Not Good Enough for Truth in Cliche

I looked at the glass vial in my hand, the deep red liquid glinting in the dim light. It was just before sunrise; the darkest hour of the night.

"You can't be with him, Juliet! He's a criminal!"

"Juliet, pick someone else, he's immoral!"

"I will not allow you to do this to yourself; I will not have him corrupt you."

"Mom, Dad, I love him-"

"Don't say such things!"

"You don't mean that-"

"I do!"

"What has he done to you?"

"Nothing! He-"

"You must forget about him."

"You must live as if you never met him. As if he doesn't exist."

"But he does exist! And I love him! Why can't you accept that?!"

"He's a criminal, Juliet!"

"I don't care!"

"Clearly you're not thinking straight."

"You hired him to play in the restaurant!"

"He was convicted in a-"

"Convicted for something he didn't do! Why won't you listen to me?!"

"Juliet, I don't want to forbid you to see him, but I will if I have to."

"I'm not a child!"

"You're acting like one."

I remember screaming in frustration.

"I know you don't like him! I know you think he's a common criminal! And that's because you don't know him! You won't give him a chance! Please, just-"

My father spoke calmly. "Juliet, this boy has done awful things-"

"No he hasn't!"

"-I will not let you put yourself in harms way."

"He's not dangerous!"

"How do you know that?"

"Because I know him! I know he couldn't do the things you think he has! He is a sweet and caring man! And he would do anything to keep harm from coming to me!"

"If that were the truth, then he would stay away from you."

I sighed. "If he was dangerous he would sacrifice his love to keep me safe."

"Maybe he should."

I had stared angrily between them; the two people who raised me, and loved me. The two people who had always told me to be understanding, and not to judge others. The parents who said they would support me through anything, and only wanted my happiness.

"I won't let you keep us apart. I don't care how much you disapprove of him, or how much you hate him, and think he's below you. I'm not going to let you make me abandon him. Not if my life is the price."

The vial stared back at me, almost sympathetically.

"Juliet!" they had cried after me, as I ran from the room.

It hadn't been the first time we'd had that fight. It was one we'd had so many times it made my mind numb. But if they couldn't accept the man I loved, then I couldn't be a part of their family anymore.

I unscrewed the tiny black lid on the vile, and stared at it. Such a wonderful thing had turned into something so consequential. And so quickly.

I tilted my head back, and emptied the vile into my mouth, letting the bitterness flow over my tongue and down my throat. Screwing the cap back on, the tears that had been burning in my eyes spilled over. The way things had happened...it was impossible. And dysphoric. Almost lugubrious.

I put the empty vile on the table next to me, and looked up at the stage in my parent’s small restaurant. It was the first place I'd ever really noticed him.

"Are you ready to order, or do you need another minute?""...make sure you're still alive..."

"I think we're ready. Honey?"

"Yes, I'd like the Penne fra Diavolo and...""...just in time to kill you...."

"Miss?"

"I'll be right back with those."

"Excuse me."

The love of my life. The one my parents so vehemently despised.

"Yes?"

His incredible smile catching my breath.

"I was wondering..."

One look into those beautiful brown eyes and I'd been unable to decline.

That night we'd stayed in the restaurant long after closing. He'd asked me questions while I finished wiping down tables, and straightening up, then we'd both sat down with a beer. He'd teased me about what my parents must have said when I got the tattoo (being such a good girl, suddenly getting inked on my neck must have been a real shock). I remember hitting him playfully, and insisting that it was only proof that I wasn't the complete good girl I appeared to be.

The next night he'd helped me with the after closing cleaning, and made dinner with me in the kitchen. A week after that he'd backed me against a wall, and claimed my lips as his own.

I'd found myself dragging him into storage closets, and 'employee only' hallways soon after. I wasn't exactly trying to fuel the fire between my parents and I, but the prospect of being discovered only made it that much more enticing.

Friends and family who loved me...and the most amazing man promising to be by my side. I didn't think anything could rain out my parade.

Until the night my mother found us. Then I learned better. It was dark. She'd come back for some papers she'd left in the office, something for inventory.

"Juliet!"

I was so surprised I'd gasped into his mouth. I quickly tore myself away from him, and stood up.

"What are you doing?"

"Just closing everything up, Mom."

She stared at him without blinking.

"Did you need something?"

"...Papers....from the back room."

I'd rushed ahead, moving quickly through the impeccable kitchen, and into the office. I'd heard her come in behind me a moment later, but she'd remained silent. When I turned back to her, she was standing absolutely still, with her eyes fastened to my face.

"Juliet, I don't want you around that boy."

"Why?"

"He is a troubled soul. I don't want-"

"Oh please, Mom. ‘A troubled soul'?"

"Juliet-"

"Please tell me you can do better than that."

That night the first fight broke out under our roof. And it quickly turned into a nightly ritual.

I turned my head towards the picture above the cash register. We looked so happy; my father in a gray suit and tie, his arm around my smiling mother, both of them resting a hand on my small shoulders. What happened to those people?

I picked up an empty beer bottle and threw it at the picture. It shattered and fell to the floor, knocking the frame sideways.

Papers littered the floor. Furniture had been thrown, breaking as it hit a wall or floor on the other side of the room. A few panes held broken glass. And red flower petals remained on the floor from some earlier event.

Red flower petals...just like the night they played their new song. I could see him standing there, singing, while the rest of them played.

"Sitting in this room playing Russian roulette...."

Girls swarmed the stage, 'oh'-ing and 'ah'-ing, pulling out camera phones, dancing, and laughing. It had made me a bit jealous at first.

"...finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet..." Until I heard that. The swooning girls were oblivious to me, everything but his amazing looks and ‘charming’ lyrics, really, but I'd caught it right away.

"...out from the window see her back drop silhouette..."

The first time I'd heard those lyrics I'd looked up to see him smiling slyly at me. He knew I'd be shy to it, and loved that he'd surprised me in that way.

I was happy for them. The boys were getting a fan-base. These swooning girls were turning out to be more helpful than an annoyance.

Being as it was the dead of night, the streets were silent and empty. Not a soul in sight. And these happy memories were replaced by a more upsetting reality.

Taiven.

I shook my head.

Taiven....Taive-e-e-e-e-e-e-n.

"Aughh," I turned and walked through the trashed kitchen, side-stepping counters and other broken provisions, stopping only when I reached the office..

How does she think she's going to do this? A fucking shot-gun wedding?

I tore through every cabinet and drawer, begging to get my hands on anything about him and a wedding. I ripped papers out of books, off the desk, walls...

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Juliet!"

A white cake with the words 'Happy Birthday JULIET' written in red was placed in front of me.

"Happy Birthday to you!"

Everyone cheered, and clapped.

"Make a wish, Juliet!"

‘A wish.’ I looked up at him standing on the stage, smiling at me. What did I have to wish for?

Especially considering my evening following the party the employees threw me.

"Whoa, whose birthday is this?" he laughed, as I tore my jacket off, and pushed him against the brick wall.

I smiled and pulled his face to mine, "Shut up and kiss me."

He'd obliged with no problem, wrapping his arms around my waste and pulling me against his chest.

I went home that night floating on a cloud so high, no one could touch me. Or so I thought. Leave it to my parents to ruin my birthday.

"Juliet. You're home."

My mother greeted me with a warm smile and a hug. Which should have tipped me off right away. She knew what was going on between the nefarious evil-doer and I. And she didn't like it one bit.

And what awaited me in the living room was most certainly not a birthday present.

"Taiven."

"Juliet," he said, smiling and getting up. "Happy birthday," he gave me a hug and motioned for me to sit with him.

"Thanks."

My parents left shortly after, giving us 'time to get to know each other better.' The following night I’d confronted them, and they grudgingly revealed their dirty little secret.

Wow, Mom. Dad. If that isn't the most fucked up thing I've ever heard.

And then I found it. Them. Three big blue binders sitting next to stock books on the desk. One containing guest lists and seating arrangements...one with reception menus and venues...and the last, gowns and cost.

OH MY GOD. I don't believe this, I don't fucking believe this. She really has lost her mind. She can't do this. Nobody does this anymore!

I shoved the books off the desk, and stormed back into the dinning room. She can't! I hit something hanging from the ceiling, and threw a chair off a nearby table. She can't. I grabbed my hair at the roots, trying to understand, pleading for it not to be real.

He looked up from the edge of the stage.

I saw him, and I just couldn't hold myself together anymore. I broke down.

Getting up and walking towards me, I could see the dejection covering his face. He knew what my parents were planning. And he knew that he was the reason.

"They weren't kidding," I cried into his chest, "They really are going to do what ever they can."

He pulled away and looked into my eyes, "They can't make you say yes, Juliet."

"I can't do it. I can't handle this."

His usual teasing, flirty eyes were hurt and upset. He reached into a pocket in his hoodie, searching for something.

"I took it, Ronnie."

His eyes widened, and alarm filled his face, "You what?"

"I can't do what they want me too."

"What?!" he grabbed my shoulders.

"I can't let them take you away from me. I drank it."

He was speechless at first. He stared into my eyes, so many emotions flashing across his face I couldn't tell what he was feeling.

"Don't you see?" I said, reaching for him, "They can't take you from me anymore."

"Why?! Why did you do that?!"

"I love you."

"Juliet!"

"Don't be mad."

"You let them drive you to this?!"

"They can't rip us apart anymore!"

"We could have gotten away from here!"

"We never would have escaped them!"

"Yes we would have!" He pulled two long, thin pieces of paper out of his pocket. "We could have gone far away from here, where they never would have found us!"

I tipped my head. "They would have found us no matter what." My voice broke, "Now we'll never have to worry about it again. They can never take us away from each other."

He searched my eyes, wanting the words I'd said to be swallowed back down and erased from his memory. Wishing he would wake up and find this all to be just a bad dream. Two plane tickets fell from his fingers to the floor by our feet.

I held a second vile filled with the blood red poison between us.

He stared into my eyes. Glancing down, he took the vile and looked back. He swallowed the foul substance, not letting his eyes leave mine for a second.

He took my face in his hands, and pressed his lips gently to mine; the softest, sweetest kiss he'd ever given me.

"I love you," I whispered.

He pulled away and took my hand, "I love you, too."

We slid slowly to the ground, and laid together.

"I never wanted it to end this way."

I looked over at him, "Nobody did."

He was silent.

I reached across and stroked his cheek, "I don't regret it, Ronnie. Any of it."

"Even the fact that if you'd listened to your parents, you wouldn't be lying here dying right now?"

"No."

He turned his head to look at me.

"That was the price. I'm okay with it. I got you."

His eyes looked almost black in the glow of the dull lights around the ceiling. "You're not upset that you'll never get married...you'll never have a family of you're own..."

"There's only one man I want to have a family with. And my parents told me that wasn’t possible." I shrugged, "I took matters into my own hands."

"Juliet, you could have made so much of yourself-"

"And I have. I'm giving my life to show what I believe in. Look," I murmured, a sudden wave of fatigue washing over me, "Look at the stars."

"They're twinkling." He turned his eyes to me, "They'll see this, and know."

"'A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life,'" I murmured.

"Star-crossed in life, but not in death."

I bit my lip, as the tears burned in my eyes again, and looked into his for the last time.

He kissed my forehead, and pulled me against his chest. The chest I'd gotten butterflies when I touched for the first time. The arms I'd grown so used to being comforted by. And the place I took my last breath.

Together, even in death.

"A glooming peace this morning with it brings.
The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head.
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things.
Some shall be pardoned, and some punished.
For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

-Romeo and Juliet (Act v, scene iii, lines 305-310)

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch=uZLGmTxcjjc[/youtube]