Lorenzo's Funeral: A Short Story

Along the riverbank of Portia’s garden far away in Palm Springs, the reflection of the moonlight glistens in the water as I stroll along the sidewalk with my lover, Lorenzo.
“On a night like this, Romeo met Juliet. Remember how she betrayed her father to spend time with her companion?” said Lorenzo, “Sounds pretty familiar.”
His soothing voice harmonizes with the sound of crickets chirping in the background. As I smile to myself, I am reminded of the sacrifices I’ve made and my thoughts throughout this impactful decision.

It was in times like this when I would ponder over something so seriously.
“Am I allowed to do this?” “How committed am I?” Thoughts such as these were continuously running in my head as I glanced across the room. My

Hurry and come open the window.”
My ears caught Lorenzo's’ whisper as I quietly crept toward the window.
“Keep your voice low and stay still, my father has sensitive hearing.”
“Doesn’t matter, he’ll find out either way.”, said Lorenzo carelessly.
Despite Lorenzo’s careless words, the relationship I had with my father was different from the majority of my friends. I’ve never experienced the typical and sympathetic relationship between a father and a daughter. My father limited my freedom and prioritized Jewish conditions over everything in our household. I can recall times when I described this home as “hell” and felt nothing but shame and embarrassment knowing that I was a child of a father who was so evil.
“But what’s more evil?” I thought to myself, “My father eliminating my freedom of choices or me betraying him?”
Once again, Lorenzo’s voice interrupted my train of thought.
“Jessica! What’s taking you so long?” cried Lorenzo.
As I rushed over to my window, I quickly straightened my pants and pulled up my hoodie to cover my

Your father treats you poorly.”
“Right. He doesn’t understand the pressure he’s putting me through. Not to mention, he always bosses me around yelling ‘What, Jessica!’ On top of that, the fact that I’m giving up my Jewish roots in order to become Christian, clearly shows how broken the relationship is, between my father and I.”
At that moment, I felt my heart being lifted up as if someone removed a heavy weight from my chest. Lorenzo was kind enough to listen to my struggles and insecurities. As I climbed out the window, the summer night breeze whistled softly throughout the suburbs of La Cañada. I knew that this will be my last time to ever set foot in this city but I felt no emotions of attachment. Soon enough, I was greeted by Lorenzo’s friends, Gratiano and Salarino who were waiting in their car. As soon as we got in, Salarino pressed down on the gas pedal and the car accelerated far into the distance towards Interstate 10.
“So you must be Jessica, I’ve hear a lot about you from Lorenzo.” said Gratiano with a peculiar smile.
“Yeah.” agreed Salarino, “You’re quite different from the rest of the Jews, in a good way of course. I’ve never met a Jew who’s open-minded and considerate of others, especially towards us,