The Unraveling

　　31

　　The Tragic¹ Historye of Romeus and JulietteThe walk was long, and longer still for her young mind. Though Juliette took few of the steps withher own small feet, it felt as though she and her parents had traveled for weeks. To impatient youth,all things took forever and any kind of waiting was torture.

　　She rode on her father’s shoulders, clutched his chin, her legs wrapped choking around his neck.

　　Riding so high, she had to stoop her head to avoid the undersides of the steps. Clangs from strangers’

　　boots rang out on the treads above her, and sprinkles of rust² dust drifted into her eyes.

　　Juliette blinked and rubbed her face into her father’s hair. As excited as she was, the rise and fallof his shoulders made it impossible to stay awake. When he complained of a sore back, she rode afew levels on her mother’s hip³, fingers interlocked around her neck, her young head lolling as shedrifted off to sleep.

　　She enjoyed the sounds of the traveling, the footfalls and the rhythmic⁴ song of her mother andfather chatting about adult things, their voices drifting back and forth⁵ as she faded in and out.

　　The journey became a haze⁶ of foggy recollections. She awoke to the squealing⁷ of pigs through anopen door, was vaguely⁹ aware of a garden they toured, woke fully¹⁰ to the smell of something sweetand ate a meal—lunch or dinner, she wasn’t sure. She hardly stirred that night as she slid from herfather’s arms into a dark bed. She awoke the next morning beside a cousin she didn’t know in anapartment nearly identical to her own. It was a weekend. She could tell by the older kids playingloudly in the hallway instead of getting ready for school. After a cold breakfast, she returned to thestairs with her parents and the sensation that they’d been traveling all their lives instead of just oneday. And then the naps returned with their gentle erasure¹¹ of time.

　　After another day they arrived at the hundredth landing of the silo’s unfathomable depths. Shetook the last steps herself, her mom and dad holding a hand each, telling her about the significance.

　　She was now in a place called the “down deep,” they told her. The bottom third. They steadied hersleepy legs as she wobbled from the last tread of the ninety-ninth stairway to the landing of thehundredth. Her father pointed¹² above the open and busy doors to a large painted number with anincredible third digit¹³:

　　100

　　The two circles captivated Juliette. They were like wide-open eyes peering out at the world for thefirst time. She told her father that she could already count that high.

　　“I know you can,” he said. “It’s because you’re so smart.”

　　She followed her mother into the bazaar¹⁴ while clutching one of her father’s strong and roughhands with both of her own. There were people everywhere. It was loud, but in a good way. A happynoise filled the air as people lifted their voices to be heard—just like a classroom once the teacherwas gone.

　　Juliette felt afraid of getting lost, and so she clung to her father. They waited while her mombartered for lunch. It required stopping at what felt like a dozen stalls to get the handful of things sheneeded. Her dad talked a man into letting her lean through a fence to touch a rabbit. The fur was sosoft, it was like it wasn’t there. Juliette snapped her hand back in fear when the animal turned itshead, but it just chewed something invisible and looked at her like it was bored.

　　The bazaar seemed to go on forever. It wound around and out of sight, even when all the many-colored adult legs were clear enough for her to see to the end. Off to the sides, narrower passages fullof more stalls and tents twisted in a maze¹⁵ of colors and sounds, but Juliette wasn’t allowed to godown any of these. She stuck with her parents until they arrived at the first set of square steps she’dever seen in her young life.

　　“Easy now,” her mother told her, helping¹⁶ her up the steps.

　　“I can do it,” she said stubbornly, but took her mom’s hand anyway.

　　“Two and one child,” her father said to someone at the top of the steps. She heard the clatter¹⁷ ofchits going into a box that sounded full of them. As her father passed through the gate, she saw theman by the box was dressed in all colors and wearing a funny floppy¹⁸ hat that was much too big forhim. She tried to get a better look as her mom guided her through the gates, a hand on her back andwhispers in her ear to keep up with her father. The gentleman turned his head, bells jangling on hishat, and made a funny face at her, his tongue poking¹⁹ out to the side.

　　Juliette laughed but still felt half-afraid of the strange man as they found a spot to sit and eat. Herdad dug a thin bedsheet out of his pack and spread it across one of the wide benches. Juliette’s mommade her take her shoes off before she stood on the sheet. She held her father’s shoulder and lookeddown the slope of benches and seats toward the wide open room below. Her father told her the openroom was called a “stage.” Everything in the down deep had different names.

　　“What’re they doing?” she asked her father. Several men on the stage, dressed as colorfully as thegatesman, were throwing balls up into the air—an impossible number of them—keeping them allfrom hitting the ground.

　　Her father laughed. “They’re juggling²⁰. They’re here to entertain us until the play starts.”

　　Juliette wasn’t sure she wanted the play to start. This was it, the thing she wanted to see. Thejugglers tossed balls and hoops²¹ between each other, and Juliette could feel her own arms windmillingas she watched. She tried counting the hoops, but they wouldn’t stay in one place long enough.

　　“Eat your lunch,” her mother reminded her, passing her bites of a fruit sandwich.

　　Juliette was mesmerized²². When the jugglers put the balls and hoops away and started chasing oneanother, falling down and acting²³ silly, she laughed as loudly as the other kids. She looked constantlyto her mom and dad to see if they were watching. She tugged²⁴ on their sleeves, but they just noddedand continued to talk, eat, and drink. When another family sat close and a boy older than her laughedat the jugglers as well, Juliette felt suddenly like she had company. She began to squeal⁸ even louder.

　　The jugglers were the brightest things she had ever seen. She could’ve watched them forever.

　　But then the lights were dimmed and the play began, and it was boring by comparison. It startedoff well with a rousing sword fight, but then it was a lot of strange words and a man and womanlooking at each other the way her parents did, talking in some funny language.

　　Juliette fell asleep. She dreamed of flying through the silo with one hundred colorful balls andhoops soaring all around her, always out of reach, the hoops round like the numbers at the end of thebazaar’s level—and then she woke up to whistles and applause.

　　Her parents were standing²⁵ and yelling while the people on the stage in the funny costumes tookseveral bows. Juliette yawned and looked over at the boy on the bench beside her. He was sleepingwith his mouth open, his head in his mom’s lap, his shoulders shaking while she clapped and clapped.

　　They gathered up the sheet and her father carried her down to the stage, where the sword-fightersand strange talkers were speaking to the audience and shaking hands. Juliette wanted to meet thejugglers. She wanted to learn how to make the hoops float in the air. But her parents waited insteaduntil they could speak to one of the ladies, the one who had her hair braided and twisted intodrooping curves.

　　“Juliette,” her father told her, lifting her onto the stage, “I want you to meet … Juliette.” Hegestured to the woman in the fluffy²⁶ dress with the strange hair.

　　“Is that your real name?” the lady asked, kneeling down and reaching for Juliette’s hand.

　　Juliette pulled it back like it was another rabbit about to bite her, but nodded.

　　“You were wonderful,” her mom told the lady. They shook hands and introduced themselves.

　　“Did you like the play?” the lady with the funny hair asked.

　　Juliette nodded. She could sense that she was supposed to and that this made it okay to lie.

　　“Her father and I came to this show years ago when we first started dating,” her mother said. Sherubbed Juliette’s hair. “We were going to name our first child either Romeus or Juliette.”

　　“Well, be glad you had a girl, then,” the lady said, smiling.

　　Her parents laughed, and Juliette was beginning to be less afraid of this woman with the samename as her.

　　“Do you think we could get your autograph?” Her father let go of her shoulder and rummaged²⁷ inhis pack. “I have a program in here somewhere.”

　　“Why not a script for this young Juliette?” The lady smiled at her. “Are you learning yourletters?”

　　“I can count to a hundred,” Juliette said proudly.

　　The woman paused, then smiled. Juliette watched her as she stood and crossed the stage, her dressflowing in a way that overalls²⁸ never could. The lady returned from behind a curtain with a tiny bookof papers held fast with brass²⁹ pins. She accepted a charcoal³⁰ from Juliette’s father and wrote her namelarge and curly across the cover.

　　The woman pressed the collection of papers into her small hands. “I want you to have this, Julietteof the silo.”

　　Her mother protested. “Oh, we couldn’t. That’s too much paper—”

　　“She’s only five,” her father said.

　　“I have another,” the lady assured them. “We make our own. I want her to have it.”

　　She reached out and touched Juliette’s cheek, and this time Juliette didn’t pull away. She was toobusy flipping³¹ through the papers, looking at all the curly notes handwritten along the sides beside theprinted words. One word, she noticed, was circled over and over among all the others. She couldn’tmake out many of them, but this one she could read. It was her name. It was at the beginning of somany sentences:

　　Juliette.

　　This was her. She looked up at the lady, understanding at once why her parents had brought herthere, why they had walked so far and for so long.

　　“Thank you,” she said, remembering her manners.

　　And then, after some consideration:

　　“I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

 

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