Remembering Juliet

I wake up with a gasp, clutching my hands to cover the sudden ache in my chest. Sweat coats my skin, a damp stickiness that makes my boxers cling to my thighs. Throwing my feet over side of the bed, I ignore the blankets as they curl around my ankles on the floor. My bed-springs squeak in protest underneath my sudden weight shift. I shove my feet into the worn blue house shoes and walk down the stairs, rubbing my arms as chill bumps pop up.

The clock on the oven displays green digital numbers, stating that the time is 2:00 am. I reach in the cabinet and search for a clean cup, grimacing as I take in the barrenness of my commodities. I fill it with water and gulp back some water. Leaning against the counter, I gaze at the bottle of tequila on the table. I rub eyes and sit down at the table, slowly reaching my hand across to grab the neck of the bottle. My head is pounding; I haven't been sober in days. It seems like booze runs in my veins instead of blood. I can feel the air from the vent, the cool slightly stale air blowing into my face, rushing down to fill my lungs.

My head is saying no, but my body is screaming all kinds of other signals. To drown out my thoughts, I take a swig, relishing the sweet warm journey it makes to my stomach. I can already feel the slight buzz settling in the pit of my belly. I put the bottle down and actually thinking about what I'm doing. Thoughts of her rush into my head, causing my heart to burn. Grabbing the bottle, I tip it up, placing it firmly against my lips and guzzle. It causes a tickle in the back of my throat and I start coughing. I drag myself out of the chair, back towards my bed, but I collapse against the wall. I curl my knees to my chest and my breathing shallows out. The bottle slips from my hand, the honey liquid seeping into the planes of the hardwood in small rivers of alcoholic juice.

Memories bombard me. I remember having breakfast with her, the remains still on the table as evidence. I wanted her then, more than I wanted anything; it was like nothing I've ever experienced. Now, when I look into the kitchen all is familiarity. She took my hand and lead me upstairs, only to shut the door in my face.

I wake up, this time on the floor downstairs, squinting at the light pouring in through the sliding glass doors. Rubbing my eyes, I ignore the head rush I get when I stand up. Surprisingly, I can think straight, even if I stumble a bit.

Time to get started.

I walk to my desk, pulling out papers and pictures of her. I grab the phone and the phonebook, prepping myself for a very long day of frustration. I dial the first number, her grandparent’s number, and listen to it ring.

“Hello?” An elderly male voice asks.

“Excuse me, but I’m wondering if Juliet is there?” My voice deep and cracking.

“No, son, can’t say she is. I haven’t seen her in a while. Whose asking?”

I don't answer, I just hang up the phone.

And the day goes on like that, no one knowing where she is and asking who I am. I never answer them when they ask.

I dial her mother’s number.

“Hello, Barbie speaking.”

“I’m sorry to call so late, but is Juliet there?” I hear her sniffle, my stomach heaving, my heart dropping to the floor.

“No, I’ve not seen her. If this is Drake….” I hang up out of fright when she says my name. I can’t bear to hear what she had to say; I am a coward.

I’ve already handed out pictures of her to everyone that would take one, asking if they knew her.

No luck.

I couldn’t get her out of my head, she’s even running through my dreams, on spin cycle. It’s driving me crazy. When I find her, I’m going to ask her to marry me. She doesn’t believe in love, but I’m determined to change her mind. Who can deny the butterflies in my stomach?

I remember waking up the neighbors when she first went missing. Unfamiliar faces, I pleaded with them, trying to get them to understand. But I’m only denied, now I’m dying to find her.

I rush back upstairs and turn the TV on, before I slip back into my bed. On the bedside table there is a picture of us.I lean forward and pick the phone up from the end of the bed, dialing the last number I know.

“Hello?” A groggy voice sounds through the phone speaker.

“Hey, I’m trying to find Juliet, is she there?” I ask, hating the desperate tone in my voice.

“Who is this?” A defensive tone colors the unknown woman’s voice.

“Drake…” I trail off.

“Oh. Drake… Yeah… She’s not… She’s not here right now…”

“Have you seen her recently?”

I listen to the hesitation in the voice, the careful planning of words.

“No, Drake I haven’t. Not since that time you both visited.”

“Great,” I breath out in disappointment, “I hope she’s okay?”

I don’t get an answer, for now, I only hear the click of her hanging up on me and the annoying dial tone.

I throw the phone onto the floor in frustration. I'm not aggravated at the woman, I'm not even pissed at Juliet, I am angry at myself. I let her slip through my fingers.

I don’t mean to bother anyone, I just want to find Juliet. It would be easier to forget about her, if she wasn’t constantly running through my thoughts, her ghost haunting my dreams.

I fall asleep on my bed, clutching Juliet's picture to my heart.

The next day, I wake up. I ignore the tequila bottle on the floor, the stickiness of the spilt liquid and liked the new determination in myself. I lock the door behind me, and head to the only place I haven’t been, hadn’t even thought to look until now.

I visit the lady down the street, the one I should have went to first. She tells me Juliet came to her, told her that she was leaving.

She says, “Juliet’s a free spirit, needs to constantly move around.” When I ask her where Juliet went, she simply says, “She moved away.”

On the walk back to my apartment, it starts to pour the rain. I think it's kind of ironic how it all is coming apart. After I changed into dry clothes, I look out of the window. I don’t know how long I sat there, I just know it rained all day.

I wake up, slumped in the chair, a crick in my neck. Stretching out, I ignore the stinging of my muscles protesting against me. The rain long forgotten, a distant drizzle still coating the now darkened grass.

I didn’t think of much yesterday, but now it’s starting to all make sense. I take the steps two at a time, nearly tripping over the top one. Slinging my closet open, I stare at the clothes on the hangers. All is in its place, including her clothes. I reach for her shirt, sticking my nose into it, inhaling her sweet smell deeply. It smells like she had worn it yesterday, not weeks ago. On the ground, there is a piece of folded paper, my name on the top of it.

I unfold it carefully, afraid of what it was going to say.

Drake,

I’m not coming back, I’ve done something terrible, and I’m terrified, to see what you’d expect out of me. I’m mixed up, all these words are all swirling. I just want you out of my hair, and out of my mind. I’m keeping an eye on the world, so many thousands of feet off the ground. I’m over you now, I’m at home in the clouds, towering over your head.

Juliet

Oh, I can see now. That all of those clouds, were following me in a doomed attempt to find me my Juliet. In my mouth, I taste an unpleasant flavor, it sliding down my throat coating the area around my heart. Dread fills my stomach, no wonder no one had seen her. If her words mean what I think, I’d see her again, in a casket.

The idea of seeing her name on a headstone somewhere in a forgotten cemetery haunts me, poking at my brain, telling me that nothing was okay.

I jump, the phone on the floor ringing. Cautiously moving to answer it, I know what its going to be,

"Hello," I answer dejectedly. A sobbing noise swells in my ears and I hold it away from my face.

"They found her Drake," Barbie says.

A very large hole starts to rip its way through my body, starting in my heart. I don't respond, just listen to her crying. Tears sting my eyes and I put my fist against my lips.

"She's gone..." My stomach falls into my feet. "You were going to be a father..."

I drop the phone and scream. Faintly, I hear Barbie saying my name.

Rushing up the stairs, I grab the knife out of my drawer and go into the bathroom. I stare into the mirror and remember all the times Juliet and I had made love in this room. Screaming again, I raise the knife to my throat.

A sudden warmth seeps into my body and I close my eyes. Juliet stands in front of me, her arms wrapped around me. I realize that she isn't real, but I continue the insanity by speaking to her.

"I love you so much," I croak, "Why?"

To my surprise, she responds.

"I love you Drake," She whispers, " I was weak. Live for me."

I drop the knife and slide down the door. I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I'm going to live for her. Falling asleep, I think about her holding our child.

When I wake up, I realize that all of my anger has dissipated. I don't hate Juliet for her actions, but I know that suicide is not the answer. It's the permanent solution to a temporary problem.

I will forever remember my Juliet.