When he said please, she couldn’t deny him. “I’m falling for you, Romeo,” she blurted.
“Oh, Juliet! This is wonderful. How can you think of it as otherwise?”
“Because I’m not smart or talented or anything. You could do a lot better, and you won’t have to wait years. I’ve got no business lo—falling for you.”
“You are my beloved. Can’t you say the word?”
“Love,” she said. “I can’t love you. I’d be a drag.”
“Never!” he said passionately. He drew on her breast, bringing her forward, and kissed her. “I want your love more than anything else in the world.”
She had to accept it. “Then I guess we really are betrothed.” That was Shakespearean language she had picked up from class discussion. She had never been allowed to have a boyfriend, let alone a fiancé, but this made it seem more acceptable.
“We really are,” he agreed.
Suddenly it overwhelmed her. She leaned down again and kissed him fiercely. “I love you!” she said, and kissed him once more. “I really, really, really do!”
“I am in heaven.”
“So am I.” For the moment. But could this really be real? She wasn’t quite sure.
Romeo
Juliet was there for Romeo’s first walk, after the casts were off, by his request. The nurses had dressed him and wheeled him out to the hall, where there was a sort of wraparound walker. He put his hands on the rails and heaved himself up.
And sat down again immediately with a wince of pain. “It hurts!”
“You have been off your feet for some time,” the nurse said reassuringly. “Surgery on both legs. You have lost muscle and cartilage, and have scar tissue. It is likely to be uncomfortable at first. Time and patience will gradually improve it.”
“But I want to walk now!” he protested.
“First you learn to stand. Without too much pain. Then you walk.”
He looked around. “Juliet can help me.”
The nurse shook her head. “You’re substantially taller and heavier than she is. If she tried to support you, you would likely fall and take her down with you. You’d both get hurt. We can’t permit that.”
“I want Juliet.”
The nurse’s mouth turned grim. But before she could speak, Juliet did. “Let me talk with you alone, please.”
The nurse was puzzled, but obliged. They walked a few paces away. “Now what is this?” she asked sharply. “We’ve been remarkably tolerant about your presence and the way you interact with him, but this is serious therapy. You must not interfere.”
“Romeo—when he was in the accident, I was the one who got to him first. He was going into shock. I—I put his hand on my breast, and that kept him alert. He said he felt no pain. The distraction—it’s like pain pills. Now maybe he could walk, if.”
“No way. I know how you distract him, and I have to admit he behaves better after your visits. But this is different. For one thing, he needs both hands on the rails, to support himself.”
“I will be his support on one side.”
“You actually believe this?” the nurse asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
The nurse considered. “Very well. We’ll try it. Once. Show me that it works. If you fail, we’ll hear no more of this. Understood?”
“Yes.”
They returned to Romeo. Juliet loosened her shirt and unsnapped her bra. She took Romeo’s right hand, put it around her body, and on her right breast. She put her left arm around his body to help support him. “Ready?” she asked him.
“Ready. Three, two, one, heave!”
He heaved himself up, with her assistance and his left hand on the walker rail. He stood. “I feel no pain.”
The nurse’s expression said she strongly doubted that, but she kept silent. She was giving it a fair chance.
But the walker was now in the way. He could not step properly into it with Juliet there.
Impatiently, he swung it away and stood without support, except for Juliet. “Now we walk,” he said.
“In step,” she agreed. “Carefully. I can steady you, but I can’t hold you up if you fall.”
They stepped forward, carefully. Then again. Soon they were walking down the hall, his hand firmly on her breast. The nurse was surely watching, flabbergasted.
They turned, also carefully, and walked back. “No pain,” Romeo repeated.
“That’s enough,” the nurse said. “You have made your point. You must rest now. Your legs are hurting even if you can’t feel it. Tomorrow you will walk again, farther.”
“Our way,” he said.
“Your way,” she agreed grimly.
Next day the nurse wheeled Romeo to a separate hall that seemed to be closed off from general hospital traffic. “This is private,” she said to Romeo. “You will not be disturbed by anyone but me. Walk the length of the hall twice and stop. Even if you feel no pain now, your body is not yet recovered, and you do not want to damage it. Each day you will do more, until recovery is sufficient to allow you to check out of the hospital.”
“Thank you,” Juliet said.
The nurse glanced at her. “I believe in therapy that works. But I could get in trouble with the authorities if news of its detail leaked out. So I am not inquiring about the nature of your participation. You are merely his friend. Consider it moral support.”
“Thank you,” Juliet repeated. “I am good at keeping secrets.”
The nurse departed. “She’s not a bad sort, once you get to know her,” Romeo said as they got into position. She had come to really appreciate it when he touched her, especially where it counted. It was as though power flowed from her to him, uniting them in this challenge, but also came back to her. As if her breast was a portal, intimately linking them. Maybe the effect was all in his mind, and hers, but it worked. If this was love, she liked it.
He took hold of her breast and stood. “I did hurt yesterday, after you left. They had to give me extra pills.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be. It’s proof of your magic. There truly is pain, but I don’t feel it with you.”
“I’m an anesthetic,” she agreed wryly.
“More than physically. Even if I felt no physical pain, I would not care to live without you.”
She loved hearing that, but had to demur, at least slightly. She was the young one, but she had to practice maturity. “But you know I won’t stay this way. I’ll fill out, and no longer be the slip of a girl who first took your hand.” And maybe lose him. She hated the thought.
“You will always be that slip of a girl to me. My beloved. My angel.”
“I’ll settle for Juliet.” She was pleased.
After two loops of the hall, she had to remind him. “That’s the limit.”
“I don’t want to let go of you.”
Maybe she could offer him something else. “Let’s compromise. Sit in the wheelchair.”
He let go of her and sat. Then she stood close. She took his hand and put it on her rear, outside her jeans. “There’s more of me, if you like.”
“Oh, Juliet, yes! Any part of you.”
“Make sure the nurse isn’t looking.” She loosened her belt and dropped her jeans and panties, then put his hand on her bare buttock. Her heart was pounding with this new daring.
“Juliet! Juliet! I love you!”
“And I love you, Romeo.” How sweet it was to say it!
He drew her close and put his face against her bosom. He kissed her breast and squeezed her bottom. “Beloved!”
Sure it was a kind of sex. It felt like love to her.
Then, nervous about discovery, they separated. She reorganized herself, and he turned the wheelchair and started back. She couldn’t overstay; the pastor would be waiting.
“I do not disparage young love,” the pastor said as he drove her back. “The passion of the young can be as intense and abiding as that of the mature. But it is important to honor the limits.”
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“I’ve been naughty,” she confessed. “Does it show?”
“To a degree. You are flushed with excitement.”
“I—I let him hold my bare butt,” she said. “When I didn’t have to. How bad is that?”
“Well into the danger zone. To you it may be an adventure. But he is a man. There is little natural limit on his desire. You must draw the line. In future keep your pants on, literally.”
“Yessir.” She was relieved that he didn’t preach at her. His caution was surely well taken. Maybe he knew that his words could have only limited effect, in the face of the passion she had found. All the abstinence-only lectures in school and church didn’t affect the behavior of teens. Everyone knew that.
“You may be in love with love. That can be treacherous.”
“I’m in love with Romeo. Maybe when he touches me he feels no pain. But his touch really turns me on.”
He glanced at her. “I fear for your near future. I do believe God is using you as His instrument. But if you can’t be good, be careful. Extremely careful.”
“I’ll try.” But she knew it would not be easy.
The following days and weeks saw excellent progression. “I have never seen a patient with his degree of injury recover so rapidly,” the nurse remarked. “Too bad we can’t adapt this form of therapy to other cases.”
“I just talk to him,” Juliet said. “Apart from, you know. About his plans to return to college and major in chemistry and all. He has a good mind.” In contrast to hers. Indeed he was brilliant compared to her. He had a real intellectual future.
“But I would want none of it, without you,” he assured her during one of their therapy sessions.
“What, no coeds your age?” she asked. She smiled, but she feared it. She knew that many of those college girls were smart, shapely, and experienced. She was none of these things.
“I never cared much about girls, one way or another,” he said seriously. “Until I met you. Now I care only about you.”
Nevertheless, she braced herself for the time when he no longer needed her. Then he might discover the college girls. She would be heartbroken, but if God’s plan was to use her only in the interim, she would have to accept it.
At last came the Day: the doctors cleared Romeo for release. He was moved to a separate rehabilitative unit, where he would work his way back toward employability. He could walk well enough without Juliet’s assistance. For some reason he was not completely pleased with that.
There were many people at the rehab unit, in all stages of recuperation. Romeo shared a room with two other men. There was no privacy. Juliet, of course, could not protest; they did not know about her, and it was best that they never know. Young men couldn’t keep their mouths shut.
Home at night, in her bedroom on the second floor, she brooded. She had been several days alone, as it were. She knew it was best that she wean herself away from Romeo, but all she wanted was to be in his embrace, kissing him, with one of his hands on her breast and the other on her butt. Hearing him tell her how he needed her. She condemned herself as a foolish twit, but still she longed.
There was a faint sound. She paused, listening, but now there was silence. Then the sound came again, from the window, as if sand was hitting it.
Could it be? She went to the window and opened it.
“Juliet,” came the whisper. It was him!
Suddenly she was frightened. “Romeo, get away from here! If my folks saw you—”
“Juliet, I must hold you, kiss you. Only that will sustain me.”
“But it’s dangerous!”
“Please.”
She melted. “I’ll come down. Keep quiet.”
She made her way downstairs. Mom was cleaning up in the kitchen; dad was watching TV. She was able to sneak by without alerting either of them. She opened the back door with excruciating care and slipped out onto the dark porch.
Romeo was there. He swept her into his embrace and kissed her. “Juliet, I love you!” he breathed, putting a hand on her butt just the way she had imagined.
“I love you,” she echoed. Then something occurred to her. “You know, we’re reenacting the balcony scene in the play.”
“It was in my mind,” he agreed, kissing her again.
“How did you find me? I never told you my real name or where I live.”
“I Googled ‘Juliet.’ They had your whole story.”
“No!” she exclaimed, appalled.
“I’m joking,” he said quickly. “But I did do a statistical survey of all the houses in your neighborhood, orienting on those with girls your age who go to the local school. I got pictures, and there you were. I had to come.”
“You’re so smart,” she said adoringly.
“I’m so in love.” He kissed her again, squeezing her buttock. How she loved that!
Suddenly the porch light came on. The door flung open. Disaster! Her folks had caught them!
“Get your hand off her ass!” her father barked. “Get the hell out of here, you lecher!”
“Go!” she breathed tearfully, needing to save Romeo if not herself.
Romeo faded back and away. Juliet turned to face her angry father, who had plainly seen that she was avidly cooperating. To face the end of her world.
Vision
“God forgive me,” Juliet said aloud. Then she started swallowing the sleeping pills she had raided from her mother’s cache, washing them down with a cup of water. She hoped they would be enough.
When she had downed them all, she went to her desk and wrote a brief note for the world. I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT ROMEO. I LOVE HIM. I’M SORRY. She wasn’t condemning her folks, just explaining. She had always known her folks wouldn’t understand. They were locked in the sterile conformity of the chaste married state. If she ever got the chance to marry, she would make sure it never got to be like that. Not that she would get that chance.
Then she lay on her bed. “Romeo, I love you,” she said. “I hope we can be together in the other realm.” She closed her eyes, relaxing. What would be, would be.
Time passed, an instant or an eternity. She stood at the pearly gate of Heaven. She tried to enter, but it closed before her. She was not completely surprised; suicides were reputed to be unwelcome here.
She looked around. There was a desk to the side, with a female clerk sitting at it. “This way, miss,” the woman said. “We have to process you in.”
Oh. Of course. They wouldn’t even know who she was, without the paperwork. Bureaucracies were like that. She went to the desk. “Juliet,” she said, identifying herself.
The woman rifled through a sheaf of papers. Her eyes widened. “Oh, my!”
This was not looking good. “I’m a suicide,” she said. “I guess you have a problem with that.”
“It’s not just that. There’s a codicil attached. You must answer to God directly. And is He ever wroth.”
So it was the worst case scenario. “I’ll save you the trouble. Where’s the road to Hell?”
“Nuh-uh! You don’t get off that easily. Go that way.” A door opened in the wall behind the desk.
Juliet wasn’t eager to go there, but found herself walking through the doorway and down a short hall. Then she was in a huge glorious chamber, and the passage she had used was gone. There was no exit. Obviously they didn’t fool around with bad souls in the afterlife.
And there was God, sitting on a giant golden throne, wearing a brilliant crown sparkling with diamonds. At His right hip was a terrible swift sword. His eyes swung around to bear on her, transfixing her.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“You OD’d on pills, you idiotic little snit?” He demanded imperiously. “Whatever possessed your minuscule mind? It’s not your time.”
She fell to her knees before Him, sobbing in terror.
“Oh shut up and listen,” He snapped. “Don’t you dare quit now. I am not through with you, you selfish twit. Not by a long shot. I need you to sustain Ro
meo. Why the Hell did you think I sent you to him?”
Now she found her voice. “But God, I can’t be with him,” she quavered. “My folks forbid it. I’d rather die.”
“You want to take the easy way out, you little ignoramus. I want you to take the hard route, go to school, pass your classes, be the best that you can be, little as that is.” His gaze bore down on her crushingly. “Even math. You can make a D in that, can’t you, if Romeo helps you study? Do it.”
“But God, I’m not smart or beautiful or courageous or anything. I have no future.”
“Your future is not the point, you feeble excuse for a girl. It is Romeo I’m trying to save. You are merely the instrument.”
This was confusing, even in her humiliation. “The what?”
“The instrument. The necessary mortal tool to accomplish My purpose. Do you think it was mere coincidence that brought you to him when that spawn of Hell sideswiped his van? I had to preserve him, and there were no good prospects handy, so I had to make do with what pittance offered. You were the closest, so I used you, and you used what little you had to sustain him the minimum necessary time.”
“My meager breast,” she agreed wanly.
“Any port in a storm,” God agreed. “I had to enhance its effect, of course. Even so, it was a shoestring operation. At least you pulled him through that crisis. For that I am obliged to give you credit.”
“Thank you,” she breathed.
“But now he is fixated on you, and it would be complicated to change that, so I have to work with it. Have patience. In due course you will become eligible. Then you will truly support him while he completes his degree.”
This was getting interesting. “But why is it so important?”
“He is destined to become an outstanding chemist, and to fathom the catalyst that will enable coal to yield its energy efficiently and cleanly.”
“Clean coal? That’s important?”
“Trust Me. It represents about half of the problem. The other half is the mess coal extraction makes, making molehills of My mountains, polluting My pristine streams, generating piles of useless contaminated rubble. But that’s a separate problem. Romeo must handle the energy aspect.”
“That seems so—so great,” she said, awed. “I had no idea.”