Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

on.
And then the door at the back opens, and I notice the large frame that fills
the doorway before it closes.
My heart swells a little. Macon. I watch him hide back by the wall,
standing quietly, because as hard as he acts and as worried about him as I
sometimes am, I know he loves me.
But still, I can’t help but scan the crowd again, searching for someone
else.
The drums beat, Juliet and her mother talking about the party tonight, and
I watch Lizbeth in the new costuming, wishing Clay was here. Hoping she’s
here, because I want her to see this. I want her to be proud of me.
Romeo and Benvolio enter stage left, and I draw in a deep breath, close
my eyes for a moment, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest.
Clay.
My head swims, and somehow all the tears and anger and bitterness of
years of hurt and a freshly axed heart swirl like a whirlwind, and for the first
time I know that Mercutio isn’t dynamic at all. He’s lost. He’s missing that
one thing that being loved gives you, and that’s why he needs Romeo. That’s
why he’s protective of him. He lives through him.
Romeo must be protected at all cost.
And now, I get it.
“Nay, gentle Romeo,” I call out, stepping onto the stage. “We must have
you dance.”
I hold my friend’s eyes, the spotlight on me and following me to him, and
the adrenaline burns down my arms, something inside showing me the way.
I pull off my friend’s jacket, Benvolio and other maskers dancing around,
and whip it off to the side, but Romeo resists me. “Not I, believe me,” he
says, continuing.
I attach myself to him, his sidekick, because Mercutio adores his best
friend. Needs him.
The audience laughs as I joke and jump around, and I can feel her eyes,
the sadness of loss so obvious as I dive into his Queen Maab monologue.
How his humor and passion are just a shield for the pain.
And he gives you that tiny peek inside before…he closes it up again. The
curtain falling once more.
Tears spilling down my cheeks, breathing hard, my friends pull me to the
party, and I clutch Romeo’s hand, meeting his eyes so I never have to look in