Capítulo 7: ...how to face your past
I fell asleep on the armchair not long after that. It wasn't all that bad. I mean, it's comfy enough as long as you lay in the correct position. Besides, I'm not sure I could have moved from there even if I had wanted to.
It turned out that sleep did me good because I had a much clearer head by the time I woke up. A quick glance at my watch revealed that it was already seven pm, so I quickly had a quick shower before I headed down for dinner.
Actually, before a time skip occurs, let me quickly describe the events that happened once I was done showering and no, I'm not talking about the process by which I selected what to wear - that was a simple matter of just throwing on the first short and pair of shorts I saw. No, I'm talking about what I did after. Something I hadn't done in years.
See, although the sleep had helped clear my head, Annie's words and the idea of the play kept haunting me, ringing inside my head too loudly for even the sound of the running water to drench out. I think that was what influenced my next actions.
I reached under my bed and brought it out, the sign of weakness, the only significant part of my past that I hadn't been able to bring myself to lock away. It was nothing more than a simple brown book, but, like most things, it was its content that made the difference. The title of the book was nothing more than three words:
'Tales by Shakespeare'.
Holding the book away from me I opened it, letting the dust it had accumulated over the years fly free. Gingerly, I began to flip through the pages of the book.
As the crackling of paper continued, the locked chest in the back of my mind slowly opened, letting out bits of the memories that had been locked inside...
. . .
'Romeo darling, where art thou?'
The golden-skinned boy with dark curls furrowed his brow. 'Mum, I'm right here!'
The woman, who he had clearly inherited his looks from, glanced down at him and placed a swift kiss on his forehead. 'I don't mean you, Angelo. I'm talking about Romeo number two.'
Turning back to the doorway, she called out again. 'Romeo darling, where art thou?'
There was no reply.
"Romeo darling, where art thou?'
Still no reply.
The smile slipped off her face a bit. 'Romeo?'
More silence.
The smile melted off as she growled, 'John, get your ass upstairs, now!'
There was a brief pause, then the sound of a man's groan flitted into the room. 'Okay, okay, I'm coming!'
A few moments later, the man trudged into the room, pouting. 'But Juliet, my love, I was watching the game!'
'Oh Romeo darling, do not speak so! Surely you know there's a television in this room?'
She was right because there was indeed a TV at the far end of her rather spacious den. Along with that, there was a large bed in the room, upon which she lay. A group of sofas surrounded the television and silk curtains obstructed the flow of moonlight into the room. It was a truly magnificent place.
The same could not be said completely about the tigress though. Her once mighty legs had become useless to her, due to the virus that had wrecked it not so long ago. Her frame was a lot thinner, but all those changes had not once even dulled her fiery personality, or her mighty voice.
Meanwhile, the man replied, 'And I will gladly use it for the chance to be near you. However, I simply cannot, for fear that appalling friend of yours, Cassandra, will call to speak with you and employ that voice of hers which puts a thousand thunderstorms to shame!'
'Oh, Romeo-'
'Why do you both talk weird?"
The man and the woman both blinked, then turned to the boy. 'What?'
'Why do you talk like that, as if you're Romeo and Juliet?'
The man sighed. 'Well boy, it has something to do with how I met your mother-hey, I think I just came up with the greatest idea and name for a show! I've struck gold!'
'You'll be striking a lawsuit as well if you go ahead and try to sell that as your idea!' The woman smiled at the boy. 'But he's right though, it does have something to do with the story of how we met. Would you like to hear it?'
The boy grinned. 'Yes!'
"Okay! So it all started-'
'Ah ah ah.' The man wagged one of his fingers at the woman. 'I'm telling the story.'
'Um...alright, but you better not say rubbish!'
'Aye, Aye!' The man grinned at the boy. 'So, it all started with the case of popularity meeting the nerd-in this case, the nerd being your mother-'
'John!'
'-and I the popular guy she was pining after-ow!'
Grinning sheepishly at the dark look the woman was sending him, he furiously rubbed at his arm. 'Right, no rubbish, only the truth. So, your mother wasn't actually a nerd. Well, she might as well have been because she was pretty smart, but she was more of a bitc-uh, mean girl in high school.'
The woman groaned. 'Really, John? You're telling him that?'
'Hey, you said the truth!'
'I know what I said, but there are some things your child is not supposed to hear. I'm taking over the story!'
'Actually,' the boy said, 'could dad tell it? I think I'll like his version better!'
'See what I mean! Okay, what's next on the exposing list, John? You're going to tell him I was a terrible person? Maybe going to use Sophie Kahslon for reference?'
'What? Honey, I would never do that! Besides, you weren't a terrible person. If Sophia Kahslon had just taken your...tips about her weight, she wouldn't have been made fun off so much and ended up leaving-"
'John!'
'Right, right, getting sidetracked, sorry. Anyways, at the time we were studying Romeo and Juliet in class and your mother was failing, so they asked me to tutor her-'
The woman narrowed her eyes at him. 'Oh, so now we're back to lying?'
'Fine, fine! They asked her to tutor me because I was failing!'
The woman nodded. "Mhmm, and with my excellent teaching skills, guess how your father's literature grade was?'
The boy smiled. 'Good?'
'Heavens no, you're father flunked that semester! Even I can't perform miracles!'
'But...why call your teaching skills excellent then?'
The woman sighed. 'Alas, there's only so far excellent teaching skills can go. Maybe if your father wasn't being such an asshole all the time-'
The man frowned. 'Oh, so I can't call you mean, but it's okay for you to call me an asshole?'
'Don't be ridiculous John, calling me mean is on a whole other level than calling you an asshole! Besides, those teaching sessions were a waste of my time.'
'Really?" A grin split the man's face. 'You certainly didn't think that the night you stayed over at my house-'
'John!'
The boy furrowed his brow. 'What was she doing at your house? Was it a sleepover for just the two of you?'
The man shrugged. 'Erm...I guess you could say that.'
'Oh, ok! Was it also the night you put me in mum's belly?"
The woman's expression changed to one of horror in an instant. 'Angelo! Where did you hear about such a thing?'
An earsplitting grin came over the boy's face. 'Science class! We're learning about reproduction!'
'Really?' The woman frowned at the man. 'Honey, we have to speak to Prickleberry about this, we can't have our child learning about sex!'
The man shrugged. 'Sooner or later, he has to learn.'
'I'll rather have later than sooner, he's only eleven! If he's going to learn anything about it, it'll be from me! Now, Angelo, it's late. Go brush your teeth and get ready for bed.'
'Awwn, but can't I just-'
'Now!'
The boy scampered towards the door, but before he left the room, he glanced back at the man or woman. "Still, why call yourselves Romeo and Juliet? Didn't they die?' The boy's eyes widened. 'Wait, are you going to die? Please don't!'
The woman shook her head. 'Don't be silly, Angelo. We're the...happy version of Romeo and Juliet!'
'B-but how do you know?'
'Well...Romeo and Juliet didn't have a beautiful boy, did they?'
'I-I'm not beautiful! I'm fat! I look like a stuffed turkey!'
'It's baby fat! Now, go get ready for bed!'
. . .
My eyes flickered open as a wave of nostalgia ran through me. Taking a deep breath, I slowly shut my mental chest, not letting any more memories spill out.
Truthfully, reliving the experience wasn't as bad as I'd thought it'll be. It was painful, yes, but it was also sort of...comforting.
'Maybe...what you need is closure.'
But can I really get that from doing the play? Would that really be enough to stop the problem? Can I trust Aimee Jacques with my secret, the one thing barely anyone knows about me?
After knocking softly on my door, Max said, "Hey, I made some food if you want any.'
I replied, "I'll be right down."
I slid the book under my bed then ran downstairs, but not before I flipped to the pages of the story, Romeo and Juliet, and ran my fingers over them.
Or rather, I flipped to the pages that once held the story of Romeo and Juliet, then ran my fingers over the jagged remains of what was left.
. . .
By the time I got to my usual spot on the stands of the field the next day, Aimee was already sitting there, sucking on a lollipop.
Once she sighted me, she sighed. "So, you came. I guess I'm going to have to cancel that appointment with the morgue."
I shrugged. "Yeah well, I decided to try and do the stupid play. I'll be your...Romeo."
A smile broke out over her lips as she leaped up. "Great! Therefore, I do take you, Angelo Smith, as my playfully wedded co-star. I promise to love you onstage and during rehearsals, through recitals and memorization, from now, till the moment the play-"
"Woah, Woah, Woah, back up a bit! Before you continue revealing your possibly kinky cosplay marriage fantasies-"
"Excuse me?"
"There's something you should know. After that, you can decide if you truly want me to play your Romeo."
Her eyebrows knitted together as she tried to figure out what I meant. It was a tense moment, but it only led down one path, which was:
"Alright. What do you want to tell me?"
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