written by qL^^
Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone (Taylor Swift – Love Story).
“So, how long you have to stay here?”
I know he can sense the stress in my voice, but he just smiles calmly. Like his usual self.
“Father promises to bail me out at most two weeks, but I guess we have to see.” He shrugs nonchalantly.
His answer makes me want to cry. But we can’t afford to attract the guard’s attention now. My visit itself already stirs some rumors. God knows what will happen if someone sees my tears. Instead, I let out a long sigh and rub my face tiredly.
“This is insane!” I exclaim in frustration. “Hit and run? Really? Gosh, you were with me that night!”
“I know. But your testimony won’t help. Except you want to divert the press’ attention by creating a bigger scandal. Let’s see … Hmm… Me and you. The star-crossed lovers on election war: 21st-century version of Romeo and Juliet “
I have no strength to laugh at his jokes, so my impassive response just makes him smiles sheepishly.
“This is unfair.” I am exasperated by this hopeless situation. I know what has happened and I can prove his alibi that night, but I can do nothing about it. “You can’t take the fall just because you want to save his reputation! That man should be here, not you! For god sake, somebody was killed!”
“Before a politician and mayor, that man is my father whom I respected.” He uses past tense, I notice. “Besides I do this for my mom, so my family won’t collapse.”
This is so him. Martyr till the end.
“I am okay.” His hands reach for me even if they can’t get past the visiting room barrier. “Don’t worry.”
But I see through his facade.
Dark circle under his eyes screams lack of sleep. He is pale and tired. Scared, cold, and probably being mocked inside and outside this place. So much hate and hatred are aimed towards him now. A very misplaced one.
Suddenly I miss seeing him in a flannel shirt instead of this ugly brown uniform. I miss hearing people call him by his name, not by his number. I miss hugging him close and caressing his face without this damn barrier.
“So, how do I affect your father’s polls?” He changes the topic of conversation jokingly.
“Thanks to you, he’s catching up. But …”
He prompts because I clearly hesitate to drop the bomb. I swear he will hate me after hearing this.
“I’m scheduled back to Canada in two days.”
If he is surprised, he is doing a good job by not showing it. Instead, his mask is on again. Slowly he starts to smile. The bitterness is clearly shown.
“Father and his campaigns manager don’t want me to stay much longer. They are afraid the press will dig into that night and find out about us …”
And drag them to the mud.
He keeps smiling, but it is a hollow smile now. “Goodbye then. I hope you have a pleasant flight.”
A drop of tear falls on my cheek before I can stop it.
“I don’t want to go.”
Everything looks bleak. I hold sobs that threaten to escape. Truthfully I want to whine, scream and throw tantrum to show how much I want to defy my father. I don’t want to leave him alone when he doesn’t even know if he could trust his father or not. But what I want mean nothing. My father even goes such length to do anything within his power. Ensuring we won’t be thorns in his side. Not to mention, the countdown to the election is getting closer. The tension between the two rival parties is palpable. There are too many things at stake. One wrong move could change the whole voting results.
I turn away, so he can’t see tears glistening in my eyes.
“Don’t cry,” he says gently. He raises his hands like wanting to touch my face but lowers them again. Barrier, remember? “You have no choice, but obey your father.”
We know that is a harsh truth. The silence between us is suffocating. We have very little time left before visiting hour ends and I barely tell him the most important thing.
“I always hate when you were joking about us being similar to Romeo and Juliet.”
He smiles. “We won’t have a tragic ending.”
Scoffing, I ask, “Are you sure?”
His answer is nod with assurance. “I promise.” He will always be the one who acts tough even though he is the one who needs consolation most now.
“Please, promise me then. As soon as you get out of here, call me. I won’t change my number and I’ll be waiting.”
“Why should I?”
“You just promise me we won’t have a tragic ending like Romeo and Juliet, right?”
“Romeo failed to steal Juliet, that’s why they died,” I state.
He tilts his head questioningly at my statement while I stare at him determinedly.
“Then promise me, when that time comes, you will steal me away successfully.”
This time he smiles, a genuine one, and once again, he nods. Sealing our promise.
an. Halo, WS’ readers! It’s been long time. I hope you enjoy this and I’m sorry in advanced for any grammatical error. I did my best checking it thrice, but maybe there is a miss.