by Beth Lindsay
The Fate of Juliet
Flames danced around me. My long, blonde hair reflected the warm colors of the fire. Ash coated my face. The smell of the burning wood filled my lungs. Tears filled my eyes but vaporized in the blaze.
The popping from the burning wood muted out the screams and screams from the audience.
I rushed over to the boy trapped under a fallen light fixture. I struggled to pull him out and guide him to safety. The light was too heavy.
“Just go,” he said.
“I am not leaving you,” I said, staring into his emerald eyes. “Romeo, I love you.”
“Juliet, I love you too, but please, don’t sacrifice yourself for me!”
I smiled down at him. “This is our destiny. We were born into this world to find each other and die together once again.” The ceiling crashed down around us.
Well, that is how you wish the story would have ended. Juliet sacrificing herself for her Romeo, for them to burn in the flames of destiny for all eternity. I don’t blame you for desiring this ending. All my audiences were subjected to this idealism. Since the world of Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet were cursed to be star-crossed lovers and to die a painful death together with no regrets.
We were no different. I, Juliet Fiera, was the modern incarnation of Juliet, and Romeo Puerto was my destiny, bound together by these cursed names, so it only makes sense that I would remain by his side until the end. However, I’d be lying if I told you that is how things ended.
“Fiera!” I snapped out of my delusion and stared down at Puerto. He was still trapped. Blood streamed down his face, mixing with his snot and tears. His free hand reached out for help.
“Fiera,” he said once again.
One thing I appreciate about Puerto is that he never called me Juliet. From the first day of middle school, I wasn’t his Juliet, I was just Fiera.
“Romeo and Juliet. Romeo and Juliet.” My sixth-grade class sang while we played outside, pushing Puerto and me together. “You should kiss your love.”
“Yeah go kiss him.”
“Kiss her and live happily ever after!”
I snapped my head in the opposite direction, tightening my fist. My body trembled as I dug my fingernails into my skin. Blood rushed through my swollen veins and into my head.
“Leave her alone,” Puerto said. Back then, he had dark brown hair that he failed to comb daily and wore tore up jeans with marker scribbled all over them. “Can’t you jerks see that Fiera doesn’t like when you harass her?”
Before I could react, Puerto dragged me by the wrist past the crowd and through the back door of the school. The halls were empty, echoes of teachers’ lectures and the sound of our fast pace steps were the only occupants. He pulled me down several corridors until he reached our locker pod. He sighed.
“Sorry, Fiera,” he said. “You were uncomfortable because of me.” I pulled my arm out of his grip and rubbed the red mark away.
I turned away from him. “Hmph. Yeah, whatever.”
His eyes concentrated on the back of my head. Shivers went down my phone, knowing he was watching me.
“It’s not like I couldn’t take care of them on my own,” I added. His response was a burst of laughter. I snapped my head back in his direction. He bent over, slapping his knee and holding his stomach, struggling to breathe in between the chuckles.
“What is so funny?”
“You,” he said. He glanced up at me. “I didn’t think girls like you existed.”
“Why do you call me Fiera?” I asked. I leaned back on one of the lockers. “I mean, you transferred here a few weeks ago, and you are the only one that calls me that.”
“Well,” he said, “it would cause problems if I call you Juliet.”
I turned my attention to him. He smiled down at me.
“Besides Fiera is much more suitable. You are a little firecracker.” He laughed. I grinned my teeth and slapped his shoulder.
“You jerk.”
“Fiera, please don’t leave me,” Puerto said. Smoke filled every inch of the room. It kicked out the welcoming oxygen from my lungs, burning me from the inside out. If I stayed any longer, my heart would turn to charcoal dust. Puerto’s cries for help held me captive in my place on stage.
“Please help me. I don’t want to die.”
My lips trembled. A steady stream of hot tears rolled out of my eyes, down my cheek, and dripped off my chin. This is fate, I thought. We don’t want to die, but we must.
Tears fell from my eyes. A blurred apparition stood before me. The taste of salt lingered on my trembling lips. ‘oohs’ and ‘awws’ blended in with the laughter in the room.
“I know name you, husband and wife. Muah!” One of the girls blew a kiss at us.
“Fiera, I- I didn’t-” a thirteen-year-old Puerto said. His soft pink lips trembled just as much as mine did.
“You are a jerk. Stay the hell away from me,” I said, punching him and breaking his nose. A painful ‘fuck’ escaped his mouth as I scrambled out of the practice room. I ran as fast as I could away from them, from him. Closing my eyes, I attempted to tune out the tune of our peers’ chants.
Loud footsteps echoed behind me. I ran faster, turning a corner into a locker corridor. I stumbled but pushed myself back up before I could land on my face.
My breath became hollow, and it hurt to inhale. Cold sweat formed on my face, putting chills down my spine. My legs weakened, each pounding step becoming more exhausting than the last.
I slowed down right before the school exit, panting.
“Fiera,” Puerto said. He bent down, holding onto his legs. He took a few deep breathes. “Fiera, I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were going to do a kiss scene this year, and they, they pressured me to do it, and I should have thought about you and said no. I should have asked your permission to go along with it.”
My hand, just a centimeter from the handle, froze in place. I don’t want to be here.
“You can beat me up for the next month if you want, okay? Just, come back to rehearsal.”
Why should I?
“Just so you know, I will never fall in love with you. Our names don’t mean crap to me, and neither does your existence. I wish you never moved to this stupid town,” I said. I pulled on the handle and walked out into the humid, summer air. My chest tightened with every step I took. Puerto never chased after me for the rest of the day.
Together in those flames, my chest all the same.
“Don’t you dare leave me, Fiera. Fiera, don’t let me die.” The sizzle and crack of the inferno canceled out the rest of his pleads.
I glanced down. A script burned below my heel.
“Wherefore art thou Romeo,” I read off the letters that turned to ash. How many times had I said that line and not mean it? If I had to guess, since the first year we were forced into the drama club.
“Romeo, oh Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo,” I said, rolling my eyes. In the seats below, the other actresses took photos and snickered.
“Juliet takes this seriously,” Mr. Hide said. He was a tall man with a round belly. His white hair had receded to almost nothing, and his toupee stood out more than a clown in a courtroom. “The play is in two days, and you look like you would rather murder him than marry him.”
I chuckled, glancing over at Puerto. He sat on top of a crate, used as a prop, with his shoulders slumped in a relaxed state, holding his script with a loose script. “It wouldn’t be far from the truth.”
“Juliet,” Mr. Hide said with a heavy sigh. “As long as you are on this stage, you are not Juliet Fiera, you are Juliet Capulet, and you are in love with Romeo. That is called ‘the beauty of acting.' Now, Let’s try this again.”
“Just give it a rest, old man. She isn’t going to play the part. Let’s find a new Juliet. I mean, how do you expect me to fall in love with a firecracker like her?” said Puerto.
“Mr. Puerto, please refrain from calling me, old man.”
“What did you say?” I asked.
Pu
erto grinned. “I said you couldn’t play the part if you tried.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Three meals at Mary’s,” he said, “with dessert.” He winked.
I growled but then coughed. I closed my eyes and opened them once more. “Romeo? Oh, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” I sighed a melancholy sigh. “Deny thy father! Refuse Thy name! If thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”
I glanced over to Puerto. His face was red, and sweat rolled off of his face. “Uh-uh.” He panicked and started flipping through his script. “Uh-Uh. Shall I hear more?” His voice trembled. “Or sh-shall l I speak at this?”
“Romeo, don’t lose focus, here. We only have two days left,” Mr. Hide said. He sighed and shook his head.
“Sorry, Old Man, won’t happen again,” Puerto said. Mr. Hide blew up, throwing his papers in the air. He lectured Puerto about respect and how to behave properly.
Puerto rolled his eyes and turned in my direction, and our eyes made contact. I chuckled and lipped, “Mary’s with dessert.” He signed and nodded, waving an imaginary white flag.
“Mr. Puerto, are you even listening to me?”
By show night, rumors spread about the legendary Juliet excepting her fate and the Capulet within awoken to be reunited with her beloved Romeo. Not a single seat was left over, and the principal even pulled out folding chairs for the extra guest. That night, Puerto and I made out stage debuts as soulmates.
Since that time, I have said that famous line hundreds of time, but never felt the real agony behind them. At that moment, with the school theater burning around us, I felt them.
Why is fate so cruel? I thought. Why must we die here? If this is fate-
I walked through the flames towards Romeo. Kneeling down, I tucked my hair behind my ear and leaned closer to him.
“Fier- “I gave him a small peck on the lips. It wasn’t like the several kisses he had on that stage. The kiss was brief but was enough to remember for a lifetime. The bitter taste of a poisonous fate lingered.
“I may have fallen, but I will not follow,” I said. “I won’t die here.”
I shook my head as the tears began to fall, taking a step back.
“I am sorry,” I said. Without giving myself a chance to reconsider my decision, I bolted out of the theater. Puerto screamed in agony like a lobster thrown in a boiling pot of water, not even the power of the flames that consumed him could contain his cries.
The flames chased me throughout the school, down every corridor, until I reached a fire exit. I joined the audience and my peers in the parking lot. The cool breeze greeted me and wrapped me in a blanket of safety. The other girls in the drama club rushed over to me and sobbed into my arms. They blubbered some nonsense apologizes and pretends concerns for my well-being.
The firemen arrived at the scene. Some rushed into the building in an attempt to save Puerto while the others contained the fire. It was too late. In a matter of moments, the building turned to ash, taking Puerto with it.
“Get off of my desk,” I said, walking into the classroom. Only Puerto and a couple early birds sat in the room. Puerto leaned forward with his stupid grin on his face.
“Oh, come on, Fiera. Can you at least greet me with a smile?” He laughed. I walked up to him and threw my twenty-pound bag at him. He caught it, never letting that grin disappear. “Smile, my love.”
“You know that I don’t want you around me unless we are on stage. You know that, so what the hell do you want?” I said. I sighed, placing my hands in my pocket and looking behind me to make sure the others wouldn’t rush in.
“Let me borrow your math notes,” he said. “Maybe even the assignment.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Fine. Whatever. Just get lost. Okay?”
He hopped off of my desk and unzipped my bag. Within a second, he pulled out a blue notebook from the disorganized organization called my backpack. He kissed the notebook.
“You are a life saver, Fiera.”
“No, I just don’t want Romeo to be late to his own death tonight because he is stuck in detention,” I said.
“Still.” Puerto pulled me into an embrace. He held me tight. His hand found its way into my hair. “I don’t know what I would do without you. You are the most amazing person I have ever met. I couldn’t have asked for a better soulmate.”
He pulled away, slipping his hands onto my cheeks, and stared into my eyes.
“I mean it.” He picked up the notebook and rushed out the door.
“Soulmate? Don’t fuck with me,” I said. I sat down in my seat and pulled out my notes for English. “If my name weren't Juliet, you wouldn’t be calling me your soulmate.”
I don’t remember much when they announced his death. The drama club said I went into a fit, breaking thinks and throwing things. They said the paramedics had to wait for me to calm down some before going near me. When I did calm down some, I fell to my knees, holding myself and sobbing like a widow. I woke up a week later in that hospital feeling that huge pain in my chest.
Maybe I should have laid down and died with him. Maybe I should have accepted the fate that was given to me instead of fighting it. However, that wasn’t what I chose. I chose to live without him. I chose to live with guilt and this aching pain in my chest. Right or wrong. It was my choice.
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About the Author
Beth Lindsay is a graphic novelist that works in the fantasy science fiction genre. She is working towards a Bachelors of Fine art for Creative writing and currently working on a new graphic novel series The Dream Catchers. Despite the fact she is a writer, Beth Lindsay will stay up some nights to paint the images she remembers from dreams rather than writing them down in a journal. You can read some of her short stories, poems and sneak peaks into her graphic novels at https://www.writerscafe.org/Linzi or at https://www.linkedin.com/in/elizabeth-lindsay-269253139/