Three months went by, and I still hadn't even considered going back home.
Dill and I lived in a small apartment by the Mediterranean, in a small bustling village of hard working, blue collar Italians.
I got myself a new job working for an Italian branch of an American newspaper, typing up news stories for people like myself, who would never speak the language.
Despite that, I had become a popular figure within the village. While Dill went off to his own work, I sat on our small balcony on sunny days and did my work there.
The same people passed by at the same times almost every afternoon. A man on a rusty bicycle started it all, calling me by the name of "writer Americano". Then, I'd hear it quite a bit from the others, all making sure I acknowledged their existence from above.
Not only that, but I made friends with the English speaking women in town, who didn't mind my more masculine way of dress. In fact, they praised it.
Today was just any other day in our little village. I began writing and the people went on by, calling to me like usual.
I was settled and I was pretty happy, writing about a topic I was all too familiar with; racism.
I took a break and sipped from my glass of water, looking at my view of the sea and my view of the street.
That's when I heard a knock on the door.
When Dill came home, he never knocked the door.
It wasn't him. It was too early anyway.
"Scout?" The voice called from behind. "Listen, I'm sorry. I think we still have a chance. I came all the way here to find you. I'm sorry."
It was Henry. A week earlier, he sent a telegram. I don't know how he found me. But I didn't answer that either.
I remembered that Atticus had Dill's telegram, but I had no clue they'd correctly guess where I was.
"Scout! I know you're up there! I saw you typing! You're here and I want to talk to you!"
I sighed, getting up from my chair and heading to the door, and then I stopped. I had no desire to even look at him.
"We don't have a chance, Henry." I said.
"Why? I came all the way here!"
"I'm living with another man, Henry, who agrees with me. I don't know why you still think I love you, and why you thought I'd take you back. I came here for Dill, I didn't come here to go back home. I refuse."
Henry laughed to himself. "You came for that scrawny boy from Meridian?"
"Who else would I come here for?"
"Well, I don't know! Me?"
"No, Henry. I'm going back to work now, I don't want to hear any more of this. Have a nice life, and please, take the first plane home."
I walked away from the door, and sat back down. I saw Henry rushing towards my balcony from below, shouting.
"Jean Louise! Your father wants you back home!"
"Well, I'm staying here! Tell him maybe next year! Or as a matter of fact, tell yourself! You're turning into him! Good riddance, Henry!"
He stopped speaking but watched me from below, trying to intimidate me with his presence.
The hours ticked by and neither of us would budge and let the other win. Not until six, when Dill usually neared the building.
He saw Henry standing there and approached him. He was quiet due to the distance between us, but I heard him quite clearly
"Henry, I know this is a shock to you, but you can't always get what you want. You can take Atticus's position all you want. Hell, you can be him if you want! But don't you dare ever try and take my place again. You worked hard to get there, I can tell, but it didn't work out very well, did it? I remember Scout telling me something her aunt said about you, and she said she should've listened."
"Oh! And what's that?"
"That you're trash. You came from trash. And you'll always be trash." Dill turned and walked away from Henry, leaving him confused and belittled in the street.
It took a while, but Henry had let me win once and for all.
Dill walked in the door and came behind me and kissed my cheek, as I stared down at the bustling street in shock.
Henry was still standing there, cursing to himself.
"Are you all right, Scout?" Dill asked, rubbing my shoulders.
"Yeah." I took a deep breath. "Let's go inside. I've had enough for the day."
We took the typewriter inside and shut the French doors behind us.
Dill made me dinner, and I watched him, trying to hide my distress.
"Scout, I can't believe that man came after you.. I just wish they'd all respect your decision. Because if I were you, I think I would've done the same."
He was simmering tomato sauce, and I wrapped my arms around him, "I know, and there's nothing we can do about them and what they think."
"Well, maybe we can. I got a telegram from Atticus. He wants you to come home. I know Henry sent one, but I didn't open it. I assume he said the same thing."
"How is that a good thing? Dill, I don't want to even think about him ever again!"
"He's your father. I never had a father... I'd be mighty disappointed if you didn't give him just one answer."
He was right, I knew that. But I thought it didn't feel right. I didn't feel ready to say a word to Atticus yet.
"Maybe after dinner, okay?"
Dill smiled. "Baby, why's that?"
"I'm hungry!" I announced, holding him tighter.
Dill and I began to laugh.
Before I could even think of anything else, he kissed my lips. It reminded me of how lucky I was, and how happy my life had been since moving to Italy.
We almost forgot about dinner, maybe thinking of how we took each other for granted all of those years before.
It wasn't until I leaned against the stove when I remembered, jerking my hand back from the gas and pulling myself away from Dill.
"Ouch!" I screamed, shaking my hand back and forth, trying to make the pain go away.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah." I kept shaking my hand, knowing it was a minor burn. "It's nothing."
"It better be! I'm not losing you now, got it?"
"Got it." I stared up at the ceiling. "It's been quite the day! I think I need to sit down for a while."
"Okay, you do that. I'm going back to cooking our dinner."
He kissed my burnt hand, and then leaned close and lightly kissed my lips.
"If you want, you can look at that telegram while you wait!" He reminded me.
So, I did. And I was a little shocked by what I saw.
"Dear Scout,
I apologize. I feel awful about what happened, and I want to explain myself.
Henry was the one who went to the meetings, not me. He convinced me to join, that it'd help me have more business at the firm. Turns out, once you go in you can't go out, and I was stuck there, trying my best to be a good actor not just to them but the entire town.
I realized once you came, that I could use it all as a way to separate our consciences. You thought of me as something I never was for all of those years, and we were both tied together in a knot.
I couldn't have that, and I wanted to see you grow. So I used the cover of racism to do it, and to break us apart in that aspect.
I hope you'll come home. Henry came to fetch you. I would really enjoy seeing you tomorrow, Scout.
Love, your father,
Atticus."
After Dill and I ate, I told him what I thought of the letter.
I said that I was in fact not going back home. I worked too hard to get where I was. No way.
He agreed, and said he'd rather have me in Italy with him, and we decided to write a joint letter back to him.
"Dear Atticus,
No, neither of us are coming home. Not now, and for the time being, not for a while. This has nothing to do with you, but with our own comfort and stability here in Italy.
We plan on getting married here and raising a family here. It's perfect. If you want, we can try and fly you here to live with us. We see that you have nothing to lose, maybe it'd be nice.
For now, we'll be residing in Italy for good. We both have employment and are extremely happy.
With Love,
Scout and Dill."
We thought it was satisfactory and sent the telegram my father's way the next morning. I thought of our final getting quite a bit in the days that followed.
"With much love..."
And with Dill, that's how I spent the rest of my life so far.
In Italy, by the sea, and lastly, with much love.