Marietta paced her room, her calendar in hand. She kept flipping the pages between August and now, mid-November. Something wasn't right here. In that whole time period, there was only one red circle on a date. She usually skipped a month in the summer, but that had happened in June. And it was fall, almost winter. Her hands kept flipping the pages to September and her eyes landed on a day. The day after her birthday.
In the beginning of October, she'd gotten the stomach flu. She hadn't been able to get out of bed without throwing up. It had lasted a week, and she spent it curled up in bed, reading if she could manage it, but mostly sleeping and feeling horrible. Because she couldn't get out of bed and her parents didn't care, she'd taken nothing to make her feel better. It had been the longest week of her life. But, both she and Benvolio had dismissed it as just that-a stomach flu. What if…it was something else?
She sat down on her bed, sighing and looking at the calendar. Why? Why was this happening? It didn't make sense. Nothing made much sense anymore. She glanced over at her trash can. Yesterday she'd received a letter--more of a note, really, postmark Mantua. All it had said was 'I know what you've been doing. It stops when I return.'. If something was really happening, then Benvolio would be killed, and God knows what Abra would do to her.
Marietta squeezed her eyes shut and tried to make her problems disappear. As hard as she tried, all she kept thinking about was her calendar, and how terribly off it was. How terrible life would be if it was what it seemed to be. How could she not have noticed? 'Don't count your chickens before they hatch.' She told herself. 'It could be nothing.' But as she stood and grabbed her keys from the bedside table, she knew it wasn't.
Benvolio was rather hopeless when it came to jewelry shopping. He stood in the middle of the store, staring blankly at a display. They all looked the same. How was he supposed to know which ones were going to make her smile and which ones weren't? He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. This was pathetic. Simply pathetic.
"Do you need some help?"
Benvolio turned in surprise at the familiar voice. Bernadette stood behind him, eyebrows raised ands holding a broom. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
She held up the broom. "This is my high-paying job." She replied rather sarcastically. "I get the fun of being a janitor."
"Ah." He said, slightly guilty. With his family being so rich and everything, he had never had a job. He had no idea how it felt to be paid less than minimum wage.
"So, you're still in the doghouse?" she grinned wickedly, leaning on her broom.
Benvolio winced. He and Marietta had gotten into a bit of a fight at the Halloween party. She didn't like that he'd had so many one-night stands. She'd said that if he had done that then, how was she supposed to trust him not to start cheating on her? Benvolio understood what she felt (he was angry at himself for having been so stupid before they met), and pretty much let her yell at him. He had then proceeded to try and convince her he had changed. She had seemed convinced, but she had still been giving him a bit of a cold shoulder. Last week she'd apparently gotten sick of ignoring him, and they had made up. Still, Benvolio felt that he should give her something to prove that he loved her more than anyone else. And now he was in a jewelry store. "Ah…not quite."
Bern rolled her eyes. "She hates necklaces, you know." She pointed out, jerking her thumb at the display case beside him.
"Yes, I know!" he snapped, glaring down at the jewels. She had told him that she hated necklaces before. She said she hated the feel of them, the weight. 'Like a collar.' She had said.
He did not want his 'I'm sorry, I love you, please forgive me' present to seem like he wanted to control her, to yank her along on a little chain. That was Abra's horrible intention, not his. But Abra already gave her necklaces made of bruises…
His fist clenched inside his coat pocket. God, he hated that man. He'd kill him if he could, but killing Abra would send him to exile in Mantua. He'd rather hate the man and not be able to do anything than be away from Marietta and not be able to help her. Benvolio sighed, turning away from the display case. So many problems, and yet no solutions.
"May I suggest this counter?" Bern walked to another one a few yards away and tapped on the glass. He followed her, and stared in shock at it's contents. Rings, any type you wanted. Gold, silver, diamond, pearl. All glinting up at him, practically screaming 'Look at me!'
"I--" he tore his gaze away from the jewelry to glare at Bern. "I can't give her a ring!" he hissed.
She gave him a stare that clearly said 'You really are an idiot, aren't you?'. "You're afraid of commitment." She stated.
"I am not!" he cried. Several heads turned to stare at him. "I just--" he stared back down at the rings in fright. "When he comes back he'll see her wearing it and he'll know it's from me!" He leaned forward until he was nose-to-nose with Bernadette. "And then he will kill me."
She leaned backwards. "He would notice anything in this store, regardless of what it was." Her eyes suddenly lit up. "Except…" she looked around to see if any other employees were nearby. Then she handed him her broom and ducked behind the counter. She pulled a tray of rings out of the display and set it down for him to see.
"A claddagh." She breathed.
"A what!" he asked incredulously, leaning the broom against the counter.
She glared at him before taking one of the rings out of the tray and handed it to him. "A claddagh. An Irish ring, originally designed in the 17th century. Legend says the designer's name was Robert Joyce and he was kidnapped by pirates or something, and when he finally returned home, he presented his lover with a claddagh."
Benvolio stared at the little ring. Two hands delicately held a heart between them, the heart topped with a crown. It was silver and thin, with no jewels, and could easily be mistaken for a fake trinket instead of an actual ring. So elegant and yet so simple.
So perfect.
"Tradition dictates that a girl who is without love should wear it on her right hand, with the heart pointing outwards. If a girl has love for someone but is unsure if he loves her back, the heart should be pointed inward. And…" Bern smiled at the ring in his hands. "If the man the girl loves is also in love with her, then the ring would be on the left hand, heart inward."
"How do you know all that?" he wondered, not taking his eyes away from the ring.
She held up her right hand. An identical ring sat on her finger, heart inward. "No Irish girl is complete with out one of these." She declared rather proudly.
He glanced at her hand. "It's pointing in." He grinned wickedly. "Who's the guy?"
"None of your business!" she cried, blushing and putting her hand behind her back.
Benvolio went back to studying the one in his hand. "What does it all mean, anyway? The heart, and crown?"
"The hands signify friendship, the crown loyalty, and the heart undying love." She told him, looking fondly down at the tray of claddaghs. "But I prefer to think of it as two hands; one heart."
"Hey!"
Both jerked around in surprise. An employee was storming over to them. "What are you doing back there!"
Bern ducked out from behind the counter, grabbed her broom and was about to hurry away, but then looked at him and nodded at the ring in his hands. "Together you and her have one heart. You both need to hold it so it doesn't fall and break. Two hands…" she poked his chest. "…one heart." And with that, Bernadette scurried off.
The employee arrived beside Benvolio, glaring at Bern's retreating back. "I'm sorry. I hope she hasn't been much of a bother."
"No…not at all." He smiled at the man. "I'd like to buy this ring."
Marietta didn't even glance at her mother. She barely noticed the woman entering her room. She simply continued to stare at her bathroom door, and the utter finality the wastebasket contained. How could one piece of plastic have such power, bringing her from living happily and being loved to…to what? This utter emptiness at knowing that her body held something else? Something alive? Problem after problem was appearing before her eyes, and she didn't know that her mother was about to deliver the biggest one of all.
"Marietta." Her mother said with no emotion whatsoever.
"Yes, Mother?" Marietta slowly turned to look at her, her mind still numb with the reality of it all.
"Your uncle and Lord Montague--" she said the name with such hatred that Marietta felt a sudden stab of dread. What would they say when she told them? What would Benvolio say? What would Abra do to her? "--have decided that there's too much between the families with them as Lords. As a result, they are both handing over the title to the next of kin in the hopes that new Lords might do the city good and release some of the hatred."
Why was her mother telling her this? It didn't concern her. Juliet was next-of-kin, Marietta was the last of the immediate Capulets to receive the title. What did she have to do with this plot? Then she remembered. Juliet was dead, Tybalt was dead. And that meant…
"Me!" Marietta cried. "I have to take the title!"
"Your husband will have to. Which means you have to get married within the month." Her mother told her. "And as Abra appears to be your only suitor, I suppose the wedding will be after he gets back."
"I will not marry him!" Marietta cried, jumping to her feet. She was angry beyond angry, she was downright furious. How--How could they even think about making her wed him! Didn't they see! They had ears and eyes, why couldn't they see what he'd done to her! Tears of fury sprang to her eyes. "Haven't you seen what he's done!"
"Marietta, stop this childish nonsense." Her mother replied, crossing her arms.
"He hurts me!" Marietta cried. "He beats me and bruises me and he keeps trying to--to rape me, Mother! Why do you keep ignoring everything he's done!"
Her mother's face grew dark. "Now see here." She said sternly. "Making up stories will not make us change our minds. Whether you want to or not, you will get married and take the title."
Marietta wanted to scream and cry and run and even hit her mother. "I'm not lying! I'm not making anything up! You saw me walk on crutches for a week! That was him!" she felt a few tears run down her cheeks. "Just because Juliet's dead doesn't mean that I am!"
Her mother drew in a sharp breath. "How dare you dishonor your cousin like that!" she walked forward and grabbed her daughter by the hair. Marietta cried out, struggling. Their faces were inches apart. "You know what? I always wished you had died instead of them." She tightened her grip on the fistful of hair. "If I am to be stuck with you, you could at least do what's asked of you, for once. I will not hesitate to disown you if it comes to that."
Marietta was trying not to cry. She had always known her parents didn't love her, but she'd never heard them say it. The words were like a knife through her heart. "Mother…" she choked out.
"That is final." Her mother hissed, before releasing her and shoving her towards the bed. Marietta collapsed upon it, sobbing into her blankets. Her mother swept out of the room without a second glance.
Outside the room stood her father. He glared at his wife as she strode out. "That was not necessary."
Her mother looked upon him haughtily. "I don't know why you are concerned about her. She's nothing."
Her husband grabbed her arm. "She's our daughter. I don't know why you insist on thinking of her as dirt under your feet."
"She will never be Juliet."
He tightened his grip on her arm. "Juliet was not your daughter, the sobbing girl in this room is. At least pretend you love her."
She yanked her arm away. "That is your weakness, Andrew. You do love her." She walked away, head held high.
Andrew Capulet sighed and sagged against the wall. He listened to the sobs emitting from the room. How did loving your own child make you weak? He wanted to go in there, comfort her, tell her it would be alright. But he couldn't. His wife held the strings, including the ones controlling him. She had power over him, and because of that he could not show affection to his daughter. He looked into the room, pained that he could do nothing. "I wish I could help you." He whispered before walking away.
Benvolio walked numbly towards the stage to meet Marietta. He'd just gotten out of lunch with his father and uncle. He was going to have to take the title, and all the responsibilities that went with it. He didn't think he was ready for such things. They had also hinted that getting married was not required of him, but it would be a plus. He fingered the ring box in his coat pocket. An arranged marriage meant forgetting Marietta, losing the one thing that mattered to him anymore. He couldn't let her be hurt, he couldn't just leave her to die with Abra.
Wait. If he was going to be taking his family's title, did that mean that…She was going to have to become Lady Capulet? That meant…she would be required to get married so her husband could be Lord. Oh, God. Her family didn't know about the both of them, he didn't count as a prospective suitor. Only…only Abra.
He stopped dead in his tracks. They would force her to marry Abra.
"No!" he shouted, breaking into a run. He didn't know what he was doing. Would her parents listen to him? What did he have to say? 'You can't let him marry her.' was all he could think of. It ran through his head as he sprinted across the boardwalk. He had to stop them.
"Benvolio?"
He tried to find the source of the voice. He realized he was past the stage, his former destination. Marietta stood there, looking like she had been crying recently. He walked towards her. "Do you have to take the title?"
She nodded slowly. "They're making me marry him."
It was too late. He drew her into his arms, holding her while she cried quietly. He could not stop them. It seemed like there was nothing he could do to prevent it. "It'll be alright…" he told her, but he didn't believe it.
"No, it's--it's not just that." She pulled away from him. "I--" she buried her face in her hands. "I'm pregnant."
He stared at her in shock. "You--You're pregnant?" Fear swept over him like a wave. How--how was it even possible? In all the things he'd ever done, they'd never resulted in this. A kid. His kid. He didn't know how to be a father! He hardly knew how to be anything. He had to take over a company and now he was going to be a dad? It was just so…mind-blowing. So terrifying. He wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready for any of the things they were throwing at him. All these responsibilities.
And as sudden as it had come, the fear left. Benvolio reached out and brought Marietta's hands away from her face. She looked up at him with teary eyes. "Hey…" he smiled. "It's not the end of the world."
"He'll kill me when he finds out!" she hissed. "And if he decides to let me live, he'll push me down the stairs or something and kill it." Her hand protectively went to her stomach. "And even if he ends up doing nothing, they'll exile me to Mantua for having a child out of wedlock. My mother threatened to disown me when I refused to marry him, when she finds out about this she'll throw me out!"
"If she throws you out you can come stay with me." He said firmly. "But stop worrying about all the things people will think, and concentrate on us. On me and you and our child. Just think of it! A little Marietta reading under the covers instead of sleeping."
She chuckled. "Or a little Benvolio running around causing all sorts of trouble."
"Yes." He grinned. "Everything will be okay as long as we're together. We just have to tell your parents and then you won't be able to marry Abra. And if he tries to hurt you, he has to go through me first."
Marietta hugged him tightly. "I love you."
He hugged her back, not wanting to let her go. "I love you, too."
Benvolio became aware of the ring in his pocket. He wanted to give it to her, but was now the right time? Why would it not be? With this sudden new development, it seemed like giving it to say 'I'm sorry' just wasn't right. Like it shouldn't be used for an apology, but for a question.
He wasn't quite sure of what he was doing until the ring was out of his pocket and in his hand. He wasn't even sure of all the consequences that would come. All he knew was that it would solve all their problems. And it just felt right. He opened the ring box and held it out in front of her
"Will you marry me?"
She gasped and took the little box out of his hands. She looked from the ring, to him, then back to the ring. And then she laughed, throwing her arms around him. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times."
She kissed him, and he knew he had made the right decision. Now, he just had to convince his parents of that fact. She broke away from him, her face falling. "But you know how my family is. You have to ask permission to marry me, and they'll never agree."
Benvolio brushed a piece of hair out of her face. "Ma will know what to do."
"You're what!"
"Engaged." Benvolio repeated, wincing.
Anna stared at them in shock. Then she threw her hands up in the air. "You are twenty-one years old!"
"I know how old I am." Benvolio replied in defense. "And you got married when you were my age."
Anna couldn't argue with this, so she stuck her paintbrush behind her ear and frowned. Benvolio and Marietta had arrived in his mother's studio a minute ago to ask for her advice. They hadn't gotten around to telling her about the child yet. One announcement at a time.
"I can't believe this." Anna muttered, walking out of her studio. Benvolio and Marietta trailed after her like ducklings.
"Ma, you said you approved." Benvolio reminded her.
"Of you dating, yes!" Anna cried. "But not of marriage!"
"I'm pregnant."
Anna halted and turned to look at Marietta. It were the first words she'd said since arriving at Benvolio's house. Benvolio also stared at her. That information was not supposed to come until later.
"Come again?" Anna asked faintly.
"I'm pregnant." Marietta said, more determined. "And we need your help. My parents will refuse to let us get married. You said you went to law school, don't you know anything I can say that'll make them change their minds?"
Anna blinked. Then her face broke into a grin. "Why didn't you say that in the first place?" She put her arm around Marietta's shoulders. "I know just what to do."
Cliffhanger!
I actually researched all the things the claddagh stood for. And I asked my mom and her friend about how they knew they were pregnant. My mom said she was sick as a dog and couldn't get out of bed unless she had something in her stomach. Her friend said that she didn't have morning sickness and hadn't realized she was pregnant until she was four months along. So it's different for every woman, I guess.
The reason for the little note at the beginning about the Goo Goo Dolls song is that when I originally planned out this chapter, I had 'Slide' in there at the part where Benvolio proposed. However, after writing it, I realized that the lyrics just ruined the effect of his proposal, instead of adding onto it like they usually do. So I took them out. I use song lyrics too much, anyway.
Marietta's dad appeared for the first time. Yay! And the reason for her mother being the way she is will be explained in time. And…that's all. Hope you enjoyed this eventful chapter!