Romeo and Juliet

41 -N-

Let Me Explain

The moment the elevator dings open, Estelle is there, engrossed in her computer screen, chatting animatedly on the phone. She's so absorbed in her work that she doesn't glance up, even as her lips curve into a broad smile painted with crimson.

"Monday, it is then. Thank you," she murmurs, returning the phone to its cradle.

"Mom's around?" I inquire, my glare unintentional, but Estelle's grin only widens at the sight of Romeo lurking behind me. I can almost hear the cogs turning in her head, but I refuse to entertain her assumptions.

Estelle and Mom are thick as thieves; she's probably privy to all my secrets, including my rule about boys and seriousness. But Romeo? He's a wildcard—part saint, part sinner—and right now, he's leaning heavily into the latter, having spent the elevator ride making fun of me with Lily's words.

"Yes, Helena. Fortune smiles upon you; she's in there alone."

"Can I go through?" My impatience is palpable.

"Of course. The two of you?"

"Just me. Hold the fort, Romeo," I command, shooting him a withering look as I gesture towards the plush red couch.

His grin is infuriatingly charming. "As you wish, baby."

Estelle's giggle earns an eye roll from me. I shut the door behind me, cutting off her chatter mid-sentence. "She could be a handful –"

I'm on the verge of setting the record straight with her, but I decide against it. Let Romeo charm his way out of this one.

Inside, Jude's gaze snaps to mine. "Hey, Julie. You're beaming. Did today bring good tidings?"

If only she knew. Between Julissa's antics, Romeo's attitude, and my indecision about Dad's wedding, it's been anything but a banner day.

"We'll unpack it over dinner, Mom. There's something pressing I need to share."

She closes down her laptop and peers over her glasses, her expression taut with concern. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

Why does everyone leap to that conclusion? A revolving door of boyfriends doesn't equate to a loss of innocence.

I slump into the chair with a dramatic flourish. "No, but you aren't far from it."

"If it's about Zed, I trust you were cautious—"

I interject with a sigh. "Mom, please. Let me explain."

She nods, and I dive into the heart of the matter, detailing Karina's predicament—her pregnancy, her youth, every critical facet. To my astonishment, she takes it in stride.

"She's pregnant?" Her eyes betray no hint of judgment or dismay.

"Yes. You're alright with this?" I probe, seeking reassurance.

My support for Karina and Romeo transcends any desire for gratitude or recognition. It's the privilege of affluence, the joy of aiding others without expectation, that fuels my spirit.

Mom contemplates in silence, her unreadable expression a mask I've come to dread. "Okay, Julie."

We make our exit before she can broach the subjects of punishment or school. Since we're ahead of schedule, I enlist Romeo for one more errand—to Zed's. He's less than thrilled, but a promise is a promise.

I intended to lay bare my feelings to Zed, but the sight of him, wheelchair-bound and brimming with joy at my arrival, gives me pause. Fortuitously, he remains oblivious to Romeo's presence. Part of me wishes he'd caught a glimpse, if only to simplify matters. Yet, I can't bring myself to do it. I'm not ready, not brave enough. And I loathe that Romeo's influence has begun to reshape me.