We Don't Have to be a Tragedy

Juliet’s Point of View

I stared out the window, watching the rain lash against it as though it was trying to get in. The rain always seemed to come when I was feeling down. Romeo’s plane had left about three hours ago, and I had to endure the next three months without him. The two months since he’d told me he’d be leaving had passed so quickly, as had my nineteenth birthday.

As dumb and clichéd as it sounds, it felt like there was an empty spot somewhere in my heart since I knew Romeo wouldn’t be back for three long months. And I’d said I might go see him, but I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to manage. Maybe over Labor Day weekend, since it was a three day weekend? If it wasn’t a question of college classes and money, I would be there in a heartbeat and stay with him.

There was a rumble of thunder, and I sighed before returning to an essay that Dad had set the class. I had decided to go farther in the classes that my parents and Romeo’s parents taught, along with my art classes. I still hadn’t pinned down a definite major, but I thought that, maybe, I could talk to Romeo about it and see what he thought when he got back from the Big Apple.

So, slowly and painfully, the first of many nights without Romeo passed.

Romeo’s Point of View

The look on Juliet’s face hurt. It was arranged into a happy face, and she told me to be safe and keep in touch with a grin, but I could tell it was forced. I knew she was genuinely happy for the opportunity offered to me, and for what it would teach me, but I could tell that a part of her didn’t want me to go. Hell, a part of me didn’t want me to, either.

But I’m serious. I don’t think anyone who’s not in the same situation can understand how much it hurt me that Juliet felt like she had to be happy for me. A fake smile hurts more than if she had told me outright that she didn’t want me to go, but she’d let me.

I watched the movie playing, almost listlessly. I was so focused on my thoughts that, now that I’m off the plane, I can’t even remember what the movie was, and I couldn’t care less. Now that I’m in what will be my home for the next month, the boarding house for all the people who act with the company that wanted me to play Romeo, and staring at the peeling ceiling of my room - which showed signs of recent cleaning, proving it’s normal state of disuse - all I can think of is her.

“I’m sorry,” I groaned, rolling over and pressing my face into my pillow. I don’t think I had ever felt so horrible in my entire life as I did now, after seeing the look of forced happiness on Juliet’s features.

Guilt plagued me, and I spent most of my first night in New York wide awake.

Juliet’s Point of View

I stared at my computer screen, letting a few tears run down my cheeks. I knew it wasn’t the situation Romeo and I were in, but it almost seems as though it was, so I replayed it, pulling up the lyrics and softly singing along.

“The power lines went out
And I am all alone
But I don’t really care at all
Not answering my phone

All the games you played
The promises you made
Couldn’t finish what you started
Only darkness still remains

Lost sight
Couldn’t see
When it was you and me

Blow the candles out
Looks like a solo tonight
I’m beginning to see the light

Blow the candles out
Looks like a solo tonight
But I think I’ll be all right…”

“That’s my next Whitney’s karaoke song,” I chuckled to myself, continuing to sing along all the way to the end of the song.

“Looks like a solo tonight,” I sang softly to myself, one time more at the end.

I think I just found my new favorite band. With practiced fingers, I searched YouTube for more Hey Monday lyrics and videos, determined to listen to all of the songs I could find.

Anything to drown out my thoughts.