ROSE'S SENSE
Chapter Four
October 1912
Philadelphia
Despite her promise to herself to go on with
life, Rose found herself drawn to the park where she had seen Jack. She knew
she should stay away from him, let him live his own life, but she felt that
things weren’t quite finished between them.
She saw him there on a few occasions,
sometimes with the dark-haired girl, sometimes alone. She saw him sitting on a
bench drawing a few times, but did not approach him.
Still, the fact that he seemed to have
completely forgotten her grated on her nerves. She had thought they had
something special, but he had never made any attempt to contact her. She was
certain that he had seen her a few times in the park, but he had never
approached her. Obviously, what they had had didn’t mean as much to him as it
did to her.
She tried to convince herself that he was
avoiding her for the sake of his new girlfriend, but soon acknowledged that he
could have introduced her as an old acquaintance. He seemed to be deliberately
avoiding her.
One October evening, as Rose walked home
after visiting a library, she saw him sitting on the dying grass in the park,
drawing a homeless man who lay sleeping on a bench, wine bottle beside him. Her
temper suddenly boiled over. He could draw pictures of a homeless drunk who
most people would avoid, but he couldn’t even acknowledge her!
Rose sat down beside him, not caring if he
told her to leave. What was she, some plaything he had picked up on the ocean
crossing? There was no one there but them and the sleeping drunk. He had
nothing to fear by speaking to her.
"Jack," she began. He didn’t even
look up.
"Look, I know I went back with Mother
and Cal on the Carpathia, but I did it for your sake. Cal hated you; he would
have found a way to get back at you if I had stayed."
Jack continued drawing, trying to finish his
work before it was completely dark. Rose got to her feet, resisting the urge to
grab the pencil and paper away from him. Just once, she wanted him to
acknowledge her.
"What am I, a toy to be played with and
discarded? I thought we had something, but I guess I was wrong."
He picked up the drawing and blew on it,
getting rid of the pencil dust. Rose lost her temper. Grabbing the almost-empty
wine bottle from the drunk, she flung it against a tree trunk. It shattered,
broken glass and cheap wine flying everywhere.
Jack looked up, startled. The drunk glowered
at him, unaware of who had disturbed his rest. Deciding it didn’t matter, the
homeless man put his head back down and went back to sleep, snoring loudly.
Rose didn’t wait any longer. Turning on her
heel, she ran down the sidewalk, heading for home. She was through being
ignored. Jack could rot, for all she cared.
She told herself this, over and over, as she
made her way home, but a part of her would always miss him.