hero of this story

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course I can...what’s up?”

“He’s 25 and he’s always hitting on me. Our marriage has been being arranged for years. My father hasn’t mentioned that to you?”

“No, that fucker didn’t say anything...for years? An arranged marriage? In the United States of America. In 2015. 

“Dear old Mayor Escalus wouldn’t want word to get out that there’s a gang problem in Verona, so I don’t think they note it down as gang fights. At least, the news reports always seem so shocked that there’s been yet another fight.” Benvolio replied with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “I don’t know if you know, but the mayor said if there’s another fight he’ll throw the participants out of town. It’s sort of my fault, for being part of the fight, but I still blame most of it on Tybalt.” 

Rosaline raised her eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. So this kid fought Tybalt. Huh. Tybalt was technically her cousin; she loved the Capulets and everything, but she had to admit that this Benvolio kid had balls. 

Benvolio grinned. “You mean every town doesn’t have a rivalry tearing it apart and keeping things interesting? Just Verona? Damn. There goes my perspective of the world.” As much as Benvolio hated the rivalry and the fighting, especially the fighting, it kept things interesting. Nothing in Verona was boring for too long. If it wasn’t younger members fighting in the streets it was Montagues stealing sales from Capulets or Capulets monopolizing an industry and forcing Montagues to close. The adults fought just as much as their kids, but their fighting was with business more often than not. Although, on occasion, older members of the family would get into fights as the younger ones would. That always made the news. 

Rosaline laughed as she turned - a genuine laugh. “Yeah, no. Verona is certainly more interesting than other places I’ve been. You know, if the Capulets and the Montagues weren’t so damn white, the police would write your feud off as gang activity....unless they already do,” Rosaline suddenly added, thinking about the amount of money she would pay to see Benvolio and someone like Tybalt in a fist fight.

“I was kidding, but thanks.” Benvolio replied. It was different hearing advice. Usually he was the one giving it. ‘Mercutio, if you hop that fence you’ll hurt yourself and my car has no gas so I can’t take you to the hospital. Don’t do it.’ ‘Romeo, that poem’s worse than your love life.’ It made for a nice change. Benvolio had to keep himself from laughing at her comment. No truer words had been spoken. “He’s a douche, but once you get to know him… he’s still a douche, but he’s a douche who cares, you know? You appreciate how ridiculous and great he is after a while. He’s hilarious too. And fun to be around. He’s just, like, a good friend and a good person after you get passed all that. And… you get the idea.” He could ramble on about Mercutio for the whole car ride if he wasn’t careful. “Yeah, but you’re the only one driving a car made before 2012, and that has to be by choice. You didn’t grow up here, right?” Asking her questions was a lot easier than answering them.

“I happen to love Sheila deeply,” Rosaline informed him. “It is a love that someone like yourself would never be able to comprehend.” She laughed nervously, stalling while she considered the best way to dodge Benvolio’s question.

Benvolio grinned at her comment. To say that Romeo fell in love every ten seconds was an overstatement. It felt more like every 5 seconds. He once tried to keep count, but he lost track after a few weeks. Benvolio nodded sympathetically, letting her talk. He only interrupted to say, “Nah, I’m a dick. And I’m lame too. Mercutio can back me up on this.” He glanced at the street signs. They were closer than he thought. He didn’t remember crossing over the bridge. “You’re going to make a right at the next light. Then a left at the one after that. Sorry I live in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

“Hey, don’t say that about yourself! Self-esteem is important, kid.” Rosaline shook her head. “Really, you don’t act anywhere near as bad as that Mercutio kid. Forgive me for saying this, but I really don’t understand why you and your cousin are friends with him....he comes across as a d-bag.”

“Head south down Elm, you’ll need to cross the bridge. It’s a ways away.” Benvolio instructed once she had picked up speed. “Damn, midterms? Good luck. Mine were two weeks ago.” He had spent the whole week in the library. Mercutio joked that he died. He chuckled at her comment about her presence. “It wasn’t as challenging as getting into that wedding a few years back… It’s a long story and it involves Romeo lusting after some other girl.” Benvolio nodded. “Yeah, I’m his cousin, friend, and wingman. Oh, I’ve told him that you’re not interested. I actually suggested going to the party so that you could be persuaded otherwise or he could meet someone else.” If he knew her a bit better he’d probably tell her more details, but Benvolio already felt awkward. She was practically a stranger and he was in her car.

Rosaline smiled at the steering wheel, partly because of Benvolio’s comment and party because it had stopped locking up. “Well, good on you,” she told Benvolio. “Just from the way you talk, I get the feeling that he falls in love with someone, like, every ten seconds.” She stopped to flash a grin at Benvolio.

“You’re the biggest nerd, I swear.” She gave a sigh and tried to think of something she could tell her cousin. “Uhm, Paris was there. I think he was talking to my father for a while, but he told me that I looked beautiful.”

“Did he say it in a ‘grandpa telling you you’re pretty’ way or a hitting-on-you way? Because he’s too old for you. Like, 49 or something.”

“Twelve minutes? Rosaline, are you serious?”

“I have midterms on Monday! Don’t hate!!

“I diet for dance, Ros, not for the patriarchy. I need to lose weight. But yes, last night was fun. Did you have a good time too?”

“Never do anything for the patriarchy, kid. Good on you.

It took him a few moments to comprehend what was happening. The light and the noise was too much. He stared for a few seconds at the car. It looked like it would fall apart at any second. He stared for a few seconds at the driver. Rosaline, looking like she was in a much better state than he was. Without a word, he climbed in. He was living one on Romeo’s fantasies. “Thanks.” Benvolio said awkwardly. He wasn’t even sure if she knew who he was. Benvolio blinked and closed the car door. “I am very hungover. I’ll try not to puke in your car.” Not that the puke would do much to ruin the interior. It already looked to be as shitty as it could get. Perhaps his puke would help it. Give it some color. Benvolio glanced at her. Romeo’d kill him if he didn’t ask her about him, even in the hungover state that he was in. “You were at the Capulet party last night, right? Romeo snuck in, did you see him?”

Rosaline shook her head sternly. “Crank the window down if you need to,” she said, starting up her car once more. “No one pukes in Sheila. Not even you, Montague.” 

Why the hell did he have to live so damn far away from Romeo and Mercutio? And why did he insist on walking home rather than getting a ride? Benvolio glared through the sunglasses as he walked along the side of the road. He had a pounding headache, and thinking about everything that happened last night made it worse. Thinking in general made it worse. When was the last time he had been home? Maybe a week or two. He spent more time at other people’s homes than his own. It wasn’t until someone was shouting that he realized they were trying to get his attention. “Ow. I’m sorry, what?”

Rosaline was proud of her shitty car; it regularly got beeped and jeered at in Verona, where half of the population cruised around in BMWs, but Rosaline had owned Sheila since she was 16; she was an old one, but a reliable one. It was serving her just fine as she drove along the road - until Rosaline realized some drunken asshole was staggering around on the shoulder next to her, and her steering wheel was staring to lock.

“Not hungover, Rosaline, just very tired.” She reaches out and takes a slice of pizza anyway. “This does look delicious, though, so I guess today will be another cheat day as far as my diet goes.”

Rosaline took a slice of pizza as well, chewing haphazardly. “You know what, Juliet?” she asked in between bites. “Fuck diets. We should both be done conforming to beauty standards that only serve to strengthen the patriarchal hegemony.”

“I need a coffee before I die.”

“You better not be hungover. Underage drinking is wrong, little cuz. Didn’t D.A.R.E teach you anything?