I certainly cannot say it had been my mother's fault at all. She had done what she had felt was right at the moment, given the awful predicament she had been violently thrown into when she was at the end of her tender teenage years. She had been forced to live in a small and run down boarding house on the outskirts of New York City and make enough money as a part time waitress to pay the rent and put a small amount of food on the table each night. She had only been seventeen at the time. It was hardly even months, she said, before she found out she was to be expecting a baby in mid-January. That baby soon turned into two, as she found out one night on January 17th 1913. That had been the night that I was born- along with my twin sister Samantha. I was named John or rather Jack for short, my mother telling me in later years that it had a family significance.
I went through life just like any other youngster. I had attended school and somehow managed to work my way to the next grade successfully each year. I had always been eager to play afterschool sports with my neighborhood friends and had already begun to master the skill of tormenting my sister at the prime age of seven. I enjoyed everything that life had to offer and always made it a point to enjoy myself no matter what the circumstances.
After being enrolled in grade school for a period of a few years, I soon realized that I wasn't as typical and as ordinary as I had originally thought. I would sit out under the big oak tree at the front of my school after the dismissal bell had wrung and watch parents warmly greet their children, gladly offering them a ride back home in the family auto and if not that, at least someone to walk back home with. It had seemed like everyone else's families were different than mine. They all had a mother, children and…a father. I had always been the "man" of the household. For as long as I knew life, I was constantly surrounded by two girls- my mother and Samantha. I hadn't a father and as far as I was concerned, wasn't particularly sure what the role a father really played in a family. I soon excepted the fact though and by High School, was accepting the responsibility of earning part of the family income as a busboy and taking care of daily errands, chores and chauffeuring my mother and sister around town in our beat up jalopy of a car. I silently and willingly took as many pressures off of my mother's back as I could, no matter what it meant I had to sacrifice in order to accomplish them. I soon learned what the role of a father was after that- for I had been replacing his shoes since the time I could walk down to the corner all by myself and successfully carry back a bag of groceries for my mother.
No matter what though, I had always loved and cherished my mother, even if she was a handful at times. Sometimes, she seemed sad and reserved, but quickly hid her emotions at the first sight of Samantha or I. She would always welcome us with a comforting hug and kiss on the cheek, reinforcing the evident love that she held for us. She was the mother that any kid could hope for and forever since, has been one of the most important people in my life.
The one thing that I could never figure out about my mother was her secretiveness and sealed lips every time I asked her what was wrong after seeing that blank stare that she often produced when something was bothering her. She didn't want me to worry about things and so in order to do so and make her explanations much easier and simpler, she offered me little room for exploration about the past and herself. She had once told me when I was nine years old, after I had questioned her about my father, that he had died before we were born and she hadn't seen any of her old relatives since. She had once lived in Philadelphia as a girl but had been forced to move to New York City when she was pregnant with us. After we were born and she had enough money for a train ticket, she had begun her journey to many various locations across the country until she slowly inched her way to the California coast. She set up residency there in the small but thriving town of Los Angeles where she worked as a full time secretary for a publishing company and part time actress for the latest minor roles at an up and coming moving pictures studio. With work and taking care of us, mind you Samantha and I were only four years old at the time, her life was anything but easy and carefree. Even though Mrs. Smuthers, an old widowed lady who lived across the hallway of our quaint little apartment building, was more than happy to watch the two of us while our mother was at work, Mamma came home feeling guilty for leaving us there with her every morning. It seemed like a great deal of stress was constantly being piled on her shoulders. Somehow though, she managed to survive the long and tiresome hours of filing papers and dealing with various writers, artists and journalists on a daily basis.
It wasn't until about the time that we were near 10 years old that my mother got a big-time, or so we thought, role in a moving picture. It had just come out of nowhere one day after a director in search of a young lady willing to fill the role stepped into the publisher's office where he was to meet a friend. After spending some time talking to her while he waited for his companion to join him, he immediately decided that she was to play the leading lady in his picture. She had told him about her two children and he quickly agreed that the amount of payment would be more than enough to take care of us for at least a year or two without worries. He was right. The money that it produced was like nothing we had ever experienced, even if it was more than a little of the amount that most actresses would have asked for at the time. Afterwards, other directors started noticing my mother's willingness to learn and obvious talent in front of the camera and began giving her more and more offers to be in their latest pictures. My mother gladly excepted them with open arms and even reduced her working hours as a secretary to a minimum. It seemed as if life was finally giving us the upper hand. Then, as if our stroke of luck had run out before my mother could finish her fifth movie, Samantha developed pneumonia and was confined to her bed for weeks. From then on out, life once again became the battle that my mother had so desperately worked to keep us out of. Doctor bills, days spent away from work and Samantha's lack of attendance at school kept sinking us deeper and deeper to the pits of despair. Without much work and a lack of sleep, my mother began to lose her patience and determination. Acting was no longer in the picture and it was back to the minimal pay as a secretary. I knew she was sad to go. Maybe she knew that it was her final goodbye- that the exciting and prosperous life as an actress was now over for good. My mother never complained though- not once. She knew deep down in her heart that she still held her memories and that it had been fun while it had lasted. I guess all good things really do come to an end at some point.
Samantha, still gravely ill by the time I reached my first year of high school, was slowly declining in health. She battled one sickness after another, each time making us count our lucky stars each time she pulled through in the end.
Even through her sicknesses, Samantha and I were still the best of friends and were constant supports to each other in our own times of need. Samantha was still very interested in her education and so every night, I brought home some of my schoolbooks that she could read when she wasn't too weak. She would master the concepts quickly when she did feel up to it and even gave me a lesson or two of help and often helped me with my homework. Even still, Samantha soon declared herself a dropout after finding out that she was yet again sick...this time deadly. I think that's the point when even she too was beginning to become wary and convinced that all hope was gone. Soon afterwards, her sickness worsened even further if that was even possible. Her days were filled with a constant pain and depression even after taking the many medicines and herbal concoctions that her doctors had prescribed. It seemed useless. Nothing worked and as impossible as it seemed, things got even worse just when it seemed it couldn't.
On January 21st 1929, just days after our 16th birthday, Samantha Josephine Dawson died of influenza and various internal infections. Our hearts were grief stricken to say the least, my mother locking herself away in her room for hours at a time without a word or a sound. I had lost my other half and was for the first time since I found out about my father, mourning for the death of a family member.
As all things do though, life went on without my dear sister. My mother finally unlocked the door and we once again began talking to one another frequently just as before. I think it had taken time for my mother to adjust, just as it did all of us, but especially her. I already knew that she had seen enough tragedy in her lifetime and yet it was almost as if my sister's death was triggering the memories and horrors of my mother's unknown past. Things changed from then on. My mother seemed almost deathly afraid that I would be the next victim of an untimely death and so she began cherishing each moment spent with me even more, storing them away in the depths of her heart so they would never be forgotten.
At the start of my final year of schooling, things once again seemed back to normal- back to the way they had been before my sister even felt the first symptom of sickness and before my mother had to sacrifice her dreams in order to take better care of her. By then, even with the depression in full swing, my mother became happy and content with her life, even if constantly trying to make ends meet was a bit of a challenge. I graduated later the following year with honors and soon decided afterwards that I would very much like to attend college. Neither my mother or myself knew of where the funding would come from, but my mother made sure that I was out and on my way as soon as I could gather my things to the acclaimed University of Southern California. From there, I touched several different subjects and majors ranging anywhere from Architecture to Zoology, but my true passion became evident when I became a student of medicine. I decided right then and there that I would be a doctor- actually a pediatrician. I knew I could never go back in time to help my ill-fated sister, but perhaps I would be able to save others like her.
And that's what brings me to today, back to present time. I'm still enrolled at the University of Southern California studying all my necessary classes in order to be a pediatrician and am still in constant contact with my mother whom I love so dearly. I guess it's no wonder that while spending so much time studying in the universities extensive library, I would find such information on my mother's past. Newspaper articles, archives and old movie reels undoubtingly showed proof of my mother's passage on the doomed ocean liner Titanic. The more I researched, the more I found out and the more I found out, the more I understood. Questions that I had remembered asking so long ago soon had answers and a clear understanding of all the who's, what's, why's, and where's soon were in front of me. My father, Jack Dawson, had been and met my mother on the Titanic. Some how between an engagement with the steel tycoon Caledon Hockley, my mother had fallen hopelessly in love with a steerage passenger, unaware that they would know each other for mere days before their love was torn apart by death. A revelation had occurred over a span of a few weeks and that's when I found the last piece of the puzzle. With such information though, I certainly didn't know how to act in front of my mother anymore. I didn't know what to do or what to say so I said nothing. I decided that those memories belonged just where my mother had left them and stirring them up again would bring back more than we both had bargained for. I couldn't have been more wrong.
With my knew knowledge, I had decided to leave the library earlier than usual that day, remembering the offer my mother had made for dinner. I had rushed over to the other side of town where she lived, fully expecting to find her sitting by the fire reading or mending a dress. It was near 6:30 and I knew she had already been home for hours, her shift ending at 3:30 in the afternoon already. To my surprise though, the little apartment in which the majority of my life had been spent was completely and utterly empty- not even a light in the room lit to show that someone had even been there yet today. I began to get frantically worried. For the 17 years we had lived in California and had my mother had had the secretary job, she had never been late from work- especially when she had made any kind of arrangement beforehand. This all worried me greatly not knowing if my 39-year-old mother was in any kind of trouble or not. I decided that before I began to really worry, I should go to the neighbors my mother was friends with to see if they knew her whereabouts. I was just placing my hand on the doorknob when I saw it turn, it's somewhat rusty creating a grinding sound as it turned. From that point on, things were both in a blur and yet at the same time, went in slow motion.
Laughter could be heard echoing from the hallway. It was a familiar laugh and yet it was somewhat different. It seemed giddier, maybe even happier. It sounded incredibly close to my mother's unforgettable laughter. But there was another person in the hallway too…their laughter an unfamiliar and eerie one. Voices spoke softly and there was a pause and then the handle turned further. From this point on, all I can make of it is chaos, confusion and even a bit of dizziness. The image before me will never be erasable from my mind. Stumbling through the doorway was my mother, her back towards me, her lips passionately locked with a man I had never before seen in my life. She fumbled for the light switch on the wall next to her, unaware that the lights were already on and that I was there. Feeling the button pushed in already, she stopped her actions and began to take in her surroundings. I could barely make out the man's face, but what I saw was confusion as to why their kiss had so abruptly ended. My mother turned around quickly, knowing that she had not had the lights on this morning before she left. That's when her eyes fell on me. The man next to her followed her gaze and soon found himself staring into what seemed to be like himself.
I thought they'd faint. Both of them looked pale and unsure of the situation at hand. I was the first to break the uncomfortable silence.
"Mother?" Now the man looked sick, as if a great deal of information was being quickly processed through his head and realization was setting in. My mother, on the other hand, looked flustered but at the same time was overjoyed to see me.
"John?! Well…what a…surprise to see you! What brings you here tonight?"
"You…invited me over for dinner last weekend. Remember?" My eyes searched hers deeply as I tried to find any clues as to what was going on and who this stranger was and what he was doing with my mother in her home. I got nothing. "Or maybe you had other plans…" I ventured quietly.
I watched as my mother blushed slightly and opened her mouth, only to shut it without a response. A look of remembrance flowed through her face and immediately, I could tell how awful she felt for forgetting. "I'm so sor-"
"It's ok. Don't worry about it." I interrupted her.
My eyes fell upon the man again. She followed my gaze and suddenly remembered who was behind her, a wave of shock and uncertainty washing over her. Slowly she turned towards the man, stepping aside a little. I watched as she looked to him for support and understanding, their hand entwining together. Her voice was soft as she spoke her words carefully.
"Jack…" She waited until she had his attention. "I…I'm terribly afraid that with the excitement and commotion earlier, I left a minor- ok, a very big detail out. I'm sorry for whatever it's worth." She took a deep and strengthening breath. "I..I would like you to meet someone very special to me…someone very special to you too now I hope. I'd like you to meet my…" The next two words alone seemed to drain all her strength and it seemed a great amount of weight had magically lifted off of her shoulders. I watched intently as tears welded up in her eyes and her voice became emotional. I could tell she had never planned on saying these words in her lifetime to anyone. "…our son, John. John, I'd like you to meet your father…Jack Dawson"
I honestly don't really remember what happened after that. My eyes were too blurry from the tears that I could hardly see what was in front of me. I could feel my mother hugging me furiously and planting a quick kiss on my cheek. I could hear nothing but the sounds of crying, laughter and the words "Oh my God…" being uttered.
My mind was being cluttered with words and almost a feeling of nausea came over me as I quickly found the nearest chair to sit in. I looked around the room in an attempt to find this man who was my father and was surprised to see him sitting across from me. He seemed to be going through the same emotions and questions as I was at that very moment. Our eyes met for a brief and intense moment and immediately, all my doubts and worries that I had ever had were washed away. From that moment on, I knew that everything would be all right. A certain agreement and silent understanding was reached between us without even uttering a word. I knew right off the bat that this man was a good man…a great man whom would forever love and take care of my mother just as he had planned to all along. I was his son and he was my father.
I could clearly see the sorrow, regret and deep love shining in his eyes. He was not regretful for my unexpected birth, but rather for the 21 years of my life that he had missed. But he would not look back on the past. There was no reason to dwell on things that you are unable to go back and change, no matter how much you wish to do so. The only certain thing you can do is look to the future and know that from now on, you can make it whatever you want it to be. And that, is exactly what we did.
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