Silk Scarves And Beating Hearts

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Hayley recalls how she met her husband, eighty years from that day. She was visiting her grandmother in Italy, where she met Nico.

Submitted: May 12, 2010

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Submitted: May 12, 2010

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I remember that day like it was yesterday. The day I met him. I was down in Italy, visiting my grandmother. She had asked me to go get some fish for dinner, down at the harbor. I left in the afternoon and got there when the sun was still high in the sky. I was twenty-one years old, very young. Though now I have gray hair, and the color in my eyes isn’t as vibrant, I used to have brown hair and emerald green eyes, the spitting image of my grandmother.

Since I had gotten there so early, I thought I’d stay for a while. It was slightly chilly, so I had on my button up coat, my sundress under it. It was my favorite dress at the time, my grandmother made it. I also had on my favorite scarf, which was at one time my mother’s, though she had passed away when I was seven years old.

I was standing at the end of the boardwalk when I first saw him. He had the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen, and deep black hair. It was almost like love at first sight. I smiled at him, and he smiled back. And oh were his teeth white. Perfect against his deep tan skin. I didn’t make a conversation with him though, just smiled again and turned back to looking out at the ocean.

It was then that I decided I’d take a walk on the beach. I had kicked off my high heels and held them in my hand’s as I walked. It was then that it happened. A gust of wind came and just ripped my scarf off my neck and blew it down the beach. I took off after it, dropping my heels and sprinting. You can imagine my surprise when I saw someone pass me. It was the boy from before, running full speed for it, and grabbing it as it reached the edge of the sand.

I smiled and jogged up to him, catching my breath. “Grazie. Il mio nome e Hayley,” I said in Italian. I learned from my grandmother, though I am not that good at it.

He laughed lightly, smiling at me. “My name is Nico, nice to meet you. You know you really should be more careful,” he said in perfect English, his accent still clear. I blushed and looked up at him, moving my hair out of my face.

“I… you speak English?” I asked him, trying to make small talk.

“Of course, surprised? My aunt and uncle teach me when I visit them over in America. I still have some bad grammar however,” he said. I blinked a few times.

“Not really, I mean you can’t notice really, I mean… ya,” I said, blushing yet again. He just laughed a little and smiled again, the two things that seemed to continue to make my heart skip beats. He handed me back my scarf, running a hand through his hair.“Would you like to… got a drink, I mean get a drink… on me,” he asked, biting his lip. He was nervous this time. I nodded though, blinking when he took my hand, leading me back to get my shoes. I smiled up at him, nodding when he asked me questions.

Over the next three months we spent a lot of time together. He would meet me at my grandmothers and we’d stay for dinner or lunch with my family, before taking off to do something. When it came down to me having to leave to go back home before college, neither of us wanted to leave each other.

“I’m going to miss you,” I said to him. It was my last night and we were sitting on the porch of my grandmother’s home, waiting for my family to call us for dinner.

“I am going to miss you as well, belle,” he murmured, smiling as he nudged me slightly.

“ You have to promise to write every day, and call at least once a week,” I told him, looking up. He just smiled and nodded, poking my nose.

“I pinkie promise,” he chuckled, holding out his pinkie. I help out mine and linked it with his, looking at our hands. My face was bright red, as was his. “Hayley… I-“

“Hayley, Nico, pranzo!” My grandmother called, interrupting him. He smiled lightly, looking kind of disappointed. He stood up, pulling me up with him and opening the door for me. I swallowed and stepped inside, putting on my smile for the last dinner here.

We exchanged phone numbers and addresses before he left for the night. He then accompanied my grandmother and I to the airport, and drove her home after. Before I stepped onto the plane he gave me a hug, a very long one, and slipped something into my pocket. “Don’t open it until you land,” he whispered in my ear, pulling away. I nodded, tears in my eyes as I hugged my grandmother and boarded.

“When I got on the plane I touched my pocket, smiling lightly and looking out the window, feeling a tear roll down my cheek as I waved to them. He blew me a kiss before the plane took off. I just smiled, closed my eyes, and fell asleep.

By the time I landed in California I was exhausted, jet lagged, and sore. My father embraced me, showering me with kisses and talking quickly. I just nodded for a little and followed them to our car, grabbing my bag and sleeping on the way home. As soon as I actually got home I went straight to bed, not waking up until noon the next day.

When I did wake up I got to the tiresome task of unpacking, throwing my dirty clothing into the hamper, putting my souvenirs away, and setting the picture of Nico and I next to my bed.  Nico… that’s right! I thought, blinking and running to my hamper. Reaching in to it I dug around until I found the sweater I had been wearing. I reached into the pockets, pulling out a small slip of paper, and going to sit on my bed.

I didn’t open it right away, but instead just looked at it, nervous. So many thoughts were running through my head at the moment, I didn’t know what to do. I looked at the picture of the two of us, taking a deep breath and then slowly counting to three. I opened the paper and read it over a few times, a huge smile stretching across my face. My heart beat a few times before I let out my breath, squealing.

BA2491A. One month, thirteen days till we see each other, belle.


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