Charlie Wyman was a busy man. He was a top lawyer, known of everybody in London. He was also known as one of the handsomest bachelors of the city. He preferred to keep the title and let the women sigh of despair. He had a spacious flat in central London. His life was correct, simple and easy. Specialised in human rights, he had his own chamber with two oh his best friend working under him. Peter and Carl were his friends since playground and they had gone to Cambridge together. No matter how cold Charlie seemed to be, he had still soft sides. He helped refugees get asylum and fought for homeless people to have a chance to express themselves. It helped to know that he assisted somebody to have a better life. With his work and the free extra job, he didn't have much time for anything else. He wouldn't call Patricia for the world. He had dumped her and was glad of it. She had wanted to move into his flat and he said no. He didn't feel that she was the one he would share his bathroom with.
His grandma called him one day of June. He was so surprised after the call that he called his best friends for a meeting at his flat. They came two hours later with a six-pack with beers and pizza.
"Here comes the pizza!" shouted Peter, a tall, dark guy with glasses. He carried three pizza boxes with one hand while he was adjusting his glasses with the other. He went in into the flat, to lay the pizza on the kitchen table.
"And here comes the beers!" inserted Carl, a giant with brown hair. He agitated the beers so they made a cold "clang" against each other.
"I am so glad you are here. I still can't believe what she told me. I need to tell you this before I fly off tonight."
"Wait, wait," interrupted Peter, "you are going somewhere?"
"Well yes, that was what I wanted to tell you. You see, my grandmother has got a letter, from Italy.
"Italy?" asked Carl in disbelief. "Does she know anybody from Italy?"
"Well, that's the thing. It is from Verona. You know, the city of love. Apparently they have some Juliet's secretaries, where women write about love and Gran wrote to them fifty years ago. She got a reply from them yesterday. She told me, and I didn't know before this, that she had fallen in love in an Italian man in Tuscany when she was fifteen. She didn't know how to do so she wrote to them and didn't receive a replay. And yes, she returned to England and married my grandpa a few years after that.
"Wow!" exclaimed Peter and Carl. Carl was silent a moment. "And why are you flying? You mean to say that because of that letter, she is going back to Italy to find this man!"
"Yes. And I really tried to think her out of this but she was determined to go. So now I am bound to come with her, to see if I can persuade her to change her mind. It has gone fifty years! They were fifteen at the time. He can be married, dead or sick!" Charlie was worried for his grandma. Why did this letter have to come now? Do the author of the letter doesn't have a brain at all? He grabbed a beer and drunk it like someone who hadn't had a drink for days. They spend the finishing hour eating pizza and drinking beer, water for Charlie.
"Are you sure you want to this?" asked Charlie with concern.
"Yes, yes," replied Claire with conviction. "I want to see that it is still possible to meet Lorenzo."
"It has gone fifty years, gran! A lot can happen in fifty years!"
"Oh Charlie, I am sure of this. It will work out fine, " said Claire with determination.
Charlie was irritated. He had decided that this "Juliet" had entirely wrong and that he was angry with her. She was responsible for all this. Gran would never have this idea in her head if this had not been for the letter. Claire was happy in England, he knew it, why would she waste her time in Italy?
They found a new hotel in Verona. They determined that the next day they would begin the trip. Claire was sure Lorenzo was in Siena and Charlie felt obliged to drive her there otherwise she would hitchhike her way to Sienna. But first he would found this Juliet, and inform her of the stupidity of her action.
He asked for his way and found an office above a restaurant. As he came trough the door, he heard women's laughter. He asked if he was in the right place and then about the author of the letter. The accused was a young woman, with long blond hair and American accent. Great, he thought, another silly American with a nice body and no brain. She was talking of true love after fifty years.
"Are you joking?" said he with contempt. She was naïve if she thought she was helping. Luckily for her, his grandmother was a sane and healthy woman or otherwise she would have been victim of his hate. He finally burst out the insult that had been ranging in his hear. "What are you doing here anyway? What, Are you some lonely American girl, who has to live vicariously trough others?" It would have been nice if she had been but she was apparently engaged. He felt sorry for her husband-to-be. Anyway, he was done with her. He had to tell all about her to Claire so she would know which fraud that had written to her. But the American didn't give her up and followed him out. She apparently was excited over the prospect of Claire being she. He felt his anger grow inside of him. "Awesome?" When he explained how Lorenzo could be dead or ill, her smile dropped. Ah! He felt victorious. Maybe she wouldn't persist in her joy and leave them. He had to tell Gran that she was mistaken if she thought "Juliet" was someone nice. The real person was a silly, naïve and stupid American! The lady declared she wanted to meet Claire. No way that would happen! " I honestly think she has no interest meeting a woman that can manage to jam "Oh my god" and "awesome" into the same sentence." He felt his contempt was bigger now than ever. Glad to have the final word, he left her, standing on the courtyard.
