A month had gone by and I had not heard from her. I must have scared her and that makes me feel horrible because that was the last thing I wanted to do. I damned myself for always being the kind of guy with the heart on his sleeve. I believe I said way too much and I never realized how creepy it was to add in that photo copy of that little girl until it was too late. Sometimes your heart works faster than your brain, I guess.

I needed to get out of Venice. The city that once helped make me feel so alive everyday had become dull. I've visited practically every European hotspot there could be; I've been there and done all of that. Where would I go from here? It seemed the only logical thing to do was to go back to the states. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to go back there but maybe if I stayed in a place like New York City where there were different kinds of people everywhere and still a million things to do it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe by fate I would run into Scout; then again maybe New York City wouldn't be an ideal place after all.

"Charles Harris," I answered my home phone one afternoon.

"Hey, it's Frank," my friend, Frank Crucitti, replied. "You working lately?"

"Here and there."

"I'm going to New York for two weeks. I've never been and I thought maybe you would like to come if you weren't busy with your writing."

I couldn't believe he was saying this to me. These Europeans are heavy into New Age crap and I've been reading a lot into it. The way my gut feels right now I couldn't say that was a bad thing. I do believe this is a sign.

"Frank," I said with a swallow. "You oughta know by now that I can work anywhere."

"So it's a yeah?"

"You bet your sweet ass. Listen, though..."

"What?"

"If I go with you, I'm not coming back to Venice."

"What are you talking about? I thought you loved the place."

"It will always hold a special place in my heart but I'm growing bored here. It doesn't serve me anymore here."

"You havin' chick problems I don't know about?"

"Chick problems? You oughta know by now that I don't go steady. A woman ain't even in my bed long enough to give me problems."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot your real name was Mr. Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma'am."

"Jealous much?"

"Very."

"I thought so," I said with a laugh. "When are we supposed to fly out?"

"Next Friday."

"I'll be ready by then."

"I knew I can count on ya. We're gonna have fun!"

"We better. Bye for now, man."

"Yeah. Bye."

As always, I really have to think if I had just done the right thing. Acting on impulse will forever be one of my faults. I looked out my window as I hung up the phone and realized that the mailman had brought my mail. That was odd; it was Sunday wasn't it? No, I guess it was Saturday after all. I step outside to get it with the feeling of expecting the same old, same old. I flipped through and sure enough bill, bill, bill, letter addressed to me from New York. I stop breathing for a few seconds and wonder if it could be. Once my brain begins to get oxygen again, I rip the envelope open and finally get to see the letter I've been waiting for.

Dear Dill,

I don't know how you do it; you always manage to be there when I'm down. I had just broken my engagement to Hank just the other day when your letter arrived. We were engaged for all of three hours when I found out that he was having an affair with my father and brother's secretary. How did I find out? He called her name while we were having sex. Can you believe that? Atticus and Jem couldn't believe it either; they had no idea. I haven't seen Hank since Atticus found and fired him and kicked him out of our home.

How did that happen to me, Dill? The boy I grew up with and grew into love with had betrayed me so viciously. I guess I'm not that special but how did I become that pathetic woman that gets cheated on? I thought he was the only man who I would ever consider marrying and I was ready, Dill, I was finally ready.

Anyway, I back home in New York now and when I looked at that little girl again I really saw myself. I broke down and prayed to God that the little girl never feels as heartbroken as I do. I'm sorry but I can't believe how much I'm blown apart by my last trip home. A lot happened but I feel Hank was the one who destroyed me more than my brother, my father, my aunt, or even Calpurnia ever could.

I'm so sorry. You seem so happy and I feel as though I'm putting a damper on that. I hope I'm not and I hope you're still the little boy who would hop the fence, kiss me and tell me everything will be all right if I so much as scowled at my own shadow. Even if you're not, I will forgive you. I've missed you and I can't wait to hear more from you that's if I haven't scared you away with this letter!

Love from your six year old bride,

Scout Finch

P.S- I love you, too. So, so much.

I crumpled up her letter, grinded it to the floor with my foot and spat on it. I knew Hank was a no good fucking prick! He better pray that I never find him because I will kill him! I'm seriously mad that Jem didn't. He used to yell at me for so much as looking at her at night sometimes! Yes, I am still the little boy that is going to be there for you, Scout. I will jump the pond, hug you when I find you and I will make everything all right. Just hang on until next Saturday, please...