I was reading New Moon from the Twilight series and I came across something interesting. As some of y'all know, I like Shakespeare...... well, this is what the main character, Bella, thought about Romeo and Juliet......
To understand, here's what has taken place. Bella is completely torn between Edward, her first love, and Jacob, her very best friend. Edward, who really does love her, left without much explanation or warning. Bery much brokenhearted, she sought her friendship with Jacob to be a comfort for her. Someone she could always confide in no matter what. The only thing that makes things worse, Edward and Jacob despise each other.
Jacob had told Bella he was going to take her cliff diving. Something came up and he couldn't make it so Bella decided to jump by herself. Almost drowing, she hears a voice that encourages her to keep fighting. It was Edward's voice, her first love. She survives and she and Jacob are now at his house. Jacob is sleeping from complete exhaustion and Bella can't sleep.
"Jacob was still asleep; he'd slumped down onto the floor and his breathing was deep and even. The house was darker now that before, it was black outside the window. I was stiff, but warm and almost dry. The inside of my throat burned with every breath I took.
I was going to have to get up-at least to get a drink. But my body wanted to lie here limp, to never move again.
Instead od moving, I thought about Juliet some more.
I wondered what she would have done if Romeo had left her, not because he was banished, but because he lost interest? What if Rosalind had given him the time of day and he'd changed his mind? What if, instead of marrying Juliet, he'd just disappeared?
I thought I knew how Juliet would feel.
She wouldn't go back to her old life, not really. She wouldn't ever have moved on, I was sure of that. Even if she'd lived until she was old and gray, every time she closed her eyes, it would have been Romeo's face she saw behind her lids. She would have accepted that, eventually.
I wondered if she would have married Paris in the end, just to please her parents, to keep the peace. No, probably not, I decided. But then, the story didn't say much about Paris. He was just a stick figure-a placeholder, a threat, a deadline to force her hand.
What if there were more to Paris?
What id Paris had been Juliet's friend? Her very best friend? What if he was the only one she could confde in about the whole devastating thing with Romeo? The one person who really understoof her and made her feel halfway human again? What if he was patient and kind? What if he took care of her? What if Juliet knew she couldn't survive without him? What if he really loved her, and wanted her to be happy?
And...what if she loved Paris? Not like Romeo. Nothing like that, of course. but enough that she wanted him to be happy, too?
Jacob's slow, deep breathing was the only sound in the room-like a lullaby hummed to a child, like the whisper of a rocking chair, like the ticking of an old clock when you had no where to go.... It was the sound of comfort.
If Romeo was really gone, never coming back, would it have matter whether or not Juliet had taken Paris up on his offer? Maybe she should have tried to settle into the leftover scraps of life that would have been as close to happiness as she could get.
I sighed, and then groaned when the sigh scraped my throat. I was reading too much into the story. Romeo wouldn't change his mind. That's why people still remember his name, always twined with hers: Romeo and Juliet. That's why it's such a good story. 'Juliet gets dumped and ends up with Paris' would have never been a hit.
I closed my eyes and drifted again, letting my mind wander away from the stupid play I didn't want to think about anymore. I thought about reality instead-about jumping off a cliff and what a brainless mistake that haad been. And not just the cliff, but the motorcycles and the whole irresponsible Evel Knievel bit. What if something had happened to me? What would that do to Charlie? Harry's heart attack had pushed everything suddenly into perspective for me. Perspective that I didnt' want to see, because-if I admitted to the truth of it-it wouls seem that I would have to change my ways. Could I live like that?"
