The Tragedy is the thing

“So, Susan,” Bill asked, “How do you not like Shakespeare?”

  “I’m just not fond of him,” Susan said. “I’d prefer Hemingway if you’d like to know.” She played with her silverware, wondering why they were in this overpriced restaurant. They probably shouldn’t be here even though they’d hardly seen each other all summer, and this was their end of summer reunion dinner. Still, she had just gotten through buying her books, (three hundred dollars for one stupid textbook for crying out loud!), paying for her dorm room, and a pair of two-hundred-dollar eyeglasses. Thanks, Mom and Dad, she thought, for giving me these lousy genetics. Like they knew at the time, but she had no one else to blame. They should be saving their money, but Bill insisted on eating out. He also wouldn’t let her pay. He never did. She looked at his dark hair, blue jeans, red Vans on his feet. She’d rather they just be alone in her dorm room with some take-out. Thanks to Covid-19, she had her own room, which didn’t cost extra. The only good thing to come out of this whole mess. Of course, Bill wouldn’t stay the night. That was an ongoing argument. To Susan’s way of thinking, he was nineteen and his own person now. The R.A. was supposed to enforce the rules, but he couldn’t care less what they did so long as they were discreet-that is, didn’t cause anyone to complain. But Bill had strict Catholic parents who didn’t approve of sleepovers. Bill didn’t want to answer their questions, have them threaten eviction, or cut him off. So, he never stayed over.

“By the way, are you sure about switching your major to pharmaceuticals?” she asked. “I know your father is a pharmacist and makes good money at it. But I always thought you liked writing and journalism.”

  “I need something that will pay off these loans though and with newspapers struggling as they are-hold on a minute,” Bill took out his iPhone. “The old lady is texting me again. Let’s see. She wants me to pick up some milk and what time am I coming home.”

“Tell him you’re out with the love of your life,” Susan said. “And she needs to find a life as well. Damn, what would happen if you didn’t answer her back?”

“She’d think I’m dead in a ditch on the side of the road.” Bill texted back, I’m just out with some friends having dinner. Then we’re going to watch a movie. The college set up a drive-in. I won’t be home too late. Love you. “Speaking of love of my life, we studied Romeo and Juliet in my literature class. I just wondered what you thought of it.”

“So, what did you tell your mother this time?”

Bill shrugged. “Just that I’m having dinner.” He picked up the menu as if to hide. “It’s better to say as little as possible with her like I’ve told you before. She’s just really old fashioned with some crazy ideas.”

“Well then,” Susan said, “I’ll be fine meeting her. I’m the picture of calm politeness. Look how nicely I spoke to that old biddy earlier.”

  “Right. Ms. All Lives Matter. You should have ignored her, but I don’t want to argue. Let’s discuss Romeo instead.”

  “What for? It’s overrated.” Susan pushed back her curly hair and played with her napkin. Bill liked to discuss various plays and books. That was fine, but she wasn’t in the mood for Shakespeare.

 “It’s not, Sue. It's got some beautiful poetry in it. ‘But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?’”

“Give me Langston Hughes or-”

 Susan broke off as the waitress came over. “What will you two have?” she asked in the sort of voice that was fit for one of the androids her mother wrote about in her science fiction stories. Except she hoped they sounded more sentient than this woman did. If androids did exist, this waitress would need a friendliness update and a kinder voice.

“The burger and fries,” she said, “and a draft beer.” She was trying to be kind to Bill and not order anything too expensive. Not that it mattered.

 “I want an iced tea and the six-ounce steak. Baked potato and a salad.” Bill went back to the subject at hand. “Don’t you think that’s romantic? To be willing to die for someone?”

 “Naw. Tell you the truth I think they were all stupid.” Susan moved her hand as the android-like waitress brought them their drinks. She set them down, quickly, nearly spilling some of Susan’s. This waitress wasn’t going to spend another minute on college students than she had to. Not when she had a table of six, all well-dressed couples, to take care of. She moved off, saving her smiles for them as if she had only a very few to spare and had to dole them out carefully. One couldn't see her mouth but that didn't matter. Smiles are also in the eyes and hers followed money.

“Stupid?" Bill didn't care if the waitress smiled or not. "Why would you say that, my love?”

Susan picked up her drink, sipping from it. “Look,” she said, “why did either of them have to die?”

 “What other choices did they have?”

  “For one thing, Romeo should’ve checked for a pulse.”

 Susan lifted her beer glass to her lips. Bill knew he’d taste it on her tongue later when he kissed her. He didn’t drink alcohol herself. Vodka reminded him of hand sanitizer, and beer was worse. He never understood why anyone would anyone want to drink it. Still, this was his first serious girlfriend. She was everything a fellow wished for in a woman. She was intelligent, funny, pretty, and very affectionate. So, Bill loved her because who wouldn’t as one of his friends once said. If she liked short skirts and beer-well, no one was perfect. Besides, he could work on that.

“I would think a person in a tomb is dead,” he said. “You know, been there a day or two, didn’t need to be checked because someone else already had, etc.”

 “Fine. But why didn’t Juliet’s dad check? Or that maid?”

 “Would he check for that? After all, she doesn’t seem to be breathing.”

  “My ma would. It would be the first thing she’d do. Anybody would. Even Michael.”

  “Your brother wouldn’t.”

   “He may be dumb, but he’s not stupid. He’d check.” Susan shook her head. “Here’s another question. Why couldn’t she-“

   “Wait. You know their medical knowledge-“

   “Was probably advanced enough to know to check for a pulse.”

     Bill looked like he swallowed one of the lemons that floated in his tea. “That’s not the point of the story. The point is, they loved each other enough to die if it came to it.”

  “If Juliet loved Romeo that much, she could have run off with the dude in the first place. Or told her family to go to hell.”

 Susan sat back as the waitress set down their food. She took the ketchup and beat on the bottom of the glass bottle. The ketchup refused to budge. She supposed plastic squeeze bottles, although being easier, didn’t fit this place’s atmosphere. Susan finally gave it up as a lost cause and took the steak sauce instead. Bill began cutting her steak. Between bites, he said, “She probably was afraid of losing her dowry.”

 “Her dowry?”

 “Her father gives the husband a dowry. You know, the wife brings her husband money or goods.

 Susan shook her head. “I know what one is. But I don’t think the play mentions a dowry.” A quick internet search and she laid her phone down. “Juliet’s mother threatened to disown her if she didn’t marry Count Paris.”

  “Well, there you go. If Juliet ran off with Romeo, she’d lose that and her good name. Her reputation. They’d be nameless and poor, unwanted by either family. And if she defied her parents, she’d be disowned. They both would be.”

 “So…you’re saying Romeo wasn’t worth her giving everything up for?”

  “What are you talking about? She did decide to run off with him later.”

  “No.” Susan glared at him. “She didn’t want to admit she was with someone her parents wouldn’t approve of. She could have stood up to them, but she didn’t.”

“She loved him enough to marry him.”

“Yeah, sure. Secretly.”

 Bill ate his potato and studied Susan.

“Did you have to wear that skirt?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” She looked sexy in her short skirt and tight blouse. But he thought it was something she should wear at the dorm, in private. Not to go out in. Then there was the damned mask. A Black Lives matter mask always drew attention, which Susan didn’t back down from. Hence the earlier conversation in the bar Susan had tried to have with an old lady. She had mumbled “all lives matter” to her companion and none too softly either. Susan had turned and smiled her very best disarming smile, even though no one could see it. Bill could tell she did by the way her mask moved. She was trying to be calm. Reasonable, although it would be more so, he thought, to leave it all alone.

 “That’s really not true,” Sue had said to Ms. All Lives Matter. Her voice had been calm, polite, but firm. “Please, allow me to explain-“

 Bill saw the woman’s narrowed eyes, her flushed cheeks. “Sue,” he’d said, hand on her arm.

At that point, the hostess had appeared and thankfully whisked them to their table, thus ending God knows what. Yes, there were people out there that denied after all these years there still was a problem. But did she have to start a discussion with some stranger in a nice restaurant of all places? Bill’s parents always said one didn’t discuss politics or religion publicly. Ladies especially didn’t do that. But Susan was more than happy to argue sensitive subjects with people. This is me, she’d say. It’s not about politics but about what is right. I’m not arguing anyway. I’m polite, even calm. I promise if anyone gets in my face, I’ll walk away, but if we don’t talk, we’ll get nowhere. We need to discuss these things, or we’ll never find common ground.

 Bill went back to their argument. “I didn’t see Romeo rushing to inform his father that he married Juliet.” He set his glass down too hard. He winced, but fortunately, it didn’t break.

 “My dad said to tell you hi, by the way. As for the couple, they were both idiots and ashamed of each other.”

Bill made the time out signal with her hands. “Hey, now wait a minute! Where are you getting the idea they were ashamed of each other?”

 “Well, they were. It was all right to sneak around. But not all right to bring either to their families. Why were they even fighting anyway?”

 “The play doesn’t tell us.” Bill shrugged. “Who cares?”

  “I don’t. I’m just saying Romeo and Juliet must have been ashamed of each other. Otherwise, why not say look Ma, look Dad, this is stupid. This is who I love, take it, or leave it? He’s a good person, why not give him a chance?”

 “You’re ridiculous. No one is ashamed of anyone.”

  Susan pushed aside her half-eaten burger. The damned thing wasn’t cooked right anyway. The chefs never could understand that when she said medium-rare, she meant it. At least the French fries were good. “They wouldn’t even live with each other!”

“That’s why they got married,” he said. “So, they could live together. There are people, like my folks, who still believe that is wrong.”

“But even then, they barely spend a night together. What were they going to do? You can’t have a relationship that way. It won’t go anywhere.” Susan gestured at Bill. “They might as well be friends with benefits.”

 “Friends with benefits?” Bill pulled on his hair. “They married. Maybe,” He gave Susan that puckered look again, “Juliet was trying to be considerate of her family.”

 “She shouldn’t be considerate when they’re complete morons. And why were they fighting? Probably over something stupid like religion. Yep, that's probably it. Juliet was Protestant or some stupid shit. Did that exist yet?”

  “I don’t know, and I told you, the play doesn’t say. Hey, look, I’m a poet.” He chuckled at herself, hoping she’d at least smile.

 Susan ignored this. “Whatever. Hey, for all we know, the Capulets would’ve accepted him. Who knows? But Juliet never gave them that choice. She played at being married. To her, it was all a game.”

 “She made plans to run off with Romeo, remember? So, she tried to do the right thing.”

  “You’re okay with her lying? Faking her death?

“Wait. Did I say that?”

“Just about. I mean seriously, if Juliet didn’t want to tell her parents face to face, she could have left a note. Who lets their people think they’re dead because they don’t want to say, 'I married this man you wouldn’t approve of?' She was cruel.”

 Bill sighed. This girl was truly not getting it. “I think you’re looking to argue for its own sake, as usual. It wasn’t her idea to fake her death. It was the friar’s.”

 “She could’ve told him no. I don’t want to argue, Bill. But you asked me, and I answered. I don’t like Shakespeare, and I especially don’t like Romeo and Juliet. I think their love was nothing. Nada.”

 Bill nearly knocked over his empty glass. Susan caught it and pushed it to the side. He hardly noticed. “Nada? They died for each other!”

 “So what? They took the easy way out. Just like people do.” Susan took a deep breath. Then she took his hands. He pulled away, and she sat back. “I don’t mean to get you all upset. But I’m just saying they took an easy way out. ”

 “Or they were afraid!”

“Of what?”

“I told you. They had everything to lose if this came out. Money and their good names.”

Susan thought this over. “Yes. It’s not easy to go against what your family wants and risk losing their love and approval. But if you love a person, you take that risk. If you want a certain career, you go for it regardless of the outcome.”

“What are you talking about? That's not in the play.”

“I'm talking about love. If you love something or someone, you go for it. It’s not a part-time thing. And Juliet should have fought. Look at her parents. They was trying to control her, telling her who she could and couldn't marry-”

“It’s were. And that’s what they did in those days!” Bill shoved his plate away. “You need to stop. You’re reading too much into this. Most likely, her parents were following tradition. You know, doing what they felt best for their child. It was wrong, of course, but their hearts were in the right place. They didn’t know any better.”

“Okay, maybe you’re right, and maybe I am reading too much into it. But that’s how I see it.”

The waitress came by to check up on them. Neither were looking at each other by now. Susan had pulled out her iPhone while Bill watched the kids at the next table. When he saw the waitress, he handed her his plate and told her there was no need for her to box it up. She asked if they needed anything else.

“Just the check please,” Bill said. He watched the waitress walk away. When he turned back, he could see Susan looking at him, arms crossed.

“What?” he asked her.

“Nothing. Just that I wouldn’t have minded coffee or dessert.”

Bill smiled. “Every time I do that, you accuse me of ruining your diet. Besides, I guess I just wanted to go.”

“How about this?” she took his hand again, “We can always walk over to the ice cream shop. It’s a beautiful night out.”

“No, we don’t have much time. Anyway,” Bill went on, “You’re telling me you wouldn’t die for me?”

“I didn’t say that. I said there was no need for Romeo and Juliet to do it. I’d say if they died at all, it was out of despair.” Susan smiled as the waitress brought back their check, setting in down between them as if not to assume anything. Bill reached for it as usual and took out his credit card.

“We can split it, or I can pay, you know.”

“I’ve got it.”

 "I’ll leave a tip,” she said. “Least I could do.”

He nodded. “And of course, they despaired. I assure you that if something happened to you-”

“That you better not die for me.” Susan glared at him. “That’s giving up.”

“You don’t see the tragedy, that’s all. The fact is Romeo and Juliet had to die for each other.”

Susan was silent then. All around them were the murmurs of people talking. Everyone was sitting, even Bill. But she seemed to be sitting far away from him and getting further with every passing minute. Or maybe he was the one moving away although he sat very still. Yes, that seemed to be it. The waitress came back with his credit card, and they walked out into the night. There might have been stars, but the city lights, the car’s headlights hid them from her sight. Bill drove her back in silence, turned in at the B parking lot, and parked. They headed for the dorm. She swiped her card to unlock the doors. She held it open, looked back at Bill, who stood watching her.

“Are you coming up?” she asked.

Bill smiled and kissed her. “Raincheck. I’m tired, and I’ve got a long drive back. Good night,” he told her. He turned and walked away.

To his back, she said softly, “I see the tragedy. I do, my love. There was a death, all right. Just not one of the body.” Then she walked through the doors. They closed, locking her in and him out.