Saving Juliet (22 page)

"Give it to me," Juliet demanded. Nurse did and Juliet shoved the dress under her pillow.

"Such a vile mood.
Can't blame you, though.
I was married once. Did you know that?
Nervous as a pig in a slaughter house the night before me wedding."
Nurse cleared her throat and her ruddy face turned even redder. "Has her ladyship discussed the matter of wifely duties with you?"

I winced. Last thing we needed right then was a sex education lecture.

"Nurse, please go," Juliet urged.

But Nurse kept folding. "You've a right to be nervous. That man is foul, he is.
This wedding breaks
me heart." She began to sniffle. "You may be a beastie, but you're me beastie, you is. And I can't stand the thought of him locking you away in that palace, which is what he'll do. A man like that treats a woman like she's no better than an obedient dog." She dabbed her puffy eyes with her grimy apron hem. "I wish this wedding would never happen."

Juliet leaped from the bed. "Do you speak the truth, Nurse?"

" 'Course
I speak the truth." She blew her nose on the edge of her apron.

Juliet clapped her hands together. "If I had a way to escape this wedding, would you keep it a secret?"

"Escape?"
Nurse let go of her apron. "Why, Juliet, child, I've prayed to God every night that you might escape."

"Swear it, Nurse. Swear you will keep the secret."

"I swear. On me old heart and me mother's grave, I swear." Juliet waved at me and I stepped into the bedroom. "Heavens," Nurse cried. "It's a Montague!"

"No," Juliet said, clamping a hand over Nurse's mouth before she could scream for help. "It is Mimi. She has come to help me." Juliet lowered her hand, and Nurse gawked at my clothing.

"She's a boy?"

"No, only dressed as one." Juliet opened her bedroom door and peered down the hall. Then she shut the door. "The coast is clear. What is the new plan?" she asked worriedly. "Why are you early?"

I tried to explain calmly and succinctly. "Romeo's banished from Verona and, as you know, I'm exiled. Troy is no longer welcome at Montague House. The three of us must leave before morning light, so if you're coming with us, you must take the sleeping potion right now."

"Sleeping potion?" Nurse asked. "What nonsense is this?"

"It is the only way I can avoid bringing dishonor to the family," Juliet explained. "Tell me, Mimi. Is it true that Romeo killed Tybalt?"

"Yes, but it was to avenge Mercutio's death. Tybalt murdered Mercutio." Juliet nodded, for she didn't need to be convinced of her cousin's violent nature.

"Are you still coming with us?" I asked. "Yes," she replied.

I ran onto the balcony and leaned over the railing. "Friar Laurence," I whispered. "She's ready."

The friar was not built for climbing. His stout legs had zero flexibility and his fat gut kept pressing against the ivy, throwing him off balance. Troy and Romeo gave him a push to get him started. After much grunting, he crash-landed onto the balcony. His robe twisted around his legs, exposing lily white calves. "Heavens," Nurse said as I helped the friar to his feet. "Me old heart can't take so many surprises."

"My good woman," Friar Laurence said, smoothing his robe into place. "My old heart concurs."

"Nurse has sworn to help," Juliet explained.

"Where is the potion?" the friar asked.

Juliet pulled it from her sleeve and held it up for all to see. "Shall I drink it now?"

"You don't have to do this," I reminded her. "You can just leave and not fake your death. That is still an option."

"I cannot shame my family."

"Then drink the potion, my child," Friar Laurence said gently.

It was a momentous occasion. Juliet raised the vial as if to make a toast. In the play, Juliet says, Romeo, I come.'
This do I drink to thee.
But this Juliet did nothing of the sort. "To freedom," she said with a blinding smile.
"To sweet, sweet freedom!"
The friar, Nurse, and I held our breaths. There was no going back now. We stood on a slippery precipice. What could go wrong? What hadn't we considered? What if we couldn't wake her? What if it didn't work? Tipping the vial to her lips, she drank the potion in a single gulp. "Horrid," she complained, scrunching her face. Then she frowned and stumbled sideways. "I'm dizzy."

The friar and I steadied her before she tipped over. "I thought you said she'd have ten minutes."

"It must work quicker on one so young," Friar Laurence guessed. We led her to the bed and helped her lie down. Her eyelids fluttered.

"Me poor little lamb," Nurse said. "Her face is so pale, it is."

"The potion is working," Friar Laurence said. "It creates a mask of death."

"I am so dizzy," Juliet mumbled. "The room spins faster and faster."

"When you wake up, I'll be by your side," I told her, taking her hand. It had already turned cold. A blue tinge spread across her lips. I could actually feel her body shutting down.

"I am sorry to make my parents sad," she said, her voice drifting away. "I never wanted to make them sad." I wanted to remind her that her parents had imprisoned her, had sold her body to a total creep just because he had money and power. But I didn't. She knew those things yet she still loved them. She didn't want to bring misery to them, the misery that all parents feel, be they wicked parents or not, when a child is lost.

Her lids stopped fluttering.

Nurse began to cry again. "She's dead, she is.
Me poor little lamb."

Friar Laurence bent over the bed and gently opened one of Juliet's eyes. "She is sleeping yet she appears dead. Do you understand?" Nurse shook her head and cried even louder. The friar took her by the shoulders and spoke to her with
a calm
, reassuring voice. "All will be well. It is time for you to go tell Lord and Lady Capulet that you have discovered Juliet dead. If you say anything about the potion, Juliet will not be free and we will all die. Do you understand this?" Nurse nodded. "Go now."

Nurse took one more look at Juliet,
then
shuffled from the room. Friar Laurence and I rushed to the balcony, closing the door behind us. Troy waited at the top of the vines to help the friar. He had an easier climb down, thanks to gravity. Standing in the courtyard he brushed a few ivy leaves from his robe. "I will go to the front of the house and claim that I have come to bless Tybalt's body," the friar explained. "Most assuredly I will be summoned to Juliet's room. Once the Capulets have seen and touched their daughter, once they are certain that she is dead, I will pretend to discover the sign of plague
--
swellings under her arms. I guarantee that everyone will flee the room and action will be immediately taken to remove the body from the house."

"What do you want us to do?" Troy asked.

"Wait at the tomb. Romeo knows its location. I will bring Juliet there as soon as possible." Friar Laurence stroked his silver cross. "May St. Francis bless us
all.
" He picked up his bag and hurried on his way.

It was to be another long, sleepless night. I hoped that, when it was over, Romeo would have his love and Juliet would have her freedom. But what would Troy and I have?
Were we to become imprisoned in this place or would this bring about an ending?

I told you at the beginning of this story that one year had passed since these events. Certainly it is no secret that Troy and I made it back to the twenty-first century; otherwise you would not be holding this book in your hands. But we almost didn't make it back. I shudder to think how close we came.

Turn the page for the grand finale.

***

"Thus with a kiss...
"

T
he wait seemed an eternity as I worried about everything that could go wrong.
Romeo and Juliet
is a tragedy, after all, and I was messing with its inherent elements
--
despair, suicide, doom. Maybe it's impossible to carve a happy ending from a tragedy, in the same way that you can't drink fire and you can't light a candle with water. It just can't be done.

Romeo had led us to the cemetery, an eerie place crowded with towering statues and ominous tombs. Built above ground, the tombs came in all shapes and sizes
--
one-room structures for the less prosperous, monstrosities for the mighty. Though moonlight made it difficult to hide, we found a place in the shadows between two small tombs. Fortunately, the summer night was warm so we were comfortable in our thin shirts. My adrenal glands pumped away, still in the fight-or-flight mode. Every sound became magnified as I listened for the friar's approach, but I heard only creaking tree limbs and scurrying vermin.

Dread descended, as it usually does just before some-thing really great happens
--
or something really horrific. Every minute that passed meant less time for us to get ahead of the Capulet search party. I started biting my fingernails. "What if" was the theme of the moment with Romeo and
I
volleying it back and forth like a tennis ball.

"What if the friar can't convince them that it was plague?"

"What if the potion wears off?"

"What if Nurse chickens out and tells them about the plan? Oh God, we should never have trusted her." I bit through to the quick of my index fingernail.

"Okay, let's all just calm down," Troy said. "It's in the friar's hands now. Worrying isn't going to help anyone."

"He is right," Romeo said. "We must have faith." He rubbed dirt onto Mercutio's blade, trying to rub away the dried blood.

"What's that thing you always chant when you're freaking out?" Troy asked.
"Om ya."

"Yeah.
Om ya.
Om ya.
Om ya."
We chanted together. Even Romeo joined in.

Sure, worrying wouldn't help anyone, but it was my nature to worry, especially when a horde of thugs was preparing to disembowel me.

"Romeo," Troy said. They sat on either side of me. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about Mercutio. He seemed like a really nice guy and a great musician. He worked a miracle with my song."

"He was one of our finest musicians," Romeo said sadly. "He taught me to play the mandolin." Though the place was dead, pun intended, they kept their voices hushed.

"It's a cool instrument. I learned to play it when I was a kid," Troy said. "I used to be totally into classical music, which didn't exactly make me the most popular kid at school. But then my father introduced me to this talent agent and, voila, Troy Summer was born."

"That's not your real name?" I asked.

He grimaced. "Are you kidding? My real name's William Jones. How boring is that?" He didn't seem like a William or a Bill. But the Troy I was getting to know didn't seem like an arrogant pop star either. This Troy had agreed to help Juliet, even though he believed it might ruin our chances of going home. This Troy was courageous and kind. But would this Troy still date every woman he came in contact with?

We fell into silence. My butt went numb so I shifted, brushing against Troy's arm.

"Juliet is so beautiful," Romeo said. "I have never met a girl who wanted to be an actor." He sighed. "What is her favorite color?"

"I don't really know," I replied.

"What kind of music does she prefer? Does she like to take walks at sunset?" He sounded like one of those personal ads. "What is her favorite flower? Is it the rose? Did you notice that her lips are like roses?"

"Actually, Romeo, she isn't crazy about roses. In fact, don't compare her to any kind of flower, trust me." The last thing he needed was to remind her of Paris.

"I just want to know everything about her."

"Easy does it," Troy said. "You'll have plenty of time to learn all those things. That's the fun part."

"Really?"
Romeo asked. He leaned across my knees, eager to learn from a dating master. Here's where the old Troy would reveal himself. I rolled my eyes, preparing for his womanizing wisdom.

"Once you start spending time together, you'll learn things about her that no one else could have told you.
Things that you never would have suspected.
Like the fact that she snores and has cold feet." He folded his arms and I caught his smile in my peripheral vision. Why was he smiling at me? Hey, was he referring to our nap on the cot? "Maybe you'll learn that she'd make a great doctor or that she has the capacity to care about people she barely knows." He took a dramatic pause, leaning against the wall. "Maybe you'll learn that
she's
not the spoiled princess you thought she was."

"Maybe you'll learn that
she'd
rather have someone speak directly to her than about her," I said, folding my arms and leaning against the wall.

"I'd be happy to speak directly to her," Troy said.
"If
she'd
promise not to run off."

"Fine.
Go right ahead. There's nowhere for her to run off to anyway."

Romeo gave us each a puzzled look. "Are you angry with each other?"