Happy Endings
By Laura Schiller
Series: The Faerie Path
Copyright: Frewin Jones
The cafeteria roared and bustled from the noise of dozens of conversations under bright neon lights. A line of people shuffled along the stainless steel counter, holding brightly colored plastic trays, laughing and joking as they collected their food. The two people at one of the small tables by the window, however, were completely unaware of the clamor around them; as far as they were concerned, they were alone in the room, deep in conversation.
"What I don't understand," said Evan, gesturing with a white plastic fork, "Is why you keep breaking out in giggles during the crypt scene. You're a brilliant actress, Anita, so why is Juliet's death so hard for you?"
Anita blushed, smiled nervously, and took a bite of lasagna before replying. A brilliant actress? Wow!
"It's just so ridiculous," she exclaimed. "Over-the-top, y'know? I just can't take it seriously." She grabbed the plastic knife and pointed it at her chest, affecting a loud, groaning voice: "Oooh, happy dagger! This is thy sheath! There rust... and let me DIE!"
She collapsed into giggles halfway through; Evan joined her laughing, and so did several people at the neighboring tables.
"The rest of Juliet's lines are over-the-top too sometimes," Evan pointed out once he could catch his breath.
"Yeah, but that's because she's in love," Anita explained, between sips of chocolate milk. "I know what it's like to be in love, but I've never had the urge to kill myself."
Realizing what she'd just said, Anita's face burst into flame. Damned redhead complexion, she grumbled to herself, looking down at her lasagna plate and shoveling down food so she wouldn't have to talk. Of course she knew what love was like – she had learned it from the boy in front of her! And trust her to nearly blurt it out, when most likely he only saw her as a fellow cast member and maybe a sort of friend.
"Well, that's good," said Evan, grinning at her, before his face turned serious again. His smiles were so rare; coaxing one out of him made her feel unreasonably proud and happy.
"What would you do, then?" he asked her, leaning forward a little. "If you were Juliet? If you woke up in the family tomb, expecting your true love to come for you, and saw him dead at your feet? Your Romeo, your one and only love? Would you be strong enough to just walk out of there, and live your life as if nothing had happened?"
Anita found herself fidgeting and twisting her hair; suddenly the mood had become too intense for her comfort. Evan's chestnut-brown eyes were fixed on her, as if trying to read his answer in her face.
"Well, if you put it like that...I don't know. Maybe not. Maybe the depression would be too much for me. But then...if I knew he'd really loved me...staying alive would be the right thing to do, wouldn't it? After all, he would want me to at least try to be strong."
Evan's eyes lowered thoughtfully. "Hmm. You're right. After all, what kind of selfish bastard would want his love to kill herself for his sake? Juliet was only fourteen, after all. Her whole life was ahead of her."
Anita was startled, like she'd just driven over a pothole. Now they were back to talking about Romeo and Juliet – just when the conversation had begun to get personal. She couldn't say whether she was relieved or disappointed.
"If I could rewrite the play," Evan continued, "They would have both lived. I'm a fool for happy endings, just like you," he added, smiling, with another odd look in Anita's direction. Was he flirting with her?
To defuse the situation, she decided to crack a joke. "Right. So the moral of the story is, keep your kids away from sharp objects and suspicious liquids. Especially if they're in love."
Evan pulled a face halfway between amusement and disgust, looking so bizarre that Anita had to laugh again. For a moment, she saw everything like a photograph in front of her – the midday sunlight streaming in from the window, the grey plastic table, the nearly finished meals and chocolate milk cartons, and Evan in his black hooded sweater, his golden curls bouncing as he shook his head over her bad taste in jokes. An average moment. A perfect moment. She almost wished it could stay like this forever.