Whenever a ship docked in town all the other girls at McSorely's seemed to come to work with their hair curlier and their blouses tighter. They laughed loudly at the sailor's jokes and kept the strong drinks coming. These nights were likely to end in singing, dancing, sweat and and perhaps a night alone with someone you never had to see again.
Though Rose had only been working there for four months she was already well accustomed to the routine, if hesitant to join in herself. The other girls had also already become aware of Rose's distaste for sailors. While she usually would have a sherry or a beer after her shift, on nights when the sailors were in town, she would slip out early without a word.
Rose was no longer living in the little room upstairs but instead had moved in with two of the girls from work to a little apartment in the village overlooking Tompkins square. It wasa drafty, the pipes leaked, the ceiling leaked and the neighbors on both sides were prone to loud arguments, but none of this bothered Rose. Her little window looked out of the white-gray branches of the birch trees lining the edges of the park.
The apartment only had one real bedroom, so Rose slept on a camp bed in what was supposed to be the living room and Ann and Elsie shared the somewhat larger bedroom, a sheet dividing the room for privacy. Ann and Elsie were friendly, clean and most importantly rarely home and Rose appreciated her for these reasons. It had taken her a while to even interact with the other girls at work. Rose in her past life had been hard to silence, Rose Dawson of McSorely's was known mainly for her quiet sad eyes and her mysterious lack of a past.
It was one of the hottest days in August when the USS Perkins docked in New York and the thirsty sailors came looking for a drink and maybe a tender voice. It should be mentioned, there are nicer and bigger bars than McSorely's (famous for its two choices of beer: light or dark) and bars closer to the pier, but you would be hard pressed to find a bar with prettier girls.
Rose was the only girl whose heart didn't race when she saw them approaching in their white uniforms. She focused deeply on making the decorative zinc bar shine and making sure everyone had full glasses.
Elsie, one of the newer girls and also Rose's new roommate, and Madame Mary, who had been there as long as anyone could remember, enjoyed a drink with several of the new arrivals. Elsie's hair was shockingly fair and she still had a sprinkling of freckles, a relic from her childhood in Kansas. Madame Mary had one streak of gray in her dark hair and bright eyes that never missed a beat.
"And what does that one mean?" said Elsie, pointing at the sparrow on one young man's bicep, he had rolled up his sleeve to show it to her.
"It means I've travelled 5000 miles by sea love," said the sailor, a dark complexioned young man who had barely taken his eyes off Elsie.
"Do you have more?" she said, her eyes big. The sailor began rolling up his pants leg.
"This un here, this means I'm willing to kill see, it's a dagger through a rose, most of my mates have these uns"
"A dagger through a rose?"
"Yes, willing to do what you have to see, even something as delicate as a rose."
"Rose ain't that delicate, I've seen her kick men out of here drunk and twice her size!" said Madame Mary with a laugh. "You're gonna need a better tattoo then that."
Rose stopped cleaning the bar and looked over. "Why don't you come join us Rose dear," said Madame Mary. "Or are you just going to stand there and watch?"
Rose began furiously shining again.
"You're gonna wipe the metal clean off it ya don't stop" said Madame Mary with a laugh.
"I have tables to serve," said Rose looking around for someone with an empty cup but finding no one.
"Look here, I've never seen ones like this before," exclaimed Elsie. The sailor had now removed his shoes and Rose came to see too, curious but apprehensive. He had one on each foot, a rooster and a pig.
"What on earth does that mean?" Elsie was still laughing.
"Dunno exactly," said the sailor. "It's supposed to prevent drowning, not sure why though. Figured it couldn't hurt. Don't wanna drown now do I."
Rose looked at the pig and the rooster and they stared back defiantly, it was that easy. Those could have saved everyone, had they thought to get precautionary tattoos before crossing the ocean. Rose fell silent and slipped into an empty seat.
Madame Mary alone saw the look in her eyes and acted quickly. "Do you have any tattoos Willem?" she said, addressing the sailor beside her. He was quieter than his mates, and his skin was wrinkled and tan as Rose's leather boots. While older than the others, he still was not old by any means, forty perhaps. Young for a seaman still.
"Just one that's fit to show polite company," he said, the skin around his eyes wrinkled even deeper when he smiled. He rolled up the front of his sleeve to reveal his forarm. It was another Rose and the thorny stem entwined with the initials JS. "For my Jane," he said softly. "She's gone to her watery grave but I'm never apart from her now."
Everyone fell silent and looked at the pink, blossoming rose, so alive, on his arm.
"Of course, I have her as a mermaid as well, but no where fit to show you lot," he shouted, breaking everyone's melancholy.
Elsie laughed with her head back. "Show us please!"
Only Rose stayed quiet, going to get herself a whiskey and trying to stop her hands shaking. She listened to the sailors stories all night until Elsie left with the younger tattooed boy and Rose closed up with Madame Mary.
"Rose you are a closed book," said Mary, putting away the newly cleaned glasses. "Where did you come from? You never say a word. Sometimes I think you just washed up here."
Rose smiled slightly. "I think that sometimes too."
The next day Elsie was neither at home nor at work, and most of the sailors had moved on to more lively halls. The sun beamed in through the old glass window and made the copper of the taps sparkle like electricity. Only a few regulars came this early, single men looking for a hot meal midday, the usual drunks and elderly people with little else to do. And the older man from the night before, Willem, sitting at the bar, sipping a brandy alone, wearing civilian clothes so Rose scarcely recognized him at first.
"Can I get you another?" she said, leaning over the bar. "It's on the house."
Willem raised his empty glass to her. "Thank you kindly."
Rose smiled.
"You seem a lot more friendly by day," observed Willem.
Rose shrugged. "I am friendly. I just don't care for tales of the sea .They bore me."
"Well miss I'm sorry to bore you. You have to trust me when I say it's more exciting to live it. I'm a poor story teller and I don't pretend otherwise."
Rose didn't know what to say to this, so she began drying glasses and hanging them in the racks above the bar.
"Where do you go to get those tattoos?" she said suddenly.
"What? I got these in Stockholm. Perhaps you've been there? You aren't from here are you"
Rose shrugged. "I've never been to Stockholm."
"There's a place on the pier here that does em too."
"Can you take me?"
"Do you want to see how it works? It's a bit gory miss. I wouldn't want to upset you."
"No, I want to get one." she said firmly. "I get off after dinner and then you can take me."