Saving Juliet

by Suzanne Selfors

  "The potion's perfectly safe?" I asked.

  "Yes." He paused to rub his chin. "I have never actually used it. But others before me have."

  "Then what?" Juliet asked.

  "Then your nurse will dress you for burial and I will escort your body to the tomb," the friar said.

  "How long will she sleep?" I asked.

  "Half a day, not much more than that. I can make a stimulating potion if we should need to wake her up earlier."

  Juliet scrunched her face, as if suddenly pained. "This will not work at all. The Capulets always host very long visitations, for days and days. How can I lie still for days and days? It is impossible." Her shoulders dropped and she flung her head back. "Oh, how can we make this work?"

  "Why would she have to lie there for days and days if she's inside the casket?" I wondered.

  "Juliet will be laid atop her casket as tradition dictates. This could be our undoing," the friar fretted. He started pacing. "If Juliet's body disappeared, the Capulets would suspect foul play on the part of the Montagues and that would be certain to escalate the violence."

  "They might even guess the truth, that I had faked my death." Juliet frantically wound a lock of hair between her fingers. "They would go looking for me. And they would know that you had something to do with it, Friar."

  "Lord have mercy."

  "Then we have to make sure that no one comes for the visitation. How can we do that?" I tapped my fingers on the table. "How?" I tapped faster, straining my brain. The friar thought so hard that it looked as if he was having a bowel movement. Juliet started pacing, too. Her hair, formerly flattened by the hood, had regained its spring and bounced against the herb bundles as she paced.

  Troy peered into the room. He had been so quiet during our planning that I had forgotten all about him. "Your plan stinks. I'm going to get Romeo," he announced.

  I stopped tapping. "But Troy ..."

  "It's the only thing that makes sense." He leaned against the wall, taking the weight off his hurt leg, and started tying his shirt. "Friar, where can I find Romeo?"

  "He should be at Montague House. It lies at the opposite end of this very street."

  "But Troy ..."

  "Don't try to stop me, Mimi," he said, adjusting his tights. "I'm going to go get Romeo and bring him back to meet Juliet so they can fall in love and do what they were meant to do, before you doom us both. I have no intention of losing my music contract. Nor do I intend to lie on that cot and die of an infection." He started down the stairs.

  That was it!

  I leaped off the stool. "Friar, if you told everyone that Juliet had died of plague, what would happen to her body?"

  The friar's mouth fell open. He looked at me, dumbfounded. "Plague? The family would panic. No one would dare go near Juliet. She would be placed in her casket and it would be set afire."

  "Who would set her casket on fire?"

  "Why, I would." His eyes lit up and he clapped his hands. "Holy St. Francis, you have solved the riddle."

  Juliet stopped pacing. Needles of dried rosemary speckled her hair. "Then you will take me to Manhattan? I'd love to be an actor, just like you, Mimi. Will you take me there to be an actor?"

  "I wish I could but I don't think it's possible. I don't even know if I can go back."

  She stuck out her lower lip and sighed. "I so want to be an actor."

  If she only knew the realities of the acting life. But I wasn't about to crush her dream. If she wanted to be an actor, then let her be an actor. More power to her!

  "Juliet must not travel alone. The world is far too dangerous for a girl on her own," Friar Laurence pointed out. "There are bandits and rapists at every bend in the road. And I am not prepared to leave Verona, not with my obligations to the governing board. Besides, I have no money for travel. Perhaps you and Troy could escort her."

  "You can't count on us," I said. "We don't know how long we'll be here. Besides, we don't have money either."

  Juliet slumped over the workshop table. Her eyes filled with tears. "I have no money either, except a few coins. Without money I shall have to go straight to a nunnery." She started to cry. "I cannot be an actor in a nunnery." A nunnery meant living in solitude, totally shut away from the world. That would protect her from the Capulets, but it would simply be exchanging one prison for another. She had way too much spunk for a nunnery.

  "We can figure this out," I insisted. "We just need to find an escort and we need to get our hands on some money."

  "Or, we need to find an escort with money," the friar said cleverly.

  Of course! Who else but the very person who is supposed to be with Juliet in the first place? He wasn't doing anything, anyway. Just sitting around, moaning about that stupid Rosaline. It wasn't like he had to fall in love with Juliet, or vice versa. He just had to help her get out of the city, to a safe new life. And he had told Rosaline that his chests overflowed with gold coins.

  I ran back to the bedroom and opened the window, hoping I could catch him. "Troy!" I called. It was early evening and the moon had not yet risen. In the dim light I could barely see Troy standing in the road. He was looking up at me. "Troy," I yelled again. "Wait for us. I want to take Juliet to meet Romeo. He'll help her get out of this wedding, I'm sure of it."

  "Mimi!" Troy stumbled into the bedroom, his eyes wild. The guy I had been yelling at was still standing in the road. "Tybalt's outside," Troy said. "He saw me. I bolted the door but it won't keep him out for long." Juliet and the friar rushed into the bedroom.

  Tybalt? I jumped back from the window. Oh God, what had I done?

  "Juliet!" Tybalt yelled from the street. "I know you are in there with that Montague scum. Come out or I shall break down the door."

  Juliet gasped. "He must have followed me. Oh Mimi, I've put you in danger."

  "Friar," Troy said. "Is there a back door or something?"

  "Heaven have mercy." Friar Laurence took a lamp from the desk and lit it. "There's an old passageway that leads under the church. But it hasn't been used in many years. Friar Hugh built it for secret visits to his mistress."

  "Juliet!" Tybalt hollered.

  "I must go to Tybalt," Juliet said. "If I do, perhaps he will leave the rest of you alone." That did not seem likely. Troy and I had totally pissed him off.

  "What will happen when your parents find out that you left your room?" I asked. "When they find out that you were with a Montague?"

  "They would not dare to hurt me, not on the eve of my wedding. I shall be safe, Mimi. Do not worry."

  I pointed to her bodice, where the potion was hidden "Don't drink that until you get word from Friar Laurence, just before your wedding. In the meantime, we'll work out all the other details." I tried to sound confident, to mask my growing fear. "I'll see you when you wake up." We hugged again. Her shoulders felt as tense as mine. This whole situation was a complete mess. What had I started and where would it end? Oh please let it end happily. If time had permitted, I would have fallen to my knees and prayed to St. Francis.

  But Tybalt started ramming the church door.

  "Come," Friar Laurence said. I slipped my feet into the wooden shoes, my toes screaming with each step. We followed the friar down the stairs and into the sanctuary. The altar stood aglow in candlelight. Tybalt screamed Juliet's name, hurling himself at the door. Friar Laurence hurried to the statue of St. Francis, kissed its feet, then pushed at its base. The entire statue slid back effortlessly, revealing an opening in the floor with stairs that led beneath the church. "We will need you to close the opening," the friar told Juliet. Then he made the sign of the cross over her head. "May St. Francis see you safely home."

  I was the last to enter the dank stairway, turning as the statue slid back into place. As Juliet's freckled face disappeared from view, doubt gripped my entire body. I waited and listened, not wanting to leave until I knew she'd be okay. Juliet unbolted the church door.

  "Traitor!" Tybalt cried. "I will drag you back to the house for all to se
e. You will be disowned. Where is he, the one with the wounded leg? Is he your lover? I will kill him for having led you astray."

  "You will do no such thing." Juliet's assertive tone surprised me. "You have as much to benefit from my marriage as everyone else. You will take me back home, Tybalt, and deliver me safely to my room so that the wedding may proceed, as much for your neck as for mine." Well said. I gave her a mental high five.

  "And then what? Romeo will come and rescue you? Is that what you are planning?" There was a long silence. Friar Laurence, Troy, and I held our breaths. "You are a fool with a little girl's mind," Tybalt said. "You cannot avoid this wedding. If anyone tries to stop the wedding, they will have to do so over my dead body." There was a shuffling sound. I think he grabbed her. "I will deliver you safely. But then I will send my men to search this church and to search the entire city. We shall find the bastard with the wounded leg, and we shall find Mimi of Manhattan and Romeo. I shall personally kill all three."

  Jeez. Enough with the death threats.

  "She seems capable of handling him," Troy whispered. "So, are you coming with me to get Romeo?"

  "Yes." But I didn't mention my latest plan.

  Walking through a sixteenth-century tunnel is not for the faint of heart. First of all, things dripped on me. Don't ask me what kind of things because I didn't have the stomach to investigate. The air was cold and dank. If there's anyplace where that poisonous black mold might grow, this was the place. I imagined microscopic spores infiltrating my lungs.

  Another downside to the whole sixteenth-century tunnel experience was that things squeaked and squealed. Living things and they occasionally brushed against us as we walked. I screamed a few times and I'm not proud of that fact. Rats bring out the distressed damsel in me. Even Troy reacted with curses and groans. He started humming his song, "Girl, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, girl," either from nervousness or as a way to warn the rats that we were coming. I started humming it as well. Even the friar took up the mind-numbing melody. I bumped into Troy twice during our songfest. The first time he ignored me. The second time he snapped, "Watch out for my leg."

  Last, but not least in the list of horrors, was the fact that the stone floor was under about three inches of standing water. I don't know what color the water was, but it slopped into my shoes. A headache throbbed at my temples, brought on by the lack of oxygen and the probably toxic mold. A scalp massage, a la Benvolio, sounded lovely, just like the one he had given me in the alley. But did I really want him touching my hair again? I hadn't washed it in days, hadn't brushed my teeth either. I probably had a half-dozen pimples from that oily party makeup and I was pretty sure all the BO in that tunnel wasn't coming just from Troy. Okay, so I was being vain, even with multiple death threats hanging over my head. But I was hoping to see Benvolio again and I didn't want to smell like a sixteenth-century gutter.

  "Almost there," Friar Laurence said, his lamp bouncing with his short steps.

  The tunnel slanted uphill for about thirty paces then dead-ended. The friar handed Troy the lamp. "Our exit is up there." He pushed at the ceiling and grunted until it gave way. Dim light filtered through, as did strands of straw. "This barn belongs to the church's neighbor. He is a friendly man, but still, we should attempt quiet." Troy pushed the friar's wide rear end through the exit. Then Troy struggled out. Both he and the friar took my outstretched arms and whisked me into fresh air.

  A full moon had begun to rise. A cow gave us a curious look. Some chickens stirred, then tucked their beaks into their feathers. Friar Laurence extinguished the lamp and left it in the barn. "We will take the side street to Montague House," he whispered.

  "We have to get to Romeo before Tybalt does," I urged.

  "But Tybalt is supposed to fight Romeo," Troy said, poking me in the arm. "And Romeo kills him. That's a good thing because then Tybalt won't kill us."

  True, Romeo kills Tybalt in the play, but as much as Troy wanted it to be, this was not the play. This Romeo was a tender guy whose heart overflowed with love and whose mind was weighed down by depression. This Tybalt was a bulging hulk whose heart overflowed with hatred and whose mind craved revenge. This Romeo was no match for this Tybalt.

  I quickened my pace. "Holy St. Francis," I mumbled. "I hope we're not too late."

  Twenty

  ***

  "Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?"

  We arrived at an imposing stone fortress. Men in black and orange uniforms flanked the entryway--a set of carved doors lit by mounted torches. The friar bowed and spoke to a guard, who in turn told us to wait. Troy and I scanned the street. Thankfully, no one had followed us. Though I guessed it was around dinnertime, the surroundings lay in deep silence. Working folk seemed to tuck themselves away early. That made sense, I supposed, in a world without electricity or television.

  A man emerged from Montague House. Long and lean, he wore checkered tights, red shorts, and a puffy blue shirt that billowed as he sashayed toward us--certainly not Montague colors. His shoulder-length hair could have been a color swatch for Fire Engine Red. He tipped his feathered hat and bowed. "Friar Laurence, a delight to see you as always."

  "Good evening, Mercutio," the friar said. I had forgotten all about Mercutio. Neither Capulet nor Montague, he's a very good friend of Romeo's. Actors really love the role because Mercutio has these huge monologues and a gloriously melodramatic death scene at the hands of Tybalt. "May I introduce Mimi and Troy of Manhattan," the friar said. "They have come to speak with Romeo."

  Mercutio bowed again, then repositioned his hat. The feather caressed his powdered cheek. "My young friend has locked himself in his room and will speak to no one. I have exhausted myself trying to tempt him forth. Come, maybe you will have better luck."

  Friar Laurence took me aside. "I must return to my church. If I am not there when Tybalt's men arrive, they might do great damage."

  "But what will you tell them about Troy and me?"

  "I will tell them that my church is a place of sanctuary and those who come seeking medical attention, be they Capulet or Montague, will receive care." He smiled. "I leave it to you to work out the rest of the details. Romeo is well familiar with the streets beyond Verona so he will have no trouble guiding Juliet out of the city. When you hear the bells chime tomorrow eve, you will know that Juliet has drunk the potion. Soon after, we must all meet at the Capulet tomb." I must have looked terrified because he took my hand and squeezed. "God works in mysterious ways, my child. I believe that your magic charm is one of those ways. Your arrival serves a greater purpose. We must have faith, but we must also have courage." He squeezed again, then waddled off.

  Like Capulet House, dozens of paintings lined the inner Montague hallway, and a winding staircase led to Romeo's room. Mercutio rattled on and on about the house's design.

  He was a total bore. He walked on tiptoe and whipped his hands around like a hyperactive conductor.

  "Is Benvolio around?" I asked. Right on cue, Troy snorted.

  "Benvolio is on patrol but he's due to return shortly. Ah, here we are," Mercutio announced with a graceful flourish.

  A servant stood outside Romeo's bedroom, hovering over a basket of laundry. "Young master will not be moved," the old man told us. "I am to bathe him and change his clothing but he refuses."

  "More stubborn than an ass," Mercutio said, pounding his fist on the door. "Romeo! Madman! Lover! Speak to me, friend. A song will suffice. Perhaps a sonnet. Recite one simple rhyme and I shall be satisfied."

  "Go away."

  "Go away. That, my friend, does not rhyme." Mercutio folded his arms and leaned against the door. "How about, go away until another day? Or, go away and eat some hay."

  "Go away, I say!"

  "A true poet, yet he does not know it." Mercutio tilted his hat to the side. "Come out and charm us with your verse."

  "Not until Rosaline loves me."

  "Dear boy, if a woman does not wish to love, then she will not love. Women can control their hearts in
ways that men can never imagine. Wouldn't you agree, Mimi?"

  This particular woman had no idea how to control her heart. It thumped one minute for Troy and the next minute for Benvolio. Well aware of Troy's stare, I shrugged. "I'm the wrong person to ask."