Broken Juliet

by Leisa Rayven

  He drops his head. “I didn’t need a reason. I needed an excuse.”

  “Why?”

  “Because when I found out about your family and your money, I didn’t think I was good enough for you. Or good for you.”

  “Well, that’s just stupid. Thinking you’re not good enough because of money?”

  “To be fair, it was money and power.”

  “I have zero power.”

  His gaze intensifies, searing my skin. “Over me, you do.”

  Now we’re toe to toe, and I put my hand on his face. “I didn’t tell you about my family, because it wasn’t important. Just like ribbons and fancy paper have no relevance to the present that’s inside. I wanted to be valued for who I was, not my expensive label. And you gave me that. You made me feel like the most precious thing in the world.”

  He kisses me, and the rest of the lights fade as the spotlight tightens to contain just us. A whole world encapsulated in a single shaft of light.

  “So yeah,” I say, “I don’t believe in loving something enough to set it free. I believe in loving it enough to fight for it. To yell and scream and beat my fists until they know . . . they understand . . . that they’re mine, before they make the choice to walk out the door.”

  He touches my face, gentle fingers trailing down my cheek. “I’m glad you didn’t let me walk away.”

  “Me, too. Otherwise, I would have had to follow you.”

  He kisses me as the spotlight fades to black, and there are a few seconds of silence before the audience explodes into applause. It takes me a few moments to let go of Sam and Sarah and return to Cassie and Ethan, but when I do, the lights come back up and we take our bows.

  I get the familiar rush of adrenaline from having a good show, but underneath it is an undercurrent of anxiety. It’s been there since I overheard Ethan’s phone call earlier in the week.

  We head offstage and back to our dressing rooms, and I stew for the entire time I’m taking off my makeup and getting changed.

  By the time Ethan knocks on my door, I’m close to fuming.

  I yell, “Come in!” and he’s barely closed the door before I’m leveling my finger at him.

  “I really wanted you to tell me without me having to ask, but it’s driving me insane. What are you hiding from me?”

  “What?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. You’ve been cagey all week.”

  “Cassie . . .”

  “You promised I could trust you! Told me you were an open book. Was that all just bullshit?”

  “No.”

  “Then tell me. I heard you on the phone the other day. I know something’s going on. You said it had nothing to do with me, but I’m pretty damn sure it does.”

  He sighs. “There was a casting director in the audience last week. She wants me to go to L.A. to guest star in the new hit HBO drama. It’s a pretty big role, and my agent is pushing me to take it.”

  Oh.

  “Then why don’t you?”

  “Because . . . we’ve only been open four weeks, and we’re making real progress offstage, and . . . I just don’t want to go.”

  “Ethan—”

  “There’ll be other opportunities. It’s not like I’ll be blacklisted for turning it down.”

  “No, but you’d be a complete dumbass if you did.”

  “See? This is why I didn’t tell you.”

  “Because I’d tell you to take it?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s dumb.”

  “No, it’s not.” He stands and comes over to me. “I want to stay here and do this fucking amazing play with you every night and not fly to the other side of the country for a week. Why is that so wrong?”

  “Because it’s only a week, and we’ll be fine without you. This is a really fantastic opportunity. Has your agent cleared it with the producers?”

  “Yes. They’re concerned about disappointing audiences, but at the same time, they think the publicity would be great.”

  “It would be.”

  “So, you wouldn’t give a shit if I went away for a week?”

  “Of course I would, but I’d survive. We may need some extra rehearsals to make sure your understudy is ready to go, but Nathan’s quick. He’ll be fine.”

  I notice the way he almost flinches, then shoves his hands in his pockets.

  “Oh, God, please tell me the reason you don’t want to go isn’t because you’re freaking out about me performing love scenes with your understudy.”

  He shakes his head. “That’s not it.” He doesn’t look at me. Alarm bells go off in my head. “I feel stupid for even saying it.”

  “Just do it. You’re freaking me out.”

  He takes a breath. “I don’t want to leave you. I’ve been there and done that more often than I should and now that I’ve worked so fucking hard to get back here and be with you . . . I don’t think I can do it.”

  “Ethan—”

  “No, you don’t understand. Here, I get to touch you and kiss you every day, even if it’s only in the play. How the hell can I leave that?”

  “It’s only for a week.”

  “A week without you feels like a year. Trust me. I know this.”

  I go over and put my arms around him. He squeezes me so tight, it’s almost uncomfortable.

  “You can do this. You need to.”

  “Why?”

  I pull back and level him with my serious face. “Remember what you said to me years ago right before you left? You said, ‘There’s only so much you can watch someone sacrifice before you realize they’re changing who they are for you, and not in a good way.’ Well, that’s what’s happening here. I love how far you’ve come and all the strength and courage you have now, but not doing this because of me? That’s just wrong. Call your agent and tell him you’re taking the job.”

  “Cassie . . .”

  “Seriously, Ethan. Do it. I’ll be waiting here when you get back.”

  He hugs me again, and I run my fingers through his hair. “You know, Dr. Kate said something interesting today. She said people are too obsessed with conquering their fear when they should just learn to accept it and do stuff that scares them anyway.”

  He exhales against my neck. “I’m scared to leave you again.”

  I pull back and look him in the eyes. “Do it anyway.”

  “I love you,” he says as he cups my face. “You know that, right?”

  “You tell me every day. How could I forget?”

  One of these days, I’ll accept my fear of saying it back and do it anyway.

  *

  Three Years Earlier

  Westchester, New York

  The Grove

  Finals week is hell. I wander between classes in a daze. I’m exhausted from Ethan and I avoiding all the things we should be talking about, and preoccupied with detaching my emotions so I can concentrate.

  My final acting assessment is pretty much a disaster. I’m so shut down, I can’t even conjure up the most basic emotion, so I fake my way through it and hope Erika doesn’t notice.

  Of course she notices. Even before I’m finished, I can see the disappointment on her face. When I look at Ethan, I see disappointment, too, but on him it goes much deeper.

  That night, we talk about what’s going to happen after graduation. He tells me his mom and dad have offered to let me stay with them in Manhattan until I get an apartment of my own, but he doesn’t sound happy about it.

  When I ask him about rehearsals for Hamlet, he avoids the question. In fact, he avoids most of my questions. In the end, I give up.

  Just before he leaves, he kisses me for a long time, but it does nothing to dampen my paranoia.

  The next day is Saturday. Ruby’s boyfriend is out of town for the weekend, and she drags me out of
the apartment to try and cheer me up. We go shopping and have lunch. I pretend I’m having fun, but she’s not buying it. By the time we get home, she’s had enough.

  “Okay, that’s it. What the hell is going on with you and Holt?”

  I sigh. “I don’t know.”

  “God, this is frustrating.” She flops onto the couch. “You guys have been weird for ages. Is he still freaking out over Connor?”

  “I don’t know. I think that’s part of it.”

  “But he told you to take the gig, right? I mean, why would he do that if he knew he couldn’t handle it?”

  “He wants me to be successful.”

  “But then he’ll be miserable?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow. He’s trying to do the honorable thing. It almost makes me like him. Of course, knowing he’s miserable might be part of the reason.”

  I glare at her.

  She rolls her eyes. “Have you tried talking to him?”

  “A little. He’s being evasive.”

  My phone rings. I check caller I.D. before answering. “Hey, Elissa.”

  “Cassie, you need to get over here.” She sounds panicked, and a bit like she’s been crying.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No. I don’t care that I’m not supposed to say anything to you. Just get over here.”

  She hangs up, and my paranoia flares into full-blown anxiety.

  “Ruby, can I borrow your car?”

  “Of course. What’s going on?”

  “I have no idea, but I have a feeling it’s bad.”

  Twenty minutes later, I pull up in front of Ethan’s apartment and run up the stairs. My mind swirls with a thousand different scenarios as I bang on his door. Even though I’m trying to control my panic, I can already feel my heart crumbling, waiting for the inevitable Ethan-shaped fracture it’s about to endure.

  Within seconds, Elissa opens the door. Her eyes are bloodshot and furious.

  “Maybe you can talk sense into him. I can’t. If he asks, I didn’t call you.” With that, she leaves and slams the door behind her.

  I walk into the apartment to find boxes everywhere. Most are half-full and messy, and when I walk into Ethan’s bedroom, I see more of the same.

  He walks out of the bathroom with an armful of toiletries and freezes. We stare at each other for a few seconds before he says, “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” I glance around at the boxes. “You’re packing early. I thought you were staying here until the lease runs out in two weeks.”

  He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he looks at the ground. My heart is beating so fast, I can feel it in every inhale.

  “Ethan?”

  “I was going to tell you, I just . . . didn’t know how.”

  A chill runs down my spine. “Tell me what?”

  He takes a deep breath and lets it out. I try to ignore the warning bells going off in my head.

  “I turned down Hamlet. I’m taking the job in Europe. I’m leaving in three days.”

  I stare at him, and I’m so full of adrenaline and nervous energy, I let out a sharp laugh. “No, you’re not.”

  He unfreezes and dumps the toiletries into a black duffel bag. “Yes. I am.”

  I knew this was coming, yet as much as I’d tried to prepare for it, I’m still stunned into silence. The pain in my chest takes my breath away, and all the places I’d tried to protect flare and burn.

  I can’t speak.

  He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I’ve tried so hard to find an excuse to stay with you, but I can’t. I’ve tried to conquer my issues so I didn’t infect you with them, and I’ve failed. Every day I see you shut down a little more, and I know it’s my fault. If I stay, I won’t just kill your spirit, I’ll kill your career. I can already see it affecting your acting, and that fucking slays me. I can’t do it, Cassie. I can’t drag you down with me. As much as it kills me to go, it would ruin me more to stay.”

  I swallow with effort, desperately trying to numb the pain. I breathe in and out a few times and pretend this isn’t happening.

  He’s leaving me. Again.

  He told me he could be in a relationship with me, but it was a lie. A beautiful lie I really wanted to believe. I’m so incredibly stupid.

  “Cassie,” he says as he takes a step toward me. “Please say something.”

  “What do you expect me to say?” My voice is flat and disconnected. I beg my emotions to be the same way.

  “I don’t know. Tell me you understand.”

  I look at him, still dazed. “I don’t.”

  “Tell me you don’t hate me.”

  That makes me laugh. It seems strange that I can make such a happy noise when I’m filling up with misery. “When did you make this decision?”

  “Right after we were given our offers.”

  I stare at him. “But . . . you took Hamlet.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “So you lied to me?”

  “No, I never told you I took it. You just assumed I would.”

  I’m so close to screaming my head off, it’s scaring me. “When exactly were you going to tell me? On your way to the airport?”

  He looks down at his hands. “I’ve tried to find the courage to tell you dozens of times. Then I think about actually leaving, and this . . . hole . . . opens up inside me, and it hurts too much for me to even think about it.”

  It hurts him too much to tell me he’s leaving me? My throat constricts as pain spills into my chest like molten heartache.

  I try to slow down my breathing. To push down my anger.

  I can’t.

  “Fuck you, Ethan! I offered to pass on Portrait to save us, and you wouldn’t let me!”

  “Portrait isn’t the problem!” he says and steps toward me. “Even Connor isn’t the problem. The problem is me, and how you are when you’re with me. It’s not healthy, Cassie. I want to give you so much, but all I do is take, and I’m going to end up like a lead weight around your ankles. You can’t tell me you don’t already feel it happening.”

  “So, you’re leaving? Running away like that’s a solution?!”

  “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “You could stay! Fight for us. For me.”

  “I have been fighting! And losing! Don’t you fucking get it? You’re better off without me. You always have been. I was just too in love with you to admit it. Now I’m doing the only thing I can think of, and you should be grateful you’ll finally be free of me.”

  He’s panting. I’m trembling with emotion.

  There’s so much I want to say to him, but it trips over itself until I’m left with nothing.

  No clever barbs. No entreaties. No begging him to change his mind.

  Nothing.

  Nothing.

  My heart beats like a living wound inside me. I close my eyes against the pain. After a few breaths, bitterness floods my system and I finally go numb.

  It’s strange. Like a natural anesthetic.

  When I open my eyes and look at him, I feel impassive and cold. Shut down. Part of me registers I’ve gone into shock, but I don’t care.

  I shrug. “I guess that’s it, then.”

  “Cassie—”

  “You’re going to miss graduation.”

  “If there was any other way—”

  “Have a good trip. I’m sure you’ll be a fantastic Mercutio.”

  I turn to leave. When I’m almost at the front door, he yells, “Wait!”

  I stop but don’t turn around. I feel him behind me, close but not touching.

  He exhales and it ruffles my hair. “I hate this. I hate myself. Please . . .” He touches my hand, but I pull back like his fingers burn. Then I do what I should have done months ago: I walk
away from him and don’t look back.

  *

  Present Day

  New York City, New York

  Graumann Theater

  We walk out of the theater exhausted. Besides doing the show every night, we’ve been coming in during the day to make sure Ethan’s understudy is fully prepared to go on tomorrow night.

  Working with Nathan has been interesting. He’s an excellent actor, and even though our chemistry is very different, I think the audience will still respond to it.

  Ethan has been surprisingly cool about our love scenes, and even gave Nathan some advice about where to grab my butt to make lifting me easier. When I saw he was totally fine, it gave me the confidence to relax and just do my job. At that point, I could swear I heard Marco breathe a sigh of relief.

  Ethan and I walk home in silence, hands occasionally touching. The familiar ache of wanting him stirs and intensifies. It gets steadily worse as the hours count down to his departure. My panic adds to the mix and demands I do something about it. Touch him. Kiss him. Remind him of all the ways I can make him happy so he doesn’t even consider not coming back.

  When we reach my apartment, we both shuffle nervously. This is going to be goodbye, and that thought makes my veins run with ice.

  “So . . .” he says and gives me a smile. “I guess I’ll see you in a week.”

  “You’re going to be amazing. Enjoy yourself, okay?”

  “I’ll try.”

  We stare at each other for a few seconds before he steps forward and hugs me.

  His breath is warm on my neck as he whispers, “I’m going to miss you so fucking much. Promise we’ll talk every day.”

  “We will.”

  “You and Nathan are going to be great together.”

  “I’m still going to fantasize that he’s you.”

  “Good.” He pulls away. “I love you.” He kisses my forehead, and I lean into his chest.

  When he steps back, I almost lose it. I hate to admit how much I don’t want him to go, but I can’t help myself.