Chapter Text
June 5th, 1953
Dear Joe,
Here’s the money I owe you! I’m so sorry that I haven’t been able to send it sooner, the tour has been long and tiresome and I haven’t had any time to sit down and write to you. I never truly got to thank you for taking care of me in Rome but I want you to know that I’m so terribly grateful for the day I spent with you and Irving. You gave me the opportunity to have fun for once and I’ll treasure our memories and the photos Irving gave me forever. Is it strange that I miss you both so dearly? After all, I only knew you both for less than 24 hours! But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t the best 24 hours of my life.
Returning to royal life was difficult. More difficult than it should be after spending barely any time away from it. I suppose that once one has had a taste of freedom, one does not wish to return to one’s cage. But the tour has been rather pleasant at times, if you ignore all of the old nobles discussing politics and their wives scrutinising your gowns. All of the cities that I have visited have been lovely; their citizens welcoming and I must admit that I’m only really there for show. Everybody wants the chance to see a princess, even for a fleeting moment as she passes by in a carriage. It doesn’t really bother me. After all, I don’t have all that much to say during those meetings between kings where my father discusses alliances and trades.
I hope, Joe, that you are alright. How has Rome been since I left? I hope that nothing too exciting has happened, for it would break my heart to know that I would have missed it. How is work? And how is Irving? I would write him a letter but I realised when I last saw you both that I don’t know his address, I would ask you for it but I know that I would not receive a reply because I cannot receive any mail from the general public.
I hope you don’t mind, but I sent out a Private Secretary to retrieve postcards for both you and Irving from every country I have visited. I just wanted to let you both know that I’ve thought about you every day since I left Rome and hope that, since I left, I have crossed your mind at least once, even if only fleetingly. Won’t you give Irving the postcards?
Yours sincerely,
Anya Smith
…
June 12th, 1953
My dearest Ann,
I know that I cannot send this to you, but I need to express myself in some way and I believe this might be the only way I can. There has not been a moment since you left where you have not occupied my mind. You have changed Rome. You have changed me. They say that Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it burned in one. My heart is Rome; for the longest time it has been building walls to shut people out, to keep others from breaking it. But you, Ann, you have set my heart aflame. Somehow, you have managed not to sneak past my defences but to raze them to the ground. You have found your way into my heart and have kindled a warmth there when there once was only ice. I don’t know how you did it and in such short a time. When I met you I thought you were nothing but a drunk girl in need of help and within 24 hours I believe I have fallen in love with you.
Of course I am not alright. How could I be, after meeting you? How can I ever view Rome the same after the day I spent with you? You took Rome, this sweltering, dusty city and made it bright. You brought out its vibrancy and its life and for the first time since I arrived, I felt excited to explore the city. But when you left, you took it all with you. Suddenly, Rome was once again polluted and claustrophobic, hot and overpopulated. You helped me to remember why I first fell in love with Italy, and you helped me to remember why I was scared to fall in love with a woman.
It brings me joy to know that you have thought of me on your travels, surely with all those meetings and dinners and balls you would have more pressing matters on your mind? I have shown Irving your letter and dutifully delivered your postcards. He was delighted to know that you think of us and our day together, that you think of us two common Americans whom you hardly even know. Irving and I discussed your letter very openly with each other and we both wonder: why don’t you mind being put on display in front of all those people? You are not a trophy or a possession. You are Ann, a brilliant young woman who is far more than her outward appearance. You are well-read and intelligent, empathetic and modest. Politics could use a mind like yours; a mind that is young and strong-willed and, above all, compassionate.
I hate to end this letter, I hate that you shall never read it.
I hate that we are countries apart, worlds apart.
And I hate, above all else, that we will never see each other again.
All my love,
Joe