Yeah, I'm Juliet...And My Romeo's A Jerk

Juliet’s P.O.V.

“Juliet! Will you get the door please?” My mothers voice rang up the stairs from her art studio. I sighed. She was probably covered in paint, as usual. I jumped up from the window seat and hurried down the stairs, where the consistent sound of the doorbell could be heard.

“I’m coming! Jeez, chill out!” I sighed, annoyed as I flung the door open. A middle aged man with dark hair and eyes looked down at me, surprise coating his features. “Can I help you?” I asked politely, reveling in his features, so similar to my own.

“Uh, yes. Can I speak with your mother, please?” He asked, shaking out of the daze he appeared to be in. “Mom! There’s someone at the door for you!” I hollered in the general direction of the stairs, and heard the sound of a paint can dropping and rolling across the floor.

While I waited for my mother to make her appearance, I couldn’t help but notice the mans clothes. He was wearing a full suit, even though summer was in full swing, with a beautiful silk tie, a royal purple colors that went well with his dark features.

“Are you a cop?” I asked suspiciously, wondering if I should have made an excuse to leave him outside while I had the chance. “No, I’m not a cop.” He said, smiling wryly at me, like I was missing the punch line of a funny joke.

“What’s so important Juliet? I was in the middle of a painting…” My mother complained, pulling her frizzy curls away from her face as she descended the stairs. Even in her late thirties, she was still as breathtaking to behold as she was in her youth. Chocolate colored ringlets trailed to the middle of her back, her eyes matching the color of her hair. Her skin was a creamy tan, as though she spent many days out in the sun.

Today she was dressed casually in a pair of ripped jeans that probably belonged to me, and a sloppy tee shirt torn at the sleeve. She stopped when she caught sight of the man behind me, her face blanching white. “Isaac.” She gasped, stumbling down the last couple of steps.

“Hello Marie. Still beautiful as every I see. And still quite as clumsy, if I recall.” The man said, smiling calmly. A little grossed out by the mans flirty comment I skipped away a couple steps, trying to be subtle about it. “Juliet, go to your room.” My mother ordered, glowering at the man. “Who…” I started to ask. “Juliet! Now!” My mother snapped at me.

I shot her a wounded look and shuffled up the steps reluctantly, slightly bewildered. I sank down onto the top step, trying to be quiet. From here I could hear my mothers furious whispers clearly.

“You have no right to be here! What do you have to gain? I thought I made it clear I never wanted to see you again!” She said, modulating her shout so I wouldn’t hear. “Marie, I have to know her, she’s my daughter. I know you don’t want to see me, but all I’m asking for is a chance to see her, talk to her even!” The strange mans voice rose passionately and I felt I would tumble down the stairs in shock.

No wonder we looked so alike! He was my father! On the rare occasions I had mentioned my father, my mother had burst into tears, or broken the thing she was holding. I learned to keep quiet, and accept that I would never know him. And now here he was, standing on my doorstep.

I leaned down further to catch my mothers response. “You absolute moron! You think I’m going to let you just waltz into our lives? You made your choice when you left, and you stick to it! Now get out of my damn house!” My mother said, her voice cold.

“You now damn well it wasn’t my choice to leave! I couldn’t abandon my parents, and the business they worked so hard to make successful for me.” He worked his voice, trying to make her understand. “Your parents hated me, and you know it! The only reason you dated me was to prove to your rich friends that you could slum it up with the commoners!” My mother said, and I heard the sound of something being shuffled.