After my hospitalization things got more or less back on track. There were some things slightly amiss though. Before I left Bellevue, I asked a doctor about some trouble I've been having. I had difficulty reading, with seeing the words. My vision was a little fuzzy, but I could still see fine otherwise.
First he told me that many people and gradually have problems with there vision and eventually need glasses, but I this had been all of the sudden. Then he told it could be due to brain damage from an accident. Brain damage??!!!
Apparently loss of vision is associated with trauma to the back of the head, and oddly enough, and severe hypothermia. Wonderful. Fifteen hundred dead, Jack included, I'd never see my mother again, and I was going blind. This I didn't need. Not that it mattered much now, but I was amazed I walked off that dock without a scratch, at least physically. My God, losing my eyesight, brain damage.
Compared to everything else this shouldn't have bothered me so much, but it did. So I had to get glasses. I could read fine after that. And there seemed to be nothing else wrong with me.
Actually I came to like my glasses. They made look older and rather dignified. Another addition to my new life. Glasses, new, more sensible clothes, it was still the same old me, but it felt fresh despite my loneliness.
I'd exited my cocoon of a radiant Philadelphia society princess, the most talked about debutante and became the butterfly that was the bespectacled, bohemian Rose Dawson from New York City. I thought it strange that in order to truly be myself I had to change my identity.
The months following got easier. No more newsies in the streets repeating over and over again about the Titanic tragedy until it rang in my ears. It was also the last time ever read anything in the paper referring to Rose DeWitt Bukater. Just a little paragraph. The funeral services were grand and there was a large turn out. That's really all that could be said for it.
The week after I actually felt very at peace, dare I say, happy. Maybe it was because I found something else I was good at.
After my job search for people looking for seamstresses and the like and getting no because I never worked before I almost gave up. I thought it would easy finding some simple menial work.
One day I was out on my usual rounds when I met Isaac Sveningsson and Danny McBride in Central Park. I usually stopped there to eat my lunch when Alice was busy.
I bumped into to two young men. Maybe bumped into wouldn't be correct. I was engaged in an arm wrestling match with Eddie Driscoll, he went to Alice's church. Eddie was six so I was letting him win, but I still pretended to put up a fight. We squatted next to a park bench and put our elbows on it. Unfortunately, I decided to hold my coffee while was doing it.
After Eddie beat me for a record 23rd time. I jumped up in the agony of defeat. And hit somebody with my coffee, spilling it all over him. He yelled from the burn.
"Sorry! Oh, sorry. I'm so sorry. Really. Whoops"
He just smiled at me. "Aw, it's all right."
Eddie piped up. "Nice going, Rose."
"Hey, watch it, buster. Don't get too cocky."
"Only because I've beaten you twenty times in arm wrestling."
The other two laughed. They were both about my age. My coffee victim spoke next. "It's alright. I've gotten into plenty of accidents before. This is the first time a pretty girl's ever spilled coffee on me and it's truly an honor, miss."
Eddie made a face.
"Don't mind Isaac. He's quite homely you see and he'll do and say anything. Not that I think you aren't pretty." He hit his friend in the arm. Actually neither of them was plain in any way. Isaac had light blonde, almost white hair and very pale blue eyes. His friend was freckled red head with a biggish nose, but not ugly.
"That's alright. I've never been so flattered and embarrassed. I'm Rose by the way. Rose Dawson." I was getting used to saying my new name by now. I always said it with a certain amount pride. "And this is my friend Edward William Driscoll the third."
"Eddie!" He corrected me.
"Or better known as Eddie." I looked down at him. He was still sitting on the grass next to the bench.
"I'm Danny McBride and this is Isaac Sveningsson."
We stayed in the park for an hour playing baseball with Eddie's schoolmates. Isaac never bothered to change his pants.
After that the three of us big kids walked Eddie. Eddie noticed I was slighted squeamish about Isaac's attraction to me. All I could think about was Jack. So on the way home Eddie informed Danny and Isaac that himself and I were quite an item.
Before Eddie flew up the steps to his family's apartment he pulled me down to him and whispered "Don't worry. I covered for ya."
"Thanks, Ed."
"Anytime."
That evening after saying good-bye to Danny and Isaac I stopped front of a small, old theater. The sign on the side of the back entrance read: 'Auditions tonight through Thursday, Hamlet.' On a complete whim I auditioned for Ophelia. I had read Shakespeare before, Hamlet several times.
Inside it was dark and smokey. After waiting for what seemed liked hours I was called up to read. I stood in front of three bored looking men.
For those ten minutes I was reading completely immersed myself in Ophelia. It was fun being someone else for a while. After I left I was thoroughly pleased with myself. At that moment I didn't care whether or not I got the part. I would thank those men for those ten minutes.
I told Alice about what I had done. She was pleased that I had experience in the artistic world, but not pleased that I may well be joining theater people. The theater was not an honorable profession. Filled with vagabonds and sinners.
Three days later I got a letter informing me that I was to be Ophelia and to show up at the theater at 10:00 the next morning. I couldn't contain myself. I grabbed Alice's hands and began to sing. A little like my soon to be alter ego, only I was truly blissful. "Daisy, daisy! Give me your answer true! I'm half crazy over the love of you!" She joined in with me. "It won't be a stylish marriage! I can't afford a carriage! But you'd look sweet, upon the seat, of a bicycle built for two!"
I ran down the street to meet my crowd in the park. I was so excited prancing around the house that I was making myself late. So I was late. They were short.
On my way there I bumped into Isaac again, but luckily I did not have my coffee with me. It started to rain. I told him what happened. He was excited for me too.
He looked up at the rain it was starting to pour now. "I think your game might be canceled."
"Oh, no. Not with these kids. We play rain or shine." He laughed. "Oh boy." I said. The rain was making my hair heavy. It started to flop to the side with all its pins. "That's it!" I pulled out all the pins and ties and shook my hair loose.
"Are you crazy?"
"Maybe, but now I feel much better now." I looked up at the rain again. Still pouring. "I'll race you to the park." I dashed out ahead of him.
"No fair you got a head start!"
"Come on be a man! Can't you beat a stupid girl?!" Apparently he couldn't. I beat him.
We split through the park and I whirled around in circles, arms stretched out like a plane. I grabbed his hands and whirled him around one time and let him go. He almost fell to the ground.
Isaac stayed with me to help with the ball game. Eddie asked me if I needed any more help in getting rid of him. I assured him I was fine.
After the game when I went off on my own and stopped to pick up some groceries for Alice I ran into her daughter, Sally, who had just gotten off the train from Staten Island.
"Rose?!" Sally Grant looked very much like her mother only she was very tall and had dark brown hair. She was unwed and in her late thirties.
"Hello Sally!"
"What happened to you?"
"Well, it rained."
"I can see that, but look at you. I think that blouse used to be white." So I was a little muddy. I rarely got the chance to be muddy when I was a little girl. It was a lot of fun. "And your hair's all down. Honestly, you look like a street walker."
"I like my hair down." Sally walked me home after that. And they cleaned me up.
The next day I went back to the theater. It was crowded with other actors. I was generally disliked because no one recognized me. The director was a large fat man with high voice that was usually in bad mood. So rehearsals started like that. As time went on I became accepted by the group. Soon came opening night. I was nervous as hell. Despite having Ophelia as a nice escape from myself I really didn't think I knew what I was doing, but I promised myself I'd make it. I had been in far worse situations than this one.
I went on, I did my thing, and just like in rehearsals gave it everything I had. I became Ophelia. I was her. I didn't realize it when I was on stage, but a veteran actress, Edna Weir, who played Gertrude told me I had made the audience cry. When I came on to bow I got applause and woops and several curtains calls. It was amazing. Alice, Sally, the Driscolls, Danny, and Isaac all came out to see me. I hoped that my father and Jack might have seen it somehow.
The next show I got thrown roses, appropriately, at my feet and somebody threw me a full bottle of beer. I wasn't sure if that was because he liked me so much he was giving a free drink or if he was trying injure me. But luckily I caught it. Then I popped off the cap and took a swig. I got more applause for that.
Months went by and by fall our little production was over. I went to few more auditions without as much luck as the first. Then I was apart of small vaudeville act with Edna's niece, Eileen. Eileen danced while I played the piano and sang. Not as challenging as Hamlet had been, but good, light-hearted entertainment.
Alice turned sixty-two that November. The church and the neighborhood threw her a big party. She was extremely thrilled. By Christmas time we all had a terrible flu. Despite everyone being sick I thought of where I was a year ago. I had really come a long way. I had a real family again.
I still thought of Jack all the time. One Christmas with him would have been nice. I missed him so much. But all this, I had him to thank for it and I promised myself I would find his family. They did have to know that their nephew was dead.
Some days were good days. Some days were bad days. Some days I laughed when I thought of him. Some days I cried. But I promised him I would make and I had.
A few days before Christmas I was feeling much better and I volunteered to go pick up a tree. It was a cold, crisp night and all the stars were out. As I walked home with our little tree I looked up at the stars. I felt sick, tired and cold and I hadn't had a hot bath since April, but I felt wonderful. I felt as if his star was shining down on me.
February rolled around and I turned eighteen. I remembered birthday this time and my usual friends showed up for a little party.
By March Alice became ill. Everyone told her she was fine, but she kept insisting that this was the one. That is was "her time."
To keep her entertained I had philosophical debates with her. She was definitely on the side of Christian beliefs. I insisted that it didn't matter what you had faith in, as long as you had faith. Normally this was good enough for her, but she bored so she argued. But I eventually won. "I know there's something out there. I don't know what. There's got to be something. It doesn't matter what. As long as there's something. I've always felt there's something. It doesn't matter who's right and who's wrong. People shouldn't try to be good just because of fear of being damned. Can't people just be good. They shouldn't need incentive like some child having candy waved in front of them. So really most people who say they live by the book or whatever it is in their religion are really doing it to secure their own fate." She was a little angry with me when I first said that, but then she went over my point.
Alice was right, this was the one. She died in her sleep on April 5, 1913. Everyone came out to pay their respects. Sally said she would be sad without her mother around, but she was happy for her. She died amongst friends and family and she would be with her mother, father, brothers, sisters, and husband now. She had so many friends waiting for her on either side.
Her funeral was held two days later. There were so many people there. She had been loved. Sally moved back into the apartment where she had grown up. I moved out. She asked me to stay, but I realized I couldn't stay anymore. I would just wind up wasting away in there. I had go home just one more time.
I felt strange for leaving without locating Jack's relatives, but I was beginning to feel I'd never find them.
I packed the evening before. I still had my old dress. I hadn't worn it in close to a year. I also had the necklace and even Cal's jacket. *I should burn this.* I thought. Then I noticed something on it. Just below the left armpit. A bullet whole. I fell backwards onto the bed. My God, he would have killed me. He almost did. What would have happened to Jack if he had shot me right there? I would have been killed instantly in that moment of terror. Would they have killed Jack too? Or would they have left him with my body. So oddly enough I kept it and stuffed it in my suitcase. To remind myself, I suppose.
Then I felt something on my hand. I moved it away quickly. A butterfly whirled around the room. An orange jewel in the middle of the gray room. I opened the window to let it out.
So I left a week later. I went to Philadelphia to see my mother. Ironically, I left on April 14th. All my friends came out to the train station to wish me well.
As I poked my head out the window to see them again. Isaac grabbed my hand. "You're not just leaving me like this. Why?"
"Everybody has reasons for things that they just can't tell."
"How do you do it, Rose? Every time anything awful happens you just get back up again like nothing happened. Alice told me about what happened to you."
"Because the alternative is unacceptable." I'll be God damned. I was really beginning to sound like my father.
"I'll miss you."
"I'll be back."
"When?"
"Someday I promise." I pulled him up and gave him a kiss on the cheek as the train began to pull away.
I would miss them. I really would. I drifted off into sleep. A year ago that day I had been holding Jack in my arms. I hoped I would dream about him that night. A good dream I hoped. I had nightmares too. Sometimes I'd relive the Titanic. I never had a recurring dream up until then.
In this dream I'd be walking someplace with Jack laughing over something. And I'd see my father. I'd never know exactly why, but I would always be afraid. I always wanted to walk away, but I just kept leading us toward my father. Then I'd open my mouth to say something and then my dear Papa would raise up his hand. I always stood motionless. There was always a small time slot in which I could do something, but I never did. Then my dear Papa would plunge a knife into Jack's heart. And there would be nobody left, but Jack and myself. I'd tell him I loved him and then he would die.
I didn't know whether my dreams would keep me sane or drive me mad.
The next morning I arrived in Philadelphia. Home. I was wearing old brown skirt, a faded blue blouse, and my old shoes. The white ones I had when I still lived over here, I destroyed my other pair from getting them muddy in rain games. Even though it was warm I covered myself with a big black overcoat and a shawl around my hair. I wore my glasses too. It was a big city no one would recognize me.
*This is suicide.* I thought. *What will happen if they find me?* I going to say good-bye to my home and my mother one more time and that was it. Maybe. Would she give me away? I hadn't seen what happened to her after the disaster. I wished that getting off the Carpathia that night I could have seen her just one more time. I wanted to just catch a glimpse of her walking off, but I couldn't find her in the crowd.
When I got off the train. I realized I had only enough money for a hotel for one night. So I slept in the park far from my old home in a less reputable part of town. I wanted to go to Fairmount Park. I used to spend so many days walking around there. I wanted to fall down on it and kiss the grass that grew from its earth.
I slept on a bench. I clung to my bags tightly. One was my suitcase, the other was a bag of foodstuffs supplied to me by Sally. When I awoke the next morning I found myself aching from head to toe. Benches were not a comfortable place to sleep. I had survived my first night out on the streets. The streets of my own God damn town.
My food was missing. Damn. Somebody must have pinched it from me while I was sleeping. They didn't take my suitcase though. I had been using it as a pillow. It must have been harder to get.
I sat up shaking myself awake. *Good morning Philadelphia. Nice to see you again.* I walked down a few blocks to a small café and ate breakfast. If I couldn't find Mother I'd look for Lily, Kit, or even Trudy, if she survived. I didn't think she did. I told myself I'd never see her again, but I had to see my mother. Now that I was on my own and had my own life now and a year had passed since my "death" I thought I was strong enough and she might be too.
After breakfast I crossed that famous line between bravery and stupidity. I, still my "disguise," marched right on down to East River Drive to where people would probably recognize me. I did do a good job of hiding my face so I thought I was safe.
First I stopped off at Fairmount Park. It was beginning to feel like home again. Then I moved on towards home. No place was quite like Philly. Boston, Paris, Amsterdam, Rome… London may have been old, beautiful and exciting, New York City might have been the modern day Rome, but Philadelphia had changed so little in all the time it had existed. It wasn't quite as big or as scary as those other places. Our country was born here. This was my Philadelphia.
Up the road, I could see it! Home. Home! I walked and faster and faster towards my house. I stopped at the gate. It looked the same. My home. My home where I grew up. I took my steps there; I slept there for the first seventeen years of my life. It was still there. "Home."
I wanted to so bad just to climb right over the gate, run up to my room and launch myself onto my bed. It seemed so natural.
The house looked empty. I couldn't tell whether anyone was living there or not. I knew the Hockleys owned it now. That didn't matter anymore. Where was my mother?
What had become of her? I thought of asking around, but that would be dangerous. Maybe I wasn't ready for this.
I went to my father in hope that by dumb luck I'd find her there. She wasn't. So I sat talking to my father's grave, feeling the letters. 'In Memory of the beloved Henry Francis DeWitt Bukater January 13, 1860 - December 30, 1911.' First I tried to argue with him. But it's very hard to argue with the dead. Not totally impossible, but hard. Then I started apologizing to him about leaving Mother, and then asked for any advice. He had none to offer. I stopped ranting when I saw the grave next to his. 'In Loving Memory of Rose Cornelia DeWitt Bukater February 24, 1895 - April 15, 1912. Lost at Sea.' I should have expected it, but it still caught me off my guard. Finding your death marker when you're still alive usually does. I looked around for anything else. No Ruth DeWitt Bukater anywhere in sight. She was still alive at least.
Looking at my headstone I realized Jack was right. It was a long one. I had easier last name now. Not so confusing. A double name that wasn't hyphenated usually is though. I hated my middle name too. It was Victoria's fault. She used to call me "Corny." I despised that. So I called her "Victor." God, I'd never see Vickie again either.
Fortunately or unfortunately I never ran into anyone I knew.
That night I went back to buy a train ticket out of there. I just needed to say good-bye to my home. Maybe I could never be with Mother again. If I could, it would be a long time from now. So I left. I bought the first ticket out of there. Chicago.
I ate dinner and slept at the station. That morning I left for Chicago. It took a few days to get there. When we stopped I went and explored the city. By noon I realized I hadn't eaten anything so I stopped to have lunch. Then I went out and stopped at a park. There seemed to be some sort important public meeting going on so I decided to sit down and listen.
There was a mass of women standing around holding signs that said "Votes for Women." I sat down and listened to the speakers for a while. Here were some people who thought the way I did. After the platform was cleared this women's group announced when and where they were going to meet next. It was at some small meetinghouse not far from the park. I wrote it down on a piece of paper.
To save on cash I didn't have dinner that night and slept at the station again, it was safer there then outside. I woke up starving. I was going to find something to eat, but realized I would be late for the meeting. It was in an hour and I wasn't sure how to get there. I had to ask for directions.
I realized something strange about Chicago as compared to other cities back East. They never say "go left or take a right or just the past the station." It was more like "now you go south down this street, then you west…" I checked for my compass, but found it unavailable so I asked for normal directions. Arrogant easterner I that I was. It took me a while, but I did find it and was only a little late.
After they were done speaking people got up to leave and broke off into their own little groups. I came up to one woman who seemed to be running the show. Her name was Iris Murphy. She was a widow and a mother of three. She said I was a very interesting young woman and that she hoped to see more of me.
She took me out to lunch. Good thing too because I ran myself clear out of money. We talked about everything. I even told her what I said to my father and his friends when I was ten. Not dropping names or anything like that of course.
"That took real guts."
"That took being a senseless and opinionated child."
"Good. We need opinionated people." She laughed. "You've got a bit of accent there. Where are from?"
"Philadelphia and I lived in New York for a while too."
"So how long have you been on your own like this?"
"A year or so."
"That's what we're talking about. A woman can be out on her own and working for herself, but she still doesn't have the rights that her citizenship should give her."
"Actually I'm unemployed." And destitute.
"Well where do you live?"
"Chicago?"
"Where do you sleep?"
"The train station."
"Oh no. Listen, Rose my son Alan owns a candy store not far from here. He always needs an extra hand."
So I rented out an apartment above the shop, worked there six days a week, and attended the suffrage meetings as often as I could. Alan nearly always let me off work to go to the meetings. He didn't like being left alone in the store for hours, but he didn't want to be scolded by his mother either. And she sometimes did. The poor man was twenty-five, but they usually did get on fine.
After a while I was bored with helping out. I started to write and make speeches at the podium myself. I became quite good at it. I was an on and off actress and well educated so it came easily to me. Everyone figured I was just very intelligent. I didn't bother to tell anyone of my years of fine schooling.
In October I went with Iris to Washington D.C. She brought her people to meet with women who lived near the capitol. Unfortunately, we didn't get much done. It was actually quite boring. We left after a few weeks. I was beginning to feel tired about everything. I was desperately homesick. I knew if I went back I'd never want to leave. I should not have done that. Now any place that wasn't home I couldn't stay. If Jack had been with me it would have been a different story. I missed him more than I missed Philly.
On the last day I was walking with Iris past Capitol Hill.
"I really don't know what I'm doing here." I told her.
"Whatever do you mean?"
"I mean I'm just some kid that can write. I'm truly horrible with politics."
"No you're not. You get your point across. That's what we need. You can't let a few failures get you down."
"I know. I understand."
"Now what was that all about? Are you afraid of the law?" Sometimes peaceful demonstrations got out of hand. Iris had been arested years before. The first time I was locked up it was for only a few days, but I was a first offender and they had little evidence against me. The second for alledgedly disturbing the peace I was locked up for two weeks before they released me.
"Honestly,…I'm homesick. Very homesick."
"Then go home. I'm sure your family misses you."
"I'm sure they do…They're dead. That's why I left." Best to detail the lie and make it more convincing. "I only have no there, but I can't stay in Chicago anymore."
"Very well then."
"…Really?"
"If that's what you want I can't stop you."
"Thank you, really."
"Come along then. We've got a train to catch." She started humming "Hello My Baby" to herself. I started humming with her and she smiled at me.
"Come Iris, let's sing it. Loud enough for them hear!" I pointed to the Capitol building. "Make them listen for a change!"
So we sang loud and true the ridiculous little tune. "Hello my baby! Hello my honey! Hello my ragtime gal! Send me a kiss by wire…Baby m'heart's on fire! If you refuse me honey, you'll lose me…Then you'll be left alone so baby telephone and tell me I'm your own!"
The next week I sent out a short story I'd written to two newspapers. One was the Chicago Tribune. The other was the Philadelphia Inquirer. (I still remembered the address.) This particular story was about a wealthy, powerful man and his dysfunctional relationship with his father. It takes place after the father's death and the son finally gets to inherit his father's money and take over the company. I used all of what I knew of Cal's relationship with Nathan as a reference. Now you see why I gave a copy to the folks back home. Of course I changed the names and dates and other small things.
I never got anything back from the Tribune, but the Inquirer sent back a check and letter stated that "Pittsburgh" by Rose Dawson would soon appear in their paper. It was less for revenge than it was a way of telling my mother that I was still alive. I just hoped and prayed she happened to read it.
After New Year's I left with a train ticket to El Paso. I wanted to check out things down by the border. Iris didn't say anything about my leaving, but she seem did hurt and disappointed. I didn't mean to, but I had to get out.
The train to Texas was the longest one I'd ever been on. It was snowing out when I left Chicago. It was hot and dry by the time we got to El Paso.
That night I roomed above a tavern. I was tired so I tried to sleep, but it was the nosiest, seediest dump I'd ever been in. So after a while at about midnight I went back down to the bar to join the party. It was so full of smoke I couldn't see a damned thing. I decided to have a drink and then go back to bed.
Some drunk started to give me a bit of trouble. I just waved him off at first. Then he started to get a feisty after I moved to the other end of the bar.
"That's rude ya knows."
I was too tired to deal with this. "Get off me." He started rubbing my shoulder and then moved down to my waist. "God, damn you stop!" He kissed me on the cheek. "That's it cowboy I'm going back up to my room." I got up. He yanked my arm and pulled me to him.
"Don't you wants to dance?" I was sick of answering him so I just pulled myself away. His grip was a little stronger than I expected. "I asked you a question dammit you little whore!" I spit in his eye and punched him in the face. He fell over taking a chair with him. His nose and mouth both started to bleed heavily.
"Keep your damn hands to yourself you lousy bastard!"
I tipped the bartender. "Sorry about the mess."
The drunk got back up and launched himself at me. I moved out of the way and he knocked over some other angry drunk and a fight ensued. It went on for close to an hour before most of men had been thrown out or passed out or left. I stayed and watched the fight considering it was half my fault. I shouldn't just go hide in my room.
I was about to go up to my room after I apologized to the bartender about the real mess I had made when a young man stopped me. He was from the other side of border, but his English was excellent. And he was strikingly handsome.
"Manuel Sanchez. I was quite impressed."
"Rose Dawson." We shook hands.
"You knocked the hell out of him one punch. I've never seen a lady do that. Except my for little sister, but she's no lady."
"She isn't?"
"She once licked a boy twice her age back in Veracruz."
"Are you from there?"
"Yes, but we live in New Mexico now. With all the Federales and Villistas wandering around it's not safe."
"Oh, New Mexico. That sounds great. How do you like out there?"
"Why? Are you thinking about going there?"
"Of course. I've no reason to stay here."
"We live in the scenic paradise of Columbus. It's quite close to the Mexican border."
"Scenic paradise?"
"I'm sorry, it's a little less scenic paradise and a little more like desolate shit hole, pardon my French…"
"It's alright, I 'knock the hell out of guys' remember? Swearing doesn't offend me in the least."
"Well, I'm leaving for it tomorrow."
"Oh,…I have a sort of strange request…"
"You're welcome to join me, Miss Dawson. My sister runs the Saloon and we rent out to boarders if you want to stay with us."
"Thank you. Thank you so much! And it's Rose, please."
"Meet you out here at seven then? If that's alright with you."
"Sure. Sure it is." After he left I sat back. *That was fast.*
This was crazy. I knew him for two minutes and I was going to get on train with him. Could I trust him? Would he rob me or take advantage of me? Why did I trust him at all? This might not be another Jack or Alice. Well, I'd find out in the morning for sure.
When I was waiting Manuel the next morning I realized I was without a ticket.
"Oh no!"
"What?"
"Are there any more tickets available?"
"Who knows…"
"Well, how am I supposed to get on the train?"
"Don't worry I don't have a ticket either"
"WHAT?"
"Calm down. I do this all the time. We just sneak onto the cargo compartments."
"Christ." I said under my breath.
"No it's okay. I've never been caught."
"Let's go buy our tickets now."
"I don't have any money. I spent it all last night and forgot to get them."
"Then I'll buy them." I sighed heavily.
"I don't want you to waste your money on me."
"I like you Manuel, but shut up and let me buy the God damn tickets." That was the catch I guess.
Luckily there were tickets available going to Columbus. With a population of 400 there was not much traffic going in or out of town.
We sat down in a booth. He put in his hands behind his head and immediately relaxed.
"Nice, huh?" I said.
"What's nice?"
"Seats as opposed to crates and dirty floors."
"Now look what you've done. I'm going to be paying for everything now."
"Well, you see that's the idea. We don't want to cheat the nice folks at the railroad company out of their money do we?"
"What did the nice folks at the railroad company ever do for us?" I just leaned back and ignored him. "Well?"
"Shut up, Manuel." I went to sleep.
First he told me that many people and gradually have problems with there vision and eventually need glasses, but I this had been all of the sudden. Then he told it could be due to brain damage from an accident. Brain damage??!!!
Apparently loss of vision is associated with trauma to the back of the head, and oddly enough, and severe hypothermia. Wonderful. Fifteen hundred dead, Jack included, I'd never see my mother again, and I was going blind. This I didn't need. Not that it mattered much now, but I was amazed I walked off that dock without a scratch, at least physically. My God, losing my eyesight, brain damage.
Compared to everything else this shouldn't have bothered me so much, but it did. So I had to get glasses. I could read fine after that. And there seemed to be nothing else wrong with me.
Actually I came to like my glasses. They made look older and rather dignified. Another addition to my new life. Glasses, new, more sensible clothes, it was still the same old me, but it felt fresh despite my loneliness.
I'd exited my cocoon of a radiant Philadelphia society princess, the most talked about debutante and became the butterfly that was the bespectacled, bohemian Rose Dawson from New York City. I thought it strange that in order to truly be myself I had to change my identity.
The months following got easier. No more newsies in the streets repeating over and over again about the Titanic tragedy until it rang in my ears. It was also the last time ever read anything in the paper referring to Rose DeWitt Bukater. Just a little paragraph. The funeral services were grand and there was a large turn out. That's really all that could be said for it.
The week after I actually felt very at peace, dare I say, happy. Maybe it was because I found something else I was good at.
After my job search for people looking for seamstresses and the like and getting no because I never worked before I almost gave up. I thought it would easy finding some simple menial work.
One day I was out on my usual rounds when I met Isaac Sveningsson and Danny McBride in Central Park. I usually stopped there to eat my lunch when Alice was busy.
I bumped into to two young men. Maybe bumped into wouldn't be correct. I was engaged in an arm wrestling match with Eddie Driscoll, he went to Alice's church. Eddie was six so I was letting him win, but I still pretended to put up a fight. We squatted next to a park bench and put our elbows on it. Unfortunately, I decided to hold my coffee while was doing it.
After Eddie beat me for a record 23rd time. I jumped up in the agony of defeat. And hit somebody with my coffee, spilling it all over him. He yelled from the burn.
"Sorry! Oh, sorry. I'm so sorry. Really. Whoops"
He just smiled at me. "Aw, it's all right."
Eddie piped up. "Nice going, Rose."
"Hey, watch it, buster. Don't get too cocky."
"Only because I've beaten you twenty times in arm wrestling."
The other two laughed. They were both about my age. My coffee victim spoke next. "It's alright. I've gotten into plenty of accidents before. This is the first time a pretty girl's ever spilled coffee on me and it's truly an honor, miss."
Eddie made a face.
"Don't mind Isaac. He's quite homely you see and he'll do and say anything. Not that I think you aren't pretty." He hit his friend in the arm. Actually neither of them was plain in any way. Isaac had light blonde, almost white hair and very pale blue eyes. His friend was freckled red head with a biggish nose, but not ugly.
"That's alright. I've never been so flattered and embarrassed. I'm Rose by the way. Rose Dawson." I was getting used to saying my new name by now. I always said it with a certain amount pride. "And this is my friend Edward William Driscoll the third."
"Eddie!" He corrected me.
"Or better known as Eddie." I looked down at him. He was still sitting on the grass next to the bench.
"I'm Danny McBride and this is Isaac Sveningsson."
We stayed in the park for an hour playing baseball with Eddie's schoolmates. Isaac never bothered to change his pants.
After that the three of us big kids walked Eddie. Eddie noticed I was slighted squeamish about Isaac's attraction to me. All I could think about was Jack. So on the way home Eddie informed Danny and Isaac that himself and I were quite an item.
Before Eddie flew up the steps to his family's apartment he pulled me down to him and whispered "Don't worry. I covered for ya."
"Thanks, Ed."
"Anytime."
That evening after saying good-bye to Danny and Isaac I stopped front of a small, old theater. The sign on the side of the back entrance read: 'Auditions tonight through Thursday, Hamlet.' On a complete whim I auditioned for Ophelia. I had read Shakespeare before, Hamlet several times.
Inside it was dark and smokey. After waiting for what seemed liked hours I was called up to read. I stood in front of three bored looking men.
For those ten minutes I was reading completely immersed myself in Ophelia. It was fun being someone else for a while. After I left I was thoroughly pleased with myself. At that moment I didn't care whether or not I got the part. I would thank those men for those ten minutes.
I told Alice about what I had done. She was pleased that I had experience in the artistic world, but not pleased that I may well be joining theater people. The theater was not an honorable profession. Filled with vagabonds and sinners.
Three days later I got a letter informing me that I was to be Ophelia and to show up at the theater at 10:00 the next morning. I couldn't contain myself. I grabbed Alice's hands and began to sing. A little like my soon to be alter ego, only I was truly blissful. "Daisy, daisy! Give me your answer true! I'm half crazy over the love of you!" She joined in with me. "It won't be a stylish marriage! I can't afford a carriage! But you'd look sweet, upon the seat, of a bicycle built for two!"
I ran down the street to meet my crowd in the park. I was so excited prancing around the house that I was making myself late. So I was late. They were short.
On my way there I bumped into Isaac again, but luckily I did not have my coffee with me. It started to rain. I told him what happened. He was excited for me too.
He looked up at the rain it was starting to pour now. "I think your game might be canceled."
"Oh, no. Not with these kids. We play rain or shine." He laughed. "Oh boy." I said. The rain was making my hair heavy. It started to flop to the side with all its pins. "That's it!" I pulled out all the pins and ties and shook my hair loose.
"Are you crazy?"
"Maybe, but now I feel much better now." I looked up at the rain again. Still pouring. "I'll race you to the park." I dashed out ahead of him.
"No fair you got a head start!"
"Come on be a man! Can't you beat a stupid girl?!" Apparently he couldn't. I beat him.
We split through the park and I whirled around in circles, arms stretched out like a plane. I grabbed his hands and whirled him around one time and let him go. He almost fell to the ground.
Isaac stayed with me to help with the ball game. Eddie asked me if I needed any more help in getting rid of him. I assured him I was fine.
After the game when I went off on my own and stopped to pick up some groceries for Alice I ran into her daughter, Sally, who had just gotten off the train from Staten Island.
"Rose?!" Sally Grant looked very much like her mother only she was very tall and had dark brown hair. She was unwed and in her late thirties.
"Hello Sally!"
"What happened to you?"
"Well, it rained."
"I can see that, but look at you. I think that blouse used to be white." So I was a little muddy. I rarely got the chance to be muddy when I was a little girl. It was a lot of fun. "And your hair's all down. Honestly, you look like a street walker."
"I like my hair down." Sally walked me home after that. And they cleaned me up.
The next day I went back to the theater. It was crowded with other actors. I was generally disliked because no one recognized me. The director was a large fat man with high voice that was usually in bad mood. So rehearsals started like that. As time went on I became accepted by the group. Soon came opening night. I was nervous as hell. Despite having Ophelia as a nice escape from myself I really didn't think I knew what I was doing, but I promised myself I'd make it. I had been in far worse situations than this one.
I went on, I did my thing, and just like in rehearsals gave it everything I had. I became Ophelia. I was her. I didn't realize it when I was on stage, but a veteran actress, Edna Weir, who played Gertrude told me I had made the audience cry. When I came on to bow I got applause and woops and several curtains calls. It was amazing. Alice, Sally, the Driscolls, Danny, and Isaac all came out to see me. I hoped that my father and Jack might have seen it somehow.
The next show I got thrown roses, appropriately, at my feet and somebody threw me a full bottle of beer. I wasn't sure if that was because he liked me so much he was giving a free drink or if he was trying injure me. But luckily I caught it. Then I popped off the cap and took a swig. I got more applause for that.
Months went by and by fall our little production was over. I went to few more auditions without as much luck as the first. Then I was apart of small vaudeville act with Edna's niece, Eileen. Eileen danced while I played the piano and sang. Not as challenging as Hamlet had been, but good, light-hearted entertainment.
Alice turned sixty-two that November. The church and the neighborhood threw her a big party. She was extremely thrilled. By Christmas time we all had a terrible flu. Despite everyone being sick I thought of where I was a year ago. I had really come a long way. I had a real family again.
I still thought of Jack all the time. One Christmas with him would have been nice. I missed him so much. But all this, I had him to thank for it and I promised myself I would find his family. They did have to know that their nephew was dead.
Some days were good days. Some days were bad days. Some days I laughed when I thought of him. Some days I cried. But I promised him I would make and I had.
A few days before Christmas I was feeling much better and I volunteered to go pick up a tree. It was a cold, crisp night and all the stars were out. As I walked home with our little tree I looked up at the stars. I felt sick, tired and cold and I hadn't had a hot bath since April, but I felt wonderful. I felt as if his star was shining down on me.
February rolled around and I turned eighteen. I remembered birthday this time and my usual friends showed up for a little party.
By March Alice became ill. Everyone told her she was fine, but she kept insisting that this was the one. That is was "her time."
To keep her entertained I had philosophical debates with her. She was definitely on the side of Christian beliefs. I insisted that it didn't matter what you had faith in, as long as you had faith. Normally this was good enough for her, but she bored so she argued. But I eventually won. "I know there's something out there. I don't know what. There's got to be something. It doesn't matter what. As long as there's something. I've always felt there's something. It doesn't matter who's right and who's wrong. People shouldn't try to be good just because of fear of being damned. Can't people just be good. They shouldn't need incentive like some child having candy waved in front of them. So really most people who say they live by the book or whatever it is in their religion are really doing it to secure their own fate." She was a little angry with me when I first said that, but then she went over my point.
Alice was right, this was the one. She died in her sleep on April 5, 1913. Everyone came out to pay their respects. Sally said she would be sad without her mother around, but she was happy for her. She died amongst friends and family and she would be with her mother, father, brothers, sisters, and husband now. She had so many friends waiting for her on either side.
Her funeral was held two days later. There were so many people there. She had been loved. Sally moved back into the apartment where she had grown up. I moved out. She asked me to stay, but I realized I couldn't stay anymore. I would just wind up wasting away in there. I had go home just one more time.
I felt strange for leaving without locating Jack's relatives, but I was beginning to feel I'd never find them.
I packed the evening before. I still had my old dress. I hadn't worn it in close to a year. I also had the necklace and even Cal's jacket. *I should burn this.* I thought. Then I noticed something on it. Just below the left armpit. A bullet whole. I fell backwards onto the bed. My God, he would have killed me. He almost did. What would have happened to Jack if he had shot me right there? I would have been killed instantly in that moment of terror. Would they have killed Jack too? Or would they have left him with my body. So oddly enough I kept it and stuffed it in my suitcase. To remind myself, I suppose.
Then I felt something on my hand. I moved it away quickly. A butterfly whirled around the room. An orange jewel in the middle of the gray room. I opened the window to let it out.
So I left a week later. I went to Philadelphia to see my mother. Ironically, I left on April 14th. All my friends came out to the train station to wish me well.
As I poked my head out the window to see them again. Isaac grabbed my hand. "You're not just leaving me like this. Why?"
"Everybody has reasons for things that they just can't tell."
"How do you do it, Rose? Every time anything awful happens you just get back up again like nothing happened. Alice told me about what happened to you."
"Because the alternative is unacceptable." I'll be God damned. I was really beginning to sound like my father.
"I'll miss you."
"I'll be back."
"When?"
"Someday I promise." I pulled him up and gave him a kiss on the cheek as the train began to pull away.
I would miss them. I really would. I drifted off into sleep. A year ago that day I had been holding Jack in my arms. I hoped I would dream about him that night. A good dream I hoped. I had nightmares too. Sometimes I'd relive the Titanic. I never had a recurring dream up until then.
In this dream I'd be walking someplace with Jack laughing over something. And I'd see my father. I'd never know exactly why, but I would always be afraid. I always wanted to walk away, but I just kept leading us toward my father. Then I'd open my mouth to say something and then my dear Papa would raise up his hand. I always stood motionless. There was always a small time slot in which I could do something, but I never did. Then my dear Papa would plunge a knife into Jack's heart. And there would be nobody left, but Jack and myself. I'd tell him I loved him and then he would die.
I didn't know whether my dreams would keep me sane or drive me mad.
The next morning I arrived in Philadelphia. Home. I was wearing old brown skirt, a faded blue blouse, and my old shoes. The white ones I had when I still lived over here, I destroyed my other pair from getting them muddy in rain games. Even though it was warm I covered myself with a big black overcoat and a shawl around my hair. I wore my glasses too. It was a big city no one would recognize me.
*This is suicide.* I thought. *What will happen if they find me?* I going to say good-bye to my home and my mother one more time and that was it. Maybe. Would she give me away? I hadn't seen what happened to her after the disaster. I wished that getting off the Carpathia that night I could have seen her just one more time. I wanted to just catch a glimpse of her walking off, but I couldn't find her in the crowd.
When I got off the train. I realized I had only enough money for a hotel for one night. So I slept in the park far from my old home in a less reputable part of town. I wanted to go to Fairmount Park. I used to spend so many days walking around there. I wanted to fall down on it and kiss the grass that grew from its earth.
I slept on a bench. I clung to my bags tightly. One was my suitcase, the other was a bag of foodstuffs supplied to me by Sally. When I awoke the next morning I found myself aching from head to toe. Benches were not a comfortable place to sleep. I had survived my first night out on the streets. The streets of my own God damn town.
My food was missing. Damn. Somebody must have pinched it from me while I was sleeping. They didn't take my suitcase though. I had been using it as a pillow. It must have been harder to get.
I sat up shaking myself awake. *Good morning Philadelphia. Nice to see you again.* I walked down a few blocks to a small café and ate breakfast. If I couldn't find Mother I'd look for Lily, Kit, or even Trudy, if she survived. I didn't think she did. I told myself I'd never see her again, but I had to see my mother. Now that I was on my own and had my own life now and a year had passed since my "death" I thought I was strong enough and she might be too.
After breakfast I crossed that famous line between bravery and stupidity. I, still my "disguise," marched right on down to East River Drive to where people would probably recognize me. I did do a good job of hiding my face so I thought I was safe.
First I stopped off at Fairmount Park. It was beginning to feel like home again. Then I moved on towards home. No place was quite like Philly. Boston, Paris, Amsterdam, Rome… London may have been old, beautiful and exciting, New York City might have been the modern day Rome, but Philadelphia had changed so little in all the time it had existed. It wasn't quite as big or as scary as those other places. Our country was born here. This was my Philadelphia.
Up the road, I could see it! Home. Home! I walked and faster and faster towards my house. I stopped at the gate. It looked the same. My home. My home where I grew up. I took my steps there; I slept there for the first seventeen years of my life. It was still there. "Home."
I wanted to so bad just to climb right over the gate, run up to my room and launch myself onto my bed. It seemed so natural.
The house looked empty. I couldn't tell whether anyone was living there or not. I knew the Hockleys owned it now. That didn't matter anymore. Where was my mother?
What had become of her? I thought of asking around, but that would be dangerous. Maybe I wasn't ready for this.
I went to my father in hope that by dumb luck I'd find her there. She wasn't. So I sat talking to my father's grave, feeling the letters. 'In Memory of the beloved Henry Francis DeWitt Bukater January 13, 1860 - December 30, 1911.' First I tried to argue with him. But it's very hard to argue with the dead. Not totally impossible, but hard. Then I started apologizing to him about leaving Mother, and then asked for any advice. He had none to offer. I stopped ranting when I saw the grave next to his. 'In Loving Memory of Rose Cornelia DeWitt Bukater February 24, 1895 - April 15, 1912. Lost at Sea.' I should have expected it, but it still caught me off my guard. Finding your death marker when you're still alive usually does. I looked around for anything else. No Ruth DeWitt Bukater anywhere in sight. She was still alive at least.
Looking at my headstone I realized Jack was right. It was a long one. I had easier last name now. Not so confusing. A double name that wasn't hyphenated usually is though. I hated my middle name too. It was Victoria's fault. She used to call me "Corny." I despised that. So I called her "Victor." God, I'd never see Vickie again either.
Fortunately or unfortunately I never ran into anyone I knew.
That night I went back to buy a train ticket out of there. I just needed to say good-bye to my home. Maybe I could never be with Mother again. If I could, it would be a long time from now. So I left. I bought the first ticket out of there. Chicago.
I ate dinner and slept at the station. That morning I left for Chicago. It took a few days to get there. When we stopped I went and explored the city. By noon I realized I hadn't eaten anything so I stopped to have lunch. Then I went out and stopped at a park. There seemed to be some sort important public meeting going on so I decided to sit down and listen.
There was a mass of women standing around holding signs that said "Votes for Women." I sat down and listened to the speakers for a while. Here were some people who thought the way I did. After the platform was cleared this women's group announced when and where they were going to meet next. It was at some small meetinghouse not far from the park. I wrote it down on a piece of paper.
To save on cash I didn't have dinner that night and slept at the station again, it was safer there then outside. I woke up starving. I was going to find something to eat, but realized I would be late for the meeting. It was in an hour and I wasn't sure how to get there. I had to ask for directions.
I realized something strange about Chicago as compared to other cities back East. They never say "go left or take a right or just the past the station." It was more like "now you go south down this street, then you west…" I checked for my compass, but found it unavailable so I asked for normal directions. Arrogant easterner I that I was. It took me a while, but I did find it and was only a little late.
After they were done speaking people got up to leave and broke off into their own little groups. I came up to one woman who seemed to be running the show. Her name was Iris Murphy. She was a widow and a mother of three. She said I was a very interesting young woman and that she hoped to see more of me.
She took me out to lunch. Good thing too because I ran myself clear out of money. We talked about everything. I even told her what I said to my father and his friends when I was ten. Not dropping names or anything like that of course.
"That took real guts."
"That took being a senseless and opinionated child."
"Good. We need opinionated people." She laughed. "You've got a bit of accent there. Where are from?"
"Philadelphia and I lived in New York for a while too."
"So how long have you been on your own like this?"
"A year or so."
"That's what we're talking about. A woman can be out on her own and working for herself, but she still doesn't have the rights that her citizenship should give her."
"Actually I'm unemployed." And destitute.
"Well where do you live?"
"Chicago?"
"Where do you sleep?"
"The train station."
"Oh no. Listen, Rose my son Alan owns a candy store not far from here. He always needs an extra hand."
So I rented out an apartment above the shop, worked there six days a week, and attended the suffrage meetings as often as I could. Alan nearly always let me off work to go to the meetings. He didn't like being left alone in the store for hours, but he didn't want to be scolded by his mother either. And she sometimes did. The poor man was twenty-five, but they usually did get on fine.
After a while I was bored with helping out. I started to write and make speeches at the podium myself. I became quite good at it. I was an on and off actress and well educated so it came easily to me. Everyone figured I was just very intelligent. I didn't bother to tell anyone of my years of fine schooling.
In October I went with Iris to Washington D.C. She brought her people to meet with women who lived near the capitol. Unfortunately, we didn't get much done. It was actually quite boring. We left after a few weeks. I was beginning to feel tired about everything. I was desperately homesick. I knew if I went back I'd never want to leave. I should not have done that. Now any place that wasn't home I couldn't stay. If Jack had been with me it would have been a different story. I missed him more than I missed Philly.
On the last day I was walking with Iris past Capitol Hill.
"I really don't know what I'm doing here." I told her.
"Whatever do you mean?"
"I mean I'm just some kid that can write. I'm truly horrible with politics."
"No you're not. You get your point across. That's what we need. You can't let a few failures get you down."
"I know. I understand."
"Now what was that all about? Are you afraid of the law?" Sometimes peaceful demonstrations got out of hand. Iris had been arested years before. The first time I was locked up it was for only a few days, but I was a first offender and they had little evidence against me. The second for alledgedly disturbing the peace I was locked up for two weeks before they released me.
"Honestly,…I'm homesick. Very homesick."
"Then go home. I'm sure your family misses you."
"I'm sure they do…They're dead. That's why I left." Best to detail the lie and make it more convincing. "I only have no there, but I can't stay in Chicago anymore."
"Very well then."
"…Really?"
"If that's what you want I can't stop you."
"Thank you, really."
"Come along then. We've got a train to catch." She started humming "Hello My Baby" to herself. I started humming with her and she smiled at me.
"Come Iris, let's sing it. Loud enough for them hear!" I pointed to the Capitol building. "Make them listen for a change!"
So we sang loud and true the ridiculous little tune. "Hello my baby! Hello my honey! Hello my ragtime gal! Send me a kiss by wire…Baby m'heart's on fire! If you refuse me honey, you'll lose me…Then you'll be left alone so baby telephone and tell me I'm your own!"
The next week I sent out a short story I'd written to two newspapers. One was the Chicago Tribune. The other was the Philadelphia Inquirer. (I still remembered the address.) This particular story was about a wealthy, powerful man and his dysfunctional relationship with his father. It takes place after the father's death and the son finally gets to inherit his father's money and take over the company. I used all of what I knew of Cal's relationship with Nathan as a reference. Now you see why I gave a copy to the folks back home. Of course I changed the names and dates and other small things.
I never got anything back from the Tribune, but the Inquirer sent back a check and letter stated that "Pittsburgh" by Rose Dawson would soon appear in their paper. It was less for revenge than it was a way of telling my mother that I was still alive. I just hoped and prayed she happened to read it.
After New Year's I left with a train ticket to El Paso. I wanted to check out things down by the border. Iris didn't say anything about my leaving, but she seem did hurt and disappointed. I didn't mean to, but I had to get out.
The train to Texas was the longest one I'd ever been on. It was snowing out when I left Chicago. It was hot and dry by the time we got to El Paso.
That night I roomed above a tavern. I was tired so I tried to sleep, but it was the nosiest, seediest dump I'd ever been in. So after a while at about midnight I went back down to the bar to join the party. It was so full of smoke I couldn't see a damned thing. I decided to have a drink and then go back to bed.
Some drunk started to give me a bit of trouble. I just waved him off at first. Then he started to get a feisty after I moved to the other end of the bar.
"That's rude ya knows."
I was too tired to deal with this. "Get off me." He started rubbing my shoulder and then moved down to my waist. "God, damn you stop!" He kissed me on the cheek. "That's it cowboy I'm going back up to my room." I got up. He yanked my arm and pulled me to him.
"Don't you wants to dance?" I was sick of answering him so I just pulled myself away. His grip was a little stronger than I expected. "I asked you a question dammit you little whore!" I spit in his eye and punched him in the face. He fell over taking a chair with him. His nose and mouth both started to bleed heavily.
"Keep your damn hands to yourself you lousy bastard!"
I tipped the bartender. "Sorry about the mess."
The drunk got back up and launched himself at me. I moved out of the way and he knocked over some other angry drunk and a fight ensued. It went on for close to an hour before most of men had been thrown out or passed out or left. I stayed and watched the fight considering it was half my fault. I shouldn't just go hide in my room.
I was about to go up to my room after I apologized to the bartender about the real mess I had made when a young man stopped me. He was from the other side of border, but his English was excellent. And he was strikingly handsome.
"Manuel Sanchez. I was quite impressed."
"Rose Dawson." We shook hands.
"You knocked the hell out of him one punch. I've never seen a lady do that. Except my for little sister, but she's no lady."
"She isn't?"
"She once licked a boy twice her age back in Veracruz."
"Are you from there?"
"Yes, but we live in New Mexico now. With all the Federales and Villistas wandering around it's not safe."
"Oh, New Mexico. That sounds great. How do you like out there?"
"Why? Are you thinking about going there?"
"Of course. I've no reason to stay here."
"We live in the scenic paradise of Columbus. It's quite close to the Mexican border."
"Scenic paradise?"
"I'm sorry, it's a little less scenic paradise and a little more like desolate shit hole, pardon my French…"
"It's alright, I 'knock the hell out of guys' remember? Swearing doesn't offend me in the least."
"Well, I'm leaving for it tomorrow."
"Oh,…I have a sort of strange request…"
"You're welcome to join me, Miss Dawson. My sister runs the Saloon and we rent out to boarders if you want to stay with us."
"Thank you. Thank you so much! And it's Rose, please."
"Meet you out here at seven then? If that's alright with you."
"Sure. Sure it is." After he left I sat back. *That was fast.*
This was crazy. I knew him for two minutes and I was going to get on train with him. Could I trust him? Would he rob me or take advantage of me? Why did I trust him at all? This might not be another Jack or Alice. Well, I'd find out in the morning for sure.
When I was waiting Manuel the next morning I realized I was without a ticket.
"Oh no!"
"What?"
"Are there any more tickets available?"
"Who knows…"
"Well, how am I supposed to get on the train?"
"Don't worry I don't have a ticket either"
"WHAT?"
"Calm down. I do this all the time. We just sneak onto the cargo compartments."
"Christ." I said under my breath.
"No it's okay. I've never been caught."
"Let's go buy our tickets now."
"I don't have any money. I spent it all last night and forgot to get them."
"Then I'll buy them." I sighed heavily.
"I don't want you to waste your money on me."
"I like you Manuel, but shut up and let me buy the God damn tickets." That was the catch I guess.
Luckily there were tickets available going to Columbus. With a population of 400 there was not much traffic going in or out of town.
We sat down in a booth. He put in his hands behind his head and immediately relaxed.
"Nice, huh?" I said.
"What's nice?"
"Seats as opposed to crates and dirty floors."
"Now look what you've done. I'm going to be paying for everything now."
"Well, you see that's the idea. We don't want to cheat the nice folks at the railroad company out of their money do we?"
"What did the nice folks at the railroad company ever do for us?" I just leaned back and ignored him. "Well?"
"Shut up, Manuel." I went to sleep.