Wherefore art thou, Romeo? and Juliet?
What IF ROMEO and Juliet had lived ? Would their passion diminish, the way passion sometimes does, or grow stronger with every passing year? How would children have affected their relationship? Would parenthood, in fact, strengthen their love and mutual respect?
Of course it would.
Year One: Hoping to make their new house a home, Juliet goes a little crazy with the credit cards. Romeo spends a little too much time with his buddies. She pays $22,000 for a dining room table she found on sale. He joins a jousting team that competes two nights a week, usually Tuesdays and Thursdays.
“What happened to all the savings?” Romeo finally asks.
“You spent it at the pub,” Juliet lies.
One night, in the third month, they go to bed and, for the first time, don’t make love. Not once. Juliet quietly cries herself to sleep. It’s over, she thinks. My Romeo is no Romeo.
The next day, he buys her a horse they really don’t need.
“I love you,” she says. “I really, really love you.”
Year Two: A transition year. Juliet is pregnant. Romeo is often away on business. She begins to eat ... and eat and eat and eat.
“You having triplets or something?” Romeo snaps after returning from a long journey.
“Are you saying I’m big?” Juliet cries.
“Of course not,” Romeo answers.
“You want that last piece of pie?” asks Juliet, a smidgen of whipped cream on her pretty chin.
Year Three: Juliet has triplets. Romeo is stuck in a middle-management job. He quits the jousting team and lets himself go a little. He is losing the hair on his head but growing it like sod on his ears, neck and back.
“Waaaaa!” wail the babies.
“Waaaaa!” wails Juliet.
“What’s wrong now?” Romeo asks.
“This house, it’s far too small for all of us,” Juliet complains.
The next day, Romeo takes a second job, writing sonnets. Twelve for a dime.
Year 10: To make ends meet, Romeo is now working three jobs. Juliet is running a small, unlicensed day-care center out of the back of their new house. They owe $5,000 to her parents, to whom they haven’t spoken for more than a decade. One night, Juliet announces she might be pregnant again.
“How many kids do we have now?” Romeo asks.
“Five,” answers Juliet. “No, six ... “
“Oh lord ... “ says Romeo.
“Or is it seven?” Juliet wonders.
On weekends, just for kicks, Romeo lays down a few bucks on the local sports teams. He doesn’t tell Juliet.
Every Wednesday, Juliet has coffee with an old boyfriend who actually listens to her. You know, really listens? She doesn’t tell Romeo.
Year 15: They are both in counseling.
“I really want to make this work,” Romeo says.
“Yeah, right,” says Juliet.
“Without you, I would truly die,” Romeo says.
“If I catch you gambling again, you will die,” says Juliet.
She tells their counselor that little things about Romeo are beginning to bug her. The way he leaves his buttery fingerprints all over the morning paper. How his nose whistles when he sleeps.
Two days before their 15th anniversary, Juliet has her gallbladder out.
Year 20: The kids are killing them.
“Please pick up that sock,” Juliet asks one of the teenagers.
“WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS NAGGING ME!” the teenager screams.
“It’s just a sock,” her mother calmly explains.
“I CAN’T WAIT TO GET OUT OF THIS PLACE!” the teenager yells, then stomps off to brood in her room, as teenagers sometimes did back then.
Meanwhile, another daughter, the pretty one, is seeing an older boy no one really likes. One night, they catch him sneaking out her bedroom window.
“They’re too young to be so serious,” Romeo says.
“Why are kids always in such a hurry to grow up?” Juliet asks.
“I gotta get to work,” says Romeo.
On the way home from work, Romeo remembers it’s Valentine’s Day. He stops for roses and a card. At the last second, he grabs a bottle of wine -- a nice pinot noir at a decent price. For all his shortcomings, Romeo could really spot a bargain when it came to wine.
“What the heck,” says Romeo, grabbing the wine. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”
Prone to a heavy thirst, Romeo polishes it off on the way home.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” he shouts when he gets home.
“What’s wrong with Daddy?” one of the kids asks.
“Yeah, he seems so happy,” says another.
“That’s because it’s Valentine’s Day,” their mother says, as if a day devoted to love could explain almost any silly behavior.
Which, of course, it can.
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Chris Erskine can be reached at chris.erskine@latimes.com.
