The Dinner
Jack sighed heavily. He had quickly learned the social choreography of the situations, the rigid boundaries of propriety and how each person seemed to wish to dazzle in their own spectacular way and was already utterly bored with the entire evening. There seemed to only be one matter of interest at the table.
This little thing with Rose, was mostly regarded as a game but now, it seemed to have become serious. As though something was at stake. Most of the others didn't want him there any more than he wanted to be there, but as he glanced across the table at Rose, her gaze was already on him and the game felt to be the most involved he had ever been. It almost felt like a chase. As though it had been made into some sort of competition, unwillingly and now he was too involved. As though if she jumped now, he would go after her.
The truth was, Jack liked to gamble, sometimes he would win a beer, maybe do a free portrait for the opponent, maybe the gamble would be who would stay on a bed for the night, all over a card game, maybe just a simple game of 'who can do something first,' he was a guy raised with a brother, they played games like this and it bled out into his adulthood in a non threatening way. Even winning tickets aboard had surprised him and what had begun as a friendly game of poker, betting pieces of change and meaningful tat, grew serious. He was invested in this game and for no other reason but Rose. Why else would he be here?
A line of waiters dressed in white moved forward to attend to the guests, pulling out chairs, pouring wine and water. The long table was covered by an acre of pristine white linen. Each place setting, bristling with silverware with the White Star Line painted on it, was surmounted with a hierarchy of crystal glasses in assorted sizes. Jack was expressionless until he sat next to Molly. After a small bit of confusion over which cutlery to use and as soon as his wine was poured, Mrs. DeWitt Bukater, Rose's mother, was counted upon to bring the gossip and served it to their ears on a silver platter.
"So, tell us of your accommodations, Mr. Dawson. I have heard that they are quite good in steerage on this ship.''
Whilst the others seemed to be gracious and curious of Jack's presence, they also listened with a close ear. It was a game now, just how much to reveal of himself and how much to leave them wanting in order to gossip more as they filled in the voids for themselves. Oh, how he wished to smirk, to fill them with a tonne of horse shit and allow them to feast on it for themselves, but he didn't, giving them the sincere truth.
"Well, the best I have seen ma'am. Hardly any rats so far.'' Jack was modest, smiling though as he watched Cal's slight reaction, gaging the way the ends of his mouth tensed.
''Mr. Dawson is joining us from the Third Class. He was of some assistance to my fiancee last night.'' Cal informed them, before turning directly to Jack. ''Do continue the story of how you grew up, I am sure we will find it truly fascinating.''
The table listened, sincerely, if not, curious about the man who was joining their table.
"Well, I was not raised amongst you fine people but by a mere couple of farmers. My mother and father were from a small town in Wisconsin. I'm lucky I guess, I won my ticket on Titanic with a hand of poker. A very lucky hand."
"I see." Mrs. DeWitt Bukater raised her eyebrows, not as subtly as perhaps intended. "I hear that you are well travelled."
"Yes. I was lucky enough to spend time in Europe and across America. I worked my way from place to place on tramp steamers and such. I find bohemian life to have been refreshing. It is different from the life that we know, or well, that I know.''
"Yes, I can imagine that it would be rather." Mrs Dewitt Bukater replied, sharply. ''I cannot imagine it would be quite so sanitary, either.''
"Mr. Dawson is also a fine artist; he was kind enough to show me some of his work today." Rose quickly turned the table her way, to ensure that her mother's poisonous stabbing did not continue for very long.
Staring across the table, Jack found himself staring into Rose's curious emerald eyes as complimented him on the table. They had been seated across from each other. Something unfolded inside him. Her hair shone, and her eyes were bright, engaging in a way that he didn't believe he would witness there within that world. The rest of them seemed so dull, so lifeless.
"Rose and I differ somewhat in our opinions of fine art." Cal, seated on the other side of Rose raised his black eyebrow in a smirk. "Not to speak ill of your work, sir." It was a thin veiled dig. Jack understood. He didn't give a damn what was thought of any part of him and certainly not Cal. ''I am sure that you are quite the artist that my fiancee believes you to be.''
"Not at all. I am sure that you differ in other stuff and other matters than just art." Jack took a bite of his bread roll, chewed it like a bear and then spoke, with his mouth full. "That is what makes us all different and what attracts us to other people. If we were all the same, wouldn't life be boring?''
"Of course." Molly agreed. "Those qualities make us all individuals."
Clearly irritated with the fact that Mr. Dawson seemed to have scored a point, Cal smirked over his wine. ''Well, Mr. Dawson, I would like to see your work. One never knows I could be witnessing history made, having a future famous artist amongst us.''
Jack almost wanted to laugh immediately across the table, but managed to pipe it down. ''Nah, I would not say that, but I think the only people's opinions that should matter are those who are close to your heart.''
His eyes went to Rose, who lowered her lashes immediately to concentrate on her food, diverting away from his gaze. After feeling the heat emitting from her, it was suddenly cooler as the rest of the table continued their chatter and suddenly, Jack was oblivious now that the spotlight was off. It was as though his part of the performance was now done, whilst the others stepped centre stage. Keeping himself only slightly aware of the talk at the table, he focused on the meal instead. It was not very often that a guy like him had the opportunity to eat this way. Every mouthful, though, felt as though it was another show of opulence, another slice of the glamour, everything about it was false. He glanced upwards to see Rose engrossed in a conversation with Mr. Andrews about the ship itself, she seemed alive with that.
Jack, though, wanted to touch the fine skin of Rose's cheeks and throat. Instead, he held still and watched as she adjusted a linen napkin across her lap. A footman came to fill their wine glasses. She stiffened as Cal whispered something to her low and she nodded a response in return. Jack felt the need to just watch her from afar, but at this point, he was unable to catch her gaze the way that he did when they were alone in order to read her expressions was difficult. It was as though he was completely and unreasonably in need of her, fully, to just speak to him and come alive the way that she had that afternoon.
"A real man makes his own luck, Archibald." Cal replied to the chatter at the table that Jack was no longer aware of. Isn't that right, Dawson. I mean, one could call you the luckiest man here, such a story you told us this evening. And, of course, the unsung hero, I had not mentioned that Mr. Dawson saved my fiancee's life last night.''
"Well luck is what you make it. Some believe in fate. Some destiny. Some none. I just know what I know. My father died in the same town he was born in, always talking of seeing the ocean but he was content with his family. I work my way from place to place, the other night I was sleeping under a bridge in Paris and the truth is I was happy with the air in my lungs and a few blank sheets of paper and now I'm dining here with you fine people." He took a slow sip of his champagne. "I figured life's a gift and I don't intend on wasting it, not for love or money. Call it luck. Call it fate. I just woke up in the morning and I love what will happen. Who will I meet-" his eyes drifted to Rose, who was watching him with such intent eyes that he wished the rest of them would disappear just so that he could hear her response, alone. "Make each day count."
A few passengers tensed apprehensively at Jack's insouciant speech, while others gave a few forced chuckles. Tension thickened the air until Molly broke it. Perhaps it was a topic too heavy to be discussed at dinner, but at least it would leave a lasting impression. Leave those with more than just dust between their ears a reason to use their brain for once. It had made a deep impact on most people there present, especially Rose.
"Here, here. Well said!" Gracie passionately, nodded.
"Well said, Jack." Molly agreed. ''It is not every day that you hear someone so wise it enables you to remember to count the blessings that you do have.''
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Astor smile, slightly, down at his young bride and his gaze sweep across her hidden but slightly swollen stomach. Madeline brushed her hands across the top of her dress, smoothing it down, in case any other caught a glance. With the small exchange, blessings were counted.
Slowly, cutting through the renewed silence, Rose shakily raised her champagne glass to a toast, as she tried to scramble her wits to sew them back together, just for now. "To make it count."
The other passengers followed. "To make it count."
Cal failed to raise his glass in a toast, but he did attempt to feign a smile.
All conversations resumed. Some of the ships design, some of their activities of the day and then, Molly elbowed his arm like a commoner would just after the last of the course plates were cleared away.
"I think you've turned the table and Cal ain't too pleased about it. What is this between you and Rose?" Keeping her voice low, piercing eyes watched Jack, in a motherly way. ''You two are holding a bat and she is the ball between you both.''
"Nothing. We were playing a game is all. She taught me to be a gentleman for the evening.''
Molly raised an eyebrow. "Do not let her teach you that. It is not taught, nor is it good. A gentleman is born that way and none of this idiots in here can match just how good of a man that you are.''
Molly said nothing further but as the dinner progressed and the desert had finished, the orchestra struck up a lively waltz.
Smoothly, Cal offered his hand to take Rose to dance. She moved to him, that strained smile and her moves so mechanical it was almost as though she had been programmed. She didn't mould into him. Her steps never faltered. Her eyes stayed on Cal's chest and as others joined them on the floor, Jack noticed how there were more emotions between those who had been married for years, probably out of an arranged marriage, than the newly engaged couple. The way in which she gracefully went about was enough to make Jack wish to cut in, take her himself and swirl her about until that façade cracked and she laughed endlessly until her cheeks hurt and the flush covered the entirety of her body from the tips of her toes to the red of her curls.
''You wanna ask me to dance so I can teach you how a gentleman leads a girl?''
"I thought you said it couldn't be taught, and that I shouldn't learn these things." Jack smiled, standing upright before extending his hand out to Molly as he saw her feigned annoyance at her own words being used to jest. ''Would you care to dance, my lady?'' Jack asked, speaking like a true gentleman and Molly could only laugh. It seemed no one knew how to have a joke in this world.
''You know, you remind me of my son, he's about your age with quite the personality.'' They made their way to the smooth floor and Jack placed his arms in the correct positions, surprising Molly, but still she continued. ''You know I wasn't a well brought up girl, either, and I had to work for what I got. We all did. They don't look me at like they do the Hockley's or the DeWitt Bukater's.''
''So you just feel like an actress in a play, huh?''
''Sure, but I worked damned hard for the part.''
Their laughter filled the air, as Molly continued to show Jack how to lead a lady. They were a little unsteady at first, at least it felt that way, but luckily, Jack was a fast learner and soon, he was leading and sweeping Molly across the room in such a dramatic manner that she was breathless.
''You know I ain't been swept across the floor that way since before my children were born.'' Molly huffed,'' ''you have quite the talent.''
Jack laughed, it cut through the crowd and caught Rose's attention, he felt her eyes upon him for just a minute.
''Are you all right?"
''Just fine, son.'' Molly was out of puff. ''Tell me what's a guy like you got planned for when he's back home in the Land of Dreams?''
Jack simply shrugged.
''A drifter, huh?''
''A dreamer, as pops used to tell me. I would dream the day away.''
''Well, he would be proud to know that you got outta that town where nothing ever happened and made it out to see the world, that ain't no dream, son, you made them real.''
The words stuck quite the chord and for a moment, he failed to remember a time that he had felt so nurtured by another. It had been five long years since his mother's passing and long enough to not truly recall how it was to be cared for deeply.
Rose appeared to be back at the table and the gentleman rose from their seats. Cal kissed Rose's cheek beside them and as they came back to the table, Gracie called out to Jack.
"Care for a brandy? Unless you wish to stay out here with the women?"
"Perhaps he would prefer that. Talking business and politics. I thought it wouldn't interest you." Cal smirked before bending down to whisper something low in Rose's ear and she nodded.
"No, I will come.'' Jack agreed, reluctantly. ''That is what gentlemen do after all, isn't it?,'' he added lowly to Molly who smirked in return.
"Good man," Ismay nodded as he crossed his path. Jack inclined his head and then as they proceeded to leave, he turned to Molly.
"Well, thank you for that.''
"Yes, you passed with flying colours.''
Jack laughed. "Do you need escorting back?"
"Good lord, no. Go and become the master of the universe." Molly kissed his cheek. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Molly."
Turning about, Rose sat, quietly and alone, nursing the remains of her champagne. Her mother was engrossed in conversation with Lady Duff Gordon and oblivious to her daughter's presence.
"Starting to see a little more why you wished to swim with the fishes last night." Jack whispered low so that only she could hear. She seemed to be affected by his voice against her ear. ''Can see why people think you have melancholia.''
"Yes, my presence here has very little significance as you can tell."
Jack glanced about, they had been conversing for little under a minute and no one yet had looked up. ''They're the idiots, not you.''
She smiled at this.
"Can I take you back?" Jack offered, having an inkling that she had refused Cal's escort and his manservant as they had now left the dining room and gone in search of more gentlemanly pursuits, ones they expected him to join.
"Yes, I would like that."
After failing to excuse herself to her mother or the table, Jack led them away from the dining hall, through the reception room and to the upper landing where he took her to the Promenade deck. The outdoor room was sparsely furnished with cane-back chairs and a settee. Clouds sulked across the cool sky, while torchlight sent a brisk dance of light across the ground. As soon as the doors closed, Rose walked out ahead lightly and the breeze sent her hair flying about lazily.
"Will you really join them for a brandy this evening?"
"Not at all, is it not the gentlemanly thing to do though, never decline an invitation?''
Rose burst out laughing. "You're unconventional, Mr. Dawson. I like that. I'm sure they'll be waiting for your arrival with bated breath."
''So that they can try to cane me some more for being poor?''
''Yes that and so much more. You are a new face and they need to decipher everything about you.''
''To Hell with them. Well, how did I do?'' Jack asked, genuinely curious.
''Very well.'' Rose shuddered, and Jack was beside her then, draping his coat across her shoulders and it was when he went to collect the strands of loose hairs to drape them over the collar, she shivered visibly. "I have to say you rather impressed me with how you handled the table, especially my mother, she is quite the snake.''
''Ah, she is nothing.''
''Truly?''
''Well, now it is your turn.'' Jack placed his hands within her pockets, as they came to a standstill and she pulled at the collar on his coat. It smelled of him, and still, the newness was lingering, but not enough to cover the scent of Jack. Her stomach seemed to move, turning over as though it was going to cause sickness, like when a carriage was moving at great speed.
''Whatever do you mean?''
''Let's go to a real party.'' Jack's eyes shimmered beneath the moonlight, a strong glint of mischief within them. Rose could only proceed with caution. ''We can start to teach you the ways of being a man.''
If she wasn't curious before, she was now, but knowing just how thoroughly dangerous this could be…she went anyway.
