rumble inside of me. I hated the way everyone was always telling me what to do. How to sit, how to eat, how to talk and even to walk.

"What a marvelous ship this is, Mr. Ismay," Mother said smiling demurely at him.

"Thank you, Mrs. DeWitt-Bukater," Mr. Ismay answered. "I hope you approve of your accommodations."

"Oh yes, they're lovely, very impressive. I don't believe I've ever seen anything like it."

Mr. Ismay seemed pleased with my mother's interest. Puffing his chest out proudly he smiled broadly as he spoke. "The Titanic is a wonder. She is the largest moving object ever made by the hand of man in all history. Our master designer Mr. Andrews designed her from the keel plates up."

Mr. Andrews smiled humbly as he shook his head. "I may have knocked her together, but the idea was Mr. Ismay's. He envisioned a steamer so grand in scale, and so luxurious in its appointments, that its supremacy would never be challenged. And here she is…" he slapped the table with his hand. "Willed into solid reality."

Supreme male laughter filtered around the table. "Here, here," Cal said beside me. Bored by all of the talk around me, I lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

"You know I don't like that, Rose," my mother said quietly. Turning to her, I blew smoke in her face. It was wrong I know, but it was also a little satisfying.

"She knows," Cal said and before I could even react, he pulled the cigarette from the holder and snuffed it out. It was one of the things I despised about him. He was always taking it upon himself to choose what I did or didn't do as if he owned me.

"We'll both have the lamb, rare, with very little mint sauce." Cal told the waiter who had came up at that time. "You like lamb, right sweetpea?" he asked turning to me.

Holding back what I really wanted to say, I merely smiled at him as pleasantly as I could muster.

"You gonna cut her meat there for her, too, Cal?" Molly asked bit tauntingly toward him. But, she gave him no room to answer before turning to Mr. Andrews and Mr. Ismay. "Hey, uh, who thought of the name Titanic? Was it you, Bruce?"

"Yes, actually," Mr. Ismay answered with a self-satisfied laugh. "I wanted to convey sheer size, and size means stability, luxury and above all, strength."

I couldn't stand it another minute. The man was so pompous and pretentious it was nauseating. I'd give him a lesson in size, one he wouldn't soon forget. "Have you ever heard of Dr. Freud, Mr. Ismay?" I asked rather innocently. "His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you?"

The titter of laughter filtered around the table, from everyone that is except my mother and Cal. I could feel my mother stiffen next to me.

"What's gotten into you?" she whispered in a strained voice.

I didn't answer, of course. I couldn't tell her what had gotten into me, for I really didn't know myself. I just knew that I had to get out of that room before I burst into a million pieces. "Excuse me," I said standing.

I made my way across the Palm Court and out onto the boat deck. The fresh, salt sea air blew around me as I stepped out into the sunshine. Seeing the railing in front of me, I walked over to it and looked down on the mass of third class passengers that milled around below.

Everyone looked so happy and joyous as they talked, strolled and huddled in groups. Over to my left I saw a group of unkempt young men talking to each other. One stood out to me for some unknown reason, perhaps because he was holding a sketch pad. Was he some sort of artist?

Suddenly the young man looked up at me and for an instant our eyes locked. I was taken aback at the way in which he stared at me. I know I shouldn't have continued staring at him, but I couldn't seem not to.

At that moment Cal came up behind me and grabbed my arm. "I can't believe your behavior in there."

"Do you mind?" I snapped.

"I hope you're proud of yourself."

I didn't want to hear his lectures nor did I want to hear his criticism of my behavior. I simply was not in the mood to deal with him. Pulling away from him, I left him standing on the deck as I made my way back to our suite of rooms. I knew I would pay for this act of subordination later, but for now I only wanted to be away from him and the feeling of confinement he brought with him when he was near me.