Page 5 of Rome for the Holidays
He didn’t like that she could be hurt by the men her mom had over and was grateful her dog knew that they weren’t good men. He could only hope that she didn’t get hurt by one of them.
Vincenzo grabbed a pen, writing back to Harper.
Dear Harper,
Ciao. I am so glad you wrote back. I like hearing from you. I count you as a friend too. I have to say I am glad your dog keeps you safe. It bothers me that someone could hurt you. You do not deserve that. If you have to, sleep with a knife close by. Just in case. My father taught me that. I would be sad if you were hurt. So, take care of yourself, okay? You are important to me, and I would say the same to Gio if he were in your shoes. Anyway, I am glad you have a place where you can be yourself. I have not found one of those yet. You are lucky. Maybe someday I will find a place like that too. I am sure having solace in the library is wonderful. I am sorry about you not being able to play football. It really is a fun sport, but if you enjoy watching it, then that is what matters. I have been playing since I was a baby. Football is an important thing over here. Everyone watches it, has their favorite teams and player. I do. A.S. Roma is my team. I do not have a favorite player, but their team is fun to watch. I make certain to watch every single game. My father has even taken me to a few. Those days were the best ever. Anyway, I could write about football all day, but I will not. I would love to send a photo of myself and to see what you look like. Cannot wait to hear from you again and see what you look like.
Your friend, Vincenzo
A week later, there was another letter from Harper and Vincenzo ran to his room again, barely acknowledging his mother, who held a plate of fresh fruit in her hands.
She yelled after him, “Vincenzo!”
“Sorry mother, be back in a minute.”
He didn’t wait to see what else she had to say and shut his door, rushing over to his desk to open the letter.
He grinned when a photograph dropped out and he picked it up.
The girl in the photo had long brown hair, it was pulled back on one side with a clip, and she was slightly hunching her shoulders as if she didn’t want the attention.
She was smiling a little, tiny dimples showing in both cheeks, yet the smile didn’t reach her hazel-colored eyes.
She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt that had seen better days.
He hated that she was uncomfortable. It radiated out from the picture.
It made him long to hug her. To let her know it would be okay.
To take away her pain and sadness. He knew those thoughts were crazy to have at his early age, but he couldn’t help them.
He was a protector. It was built into him.
He put the photo aside, so he could look at it while reading the letter, glad he sent his in the express mail so that it reached her sooner.
The letter said,
Dear Vincenzo,
So, that’s me. I know I said before I don’t really fit in, and I don’t. People are rude to me. Adults and kids. If they notice me at all. I’m the weird girl at school. One that chooses not to interact with anyone else unless it’s necessary. I just don’t like it. My mom doesn’t like me having friends anyway. She wouldn’t allow anyone over to our trailer if I had a friend, so it’s better not to try. I know that sounds silly, that I don’t want any friends, but my only friend I had stopped talking to me after she found better friends. Ones that wanted to play with dolls. I don’t have those dolls and my mom wouldn’t buy them for me. So, I let her go. But at least I have you as a friend. I took your advice and found a knife to keep by my bed. It does help me feel safer, even if I don’t know how to use it. I did start doing research at the library to learn how to defend myself, so that should help too. It gives me peace to know I have it, so thank you. You really are a good friend. I really like having you to talk to, even if all we do is write. Writing is another of my favorite things to do. It gives me a chance to be another person. One who has friends and isn’t afraid of her own shadow. Maybe someday I will get to meet you, and hopefully you won’t see my picture and never want to talk to me again. I have your picture and it’s my most prized possession. My only friend. I really love that you sent it to me. It means a lot. So, thank you. I can’t wait for your next letter. Talk soon.
Your Harper.
Vincenzo longed to hold her in his arms. Hated that she didn’t have anyone in her life but him.
It made his heart hurt for her. He was more determined than ever to meet her one day.
And with each new letter, he knew without a doubt she was his.
Now that he had a face with the letter, he knew she was his.
He didn’t know why he knew that, but he liked it anyway.
Six years Later.
Vincenzo headed to Gio’s house on his motorcycle.
Gio told him that he had another letter from Harper and Vincenzo wanted to read it. To hear from his girl.
