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Several days passed. And then several more. Rose, for her part, stayed shut up in her room, only leaving during the day when she was absolutely sure Cal was at work to bathe and to walk for a bit to stretch her legs.
She took meals in her room, and then simply laid on her bed, staring out the window. The weather was always so cold and bleak outside. So rainy. Autumn was depressing, matching both her mood and the coldness inside her.
Sometimes she found herself merely pushing her food around, playing with it, letting it all grow cold on the china, listless. Food could never fill the void that seemed to be inside her.
She could not deny that Cal's words, that horrible night, had shaken her. Scared her. Hurt her.
Their altercation continually repeated in her head, every waking moment.
When she dreamt, when she could sleep, she sometimes dreamed of the argument. Cal seemed to be smirking at her, his handsome face close to hers, his words from before filling her ears, as she looked on in horror as Jack embraced another woman, tears pouring down her cheeks. And then Cal leaned in to kiss her neck as she finally realized that she had been just another girl under Jack's belt, and Cal was really all she had.
Or she frequently dreamt of the sinking, and saw Jack's cold, lifeless body over and over again, sometimes a gruesome skeleton, sometimes not, causing her to wake up in a raw panic, tears pouring down her cheeks.
She knew it was ridiculous. She knew Jack had loved her as he had her, adored her as she had him. But she was in such a vulnerable state, so fragile a mindset, her grief was so strong and tangible, that she sometimes caught herself believing things she knew not to be true. Even if only for a few moments. It detroyed her. It enraged her.
She felt raw. She felt lonely. She felt...depressed.
She longed to escape this room. Sometimes she felt crazy, locked up in it, especially at night when the nightmares of Jack, the sinking, were too strong. She looked at her hands, her arms, and saw angry red nail marks from her struggling not to scream at the memories.
She wanted somebody to just hold her, at night, when the nightmares, the terror was too much. Though she hated it, she could not escape the vision of Cal holding her, just so she wouldn't be alone, if only for one blissful, temporary moment. A mindless moment, one where she would not register the fact that it would be him, of all the men in the world, holding her, comforting her...the feel of his gentle heartbeat lulling her, calming her...his hands the ones that would stroke her hair, his arms the ones that would gently embrace her...his warm chest the one her head would rest on...
She sometimes even wanted her mother. Anybody. Thinking of her father was too painful. She could not think of him without spiraling even more into a panic. The memory of his grave, his funeral a year ago would begin to slice into the already unbearable visions she had to contend with, and she had to quickly divert her mind or else she feared she would simply begin to go crazy with the sheer horror of it all.
Thinking of Jack embracing her was no longer an option either. It was just too painful. Try though she did in vain to close her eyes and relive his wonderful kisses, his gentle touch, their lovely memories, it only worked for a few moments before the tears came and almost unendurable sobs wracked her body.
As she lay on her bed and stared out the window, lifeless, eyes dead, playing with her long hair listlessly, she could not take much more of this...this loneliness.
Her thoughts shifted to Cal often, try though she did to not think of him. She was still angry, still...so incredibly upset with him. But he really was the only person she could truly talk to in this place, and this...this was no way to live. She had promised Jack she would make something of her life, herself. Staying shut up in a bedroom hardly seemed the way to honor that.
She would go and talk to him tonight, when he came home from work. It was at least something. It was somehow better than staying shut up in here, afraid and miserable. Even if she had to see him.
Whenever Cal passed her room, he tried not to think of her, not be curious as to what she was doing, what was going through her head. He failed utterly.
He was glad he had not had to see her for several days, he was still so upset, but even so, he could not deny he was curious.
Sometimes he half wondered if he would open her door and find her dead, wrists bloody and slashed, scarlet blood stains on her white nightgown.
When he was at work, he forced her out of his head, even though she flooded it often.
When he was arrived home, he bathed, changed into his regular clothes, shedding his suit and hair gel as he always had, and dined and drank alone.
At night he would sit in his parlor, in the dark, just sitting. Pondering. Thinking.
Sometimes he wanted to just simply go upstairs and throw open the door, so he would know she wasn't dead or some such horrible thing.
Sometimes he wanted to carry her downstairs at night and sit her at the table and force her to eat, demand she stop shutting herself away, doing that to herself, slowly killing herself.
He knew sometimes she did not even bother to eat. He saw the full trays his servants sometimes brought to him, at his request, simply stating they did not know why she had not eaten.
He would only nod quietly and the servants would disperse, leaving him alone again.
He did not know why he cared, but God help him, he did.
*
She knew it was late, for the moonlight had long been permeating her room for some time. The clock downstairs told her it was eleven o' clock.
She had a nagging suspicion he would be in his parlor. Or at least somewhere.
Walking out into the immense hallway and trying to calm the beating of her heart, she walked downstairs. She would check the parlor first.
As she got closer and closer to her goal, the nervousness got to be too much, the terror. She simply could not do this. She could not face him.
But then she rolled her eyes and simply waited outside the closed door for a few moments, closing her eyes, before gently turning the ornate doorknob.
A warm glow was filling the room from a lamp, and there he was, sitting on a couch, hair down, work suit gone, replaced with normal clothes, a full glass in his hands, his eyes staring blankly in front of him.
He started, and suddenly, his eyes locked onto hers, and they simply stared at each other.
She could not seem to speak. Neither could he. Her heart was simply pounding.
But suddenly, she closed her eyes and then opened them, hastily.
She cleared her throat. Speak Rose, dammit, her mind said.
"I...I want to...apologize for the things I said the other night. I...I was out of line," she said stiffly.
Cal stared at her, his heart thrumming in his ears. Then he surprised her by speaking.
"We both said some things that were out of line. I...I am sorry as well...Let's...Let's simply forget about it," he said awkwardly. Rose found herself nodding, oddly enough, and then they stayed in silence for several moments, the silence almost painful. Then he surprised her again by smirking gently at her and cocking his head.
"Well come in, why don't you?"
She shut the door and sat on the other side of the couch, as far away from him as possible, looking around her awkwardly. Looking anywhere but at him.
He noticed her skittishness and smirked again. "Rose, I don't bite."
She looked at him quickly and said, "I know."
He rolled his eyes again, gently smirking at her. "Well you're only sitting as far away as possible from me and determinedly looking anywhere else but at me, darling."
She looked at him and simply could not find words. He really was handsome, even when smirking at her like that.
The traitorous thought irked her, though.
Quickly looking in front of her and fluffing up her hair slightly, she awkwardly asked, "May I possibly have a drink?"
He winked at her. "I thought you would never ask."
He got up and filled a sparkling crystal glass for her and came back and gently deposited it in her hands, his warm fingers brushing hers for the merest second, a second that simply seemed to stretch forever. Her hands wrapped around the glass like a vise.
They sat in silence for a few more moments, Rose feeling more and more awkward by the second.
Then he cleared his throat and deliberately looked at her. "Rose darling, just a question? Why exactly did you come down here? Not that I don't appreciate your company, of course," he said, winking at her.
She stared at him, suddenly unable to speak. Then she did, forcing herself to look at him as she said the words, not look away, tempting though it was.
"I...I came down here because I was...simply tired of being locked up in that bedroom. I...I was...lonely," she said honestly. "And...I don't quite know why...but I found I...I wanted to make things right between us."
He simply stared at her, his face blank. She felt self-conscious. Then his eyes were suddenly on her marked hands, her arms, the red marks standing out distinctly, and she found herself trying to cover them as best she could.
Cal looked at her again, unspoken questions in his eyes, and then he nodded. "Alright."
Taking another drink, more time passed. For some time, the only sound was the wind outside. But at long last, she suddenly started at his next words. "And here I thought you were simply coming down here to seduce me," though that devious glint in his eyes, that wink, that smirk on his face, his eyes locked on hers, told her he was simply kidding.
It was still ungodly unnerving...irritating! She scoffed and took another drink. "I would have to be inebriated," she said stiffly, and then she realized what she had just said and blushed.
He smirked at her. "Well that implies you've given it some serious thought Rose," his smirk growing even more as he realized she was blushing.
She rolled her eyes and looked at him. "Exactly how did we get on this damn subject anyway?" marveling at how simply surrreal, odd, the night had become.
He winked at her. "The moment you came and joined me for a drink," he said, raising his glass to hers in a mock toast.
Simply staring at him, marveling at how odd a human being he could be at times, how infuriating, how strange a turn the conversation and evening had taken, oddly enough, to her horror, she found herself almost drowning in his eyes, hating the very feeling that looking away would be unfathomable.
He smirked again. "Well well Rose, maybe you want to test that theory," and though it was only a joke, only a crass, stupid, annoying joke, she was so on-edge and so irritated with him, so stressed, she simply snapped.
"Oh god you're infuriating! I have just about had it with you! You are such an arrogant, insufferable bastard who simply struts around acting like he owns the place, is supreme ruler of the universe-"
Her mouth dropped open as she realized he was actually laughing, actually...laughing, of all things!
Then he surprised her for the third time that evening by growing serious and saying, "Oh, and you're not annoying at all Rose! No, you're the most lovable, sweet woman in existence! Why you make everyone around you happy just by your very presence, and all your witty sarcastic remarks, and that constant look on your face like you have dung under your nose..."
Her eyes flashed, anger growing exponentially by the moment.
"Not to mention how grateful you are, and all your continuous bratty behavior, and your grating, shrill, loud voice. Oh yes, I just love being around you!"
Wanting to slap him, she only looked at him, and then, not even thinking, she stood up and took her glass and poured it over his head.
"God I hate you! You're..."
Standing up, enraged, he gripped her arms. "What the hell Rose! Whatever is the matter with you! You are such an ungrateful brat that acts like she's two instead of seventeen!"
She scoffed. "You deserved it! Why I can't even know why I didn't do that sooner!"
He rolled his eyes. "And you, my darling, deserve a straightjacket!"
Both breathing hard, they simply stared at each other, and then he rolled his eyes, started popping open the buttons on his shirt, threw up his hands, and said, "God!" angrily on his way out the door, leaving her there alone.
She watched him go, trying to hide the smirk that was growing on her face by the minute. God that had felt good.
She was sitting in the parlor, simply staring out the window at the black night, curled up on the couch, and then suddenly Cal was suddenly at the door, new shirt on, knocking gently.
He cleared his throat.
She turned, and he came in, and suddenly, he was almost...grinning, slightly.
He never ceased to surprise her.
Coming to sit down beside her, as close to her as humanly possible it seemed, to her annoyance, he closed his eyes, bowed his head, breathed in hard, and then sat up and looked at her again, smirking slightly. "I...am trying to find humor in that, darling. I truly am. You...god, you never cease to amaze me."
She stared at him, shocked. Where was he going with this?
Her shock must have shown plainly on her face, for he laughed again slightly.
"Goodness, you're..."
But he stopped suddenly, staring at her, and she found herself flushing slightly under his scrutiny, but curious as to what he had been trying to say.
He stared at her and then suddenly, for one heart-stopping moment, he reached over and gently moved a strand of hair out of her face.
They stared at each other, and then she dropped her eyes quickly.
Dropping his hands, he smirked again and said, "Rose...I...I realize how...odd...how laughable this will sound, but...let's simply try and be...maybe not right away of course, but... friends. You'll...you'll find I am actually a very easy person to get along with, believe it or not."
She could only stare, marveling at his words. Just what was he suggesting? The idea of being friends with Cal, of all people, was laughable...ridiculous! Simply...
He smirked gently at her, winked, and then patted her knee gently, the warmth of his hand almost searing her, making her jump, and then got up. He paused at the door, smiled slightly, and said, "Sweet dreams, Rose darling," his amusement at her obvious annoyance evident, making her blood boil.
He winked at her again, smirking gently, and then left the room, closing the door behind him.
She watched him go, his words echoing in her ears.
He was just so strange.