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Juliet flattens down the cover of the playbill, fingers delicately smoothing out the thin paper. The noise of people’s conversations fills the room like smoke, just as smothering. Their companionship is like an ashy layer fallen over her skin. She’s moments from sinking completely into her plush fabric seat, unseen and unimportant.
A sickening sort of guilt clogs up her throat—how can she feel so uncomfortable and awful about something so many people would kill for? Something shimmery and gorgeous.
But her hollow chest aches with an all too familiar loneliness. At least, in her tiny apartment, she can turn on the TV or call Rachel or stare at the research on her computer until her eyes sting and shove the feeling down.
But here, in this cavernous theater, she is so small. And yet, not as small as she is in this city. Her whole life, she has felt too big. Taller than Rachel, taller than the other girls in her class. Feelings that seemed to overflow from within her ribcage and pour out onto the floor. But she is nothing compared to the height of the slick city buildings. Her feelings are nothing compared to the sprawling streets and endless neighborhoods full of people and lives and chaos.
A fresh start. That’s what New York City was supposed to be for her.
And yet, all she feels is that loneliness she’s always known, a thousand times stronger. Like a once broken knee that seemed to fully heal, only for her to resign herself to the cold, suddenly struck by a never-ending throb as the chill gnaws at the scar.
This was supposed to be a change. The first warm day of spring, a relief from the ache. She’d been talking to Amy, one of the secretaries at work. It’s easier to make conversation with her and the other secretaries and assistants and the custodians than with her colleagues. And it had seemed to be paying off. Amy invited her to go see Les Misérables on Broadway with her; she had an extra ticket, and her boyfriend was out of town. How foolish of her to believe something too good to be true.
She shouldn’t have even been disappointed when she called this morning and told her she couldn’t go anymore. Her boyfriend had come back early, some big surprise, including a fancy dinner reservation. Of course he had. Juliet wasn’t allowed to have company, or be dealt a hand of luck. She knows better.
So, here she is. Alone, sitting only a few rows from the stage in a seat she paid far too much money for.
She’s given up. After this, no more attempts at friendships or going out for her. There are too many fish in the sea, and she’s so tired of swimming. There’s enough work to keep her busy, anyhow.
A shoulder brushes against hers. She looks at the man beside her, but he pays no attention, turned away to face the young girl beside him. Juliet, in all her curiosity, allows her eyes to remain stuck on the duo long past the standard length of a glance.
“Tell me how this goes again?” he’s asking, running a hand through his shaggy hair and pushing it back from his face. His voice is like the kind you hear on the radio and can’t get out of your head. Like whiskey—something addictive. She feels hypnotized, staring at the side of his head, angled away. “They gonna sing the whole time?”
“Yeah, Daddy, I told you. They sing like, every line. It’s not like other plays.”
“Great.” He sighs, long and hard like a balloon deflating, and Juliet presses her lips together, turning back toward the stage and swallowing back a laugh. She’s thinking about being a kid and those trips to visit her dad after the divorce. The baseball games and ice cream, and when Sweeney Todd was on tour, and he took her and Rachel to sit in the front row, and her mom had yelled at him on the phone for showing them something so gruesome. She had felt so special, for those few years where he was still trying and Juliet hadn’t yet realized it was all for his own benefit, buying her love in an effort to win the war.
The sudden dimming of the lights cuts through her thoughts. She settles deeper into the seat and focuses her eyes on the stage. The show begins like a sudden storm. A hurricane, really—startlingly overwhelming between the sets, the music, and the intensity of the cast. It’s almost too much for a moment before she adjusts,
What strikes her as she watches is the stark atmosphere of pain let off by the performance. Like a strong aroma, wafting through the theater and getting caught in her nose, stinging her watery eyes. Lyrics and moments get lost, and yet she understands. The aura of pain is too strong to miss.
After Fantine’s death, her eyes drift from the stage, breaking the illusion and falling upon the girl two seats over. Her gaze is wide and sodden, leaning forward in her seat. She’s far too young for this, Juliet thinks, but perhaps she’s thinking too much like her mother. Isn’t it better for her to learn now that life can only get worse? That life is an endless black hole of misery?
Maybe it would have been easier if Juliet never had hope. She hadn’t had much, but she surely held on for far too long.
She’s lost it now, so at least there’s that.
And at least this girl has her dad, squeezing her hand. It’s the last thing she notices before she turns back to the show. Perhaps, he’s different from her own father. Perhaps, he truly cares.
She allows the show to suck her back in. Her focus remains surprisingly solid. A few moments her mind wanders, but she always steers herself back.
It’s when Eponine takes the stage, in her adult form, that Juliet’s infatuation blooms. There’s something familiar in the heaviness she seems to carry in her chest. How she stands there on the stage with Marius and Cosette and yet seems as if she has been banished a world away from them. A different spotlight, alone in the shadow of their love.
It awakens that throb between her ribs. He was never mine to lose, she sings, These are words he'll never say, not to me. And the line between her and the story grows so blurry. A smudge, and Juliet can only see herself in the mirror placed upon the stage. (A smudge, as her eyes grow teary.)
The next song begins, music resonating, and Juliet’s heavy state of mind is suddenly cut through by a flash of light. Like a new spotlight, emerging from the seat in front of her. She blinks, startled, and feels her expression be tugged into a frown.
She stares purposefully at the stage in an effort to ignore the brightness of the phone. Listens hard to the impressive vocals before her, in an effort to avoid the rabbit hole of how people can possibly be so rude.
It’s when the noise begins, that her efforts fail. She’s unable to put a name to the tune before it’s quickly shut off, but the sound of the music is enough to light the flame, bringing Juliet’s blood to a boil.
She’s never been confrontational, most comfortable with her lips pressed together so snugly she has to peel them apart. But in the dark, in the crowd, what is there to be afraid of? What is there to lose when she has nothing at all? (And god, she’s so fed up with people who think they can get away with whatever they want.)
So she scoots forward and juts her hand out, before she can think it over and over and bury it beneath her feet. But right as her fingers stretch toward the shoulder in front of her, movement from the left draws her attention. The guy beside her’s hand, reaching in the same direction, brushing the side of hers before either can pull back. Together, they tap the man’s shoulder, though they both turn to meet one another’s gaze. Juliet’s face flushes, staring into his widened eyes. Being seen in a way she hadn’t prepared for—she tenses, frozen in place like an opossum playing dead.
The nuisance of a man turns around and stares at them. Even in the dark, she can see the furrow of his brow when she severs the shared gaze and looks at him.
“Can you turn off your phone?” she murmurs quickly, face so hot she’s concerned she’s given herself a fever, or that some faulty wire beneath her skin has sparked and gone up in flames.
“Yeah,” the guy beside her agrees. “You ever heard ‘a theater etiquette?”
The man grunts, but he shuts it off and turns back around. Good enough.
Unable to name the fluttering in her chest, she glances at the guy only to find him already staring. He averts his eyes, and she does the same, facing the show and sucking in a deep breath to avoid overheating.
As the final song plays out, she doesn’t hear a word. All she is aware of is the presence beside her. The shape of him out of the corner of her eye. The distant heat. When it ends and the lights turn on, applause fading, she feels like she’s a kid again, kitchen light turned on, caught kneeling on the counter with the candy bucket in her hands and chocolate on her mouth. She isn’t sure what she has to feel ashamed about, but it’s there, pulsing inside her chest. As if she’d done something wrong.
The sound of the little girl erupting into a rambling review of the show falls upon Juliet’s ears, and behind a twinge of affection, she considers getting up and finishing the show from the back of the theater.
Before she can stand, though, a light touch brushes her arm, tugging on her attention. She turns and he’s right there, fully lit and looking at her. His lip is curled up in a sort of smirk, and her heart pounds so aggressively she worries he’ll see it bursting through the top of her dress.
“Glad someone was on the same page, huh?”
It takes a long moment to wrap her mind around his words, staring at him as they sink into her brain. Once she’s comprehended the quip, she laughs lightly, awkwardly picking at her nail.
“Yeah. I don’t get how people can do that,” she says softly, eyes skirting away from his down toward her lap.
“Lotta people don’t care ‘bout nothing but themselves.”
She nods, but before she can respond, the girl has tugged on his shirt and drawn his attention back the other way. For the better, she thinks. She was only on the path to making a fool of herself.
It seems there was no escaping that, though. When she stands up to head out to the bathroom, the man stands at the same time. She bumps into his shoulder and feels the red in her neck, up into her cheeks.
He looks back, though, and simply smiles, waving his hand forward. “Go ahead.”
She shakes her head. “No, you’re first.”
He obliges, and she awkwardly makes her way past people’s knees, trailing behind them. Heading in the same direction, she follows them up the aisle, down the stairs, toward the bathrooms. A strange rush of shame curdles in her body. She’s just going to the bathroom, just happens to be the same place they’re heading, and yet she seems to be bothered by some possible creep-like appearance.
It doesn’t help her conscience that she listens in on their conversation. Not intentionally, but she’s always prided herself on her observation skills. (Less pride in the sense that she can’t turn them off.)
“Thought you were a big girl,” he says, though he’s holding her hand as they come down the stairs.
She hops down the last step. “I am. But Mommy said bad stuff happens in public bathrooms. She doesn’t let me go in by myself.”
He makes a noise that practically confirms in Juliet’s mind that he and the girl’s Mommy aren’t together. “Bad stuff happens everywhere.”
“Can’t you just take me into your bathroom?”
“The men’s room? Baby, that’s where the bad stuff happens. I promise, nothing’s gonna happen to you in there.”
“Mmmm.” It’s halfway agreeing, yet she doesn’t seem convinced as they get into the line stretching out of the women’s restroom.
She stopped drinking from water fountains when she was eleven, after Rachel had described in detail how she would get oral herpes from putting her mouth on the spout. It’s those silly, nonsensical things you can’t shake as a kid.
It’s that connection, the empathy, she thinks, which spurs her forward in a way she normally wouldn’t. She contemplates her own possession. The spirit that has taken over the wheel. Never before would she have been so forthright, let alone so often in one day. Perhaps her surrender to the lonely state of her life has lessened the overbearing thoughts that used to restrain her. Who cares if she’s weird or awkward or comes off as idiotic? It’s clear she makes no impact on anyone’s life either way.
For whatever reason it is, she taps the man’s arm. Familiarity flickers in his eyes when he looks at her, something akin to a smile forming across his lips, and her heart flickers in a way that she resents herself for.
“Yeah?” he asks, brow raised, and she takes a deep breath.
“Hi. Sorry. Uhh . . . I don’t know if this is weird, or . . . sorry. I just wanted to say that I am also going to the bathroom. If,” she halts, looking between the two of them before deciding to hold her eyes on the guy, “you wanted someone to, you know, make sure she’s safe. Make sure no one comes for her.” With her hands, she does a weak attempt at a karate position. He laughs, and her face stretches into a flushed smile.
“See?” he says, turning to the girl. “You’ll be fine.” He glances back at her again. “What’s your name?”
“Juliet.”
“Juliet here’ll keep an eye on you. Sound good?”
The girl stares at her for an extended moment, the way a predator eyes their prey as they decide whether they’re worth the kill. Juliet squirms, awaiting the lunge and the bite. But then she nods.
“Ok. I’m Clementine.” She sticks her hand out. “It’s my birthday, and now I’m ten.”
Unable to help it, a smile widens across her face, shaking her hand. “Happy birthday. Ten’s a big one.”
“Yeah, that’s why my dad took me here. He said I was too little before.” The guy goes to muss the hair atop her head, but she pushes his arm away before he can.
“Are you liking it?” Juliet asks.
She nods, an excessively large gesture. “It’s amazing!”
“Yeah? I haven’t heard of many kids who like this musical.”
“Well, I’m smarter than a lot of other kids,” she says, with a proud grin. Juliet stifles a laugh.
“Clementine,” the guy scolds, giving her a warning look.
She furrows her brow, and Juliet notices just how similar the two look. Like a tiny clone with all the same features. (Her eyes are darker, the nose a tad different, but that’s about it.) “What? You said I was.”
He sighs and shoots Juliet a wide-eyed gaze. “Yeah, too smart.” She laughs softly, and he adds, “I’m James, by the way.”
“Juliet,” she responds, before it occurs to her she’s said that. The red in her face is beginning to seem permanent. “You already know that.”
He grins. “No such thing as too many introductions.”
Before she can form a response to match his wit, they reach the bathroom opening. She sees Clementine turn to look inside, her face pinched together. Juliet catches James’ eyes, and he nods.
“Come on,” she says, putting a hesitant hand on Clementine’s shoulder and urging her forward. She doesn’t argue, continuing inside.
“I’m not scared,” she says, as they search for empty stalls in the maze of shut doors. “I’m just being smart. My mom said that you always have to be observant of your surroundings. And she said women should try not to be alone in public, especially at night. Because that’s when bad stuff happens.”
Juliet nods, sighing in relief when there are two doors swung open at the end of the hall. “Yeah, that makes sense. You want to go in that last one?”
“Okay.” She waits until they get closer before walking away from Juliet and going inside. She quickly steps inside the one beside her, trying her best to go quickly.
Alone, even for a brief moment, she considers what she’s doing here. She’s inserted herself into a very precious outing between a father and daughter. What kind of person does that? Sure, they’ve been nice to her, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t bothered.
It’s fine. She’ll just get this girl out of the bathroom, and then they’ll never have to talk again. No worries.
She sucks in a deep breath and flushes the toilet, stepping out of the stall. Clementine follows just after her, staying close to Juliet’s side as she walks toward the sink.
Putting her hands beneath the water, she wonders why this girl trusts her. Why is Juliet any different from any other possible threat? It’s difficult to believe it’s something about her demeanor, as even Julian is still put off by her in the first few moments they spend together when she visits.
“Come on,” Clementine says, rubbing her hands on her dress. “I don’t wanna miss it when it starts again.”
Juliet nods, tossing her paper towel in the trash and following her out of the bathroom.
“You made it,” James says, waiting by the exit. He puts an arm around Clementine’s shoulders and nods his head over at Juliet. “Thanks.”
“Yeah. No problem.”
“Daddy, I don’t wanna miss the show,” she says, tugging on his shoulder.
“We’re going, hold your horses.” They turn, heading to the stairs, and it’s over.
Juliet lets a space grow between them before following. She’s sure Rachel will chastise her for this later. When she hears about the attractive, ring-less guy who kept smiling at her, whom Juliet let go without even an attempt at connection. But all she can see are the thousand ways it could go wrong. He isn’t single. He tells her he isn’t interested. He laughs at her. He agrees, and they go on one date, and he realizes how bad a decision that was and escapes through the bathroom at the restaurant. He agrees, and they date for a month or two or three, and she ruins it, and he leaves, and she is devastated to a point far more than she can handle.
She’s giving up. It is safer to go home alone.
She makes her way back to her seat, only to find that the spots have been flipped, Clementine now sitting beside her empty seat. She lights up when she sees Juliet slipping through the row.
“Juliet! I wanted to sit next to you.”
“Oh, okay.” She sits down, setting her things on her lap and giving the girl a smile.
James butts in. “Clem, leave her alone.”
“No, it’s okay,” Juliet says, giving him an insistent look.
“Do you like musicals?” Clementine asks, sitting up tall in her seat.
The sudden attention is startling. She’s overwhelmed with the need to curl up, away from the question, which is incredibly pathetic to feel about a child.
“Yeah, they’re alright.” She considers delving into the full extent of her opinion—how she loves Disney movies but finds most other movie musicals to be grating, yet she loves seeing them live, finding something magical in the performances. But it feels too heavy, and utterly unnecessary.
“I love musicals,” she says, grinning and showing off her missing teeth. “But my dad hates them.”
“I don’t hate them,” he defends, leaning into the conversation.
Clementine turns to face him. “Yeah, you do. You complained about coming to this.”
“You’re exaggerating,” he says, and Clementine sticks her tongue out at him. Juliet laughs, but the moment is soon cloaked in darkness.
“It’s starting,” Clementine says in a loud whisper, sinking down into her seat.
Juliet’s attention teeters between the stage and the duo beside her, unable to stop the instinctive glances she keeps taking in their direction. She’s brought back to the show when Eponine’s solitary voice reemerges. Again, it evokes such pain from within her chest—all those feelings she fights to keep down bursting free without control or order. And when she watches her get shot, fall into Marius’ arms, and slowly drift away, Juliet is overwhelmed with more emotion than she expected to be dealt with by the show.
It takes the next song to calm herself down, taking deep breaths and squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to assuage the tears in her eyes. Once her heart has slowed, she finds herself unable to focus on the show, not without Eponine. Not with James sitting so close.
Without meaning to, she keeps looking at him. Every time something significant or interesting occurs, she looks for his reaction. The widened eyes when Javert is released, the shift as he leans forward at the lines that interest him. But she finds his interest is far more centered on Clementine than the show. In the same way she looks to him, he looks to the girl at every moment. It touches her deeply, the genuine care she sees there, even in the dark. How, later, when Gavroche dies, he’s quick to grab her hand.
It’s one of her many issues, how easily she is able to become infatuated with strangers. She should not have allowed herself to weave her mind around these people’s existence, and yet, she already has. Their story could be so wholly different from what she’s written, and still, she’s become enchanted by the tale.
He’s a good dad, and she’s a good kid. At least it’s how they appear. They look happy. He is effortlessly attractive, and Clementine is adorable. These things she knows.
She wants to learn so much more. All the things that she’ll never get close to. They practically live on another planet. They are strangers.
But it’s real when he’s holding her hand, and Juliet is reminded that some people in this world are good.
It ends before she knows it, the audience bursting into applause as the performers take their bows. The moment they begin making their way off stage, people begin to slowly migrate toward the exit. Clementine hurriedly shoves her toward the end of the row.
“You have to go,” she urges, her eyes big. “The stage door is gonna get super packed.”
Juliet nods without any argument, rushing as best she can to get out into the aisle. Clementine is right on her tail, James’ hand on her shoulder. She’s talking to him a mile a minute—recapping the show as if he hadn’t just seen it and loudly commenting on her every reaction. He responds with enthusiasm, no dismissive mhms or that’s greats.
Juliet smiles to herself in front of them. Oh, how she longed for that as a child. Someone who would just listen.
“Juliet!” she hears, and quickly turns around, startled by the sound. Clementine is beaming at her, holding her playbill close to her chest. “Are you waiting by the stage door?”
“Oh.” The question throws her, stumbling on her feet as she makes her way up the aisle. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
Her intention had been to simply catch a cab and head home. Put on pajamas and curl up in bed with her book. Maybe lie on the couch and put on some reruns, actually. She isn’t sure she has the energy for reading words.
“You should stay!”
“Clementine, Juliet probably has plans,” James says, shooting her a gaze of apology.
God, her having plans? It sounds like a fantasy, like he’d suggested she were going to fly home.
“I’d love to wait,” she says, an impulse. Quickly tailed by, “It would be nice to see the cast.”
Clementine grins, and Juliet fears James will be offended by her choice. He had signaled her with his eyes. Maybe that was for his sake, rather than hers. Maybe she should have let them have their night together without stampeding in on it.
But if he’s irritated, he doesn’t show it on his face. No, he’s smiling at her, like he’s pleased by this development. It makes her heart feel warm.
“I’m going to get signatures from everybody,” Clementine says, taking her coat from where James holds it in his elbow and hurriedly pulling it on. “And then I’m gonna hang it on my wall.”
“Should’ve brought a Sharpie,” James says, putting his hands on her shoulders.
Her brow draws together. “They have their own, Daddy. It would be crazy if everyone handed them another Sharpie.”
“Sorry, that was stupid,” he says, exaggeratedly self-deprecating. Juliet stifles her smile and turns, pulling on her own coat as the line opens up to the lobby and leaves them to make their way to the exit. Clementine dashes past her, James running to follow. Juliet contemplates her next move, as if her decision held the weight of life and death. Rush behind them, take her time, and risk losing them in the crowd, call a taxi, and go home.
But then Clementine glances back, eyes searching for her, and Juliet knows that—for some reason—her presence seems to delight this little girl. So she follows behind, quickening her pace until she’s right behind them.
The crowd is already packed around the gated area. Clementine pushes her way through, James being tugged along, and Juliet isn’t sure what else there is to do but follow. She’s ambushed by a cocktail of unpleasant smells, surrounded by noise all piling atop itself in a way that makes her feel as if she’s drowning. She’s never liked crowds. Her heart is in her throat already, but it rises when she looks down at Clementine, who looks like she’s going to get swallowed up by it all.
“I can’t see,” she complains, standing up on her toes. “Daddy, I’m going to miss them.”
“You ain’t missing anything, Sparky. No one’s there.”
“But when they come out, I can’t see.”
“I’ll lift ya up, okay?”
She nods and then turns around. “Juliet, I came to see Wicked for a field trip last year, and I got everyone to sign my playbill.”
She smiles. “That’s really cool. Have you seen any other shows?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. Just that and this. But I wanna see everything.”
“You ever considered getting a job, kiddo?” James teases, and Juliet digs her front teeth into her bottom lip, suppressing a wide grin.
“I can’t get a job, I have school,” she shoots back, like it’s a great retort. Juliet almost tells her about how she worked in college, and how she hardly ever seemed to have a moment for herself, but it seems unnecessary to burst her bubble. She’ll have to face reality one day, but Juliet will not be the one responsible.
As if sensing Juliet’s inner thoughts running wild, Clementine turns to look up at her. “What’s your job?”
“I’m a doctor,” she says, wrapping her coat tighter around herself. There’s a bite to the chilly spring air, now that the sun has sunk beneath the horizon.
“Do you cut people’s brains open?”
She smiles, exhaling a sort-of laugh. “No, I don’t. I don’t really work with patients too much, actually. I do a lot of research.”
“Oh, cool,” Clementine says, but it sounds like she’s lost all interest, spinning around to once again face the door.
James, though, keeps looking at her. “What kind of research?”
His attention is like a dog treat to her drooling heart. No one ever asks for more information. No one ever really asks her anything at all.
“Oh, uh, I do fertility work.”
He nods, eyes right on her in a way that makes her shiver. “That’s interesting.”
“And by interesting, you mean boring,” she teases.
But he shakes his head. “No, not at all. It’s cool.”
“Thanks.” She can feel her ears go red, glancing away a moment. “What do you do?”
“I’m in publishing.”
“Oh, really?”
He dips his head, hair falling into his face before reaching up to push it back. “Ain’t nothing cool.”
“That’s so cool,” she counters. “My apartment is just…full of books. You’re supporting my existence, so thank you.”
He chuckles, dimples indented in his cheeks, eyes gleaming. “I’m glad, then.”
The air is sliced through by the sharp noise of a ringtone. Juliet knows it isn’t hers and watches James pull his phone from his pocket, scowling when he sees the screen. “Speak ‘a the devil.”
“Is it Mommy?” Clementine asks, leaning over to look.
“No, it’s my boss.”
She makes a fart noise with her mouth, and Juliet covers her laugh with a cough, tucking her back behind her ear.
“Why aren’t you answering?” she asks.
“‘Cause tonight’s all ‘bout you.” He leans in to kiss the top of her head, and she squirms away.
“But what if they fire you?”
He frowns, brow drawing together to match hers. “They ain’t firing me.”
“What if someone died?”
“No one died. Why’s it gotta be some big commotion?”
“You never know!”
Suddenly, the phone rings again. The strangers beside them turn at the noise, and Juliet cringes at the attention.
“I swear to god,” he mutters.
Clementine nudges him. “Answer it.”
“I’m not gonna answer it, I ain’t at work.”
“But what if it’s important?”
“Who cares?”
“Daddyyyy,” she whines, stomping her feet. “They’re just gonna keep calling, y’know.”
He heaves a long sigh. “Well, I ain’t leaving ya here alone. Don’t need you getting touched by some creep.”
“Juliet can stop the creeps from touching me,” she says, and they both turn to look at her. She freezes.
James seems to ask a question with his eyes. She isn’t quite sure how to respond in his language, so she attempts a nod. “I can keep an eye on her. If you want me to.”
“See?”
He looks between the two of them before relenting, shoulders dropping. “Alright. Just . . . yeah. You got her. I’ll be right back.”
He steps past her, body brushing against hers and sending sparks down her arm and through her chest. She glances at the back of his head and then back at the child she’s responsible for.
“Are they out yet?” she asks, jumping up to try and see over the girls in front of her. Juliet’s almost a head taller, looking right into the empty gated-off area.
“Not yet.” The impatience radiates off of her, and Juliet wracks her brain for possible distractions. “Uhh, what do you want to be when you grow up?”
“I wanna be like Barbie and do every job,” she says without hesitation, clearly an answer she’s given before. Juliet admires it. She went through various fixations on careers throughout her childhood—a teacher when she was five, a veterinarian when she was eight, something with forensics or maybe a medical examiner when she was twelve. It is kind of absurd to think about how many different lives there are to lead and the fact that we can only pick one to live. It’s overwhelming.
“I like that,” she says with a smile.
Clementine nods proudly. “My mom said I should be an actor, because then I can play all the other jobs I want on TV.”
“Oh. That’s a good idea.”
“Mhm. It is. And my school did Into the Woods Jr. last year, and I was Little Red, which is a huge part. I had a solo and everything. And everyone said I was so good.”
“That’s great. Hopefully, I’ll get to see you up there on that stage one day.”
She grins, and then the sound of the crowd around them erupting into noise drowns out the moment. Juliet looks over and sees the open door, a woman stepping out, and waving. Cosette, she’s pretty sure. Someone she doesn’t quite recognize and believes was in the ensemble comes out just after her.
“I can’t see them!” Clementine screams, jumping up with no success. “Juliet, I can’t see.”
Her heart pounds in her chest. She glances back behind her, but James is nowhere to be found. The cast is nearing, another comes out the door and greets the fans, and she scrambles to form a solution.
Her mind turns back to what James had said before. She hesitates, but in the wake of the desperation seeped into her face, she proposes, “I could lift you up, if that was okay with you—”
“Yes! Do it, now!” Her arms shoot up in preparation, waving her hands like a toddler. Juliet stares at her, turning her options over in her mind. She opts to bend down and reach forward, picking the girl up with a huff and shifting her as high as she can manage. Clementine instinctively puts her legs around her waist, probably too big for this, but Juliet isn’t going to argue.
“Can you reach them?” she asks, and Clementine nods, leaning forward. She scrambles to tighten her hold on the girl, able to envision the sight of her falling to the ground. She doesn’t want to think of what would happen after, how she’d probably cry, and James would return and look at her like she was a monster.
Clementine calls out to the first actor, extending her playbill forward and shouting that her performance was amazing. It’s a similar scene as each new actor approaches. Juliet’s arms burn, a crackling fire beneath her skin. She adjusts her grip and grits her teeth.
Time extends into an odd, never-ending sort of paradox until finally Clementine says, “That’s everyone,” and she sets her on the ground.
Juliet freezes when she immediately launches into a hug. “Thank you!”
“Oh. Of course.”
She grabs onto her arm, then, when she pulls away. “Come on.”
They finally escape the crowd, Juliet sucking in a big breath of air. James is waiting just off to the side, and Clementine dashes to him the moment she notices.
“Daddy, look! I got everyone!”
He takes the Playbill she’s excitedly holding up, inspecting it with a smile. “There ya go. Nice job.”
“Juliet lifted me up so I could reach.”
“I just thought—” she starts quickly, but James brings his smile up toward her and says, “Thanks. Sure, she wouldn’t have let me live it down if ya hadn’t.”
His attention makes her cheeks warm. “Yeah. I’m happy she got what she wanted.”
“There are so many!” Clementine shrieks excitedly, holding the playbill like a trophy.
“Good birthday?” James asks, and she grins.
“Best birthday.”
She’s going to miss them, Juliet thinks suddenly, with the force of a bullet. How pathetic, to be so attached to two strangers. But when will she find herself in conversation with someone like this again? Something so effortless. Something that lights that joy inside her chest and makes her feel alive.
Too good to be true, she thinks, and glances at the passing cars on the street.
“It was nice to meet you two,” she says, taking one last look at them and drawing their attention from each other.
Clementine’s eyes widen. “Wait!” She hesitates a moment, as if caught in a momentary brain glitch, and then tugs James down, closer so she can whisper in his ear. Juliet frowns, watching them, mind spinning with possibilities.
Finally, the two of them turn toward her, grinning like salesmen with a titling pitch on their tongues.
“Juliet, if ya ain’t busy, Clementine had a question for you,” James says, eyes flicking down to her, as if urging her on.
She doesn’t stutter now, jumping right into her proposal. “Do you wanna come get pie with us?”
Juliet’s heart jumps into her throat. “What?”
“On my birthday—well, when I’m with my dad, and sometimes on his birthday too—we always go to my Uncle Hurley’s restaurant, and they have a bunch of pie and we always get it instead of cake. My favorite is apple, but I also really like cherry. And last time I had strawberry rhubarb and it was so good.”
“Clem, give her time to answer.”
Juliet blinks. Thrown by the twist, her thoughts are slow to catch up. “You want me to come?”
She nods. “Yeah!”
“You don’t have to come,” James says, an apology in his eyes. “I know it’s a lot. She insisted.”
“I don’t want to intrude,” she says, voice quiet, methodically picking at her nail.
Clementine practically cries out, “No! You have to come.”
“Clementine, Juliet doesn’t have to come if she doesn’t want to,” he says, speaking to her calmly.
The way her face falls twists a knife already dug into Juliet’s stomach.
“I can go. I love pie.”
Her frown is flipped upside down, drawing into a wide grin. “Yay! Come on.”
She starts down the sidewalk, and Juliet hurries over, looking at James. “I’m sorry. I really don’t want to ruin your night with her—”
“Oh, you ain’t ruining anything.” He puts on a reassuring smile. “I see plenty ‘a her. And she really likes you. As long as you ain’t a serial killer or nothing, I don’t mind.”
She laughs. “Not a serial killer. Scout’s honor.”
“Come on!” Clementine encourages again, further ahead of them, and they both move to follow.
“Do you have any kids?” he asks, looking at her.
She jumps at the idea. “Oh, no. I don’t. I have a nephew.”
“All the benefits, but you can always give him back.”
Another laugh, more than she’s let out in what feels like years. “Exactly.”
“Thanks for being so good with her.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, and Juliet falls enamored with the effortless way he moves. Such confidence in his steps, a leisureliness to the way he carries himself.
“Of course.” She nods. “She’s a great kid.”
“What are you talking about?” Clementine asks, skipping over. “You’re walking so slow.”
“I’m an old man, gimme a break.”
She slows down to join them, looking up at Juliet, tiny nose red from the cold. “Juliet, have you lived in New York City your whole life?”
“No, I just moved here, actually.”
“That’s cool. I’ve lived here my whole life.”
James raises a brow. “Really, huh? I seem to remember differently.”
She groans. “I was a baby, Daddy! I don’t remember it.” She glances back at Juliet. “I moved here when I was one.”
“Oh, well that hardly counts.”
“See!”
James teasingly rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
“New York City is the greatest place on Earth.” Clementine puts her arms up into the air, waving them around animatedly.
He turns his head toward her. “And what d’you think of it so far?”
The suffocating loneliness throbs, then, at what sounds like a call. But she shakes it off and puts on a smile. “It’s . . . big.”
He chuckles. “That it is.”
“It’s amazing,” Clementine adds, emphasized by long syllables. She lifts her head again, startling Juliet with, “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Clementine,” James scolds, as Juliet coughs and clears her throat to cover up the shock. “What did I say? You gotta stop asking people personal questions.”
“But I’m curious!”
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
“And satisfaction brought it back.” She sticks her tongue out, and he sighs. Juliet would smile if she weren’t still trying to get the surprise out of her throat. It doesn’t help when Clementine looks at her and adds, “My dad is single.”
She makes a sort of squeak, and James puts his hands on her shoulders to nudge her forward. “Ok, you go hit the crosswalk button.”
She runs forward without argument, and Juliet notices now that his face seems to be tinted red. (The lights? she wonders.)
“Sorry ‘bout her,” he mumbles.
She shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. She’s great.” Awkwardly, she adds, “And I am single too.”
“Ah, cheers to being alone, then,” he jokes, and she laughs. It’s funny how he can keep doing that to her.
They cross at the light, and Clementine happily waves her hands in the direction of the restaurant on the corner, The Pie Dude in big neon lights. Juliet slows to allow them to go first, hesitantly following behind.
The moment they’re inside, a loud, cheerful voice comes from behind the counter. “There’s the birthday girl!”
“Hi, Uncle Hurley!” she shouts gleefully, rushing up to the counter. “We saw Les Misérables, and it was amazing.”
“Oh, cool! I’m glad you liked it.”
James nods his head once he’s closer. “Hey, Hugo. How’s it going?”
“I’m good! Glad that you guys are here.”
Juliet wraps her arms around herself, hovering behind them a few steps too far away. She’d attempted to assuage the feelings of intrusiveness, but they return full force now. What is she doing here, tagging along on someone else’s traditions? When will she learn to stop attempting to squeeze herself into places she doesn’t belong?
She considers rushing backwards, out the door, before anyone notices. But then James turns to look at her, beckoning her forward with her hand.
“Brought a friend,” he says, and her heart soars at the sound. A friend. Not a stranger. (Surely just a pleasantry, but still. Meaningful all the same.)
“Hey, I’m Hurley,” the guy behind the counter says, grinning wide in a way that makes her warm.
“Hi. I’m Juliet, it’s nice to meet you.”
“We met her at the show,” Clementine exclaims, and he nods.
“Oh, cool!”
“Why don’t ya go ahead and order?” James suggests, ruffling her hair.
She squints, leaning in toward the glass case of various pies. Juliet doesn’t blame her; it’s a tough decision. Each one glistens, gleaming with the prospect of imminent sweetness. Her mouth waters, pooling beneath her tongue.
“Can I get two?” she asks, and James narrows his eyes.
“You ain’t gonna eat two.”
“Yes, I will! I’m ten now, my stomach’s bigger.”
He sighs, pushing his hair back. “Fine. But I told you so.”
“Thank you!” She turns back around. “I want one slice of apple, and . . . um . . . one slice of key lime pie.”
“Awesome!” Hurley says.
She takes a step back, and James mutters. “You don’t even like key lime.”
She sticks her tongue out at him again, and he rolls his eyes, moving forward. “I’ll just take a slice ‘a pumpkin.”
“You can’t have pumpkin!” Clementine argues. “It’s February!”
“What kinda ‘a rule is that?”
“Pumpkin is for Thanksgiving.”
He smirks. “I say pumpkin is for whenever I want.”
She huffs, and he turns his smile onto Juliet. “Go ahead and order something, if you want.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I can get it myself.”
“It’s on the house!” Hurley says.
She shakes her head. “You’re too sweet. I can pay for it.”
“Any friend of James is a friend of mine, and I don’t charge my friends. Especially on a birthday.”
She smiles. His joy is infectious—and persuasive. “Okay. Thank you. Um . . . I’ll get a slice of the cherry pie.”
“Sounds good. I’ll bring those out in a sec!”
“Thanks, Hugo.”
He leads Clementine away from the counter and to one of the tables, Juliet walking behind and waiting until they’ve sat down to sit in the booth beside James. She folds her hands in her lap, tapping her foot beneath the table.
“Hurley makes the best pie in the city,” Clementine says proudly, and James simply nods in agreement.
“Can’t argue with that. It’s pretty damn good.”
Clementine sets her playbill on the table and looks at it with the gaze of a mother admiring her newborn child. Juliet pulls her phone from her bag and briefly glances at the screen. A load of texts from Rachel, of course. She shuts it off without opening the notifications, returning it to her purse.
“Why do you get pie instead of cake?” Juliet asks Clementine, attempting to fill the silence.
She pipes up at the attention. “Well, I don’t really like cake. It’s okay. I’m having cake at my birthday party. Well, an ice cream cake. Which is kinda different. But I just think cake is kinda boring. And I like pie better.”
“I respect that. Pie is great.”
She nods, and then Hurley comes with the pie, a lit candle stuck into the apple slice.
“There we go,” James says.
“Sing!” Clementine commands with a toothy grin, and the three of them—including Hurley, who stuck around at the end of the table—begin the song. Juliet finds that she’s never liked being sung to like this. The table of eyes boring into her has always been more unnerving than anything. The awkward stillness she took on listening to the off-key singing. But Clementine seems to soak in it, beaming at the noise.
When they’re done, she leans in and blows, extinguishing the flame.
“Happy birthday, Clem!” Hurley says, giving her a high five before he goes.
She wastes no time plucking the candle out and digging in, and Juliet takes it as a go-ahead. As soon as the first bite is in her mouth, she almost moans.
“Oh, wow. That’s amazing.”
“Right?” Clementine says, mouth full. The three of them eat in a surprising silence, far too captivated by the dessert. Juliet is shocked to watch Clementine scarf down both pieces of pie, grinning when she pushes her empty plates toward James.
“I told you so.”
“You win,” he jokingly relents, putting his last bite into his mouth.
Juliet wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, sliding her tongue over her teeth. She can feel the clock slowly ticking down, but she has gotten far more time than she ever thought she would, let alone deserves.
“I think it’s nearing your bedtime, sweetpea,” James says, and Clementine’s face falls into a deep frown.
“Noooooo. We should go somewhere else. I think we should go to a club. I’m sure if you guys squeezed me in between you, they wouldn’t notice.”
“Yeah, that’s a great idea,” he snarks and gets up from the table. “The hell do ya wanna do at a club, anyway?”
“Dance. Drink.”
“You ain’t drinking anything.” He swings an arm around her shoulder, and Juliet watches them from behind as they head toward the door. She’s going to have to find a cab. It’s her least favorite thing, standing on the curb with her hand up like a pitiful fool. She turns her eyes toward the street the moment they’re outside, but Clementine draws her attention instead.
“I would invite you to my birthday party if I could, but my mom probably wouldn’t like it, because she already bought stuff, and you would be an extra person.”
The innocence is sweet. She smiles. “That’s okay. I hope you have a fun time.”
“Maybe you could come ice skating with us. My dad is taking me next weekend. Or, well, it’s not next weekend, but it’s the next weekend I have with him. Which is in two weekends.”
“I’m not a very good ice skater,” she says, which is a lie, but she isn’t sure how else to get out of this without plainly telling her that it probably isn’t okay that she’s inviting her into all of their personal family activities. “I should probably stay home.”
“But I’m not either! I want you to come.”
“I’m sure your dad wants to take you by yourself,” she tries, hoping James will step in.
But when he does, it isn’t what she was expecting. “I mean, you could come if you wanted to. But you don’t have to.”
Her heart stutters in her chest, racing against her ribs. “Really?”
His eyes are big. A similar sort of shell-shocked look, as if he wasn’t the one to suggest it. “Yeah. Why not?”
“Please!” Clementine pleads, bowing her head and shooting her puppy dog eyes.
Juliet is frozen. It’s like the universe had finally heard her begging, finally had provided a solution on a silver platter. It was almost too good to be true. A con? A scam? A poisoned drink or a snake wrapped up with a bow?
But she’s looking at them, and all she can feel is happiness. She didn’t think she was ever going to feel that again.
“I’d love to, then.”
“Yay!” Clementine cheers, jumping up and down. “Daddy, give her your phone number.”
He nods, pulling it out of his pocket. “Right. We probably need to do that.”
She laughs. “Yeah, that would be smart.”
He shows her the number and she types it into her phone, skin tingling beneath her clothes.
“You know, maybe we could get coffee sometime,” he suggests, and for the first time, his voice lacks its usual confidence. “Just us.”
Her face flames. Before she can stutter out a response, Clementine protests, “No! I wanna go!”
“Shhh,” James says playfully, a hand on her face.
Juliet chuckles. She swears, there are almost tears in her eyes, and she blinks them away hurriedly, murmuring a soft, “Yeah. I would love that.”
He grins, eyes twinkling. “Great. Text me, then. We’ll figure something out.”
She nods and wonders when she’s going to wake up. This is a dream. Some magnificent dream her body conjured up to fight the hurt. But the cold is nipping at her skin, and it’s so real. James is smiling at her, and he’s so real.
Even after the two of them disappear down to the subway, even after Juliet gets in her cab, she can’t wipe the smile off her face.
It’s a good thing Amy cancelled, she thinks. It’s a good thing she went anyway.
Maybe, finally, her luck has begun to change.