A modern, gay retelling of the star crossed lovers, Romeo & Juliet, about two boys falling in love despite the burden the world and their families put on their shoulders.
[Extended synopsis inside]
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Chapter Ten | Grape Soda
Imani had an ugly crying face.
Her crying was both ferocious and noisy. She blinked crocodile tears from bloodshot eyes, her thick lashes stuck together in clumps as if she'd been swimming. The tears made wet tracks down her face and dripped from her wobbling chin. Clear watery snot streaked from her flaring nostrils down her red mottled skin to her open quivering lips. Her hands open and closed, rhythmically clenching as if there could be some violent solution to her pain if only she could find it.
It was hysterical and it took everything in me not to laugh aloud in her face as I let her get her anger out about the small hickey she had spotted on my neck the other day. I had tuned her out for most of it, only tuning back in when she would yell my name or stuttered over her words from talking too fast.
I nearly yawned at the end of her ranting not simply because it was boring and a pure mood killer, but it was also early in the morning and here we were sitting in my car that's parked in the schools parking lot having a fight over something as stupid as a red mark on neck.
"If you say it's a bug bite than fine, I'll believe it, but you really need to start working on your communications skills Liam. You completely suck at communicating and I feel like that's really damaging our relationship." Imani sniffled into her sleeve, and I withheld the eye roll threatening to come through.
Exhaling a sigh, I stretched a little bit in the passenger seat, sneaking a sly look at the time on my watch. The bell was about to ring in a few — great now I'm gonna be late.
"Okay. I'll work on communicating better." I simply said, staring ahead at the teary eyed girl.
Imani wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes. "Really?"
I nodded. "Yeah I'll work on communicating better. If that's what you want or whatever." I exhaled a sigh, shrugging my shoulders at her.
Ever since I was little my father always told me that the woman is always right in the relationship. No matter what the situation may be or who caused it, the woman is right and you don't argue with her. Which is why I never bothered arguing with Imani whenever we'd have these little heated conversations. I just let her get all her anger out and compromise to whatever she said. That's what my father always told me to do.
Sometimes my father could forget his words and bark back at my mother, their heated words sounding off throughout the house for an entire night, and it's hard to tune them out even with my bedroom door closed.
However, in the end my father always let my mother win — not because she's always right but because he simply didn't like arguing with the woman he loves. Instead, he'd rather buy her an expensive bouquet of flowers or diamonds rings to make up for it. It's like a cycle with them; they fight, she ignores him for a while, and he buys her something expensive as a sorry for upsetting her.
