So I broke away from my life as it once was. I gave it up for something new and wonderful. Something better. Something pure. Love. That painful world that was my old life had been literally washed away, but along with it went someone I loved. And a new horror was wrought upon me.
Had it been real? Had what happened really happened? I'm not talking about Jack. He was the only true thing I knew. He seemed more real than anybody I'd ever met. But what happened that night. All those people. There were so many of them and they were so helpless. I'd never rid my mind of those images.
But I lost Jack. By sticking together we had a responsibility to each other. He held up his end. Why couldn't I? If only he had tried to get on the damn board one more time if only we had thought of that. Why hadn't I thought of that? I should have thought of that. Why didn't I think of that? He was right. *You can't breathe. You can't think.* I could find a hundred other mistakes besides that one.
He made me promise to live. Why didn't he follow his own word? He never said he'd loved me back. I think deep down he thought he'd make it, but I came first. I came first. He put me before himself. No one had ever done that for me.
Lying there in that lifeboat I kept forgetting he was gone. Every time I woke up I would turn my head to check on him. I wanted to die every time I looked on that empty spot next to me.
The following few days I was in complete shock, but I still hid from my family. I was taken to the doctor immediately. I was incapacitated for several hours. Severe hypothermia. Everything was a blur those first few hours. I didn't see anything clearly and all sounds blurred together. I forgot what happened or where I was.
But early that day I remembered everything perfectly clear. Painfully clear. My voice was a little stronger. I was in bed in some makeshift hospital when it happened. Everything came back to me at full speed. I screamed. My voice ripped threw the room, breaking the quiet of shuffling feet, muffled cries and piercing my own ears. I couldn't help it. It hurt so much. It was worse than any ache my illness could give me. God help me it was so awful.
I attended to by somebody looking very stressed, but concerned. Luckily he just tried to calm me down. He had the sense enough not to ask me what was wrong.
But by late morning I was out on deck with hot tea and a dry blanket. I was not dead, nor was I dying anymore. And I had been literally dying apparently. But I was not dead. Therefore I had no need to take up space and waste other people's time.
I was dizzy and shaking everywhere for days. I cried to myself for about an hour. Not so much pitying myself anymore. This wasn't fair to Jack. He deserved to live. He fought for it and not just for himself. He was just a kid too. A decent, loving kid. Just a boy. He had the whole world, a whole life ahead of him, but at least he had lived while he was alive.
The tears I shed were not shed by someone who'd lost a lover. Lovers always love again. I lost my best friend. My only true friend. Someone who loved me, who believed in me, and would fight for me to the bitter end. But I was still in love with him. How could someone with so much life, be dead?
This was not going to be over in a few days. Jack wasn't coming back. And what I saw, what I lost would always be with me. This would be with me for the rest of my life, however long that was.
I would never shake this. None us would. But I remembered what I promised him. And I'd go to hell and come right back again to keep it. I owed him that.
But I still lost him. Oh, Jesus, I lost him. We tried. We tried so hard. I guess you could say we fought nobly and lost. Still, it wasn't right. And nothing could ever make it right.
I found out later Mother and Cal had made it. I stunned myself a little after that. I was so angry. I wanted him to be dead. I actually wanted someone dead. Maybe I would have felt differently if he had died, but we'll never know now.
I wanted to see my mother so bad it hurt new places. But I could never go to her. It would ruin my new plan. She might understand, but she would never let me go. I hated myself for leaving her like. She had been manipulative, phony and feeble, but she was my mother and she did love me. But I would sacrifice everything by staying and if I saw her again I would not be able to leave her. I could never go back.
I woke up the morning of the 16th to a new and cruel world again. Not so shocking and bitter as the morning after, but worse still. I had to remind myself again that Jack had been real, he had existed, and I would let him down if I quit now. A quick adjustment after my life had been turned upside down twice, but I no longer had the luxury of time. As soon as we docked I had to get far away.
I kept repeating his name to myself incessantly as if I was coaxing him to stay alive. I was really keeping myself alive by doing that.
That morning after breakfast and the doctor visit I was on the move again. I searched for anyone friendly. I checked the lists regularly. Molly Brown had survived. No I couldn't go to her. She would tell my mother where I was. I felt awful hiding like that. I was not ashamed of what I did.
Mostly I searched in steerage. Fabrizio, Tommy, even little Cora and her father. No one. I searched harder for Fabri. If he was alive he had to know. I dreaded telling him, but I would have to. His best friend died for me. Oh God how would I tell him. I repeated this to myself over and over again believing I would find him. I never did. It was hopeless. All those people. It should have been me. Mothers, fathers, children, God, children. No but the likes of Cal, my mother and I were spared.
Another two days until we saw land again. New York City. My father died there. The whole time I had the necklace in Cal's wretched jacket. I thought over tossing it over board. Some sort of shedding the old life ceremony. Maybe someone would see me. Or maybe I could sell it, give myself a head start. But I kept it. To remind me of the good, the bad, and the ugly. It reflected it all with it's perfectly cut corners and brilliant shine. No, I wouldn't sell it. I would never let myself depend on Cal's money ever again.
It was pouring rain and dark when we docked. Appropriately foreboding. But then I saw the Statue of Liberty. It helped a little. But staring into space helped more. I stood there up on deck for what seemed like…well, I really don't know how long. Christ, how long had I been standing there?
I wished Jack had been standing there with me. I knew it would turn I to a bad habit, but I pretended he was there. If I closed my eyes and concentrated hard enough I could almost feel him, smell him. Then someone would stomp on by and rock me from my reverie. I decided to salvage at least one tangible part of him on order to rid myself of my old chains forever…
"Can I have your name please love?"
"Dawson. Rose Dawson."
There were so many reporters waiting for us. I truly pitied the people that got off first. They were immediately attacked with questions and cameras. By the time I got off there were still a few stragglers left, but I marched on past as fast and as determined as I could. I just kept going. Legs numb, feet throbbing, throat sore, eyes stinging, head pounding, even my hair hurt. But in way my physical pain made me feel like I was compensating for the guilt I felt. The rain stung my face, but I had been rested up. I was as ready as I could be. I kept walking. Not looking back.
I had to stop someplace I thought. But where? Where could I go? I was never particularly passionate about church growing up. It was another place Mother and Father and I showed up. But here I was standing outside of a small modest looking church on a dead end Manhattan street. I just sat on the step at first. No one was out there. It must have been well past midnight by then. Maybe I'd sleep here tonight and find work or shelter in the morning. I realized that if I kept moving ahead I didn't have to think. As soon as I stopped everything came flooding back to me so fast as if to knock me over. Cries and screams of men, women and children in my head and surrounding me. I started shaking uncontrollably. I ran into to the alley to vomit.
I returned to the step. I couldn't walk anymore. I needed to start over in morning. Maybe I would sleep here. I might have let myself die in the streets, but it was as if Jack wouldn't let me. He died a miserable death. I thought it was only fair I might. Still, if it had been me, I wouldn't have asked any less of him.
I told myself I would still be alive to face another morning even though I didn't want to be. I still had a life while so many others hadn't. I wondered if the faces I saw, people I passed by that stayed in my mind, I wondered which ones had died.
I tried to sleep, but couldn't. That awful aching in my chest returned. I tried to keep quiet and stifle my sobs, but they broke through at full force. Everything I had whether I wanted it or not went down on the Titanic.
I didn't hear the footsteps approaching me. "What's the matter, child?" She had a gentle voice and an Irish accent.
I looked up to see an old pale-faced woman in an over-coat and nightgown. I stood up. I stared at her for a moment. I was several inches taller than her. She was a very tiny woman with an aquiline nose and thin lips. Not that I had any reason to act dignified anymore, but with my somewhat frightening appearance I assumed I scared her. Actually she was quite undeterred.
"What are you doing out on the street at this hour?" I couldn't speak. I wasn't sure how to answer her. "You're not one those girls that's used to these streets, that's for certain." She noticed my dress. Wrinkled, but obviously tailored. Then she looked down at my shoes. They were quality and fine looking too. I was embarrassed by them.
"I'm…I'm lost."
"Well, where are you going, dear?"
"Ah…I…"
"Come let's get you dry and decent shall we." She took my arm and led me in the building next door. I had stopped moaning and crying by now, but I still sniveled a bit. "Quiet now. Don't want to wake the neighbors." She led me up the stairs into her apartment and turned up her oil lamp. It was modest, but clean and everything was arranged just so. I was motioned to an old armchair. Who was this woman who was so trusting as to take me in off the streets. "Now, what's your name?"
I knew that! I can answer that one no problem. *Remember. You're Rose DAWSON now.* "Rose. Rose Dawson."
"I'm Mrs. Alice Grant. This is my home. Most people call me Mrs. Grant, but we're in my house now and Alice is perfectly fine with me. I would prefer you stay here tonight, but I'd like to know a little more about you first before I let you rest."
I managed a soft "Alright."
"Do you have any place to stay? Any family? Anyone?" She half-pleaded, but she seemed to figure I was alone.
"No."
"Where are you from?"
"Philadelphia."
"That's a bit of a ways off now. How did get here, sweetie?"
Alice had the right to question me. After all she did take me in. I didn't want to tell her no matter how kind she was. "What happened? Something must have happened to you." I nearly started to cry again, but I stopped myself. I was no feeble weeping little girlie. I was Rose Cornelia Whatever-the-hell-I-said-my-last-name-was! *Pull yourself together, girl!*
I spoke in a low, calm voice trying to keep my wits about me. "I came off of the Carpathia this evening. I lost everyone on the Titanic." That wasn't so hard was it? Yes it was. The very words stabbed at my chest. That was that hardest thing I'd ever had to say. Why didn't I just lie?
Alice said nothing, but gave me a look of over-whelming pity.
"I'm going to take care of you now, okay?" I nodded. She gave me an old cotton nightgown from her bureau and helped me into and hung my old clothes over a chair. I was helped into a bed in the second bedroom. Who was this woman, Alice Grant? Was she for real?
"Sleep now. Everything will be sorted out in the morning."
"Thank you."
"It's alright. It's what I do." She was about to leave.
"I'm sorry I woke you."
She knelt down next to me. I was already tucked under the covers. "Never apologize for what you've been through. You couldn't help it and it wasn't your fault. Are you ashamed of yourself for anything?"
"No."
"Then don't apologize…Well, I am tired now that you mention it. I'll be off to bed meself. Goodnight Rose."
"Goodnight Mrs. Grant…Alice." She smiled and closed the door.
Sleep. I had barely slept in days. Would I ever have a goodnight's sleep again? I wondered. I wanted Jack. Dead, alive, heaven, or hell. I wanted to know if he was alright. But he never died for me. I wanted to tell I was going to be fine. I wanted him to me everything was going to be fine. If only. *I'll never sleep again. He should be here right now. I love you, Jack Dawson. Wherever you are…I don't care if I do ever sleep again--*
I think that was the first time I ever fell asleep in mid-thought.
I opened my eyes. It was early morning. It was the same simple little room I had gone to bed in. All I could hear was the rhythm of someone breathing down my neck.
"You gonna lie here all day?"
"I might as well."
"Good. Then I'm not moving either." He moved himself a little closer to me. I rolled over to face him and fell off the bed on to a cold, hard floor. I looked up at the empty bed in horror.
"JACK!?"
It was one o'clock in the afternoon. Very late for me. I came out to see Alice reading in the on the armchair. She was so small she seemed to disappear into it.
"Up already?!" I laughed.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be sleeping so late. I…" Alice popped up out of the chair. I noticed she bounced quite a bit when she walked. She really was a funny little lady.
"You need to eat something, dearie. I'll get to the kitchen. You fancy eggs?"
"Uh…yes. Yes eggs are fine."
"How would you like them?"
"Uh…" I replied eloquently. Jack and a thousand others had died and I was deciding how to have my eggs cooked. "Scrambled?"
"Scrambled it is. Sit yourself down now." She pointed to a kitchen chair. "We'll get you dressed after you eat. Can't have you wasting away now can we?" I obeyed.
I paused for moment. "Why did you take me in?"
Alice looked up from the eggs. "Why would I not? Couldn't just be left out there. Nice young girl like you. Not that you like an easy victim. I'm lucky I heard you." I looked down. "I came over here from Ireland when I was twenty. My parents couldn't afford me or marry me off. So they shipped me off to the New World. I had no one too. Until I met my husband. God rest his soul. He met me and took me out this awful boarding house I had been living in. He was the minister of our church next-door right until died. I never refuse anyone in need into my home."
"Thank you, really."
"The best way of thanking me would be to finish these eggs." She put them down at my place along with a glass of milk. I ate.
I tried not to read the headlines about what was called the worst marine tine disaster ever, but they were everywhere. Fifteen hundred people. And I was there. When I was a little girl I had always hoped to be witness to some great historical event. I take it back now.
There was another interesting piece of news I found days later in the back of the paper. 'Prominent Philadelphia Family Suffers Another Loss.' The article was even more interesting. 'After the death of Henry DeWitt Bukater earlier this year. It has been reported that his daughter, seventeen year-old Rose DeWitt Bukater was one of the many victims of the Titanic disaster. Although her mother Ruth DeWitt Bukater and fiancé Caledon Hockely did survive. Both safely boarded lifeboats. It was reported by Hockley that she insisted on returning to her room to fetch her mother's brooch and a few other precious items and never returned. No further explanation was offered. Her body has not been recovered. It has also been discovered that DeWitt Bukater's bank had been in serious debt for quite some time and the company as gone under. All property owned by the DeWitt Bukater family has been purchased by Hockely Steel Co. to help pay off their associate's debt. Also with this, rumors have been circling around Philadelphia concerning the death of Young Bukater.'
I ripped it out so Alice wouldn't see. Not as if she guess, but I did it out of impulse I guess. I was horrified. But I really shouldn't have been surprised. It never said anything about what happened to my mother. Was she out on the streets or had Cal given her his good fortune, the awful bastard.
I'd like to say I made it completely on my own with no help from anybody. Maybe it would make this story sound better, make it grittier I suppose, but no, that's not how it happened. I was grateful to Alice though. Before I realized it weeks had passed. Alice was easy to get along and never pressed me about my past.
Aside from my personal grief and sadness Al found me to be quite a lively young woman and good company. I decided later that I should find work. Alice was living pretty decently from the money she and husband had saved over the years and from her daughter's checks. But I feared having to support two people might put a strain on her income.
Alice was a little disappointed at first, she wouldn't have me around all day. Not that Alice spent her days hanging around her little apartment mind you. She was always visiting neighbors and helping out with church functions. Still, she gave me the go ahead.
There still remained one problem. What the hell was I good for? I knew how to host parties and sew. That was about it. I felt I was truly useless person. Okay, so I could write. I was always writing poems and short stories. In fact they were still all hidden about in my room up at the Bukater Mansion. I wondered if anyone had found them while cleaning it out. I wouldn't be using it anymore.
The first day of job hunting I just skipped around the city looking for anything. Nothing. Alice didn't want me out so much. She said I was ill, but I absolutely loathed sitting inside all day lounging about. True, I had lost weight. A lot of weight. And I wasn't sleeping. That reminding me. When was the last time I had my monthly?
Oh, God was I pregnant? I always thought I would make a good mother and it was Jack's, thank God. But what would I do? What would Alice think of me? How would I support a baby?
Then I got it. Not pregnant, no baby. I should have been relieved, but I was heart broken. I cried for most of that day and stayed in my room, avoiding Alice. Not that I needed anything material to remember Jack by, but…but I had gotten myself used to the thought of it and after the initial realization, welcomed it.
No one would ever remember a man named Jack Dawson, but me…but wait a minute! He had a hometown did he not? And there was something else I didn't mention earlier. He said he had no close kin in *that part of the country.* Later he mentioned he had family in New York. He had pictures of them in his sketchbook. An Aunt, an Uncle and a cousin, formerly of Wisconsin too. I even knew what they looked liked! But how the hell was I supposed to find them? New York City was a big damn place. And looking for someone named "Dawson?" The Boston Dawsons, the Chippewa Falls Dawsons, the New York Dawsons now? I was sure every little town and big city has its own Dawson family.
So while I was on the lookout for employment I also asked as to the residence of any Joseph or Margaret Dawson. Nothing. Except one fine day I asked a young boy and he directed me to a Mr. Joey "Knuckles" Dawson. He was ten. Born and raised on
the streets of Manhattan. When I approached him he invited me to the picture show and complemented me on my eyes, my hair, my bosoms and my ass. I invited him to be smacked to several times in face. I turned down his, he turned down mine. Thus ended my brief association with Joey "Knuckles" Dawson.
On my way back home that day I thought to myself that I should get more rest as Alice said. Yes, I had lost weight, I hadn't been eating or sleeping very well. In fact almost hardly.
That day was May 7, 1912. It was nearly six o'clock when I realized it. I'd be late for dinner. And Alice's daughter, Sally would be visiting from Staten Island. I started to run. I never make it. Damn. I was so tired it hurt. I felt a little nauseous too. Probably from the lack of food. My headache didn't help either.
But I had to make it so I kept on running. I began to feel dizzy. I though I cold dash back into in alley if I needed to throw up. I was just few blocks away now and-
I collapsed. That was all I could remember.
Next I woke up in a hospital. *Oh no. I think I missed dinner.* I felt oddly, euphoric. I looked up to see a nurse and a young man in his early twenties. He was a pretty big guy. Very tall and strong looking, but looked quite harmless. His hair was brown and little longer than most, but not as long as Jack's. He had these big brown puppy dog eyes as well. He seemed friendly enough. So I decided to grace him with my attention. That and he was standing right over me.
I don't really remember our conversation very well, but he described it to me later when I was less drugged up.
"I thought was going to have to tag you. You're one tough cookie." He said.
"Hmmm…?"
"You were found unconscious in the streets. When you were brought back you awoke and went mad, bursting it to a series of fits. You've been here overnight in Bellevue. Do you remember any of this?"
I thought for a moment. "Ya know…"
"Yes?"
"I don't know."
"You asked to see someone named Jack. And then demanded to be released, first in English, then in French, and then I believe in Latin."
"Jack's fine, he's just sleeping. My Latin's not very good you see. Everything's all backwards in that God damn language, but ssshhh…" I put my finger to my mouth.
"That's no problem. Can you give me your name, an address, anything?"
"Max."
"Max?"
"Maximillion Hound." That was my dog's name. He died when I was seven.
"Really?"
"No, but ssshhh."
"Anything else?"
"Yes, the chronology of British kings and queens dating from 1066 are: William the Conqueror…William the Conqueror…and…oh damn it all to hell! I'm American for God's sake! How am I supposed to know that!?"
"It's alright."
"Ssshhh." Then I started giggling.
"Listen, Miss, I better talk to you when you're a bit more yourself. After your episode they sedated you. I see it hasn't worn off yet."
He motioned to leave, but I grabbed his arm. "Wait, just who in the hell are YOU?"
"You probably won't remember later." I gave him an angry look, as angry I could with my heavily dilated pupils. Which was reported to be extremely funny. "Calvert. George Calvert. I work for the police. I'm the officer the brought you in here."
"You did this?!"
"No,…I…" It was hopeless.
"Now tell me,…Max."
"Ssshhh…" George asked me later as I'm sure you're wondering now. What's with the shushing? I don't remember so I'm afraid I'm quite unable to offer a suitable explanation. "Not Max."
"Oh so that's not your real name?"
"Nope."
"So what is it? Alice Roosevelt? Joan of Arc? Julia Swayne Gordon? Clara Kimball Young?"
"No, but close." I proudly stuck out my hand to shake his. "Rose DeWitt Bukater. At your service." Oh shit.
He wrote it down.
"Thank you, Rose."
"And thank you Officer Calvert. You're a damn good sir." I saluted him.
Later when I woke up again. I remembered bits and pieces of my conversation with George Calvert. What had I given as my name? Did I tell him about Alice?
I stopped a nurse and asked for him. He came in an hour later. I told him that I lived with a Mrs. Alice Finnegan-Grant and gave him my address. And that I had been delusional when I gave him the name "Rose DeWitt Bukater" and that my name was in fact, Rose Dawson.
Alice was contacted and absolutely worried to death. She told me it wasn't my fault. She had actually reported my disappearance to the police later that evening. She took me out of the ward and back home. Thanking the staff and young George profusely.
Had it been real? Had what happened really happened? I'm not talking about Jack. He was the only true thing I knew. He seemed more real than anybody I'd ever met. But what happened that night. All those people. There were so many of them and they were so helpless. I'd never rid my mind of those images.
But I lost Jack. By sticking together we had a responsibility to each other. He held up his end. Why couldn't I? If only he had tried to get on the damn board one more time if only we had thought of that. Why hadn't I thought of that? I should have thought of that. Why didn't I think of that? He was right. *You can't breathe. You can't think.* I could find a hundred other mistakes besides that one.
He made me promise to live. Why didn't he follow his own word? He never said he'd loved me back. I think deep down he thought he'd make it, but I came first. I came first. He put me before himself. No one had ever done that for me.
Lying there in that lifeboat I kept forgetting he was gone. Every time I woke up I would turn my head to check on him. I wanted to die every time I looked on that empty spot next to me.
The following few days I was in complete shock, but I still hid from my family. I was taken to the doctor immediately. I was incapacitated for several hours. Severe hypothermia. Everything was a blur those first few hours. I didn't see anything clearly and all sounds blurred together. I forgot what happened or where I was.
But early that day I remembered everything perfectly clear. Painfully clear. My voice was a little stronger. I was in bed in some makeshift hospital when it happened. Everything came back to me at full speed. I screamed. My voice ripped threw the room, breaking the quiet of shuffling feet, muffled cries and piercing my own ears. I couldn't help it. It hurt so much. It was worse than any ache my illness could give me. God help me it was so awful.
I attended to by somebody looking very stressed, but concerned. Luckily he just tried to calm me down. He had the sense enough not to ask me what was wrong.
But by late morning I was out on deck with hot tea and a dry blanket. I was not dead, nor was I dying anymore. And I had been literally dying apparently. But I was not dead. Therefore I had no need to take up space and waste other people's time.
I was dizzy and shaking everywhere for days. I cried to myself for about an hour. Not so much pitying myself anymore. This wasn't fair to Jack. He deserved to live. He fought for it and not just for himself. He was just a kid too. A decent, loving kid. Just a boy. He had the whole world, a whole life ahead of him, but at least he had lived while he was alive.
The tears I shed were not shed by someone who'd lost a lover. Lovers always love again. I lost my best friend. My only true friend. Someone who loved me, who believed in me, and would fight for me to the bitter end. But I was still in love with him. How could someone with so much life, be dead?
This was not going to be over in a few days. Jack wasn't coming back. And what I saw, what I lost would always be with me. This would be with me for the rest of my life, however long that was.
I would never shake this. None us would. But I remembered what I promised him. And I'd go to hell and come right back again to keep it. I owed him that.
But I still lost him. Oh, Jesus, I lost him. We tried. We tried so hard. I guess you could say we fought nobly and lost. Still, it wasn't right. And nothing could ever make it right.
I found out later Mother and Cal had made it. I stunned myself a little after that. I was so angry. I wanted him to be dead. I actually wanted someone dead. Maybe I would have felt differently if he had died, but we'll never know now.
I wanted to see my mother so bad it hurt new places. But I could never go to her. It would ruin my new plan. She might understand, but she would never let me go. I hated myself for leaving her like. She had been manipulative, phony and feeble, but she was my mother and she did love me. But I would sacrifice everything by staying and if I saw her again I would not be able to leave her. I could never go back.
I woke up the morning of the 16th to a new and cruel world again. Not so shocking and bitter as the morning after, but worse still. I had to remind myself again that Jack had been real, he had existed, and I would let him down if I quit now. A quick adjustment after my life had been turned upside down twice, but I no longer had the luxury of time. As soon as we docked I had to get far away.
I kept repeating his name to myself incessantly as if I was coaxing him to stay alive. I was really keeping myself alive by doing that.
That morning after breakfast and the doctor visit I was on the move again. I searched for anyone friendly. I checked the lists regularly. Molly Brown had survived. No I couldn't go to her. She would tell my mother where I was. I felt awful hiding like that. I was not ashamed of what I did.
Mostly I searched in steerage. Fabrizio, Tommy, even little Cora and her father. No one. I searched harder for Fabri. If he was alive he had to know. I dreaded telling him, but I would have to. His best friend died for me. Oh God how would I tell him. I repeated this to myself over and over again believing I would find him. I never did. It was hopeless. All those people. It should have been me. Mothers, fathers, children, God, children. No but the likes of Cal, my mother and I were spared.
Another two days until we saw land again. New York City. My father died there. The whole time I had the necklace in Cal's wretched jacket. I thought over tossing it over board. Some sort of shedding the old life ceremony. Maybe someone would see me. Or maybe I could sell it, give myself a head start. But I kept it. To remind me of the good, the bad, and the ugly. It reflected it all with it's perfectly cut corners and brilliant shine. No, I wouldn't sell it. I would never let myself depend on Cal's money ever again.
It was pouring rain and dark when we docked. Appropriately foreboding. But then I saw the Statue of Liberty. It helped a little. But staring into space helped more. I stood there up on deck for what seemed like…well, I really don't know how long. Christ, how long had I been standing there?
I wished Jack had been standing there with me. I knew it would turn I to a bad habit, but I pretended he was there. If I closed my eyes and concentrated hard enough I could almost feel him, smell him. Then someone would stomp on by and rock me from my reverie. I decided to salvage at least one tangible part of him on order to rid myself of my old chains forever…
"Can I have your name please love?"
"Dawson. Rose Dawson."
There were so many reporters waiting for us. I truly pitied the people that got off first. They were immediately attacked with questions and cameras. By the time I got off there were still a few stragglers left, but I marched on past as fast and as determined as I could. I just kept going. Legs numb, feet throbbing, throat sore, eyes stinging, head pounding, even my hair hurt. But in way my physical pain made me feel like I was compensating for the guilt I felt. The rain stung my face, but I had been rested up. I was as ready as I could be. I kept walking. Not looking back.
I had to stop someplace I thought. But where? Where could I go? I was never particularly passionate about church growing up. It was another place Mother and Father and I showed up. But here I was standing outside of a small modest looking church on a dead end Manhattan street. I just sat on the step at first. No one was out there. It must have been well past midnight by then. Maybe I'd sleep here tonight and find work or shelter in the morning. I realized that if I kept moving ahead I didn't have to think. As soon as I stopped everything came flooding back to me so fast as if to knock me over. Cries and screams of men, women and children in my head and surrounding me. I started shaking uncontrollably. I ran into to the alley to vomit.
I returned to the step. I couldn't walk anymore. I needed to start over in morning. Maybe I would sleep here. I might have let myself die in the streets, but it was as if Jack wouldn't let me. He died a miserable death. I thought it was only fair I might. Still, if it had been me, I wouldn't have asked any less of him.
I told myself I would still be alive to face another morning even though I didn't want to be. I still had a life while so many others hadn't. I wondered if the faces I saw, people I passed by that stayed in my mind, I wondered which ones had died.
I tried to sleep, but couldn't. That awful aching in my chest returned. I tried to keep quiet and stifle my sobs, but they broke through at full force. Everything I had whether I wanted it or not went down on the Titanic.
I didn't hear the footsteps approaching me. "What's the matter, child?" She had a gentle voice and an Irish accent.
I looked up to see an old pale-faced woman in an over-coat and nightgown. I stood up. I stared at her for a moment. I was several inches taller than her. She was a very tiny woman with an aquiline nose and thin lips. Not that I had any reason to act dignified anymore, but with my somewhat frightening appearance I assumed I scared her. Actually she was quite undeterred.
"What are you doing out on the street at this hour?" I couldn't speak. I wasn't sure how to answer her. "You're not one those girls that's used to these streets, that's for certain." She noticed my dress. Wrinkled, but obviously tailored. Then she looked down at my shoes. They were quality and fine looking too. I was embarrassed by them.
"I'm…I'm lost."
"Well, where are you going, dear?"
"Ah…I…"
"Come let's get you dry and decent shall we." She took my arm and led me in the building next door. I had stopped moaning and crying by now, but I still sniveled a bit. "Quiet now. Don't want to wake the neighbors." She led me up the stairs into her apartment and turned up her oil lamp. It was modest, but clean and everything was arranged just so. I was motioned to an old armchair. Who was this woman who was so trusting as to take me in off the streets. "Now, what's your name?"
I knew that! I can answer that one no problem. *Remember. You're Rose DAWSON now.* "Rose. Rose Dawson."
"I'm Mrs. Alice Grant. This is my home. Most people call me Mrs. Grant, but we're in my house now and Alice is perfectly fine with me. I would prefer you stay here tonight, but I'd like to know a little more about you first before I let you rest."
I managed a soft "Alright."
"Do you have any place to stay? Any family? Anyone?" She half-pleaded, but she seemed to figure I was alone.
"No."
"Where are you from?"
"Philadelphia."
"That's a bit of a ways off now. How did get here, sweetie?"
Alice had the right to question me. After all she did take me in. I didn't want to tell her no matter how kind she was. "What happened? Something must have happened to you." I nearly started to cry again, but I stopped myself. I was no feeble weeping little girlie. I was Rose Cornelia Whatever-the-hell-I-said-my-last-name-was! *Pull yourself together, girl!*
I spoke in a low, calm voice trying to keep my wits about me. "I came off of the Carpathia this evening. I lost everyone on the Titanic." That wasn't so hard was it? Yes it was. The very words stabbed at my chest. That was that hardest thing I'd ever had to say. Why didn't I just lie?
Alice said nothing, but gave me a look of over-whelming pity.
"I'm going to take care of you now, okay?" I nodded. She gave me an old cotton nightgown from her bureau and helped me into and hung my old clothes over a chair. I was helped into a bed in the second bedroom. Who was this woman, Alice Grant? Was she for real?
"Sleep now. Everything will be sorted out in the morning."
"Thank you."
"It's alright. It's what I do." She was about to leave.
"I'm sorry I woke you."
She knelt down next to me. I was already tucked under the covers. "Never apologize for what you've been through. You couldn't help it and it wasn't your fault. Are you ashamed of yourself for anything?"
"No."
"Then don't apologize…Well, I am tired now that you mention it. I'll be off to bed meself. Goodnight Rose."
"Goodnight Mrs. Grant…Alice." She smiled and closed the door.
Sleep. I had barely slept in days. Would I ever have a goodnight's sleep again? I wondered. I wanted Jack. Dead, alive, heaven, or hell. I wanted to know if he was alright. But he never died for me. I wanted to tell I was going to be fine. I wanted him to me everything was going to be fine. If only. *I'll never sleep again. He should be here right now. I love you, Jack Dawson. Wherever you are…I don't care if I do ever sleep again--*
I think that was the first time I ever fell asleep in mid-thought.
I opened my eyes. It was early morning. It was the same simple little room I had gone to bed in. All I could hear was the rhythm of someone breathing down my neck.
"You gonna lie here all day?"
"I might as well."
"Good. Then I'm not moving either." He moved himself a little closer to me. I rolled over to face him and fell off the bed on to a cold, hard floor. I looked up at the empty bed in horror.
"JACK!?"
It was one o'clock in the afternoon. Very late for me. I came out to see Alice reading in the on the armchair. She was so small she seemed to disappear into it.
"Up already?!" I laughed.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be sleeping so late. I…" Alice popped up out of the chair. I noticed she bounced quite a bit when she walked. She really was a funny little lady.
"You need to eat something, dearie. I'll get to the kitchen. You fancy eggs?"
"Uh…yes. Yes eggs are fine."
"How would you like them?"
"Uh…" I replied eloquently. Jack and a thousand others had died and I was deciding how to have my eggs cooked. "Scrambled?"
"Scrambled it is. Sit yourself down now." She pointed to a kitchen chair. "We'll get you dressed after you eat. Can't have you wasting away now can we?" I obeyed.
I paused for moment. "Why did you take me in?"
Alice looked up from the eggs. "Why would I not? Couldn't just be left out there. Nice young girl like you. Not that you like an easy victim. I'm lucky I heard you." I looked down. "I came over here from Ireland when I was twenty. My parents couldn't afford me or marry me off. So they shipped me off to the New World. I had no one too. Until I met my husband. God rest his soul. He met me and took me out this awful boarding house I had been living in. He was the minister of our church next-door right until died. I never refuse anyone in need into my home."
"Thank you, really."
"The best way of thanking me would be to finish these eggs." She put them down at my place along with a glass of milk. I ate.
I tried not to read the headlines about what was called the worst marine tine disaster ever, but they were everywhere. Fifteen hundred people. And I was there. When I was a little girl I had always hoped to be witness to some great historical event. I take it back now.
There was another interesting piece of news I found days later in the back of the paper. 'Prominent Philadelphia Family Suffers Another Loss.' The article was even more interesting. 'After the death of Henry DeWitt Bukater earlier this year. It has been reported that his daughter, seventeen year-old Rose DeWitt Bukater was one of the many victims of the Titanic disaster. Although her mother Ruth DeWitt Bukater and fiancé Caledon Hockely did survive. Both safely boarded lifeboats. It was reported by Hockley that she insisted on returning to her room to fetch her mother's brooch and a few other precious items and never returned. No further explanation was offered. Her body has not been recovered. It has also been discovered that DeWitt Bukater's bank had been in serious debt for quite some time and the company as gone under. All property owned by the DeWitt Bukater family has been purchased by Hockely Steel Co. to help pay off their associate's debt. Also with this, rumors have been circling around Philadelphia concerning the death of Young Bukater.'
I ripped it out so Alice wouldn't see. Not as if she guess, but I did it out of impulse I guess. I was horrified. But I really shouldn't have been surprised. It never said anything about what happened to my mother. Was she out on the streets or had Cal given her his good fortune, the awful bastard.
I'd like to say I made it completely on my own with no help from anybody. Maybe it would make this story sound better, make it grittier I suppose, but no, that's not how it happened. I was grateful to Alice though. Before I realized it weeks had passed. Alice was easy to get along and never pressed me about my past.
Aside from my personal grief and sadness Al found me to be quite a lively young woman and good company. I decided later that I should find work. Alice was living pretty decently from the money she and husband had saved over the years and from her daughter's checks. But I feared having to support two people might put a strain on her income.
Alice was a little disappointed at first, she wouldn't have me around all day. Not that Alice spent her days hanging around her little apartment mind you. She was always visiting neighbors and helping out with church functions. Still, she gave me the go ahead.
There still remained one problem. What the hell was I good for? I knew how to host parties and sew. That was about it. I felt I was truly useless person. Okay, so I could write. I was always writing poems and short stories. In fact they were still all hidden about in my room up at the Bukater Mansion. I wondered if anyone had found them while cleaning it out. I wouldn't be using it anymore.
The first day of job hunting I just skipped around the city looking for anything. Nothing. Alice didn't want me out so much. She said I was ill, but I absolutely loathed sitting inside all day lounging about. True, I had lost weight. A lot of weight. And I wasn't sleeping. That reminding me. When was the last time I had my monthly?
Oh, God was I pregnant? I always thought I would make a good mother and it was Jack's, thank God. But what would I do? What would Alice think of me? How would I support a baby?
Then I got it. Not pregnant, no baby. I should have been relieved, but I was heart broken. I cried for most of that day and stayed in my room, avoiding Alice. Not that I needed anything material to remember Jack by, but…but I had gotten myself used to the thought of it and after the initial realization, welcomed it.
No one would ever remember a man named Jack Dawson, but me…but wait a minute! He had a hometown did he not? And there was something else I didn't mention earlier. He said he had no close kin in *that part of the country.* Later he mentioned he had family in New York. He had pictures of them in his sketchbook. An Aunt, an Uncle and a cousin, formerly of Wisconsin too. I even knew what they looked liked! But how the hell was I supposed to find them? New York City was a big damn place. And looking for someone named "Dawson?" The Boston Dawsons, the Chippewa Falls Dawsons, the New York Dawsons now? I was sure every little town and big city has its own Dawson family.
So while I was on the lookout for employment I also asked as to the residence of any Joseph or Margaret Dawson. Nothing. Except one fine day I asked a young boy and he directed me to a Mr. Joey "Knuckles" Dawson. He was ten. Born and raised on
the streets of Manhattan. When I approached him he invited me to the picture show and complemented me on my eyes, my hair, my bosoms and my ass. I invited him to be smacked to several times in face. I turned down his, he turned down mine. Thus ended my brief association with Joey "Knuckles" Dawson.
On my way back home that day I thought to myself that I should get more rest as Alice said. Yes, I had lost weight, I hadn't been eating or sleeping very well. In fact almost hardly.
That day was May 7, 1912. It was nearly six o'clock when I realized it. I'd be late for dinner. And Alice's daughter, Sally would be visiting from Staten Island. I started to run. I never make it. Damn. I was so tired it hurt. I felt a little nauseous too. Probably from the lack of food. My headache didn't help either.
But I had to make it so I kept on running. I began to feel dizzy. I though I cold dash back into in alley if I needed to throw up. I was just few blocks away now and-
I collapsed. That was all I could remember.
Next I woke up in a hospital. *Oh no. I think I missed dinner.* I felt oddly, euphoric. I looked up to see a nurse and a young man in his early twenties. He was a pretty big guy. Very tall and strong looking, but looked quite harmless. His hair was brown and little longer than most, but not as long as Jack's. He had these big brown puppy dog eyes as well. He seemed friendly enough. So I decided to grace him with my attention. That and he was standing right over me.
I don't really remember our conversation very well, but he described it to me later when I was less drugged up.
"I thought was going to have to tag you. You're one tough cookie." He said.
"Hmmm…?"
"You were found unconscious in the streets. When you were brought back you awoke and went mad, bursting it to a series of fits. You've been here overnight in Bellevue. Do you remember any of this?"
I thought for a moment. "Ya know…"
"Yes?"
"I don't know."
"You asked to see someone named Jack. And then demanded to be released, first in English, then in French, and then I believe in Latin."
"Jack's fine, he's just sleeping. My Latin's not very good you see. Everything's all backwards in that God damn language, but ssshhh…" I put my finger to my mouth.
"That's no problem. Can you give me your name, an address, anything?"
"Max."
"Max?"
"Maximillion Hound." That was my dog's name. He died when I was seven.
"Really?"
"No, but ssshhh."
"Anything else?"
"Yes, the chronology of British kings and queens dating from 1066 are: William the Conqueror…William the Conqueror…and…oh damn it all to hell! I'm American for God's sake! How am I supposed to know that!?"
"It's alright."
"Ssshhh." Then I started giggling.
"Listen, Miss, I better talk to you when you're a bit more yourself. After your episode they sedated you. I see it hasn't worn off yet."
He motioned to leave, but I grabbed his arm. "Wait, just who in the hell are YOU?"
"You probably won't remember later." I gave him an angry look, as angry I could with my heavily dilated pupils. Which was reported to be extremely funny. "Calvert. George Calvert. I work for the police. I'm the officer the brought you in here."
"You did this?!"
"No,…I…" It was hopeless.
"Now tell me,…Max."
"Ssshhh…" George asked me later as I'm sure you're wondering now. What's with the shushing? I don't remember so I'm afraid I'm quite unable to offer a suitable explanation. "Not Max."
"Oh so that's not your real name?"
"Nope."
"So what is it? Alice Roosevelt? Joan of Arc? Julia Swayne Gordon? Clara Kimball Young?"
"No, but close." I proudly stuck out my hand to shake his. "Rose DeWitt Bukater. At your service." Oh shit.
He wrote it down.
"Thank you, Rose."
"And thank you Officer Calvert. You're a damn good sir." I saluted him.
Later when I woke up again. I remembered bits and pieces of my conversation with George Calvert. What had I given as my name? Did I tell him about Alice?
I stopped a nurse and asked for him. He came in an hour later. I told him that I lived with a Mrs. Alice Finnegan-Grant and gave him my address. And that I had been delusional when I gave him the name "Rose DeWitt Bukater" and that my name was in fact, Rose Dawson.
Alice was contacted and absolutely worried to death. She told me it wasn't my fault. She had actually reported my disappearance to the police later that evening. She took me out of the ward and back home. Thanking the staff and young George profusely.