Modern- day Romeo

This story is written for Karan Jani, modern- day Romeo.1

Romeo and Juliet were outcasts, only infamous because they were deemed worthy to be written about by one person who could make the world listen. When love is presented, even in the most dire of circumstances, it can be understood. What is more common, however, is the barrage of insults used to degrade one another, to call each other loose and immoral. These words so easily slip off the tongues of men and women alike and demean in any situation, not begging for much interpretation. It seems as if though, in any language, there is still only one translatable word that signifies the depth of inescapable emotions that leave us perilous time and time again. Is that then why true love may only be felt once while the rest is inexcusable?2

Jane never loved anyone before Johan, not really. She lived her previous life carelessly though and believed that her shot at true love had been forfeited for the long downward spiral of affairs that had accrued previous to her marriage. She said ‘I love you’ to a few, but in hindsight it was more like ‘I could love you’, but was never truly reciprocated. When marriage is looked at as a frightening proposition, how can it ever be? And, after ones heart has been given to another but love strikes again, can it really be worthy of the most tender of words? It seemed like there was no way to describe how she felt about Satish. The world would most likely shun them and rightfully so. 3

It still seemed unfair, Jane thought. She seemed set up to fail. For some reason, she thought about her young cousin, Abbey. She was fourteen, very cute and popular. She was the type of girl that would have tortured Jane by her good looks and attitude had they been born the same time. Although they were from a small family and spent nearly every holiday together, her extended family was fragmented in a way that left them feeling like strangers. They would rarely talk, oftentimes not even greet. Instead, Abbey talked on the phone against the chagrin of her mother. Intermittently, someone would ask about her boyfriend who never seemed to be the same as last time. Jane wanted to tell her the secrets she learned about men, about life so she wouldn’t make the same mistakes. But how could she when Abbey’s own divorced mother, Jane’s cousin, seemed equally confident with her new boyfriends and flaunted it extravagantly. If being single and carefree is socially accepted, even a right among some cohorts, how can love in any context be considered out of line?4