THE STEERAGE PARTY!
Written by Doug Kuhlman
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.

Jack found that he could not concentrate on the dance with Cora. Normally, he was quite content to charm the little girls and to talk with a few chums. It gave him the illusion of close relationships without the paralyzing fear of an actual commitment. Cora was cute and fun, but she was only five. He knew that it would never be anything serious.

As he glanced repeatedly at Rose, though, he knew that the situation with her was completely different. She seemed at ease with her surroundings, happily drinking the strong beer that Tommy brought to her. She clapped along to the music and Jack knew he had to get her on the dance floor. He'd danced with Cora and he'd enjoyed it. He needed something more.

Still, he didn't want to lose his safety blanket. Ever the gentleman, he asked Cora's permission. While pointing to Rose, he asked, "I'm gonna dance with her now. OK?" As Cora looked at him a little confusedly, he realized that it didn't matter to him what she thought. This surprised and excited him. He extended his hand to Rose with a cajoling, "Come on!"

He expected her to be a little reticent, but if she were to experience the life he knew, she would have to shed the suffocating skin of societal pressure and learn to breathe in the fresh air of life. Actually, the discomfort she would feel was part of his life, too. Cold baths, long workdays, and narrow beds were almost luxuries for a poor person. He wondered if she'd ever been truly uncomfortable in her life.

Rose's response was less than he had hoped for, but worse than he'd feared. While her lips expressed, "No, Jack! I couldn't possibly..." her eyes gleamed with interest. She stood without his assistance and was shortly across from him, nervous but still experimenting with her newfound freedom. Jack was relieved that she had not fought the idea of dancing with him. He was not willing to do more than gently prod her in the direction he wanted her to go.

Jack enjoyed art in all of its forms. He was best at drawing, but he also appreciated good music and good dancing. The way he and Rose were standing would not allow for dancing, not as he knew it. "OK, but we're gonna have to get a little closer..." He knew nothing of ballet nor of the exquisite dancing that can be done with space between partners. He reached a hand around to the small of her back and pulled her unresisting body closer.

He was not at all prepared for the shock of their bodies colliding. Like strong magnets, which suddenly slide into the other's field, they started towards each other slowly, then accelerated, as the distance grew smaller. Despite the small distance separating them originally, the resulting impact smashed through the barriers between them.

As Jack recovered from the collision, he mentally and emotionally stepped back away. He was not ready for such feelings, not ready for the implications they held for him, not ready to commit himself fully to another person. For so long, he had held himself apart, Jack was concerned about the changes in himself. Would they affect his friendships with others?

In particular, Jack was concerned about Cora, whose expression had darkened considerably as Rose had gotten closer. He wanted to appease his young admirer. "You're still my best girl, Cora." That seemed to satisfy her without affecting Rose, who was still pressed closely against him. Cora scampered off to find some other unsuspecting person to charm, leaving Jack's entire focus on Rose.

The music began, slowly at first. Rose looked with concern at Jack. "I don't know the steps."

Jack was beside himself. Rose's concern for doing things properly was wearing thin on him, but at the same time, he found it very appropriate. She was who she was and all his wishing wouldn't change that. Still, she seemed to be learning to live in the moment and to thrust her cares aside. He knew she was going to need more time.

Jack was unconcerned about the dance, though. He spoke through his impish grin. "Neither do I. Just move with me. Don't think." He really didn't know this particular piece, but dancing is more about rhythm and feeling than about an intellectual activity. Rose's brave smile in return held a little bit of challenge. She seemed to be saying, "OK, we'll play this your way, but we'll see who has the last laugh." He wasn't sure where the confidence came from, but the spunk she was showing was immensely stimulating.

As the music swelled to the volume required to dance, Jack took Rose and started leading her through the steps. Even at the beginning, he was amazed at how light on her feet she was. She had an instinctive understanding of dance that most people never grasp. As he danced her through the crowd, he could feel the slight hesitations disappear. In an astonishingly short time, she had absorbed the rhythm of the piece and was dancing flawlessly from step to step.

As the music sped up, Jack started doing slightly more complicated moves with Rose. She was an amazingly quick study, never requiring more than one demonstration to learn a new step. Jack loved art, loved the art of dancing, and Rose was the best partner he'd ever had. She truly knew how to feel the music and to be swept away by it. She even began experimenting with new ideas of her own, tentatively at first and then with greater confidence. Jack was getting swept away.

But Jack was not ready to give his heart away so easily. Rose had jumped the hurdles to his heart he'd set so far, seemingly without any exertion, but he knew the next wall would be formidable. He recognized the next tune and was able to do some complicated steps that went along with it. How would she react to that?

Deep in the recesses of his heart, though, Jack was wondering if it mattered how she would react to this latest maneuver. She was so unlike anyone else he had ever tarried with, so different. Plus, the music and the romance of the greatest sailing vessel ever were working on Jack. He was caught up in the moment.

He led Rose to a raised cargo ramp where others had demonstrated their dancing prowess. Jack knew he didn't really qualify as an expert dancer, but that he was more than capable. Plus, he loved crowds. They allowed him anonymity and popularity simultaneously. Jack no longer heard Rose protest, another point in her favor.

As they arrived on the higher level, Jack launched into one of his favorite Irish routines. It was a relatively complicated dance that had his feet moving quickly to the beat, crossing each other and threatening to upset his balance. Jack showed off by doing it with his hands in his pockets, adding to the difficulty. For a moment, when the ship heaved very slightly, he had to concentrate hard enough on what he was doing that he lost track of Rose's expression.

As he finished, he looked at her to find her removing her shoes and tossing them to a bystander. Her eyes flashed with the indication of a challenge accepted. He'd thrown down the gauntlet. What would she do?

She launched into the same routine he'd just done. Her feet were flying to the music. He gaped at the sight. His mind reeled with unanswered questions. "Did she know this tune? Or was she doing it just from watching him?" As she spun to a halt, Jack felt his heart casting off more of the moorings that held it firmly anchored into position.

He tried a more complicated step, really throwing caution to the wind. He did some steps from various tunes, kicking up his heels. He was feeling the music and he felt lighter than he had since he was a young teen. He'd danced really well. Now the ball was back in Rose's court.

Rose quickly licked her lips and gave him an "Oh yeah?" smile. She launched into a very similar sequence, but she added an occasional flourish or an embellishment that was too difficult for him. She added to the themes he had woven and took them further than he could have unaided. She really knew how to dance!

He grabbed her hands and they started to spin together to the music. The sound of her laughter washed over him like a refreshing wind on a hot day. Her smile was brighter than the lights illuminating the room. She was gorgeous--not just externally which any fool could recognize. She had an inner beauty that showed through her actions.

It was her eyes, though, that drew him in the deepest. He was afloat in the endless green recesses of the window to her soul. He saw a host of images reflected in the conflagration there, the images of people in the room, the pain she truly had known, the joy of the moment, the admiration and fear of him. When she closed her eyes suddenly, he felt as those someone had taken away the keystone of an arch. He felt the cupola of the sensation crumble around him.

As Jack returned to the present, he noticed the music was ending. The people around applauded vigorously as he and Rose stepped off the bay to the lower level. Jack had always been popular at parties, but he'd never had musicians stop and applaud him before. In all honesty, he had to admit, more than a little of the admiration was directed to Rose, not only from the crowd but from him as well.

Rose's slightly flushed skin was even more appealing next to the bright colors of her outfit. She had been active and had a glow that he couldn't have imagined during the dinner upstairs. He was sweaty and thirsty, too, so he grabbed them each a beer from the other side of an arm-wrestling match between Tommy and Bjorn.

Jack sipped his slowly, letting the cool rush over his lips and down through his body. Rose, on the other hand, seemed determined to rehydrate her body immediately. He watched, amazed at how she didn't shy away from the bitter taste. The red of her hair and the red of her dress on both sides of the rapidly emptying glass were quite a fascinating image.

As she tipped her drink back down, she asked Jack, "What? You think a first class girl can't drink?" He realized that he had been staring, but it wasn't really at her drinking. However, he was willing to let her think that. Jack also heard in her words the relaxation, the fun, and the enjoyment she had been denied so long. The tones were so different from what he'd become accustomed to hearing from her that he was distracted.

The "thump" of Bjorn forcing Tommy's arm to the table coincided with a bump Jack received on his arm. To his horror, the beer sloshed out and hit Rose full in the face, splashing her from her hair down to her very-intriguing neckline. Jack spun on his assailant. "Get out of here!" He was fighting mad and ready to make a fool of himself fighting this guy if Rose was mad.

He turned back to Rose. "You all right?" He mentally kicked himself for the amount of concern he heard in his voice. You'd think she was his aged mother or pregnant wife with that tone, but it was too late to take it back now.

To his immense relief, she just laughed. "I'm fine." She seemed to accept the smelly stain as part of the atmosphere, part of the charm of the evening. Jack was glad she was flexible enough to deal with the hand life dealt her. She moved up yet another notch in his estimation and emotions, into notches that were shrunken and distorted from lack of use.

It seemed to Jack that Rose was caught up in the moment, too. She took the cigarette out of the mouth of an arguing Tommy and took a long drag on it. Her eyes widened with the shock of unfiltered tobacco, but she was still going to make her point.

Pitching her voice to pierce the babble around her and to interrupt the arguing between Tommy and Bjorn, she declared "SO! You think you're big tough men? Let's see you do this." She gave the end of her dress to Jack, who was watching with a bemused expression. What did Rose have in mind? Both Tommy and Bjorn looked plenty tough to him, but he had never been into the strength game.

"Hold it up," she told him, some of the authority of the upper class bleeding through her voice again. "Hold it up high." He wasn't sure why he was doing it, but Jack was happy to oblige. He was as ignorant as everyone else about her intentions, but he was also very interested.

He watched as she raised herself onto her toes and then, amazingly, onto the very tips of her toes. For one fascinating heartbeat, he almost imagined she would fly into the air, with no support at all! But reality crashed in, in a very pleasant way. Rose's face screwed up in pain and she fell into Jack's arms, "Ow! I haven't done that in years."

However, it was obviously worth it as the people in the immediate vicinity chortled their approval and their disbelief at the exhibition. Rose was immensely popular, but Jack hoped to steer her aside for some private conversation.

"Shall we sit?" he tried to ask over the din, as the music rose to a crescendo.

"What?"

"Shall we find a place and...oh, never mind." Jack simply grabbed her hand and led her to a pair of open seats, a little removed from the center of the action. She sat down gratefully, but almost immediately stiffened again. Pain flashed quickly through her expression and was gone.

Jack was instantly concerned for her. "Are you OK?" He wondered if her leg was still hurting or if something else (something more serious) was wrong.

Rose laughed again. "I'm fine. I just almost forgot I was wearing this whalebone armor. It just doesn't let you sit comfortably." Jack noticed how straight her back was and how unnatural the posture looked. He revised his former opinion of her. She certainly understood discomfort.

"Sometimes I'm just glad I'm a man." The words slipped out before Jack realized what he was saying. He recovered by adding, "And a poor one, to boot. This penguin suit isn't all it's cut out to be either."

Rose stared at him very intently for a minute. She seemed to be wrestling with some inner question, some inner problem. When she spoke, though, it was gone. "Yes, well, that's just the way things work out." She almost sounded forlorn about her wealth. Jack really couldn't understand it.

Before he got a chance to puzzle it out, though, Cora returned, leading a slightly wobbly Tommy Ryan. Cora stuck out her bottom lip at Jack and said, "He doesn't dance nearly as well as you do. You owe me another dance."

Jack looked questioningly at Rose and started to shake his head. He didn't want to leave her alone in this crowd. She was enjoying herself now, but he didn't want to take any chances with the mercurial nature of the people with whom he normally associated. It wasn't that Jack thought he could protect her, as much as the idea might appeal to him. It was just that she was safer, physically and emotionally, with someone he trusted nearby.

Tommy, though, caught the implications of the glance with an ease that belied his burly size and the amount of beer he'd consumed. "Aye...go laddie. I'll keep an eye on yon fine lady. You go and give this girl her dance."

At almost the same moment, Rose nodded with a softer, "Go ahead, Jack. I'll be fine." As Tommy's words sank in, she added, "It'll give me a chance to meet some of your friends."

As Cora pulled Jack defiantly towards the dance floor, he looked back to where Rose and Tommy had started to engage in animated conversation. He and Cora arrived just as the band started a new tune, another lively Irish piece that normally inspired Jack to dance with abandon.

Cora was a fun partner, but she lacked the grace, power, and elegance of Rose. Jack stumbled more than once himself as he was distracted by an over-flamboyant gesture of Tommy. Once, he almost left to go see if Rose was OK, but the motion he had mistaken for "Come here" obviously meant something else, as neither Rose nor Tommy looked overly concerned.

Jack was saved from an embarrassing explanation to "his best girl" by the arrival of her father. Bert Cartmell had been watching the proceedings with the practiced eye of a concerned father. He knew Jack wouldn't hurt Cora, but his attentions were obviously elsewhere this evening. As the dance ended, he swept up to the pair on the floor. "Time for a little girl I know to get some sleep," he said with a loving twinkle in his eyes. "You've had your fun for the evening."

Cora looked none-too-pleased with this development, but her father's face showed that he would brook no whining this evening. She turned to Jack, curtsied awkwardly, and reached up to her father for the piggyback ride he inevitably would give her to her bed.

As Bert lifted Cora to his shoulders, Jack nodded to him. Once Cora was settled, he bowed deeply to her. "Thank you very much for the evening." He glanced significantly at the older gentleman, hoping that he would realize how grateful Jack was for his timely assistance. Then, they were off to bed and Jack was headed back to Rose, who seemed far too engrossed in her conversation with Tommy.

Jack returned with what was supposed to be a whimsical quip, but instead came tinged with a bit of anger. "And what the two of you been up to?"

Rose's reply came without a hint of pretense. "Getting to know each other better."

Jack glared a little at the reply, but the growing laughter bubbling out from both Tommy and Rose was too much for him. He joined in briefly before asking the obvious question. "What's so funny?"

It was Tommy who gave the reply, since Rose was still holding her sides. "Ah, laddie, all the bonnie lass wanted to do was talk about you. And you making such a fool o' yourself looking over here all the time." Tommy shook his head. "It was an opportunity we nae could pass up, could we?" Now Jack saw the humor of the situation and added his chuckles to the group. He must have been an interesting sight to behold.

Tommy wasn't done, though. "Now, Miss Rose, you've had your laugh. Would you do me the honor of a dance?" Jack thought he was over the jealousy, but it wasn't quite to be. He struggled to keep it off his face, though, so that Rose would be free to make her own decisions.

Nevertheless, after studying his face for a few moments and mulling the question over in her mind, Rose shook her head. "No. I have enjoyed the talk, but I really don't feel ready to dance again quite yet."

Tommy shrugged his shoulders, clapped Jack on the back, and walked off with a cheery, "Good evening to ya, then."

Jack was preparing to sit back down next to Rose, when she surprised him again. "Jack...I feel like such a fool..." Jack looked at her in surprise as her voice trailed off into nothingness. What had happened to the confidence she had shown moments earlier? "I feel so forward asking you this, but..." Again, she hesitated, obviously unsure of herself. The next words came in a rush, a torrent of words overflowing the dikes built to prevent them. "I really would like to dance with you again, if you would like." The next words were so quiet he barely heard them. "Please don't think it's too forward of me, but I really would."

Jack was more than a little surprised by this demonstration. He'd been asked to dance several times in his life, but never had anyone singled him out like she had. To ask a man to dance was rare even among the forward girls he'd known in Paris and for her to take a bold step like that spoke volumes about her feelings for him and about her budding sense of independence.

He was not about to let such an opportunity pass by. Even had he not been very eager to dance with her again, he would have agreed simply to reward her audacity. "Of course. I would be most honored to dance with you." He realized the words sounded a little too dapper coming from his lips, but they really were the simple truth.

Pausing to take a quick drink, they wove their way through the thinning crowd to the dance floor. As the band began another lively tune, they whirled back into the fray, two carefree beings in the maelstrom of life. A newfound explosion of joy in the feel of the music replaced the problems Jack had experienced dancing with Cora.

After a few songs, they paused again briefly to replenish their bodily fluids with beer. This time Rose drank hers a bit more cautiously, although the hint of reckless abandon still lingered like a tiger chained only by a single fiber. Then they rejoined the fray, whirling and dancing as if stopping were a threat to be defeated by sheer willpower.

The music started to shift to a slower, more subdued speed. As the pace of the dance slowed to a more intimate speed, the two dancers' position relative to each other began to paradoxically increase. Jack felt the lack of physical pressure keenly, but dancing too closely was against a strict code that pervaded all walks of life, his included.

Still, as the pace lessened, he marveled anew at Rose's quiet elegance and grace. They moved completely in sync now, the jerks and flaws of their first dance long since forgotten. A subtle dip of a shoulder or a change in pressure on a hand was all they needed to communicate.

Jack discovered to his amazement that the slower velocity did not allow him a chance to catch his breath. Each moment with Rose left him feeling like he couldn't get enough air to breathe, as though his lungs weren't functioning quite properly.

Abruptly, something broke the perfection of their dance. Rose suddenly shivered. "Brr...it's cold."

"I'll get you ‘my' tux jacket," he said, not wanting the moment to end, but subjugating himself to her desires. As he walked back to where he had laid the jacket, Jack marveled at the change in temperature. It was getting quite chilly in the room. As he pondered the mystery, the answer dawned. Most of the people were gone, eliminating the main source of heat.

When he returned to Rose, he commented on his observations. "It's starting to thin out. Do you want to go now?" He hoped desperately that she would not want to go, but he still worried about forcing her to go where she didn't want to explore.

"NO!" The vehemence of the word surprised him. It was almost as if she were offended by the question. As she saw the word lash across his features, he heard her repeat more softly, "No, let's stay."

They began to dance again. No longer was the dance floor a raucous place of laughter and jocularity. The tone had changed, had become more personal. Erased were the worries about careening into another dancer or avoiding a drunken brawl.

Jack closed his eyes and let the moment wash over him. He'd found during his life that his eyes were both his staunchest ally and his most fearsome enemy. He depended too much on the input they provided, to the detriment of his other senses. He had learned that to truly experience things, he had to consciously let go of this and let the rest of his senses get their chance.

The music was beautiful and full. The musicians, cobbled together from a bunch of people who couldn't bear to leave their instruments behind, blended their distinctive tones into a music that was more poetic for its harshness. He could hear the subtle counterpoint between the members, as they still searched for the right harmony.

The touch of Rose and her clothes provided another entry in his mental log of the evening. Her clothes were finely made, sequined beyond imagining, and nearly seamless. Her delicate hand was like silk in his. He became aware of the cuts, bruises, and imperfections of his hand, especially when compared to the tenderness of her touch. If he really concentrated, he could even feel the warmth of her breath against his cheek or his chest, depending on the direction the music turned them.

Normally, he tried to ignore the smell of bodies in close quarters, but he was trying to record it all, so he tentatively sniffed the air. A barrage of scents assaulted him: beer, unwashed bodies, perfume, vomit, overcooked food, salt air. Some of those odors were very interesting. The beer was easily explainable by the earlier mishap and Rose's less than restrained drinking of the evening. How the smell of her perfume could linger was beyond him. He could also smell something that he had begun to identify as distinctly Rose, not her perfume, not her soap, but her.

As he was trying to further define that sensation, she spoke, her voice almost panicked. "Jack. JACK!" She was shaking him gently. He didn't understand why until he opened his eyes to a completely empty room. Absolutely everyone else had left and they hadn't even noticed. How long ago had the musicians stopped playing?

Rose laughed, then. As Jack pondered that, he realized he must have looked pretty stricken. He chuckled too, amused at the power of their dancing. She must have had her eyes closed, too. Either that or she just didn't care about everybody else. He must've looked like a fool, dancing with no music.

Rose's look, though, was not one that a fool ever saw. It was a look that communicated more eloquently than words her understanding and her reverence for the evening they had shared.

Jack knew it had to end eventually. Still, he was not prepared for the overwhelming sadness of Rose's voice as she spoke through a sigh. "Well, I really need to get back. Cal and Mother will worry."

The thought of Cal and his scorn almost drove the serenity out of Jack, but he still felt too peaceful, too in touch with Rose and with life. "Can I at least walk you back?" He didn't want to plead, but prolonging the evening was high on his priority list.

The smile on Rose's face said that it was on hers, too.

The End.

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