He's Everything

All my troubles began in Italy where I met Milo. I know what you’re thinking, you think I’m weak; that I can’t blame everything on Milo, that I should take some responsibility. Fair enough, I’ll take responsibility for not seeing what was coming, for being naïve and for wanting to be in love.

Milo was everything my father didn’t approve of, maybe that’s why I was so attracted to him. Or was it his Italian accent? I’m not sure what it was, but I was like a moth to a flame. I hadn’t felt this way before, but I liked it and didn’t want it to end; neither did Milo. He wanted me to stay with him; he couldn’t understand why my father wouldn’t want me to be happy, but I did. It’s part of the Dad job description: make sure your daughter’s not having too good of time.

My father was always involved in my life, but since my mother’s death, he was even more so. He knew he was unable to take her place, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He thought this writing workshop in Rome would be just what I needed to inspire me. I agreed because it was in Italy and I liked the idea of getting away from Chicago.

I wanted to forget about the book and my bank account, even if it was only for a little while.

He was right, I did love Italy, but no, I didn’t get inspired to write. I spent most of my time with Milo; he was all I could think about. I was in love, and I didn’t want to leave. How could I explain it to my Dad? “Hey Dad, met a cute Italian guy, not coming home, please send money.” If you don’t know my dad, you’ll have to trust me; this wouldn’t work.