BY the time the slightly uncomfortable—due to being pushed in between some very rude and large men—plane landed in Sorrento, Mei was beginning to run out of money. She had bought herself a large dark brown backpack that now held all of her belongings. This consisted of two different shirts (black and white), a pair of denim shorts, her flip flops, three books, appropriate toiletries, her passport, ID, and a picture of her and her parents along with the neighborhood family that use to always be over.

But she was in the beautiful country of Italy. Not just any part of Italy, but Sorrento, Italy where the Amalfi Coast is which has been referenced in so many books, movies, and songs. Winding roads are everywhere, and the beautiful bright blue sea is right in front of her.

The sea.

When times were tough for Mei, when she was stuck alone, with only the words that a child should never hear; she’d imagine going to the sea—a nice onenot the one that was near her home—going under the water and never coming back up. It was then, when those thoughts crept into her mind, that she realized something was definitely wrong with the way she was living. No fifteen year old girl should be feeling that way. And by the time she turned eighteen, she was just fed up with it all.

The minute she stepped onto Italian soil, a bright smile formed on her face. The air was fresh, fresher than anything she’d ever been around, everything was bright: the green of the trees popped out, and the orange colored buildings looked amazing, almost too where they looked filtered. When she looked to her right, she saw the sea, and when she looked to her left, she saw the sea. The sea was everywhere, and she loved it.

“Fresh air is the best air.” She murmured to herself as she walks toward the new hotel she’ll call home for the next few weeks. The building was slightly tattered, and the front door looked like it was about to fall down. But it was better than her old home. The one with the bright green door, cracked paint everywhere, broken windows, and almost everywhere around the house smelled like garlic since her mom grew it in the back.

Mei Fen began to not feel as homesick as she was before, and was ready to actually experience what Sorrento was all about. She tasted the famous alcoholic beverage Limoncello which she enjoyed quite often as she read her favorite book by Jane Austen while the wind whipped around her, and the amazing sound of the waves crashed against the rocks that surrounded her.

She played the Frank Sinatra song over and over again, as she took walks around the coast line, and sat on the beach to watch the water. But her favorite part of Italy was jumping into the water of Naples, losing herself for the first time.  

It wasn’t until Mei got further and further into the water that she realized, she doesn’t know how to swim back up. She never learned how to swim. She never had time. Nor did her parents ever want to teach her, or give her lessons.

She was drowning.

And as the water filled her lungs, and her legs felt like they were going to fall off because of all the kicking: she realized how peaceful it would be to die that way. To drown without anyone caring, no one would search for her, no one would want to. But soon enough that peaceful feeling was ripped away from her; because, someone had jumped in to save her.

“Are you crazy?” A man’s voice yelled as she coughed repeatedly in his arms. The both of them were breathing heavily as the man hauled her to the nearest piece of the beach. “You could’ve died.” He shouted again, and this time Mei picked up on the man’s deep Italian accent. The one that most would say comes from Sicily which is just off the coast of Sorrento.

“I’m, sorry. I don’t…” She tried to annunciate, but with her coughing and horrible Italian—she wasn’t doing pretty well.  “I don’t speak. Language.” The man merely nodded as he helped her further up the beach.

Mei took a seat, the sand now sticking to every piece of her body, and next to her the man sat down. The two sat in silence as Mei tried to control her breathing, and wipe away the water from her eyes. It didn’t take long, maybe two or three minutes of silence, before she broke into a fit of tears.

Because one, she almost thought of drowning herself and it didn’t even faze her. Two, she could’ve died and no one would’ve cared because she doesn’t have any friends and nor does she have her family. And three, she doesn't even think that she'd have a proper burial even if she did die.

The man sat next to her keeping silent as she balled her eyes out with her head leaning on her knees. He doesn't know her, nor has he ever met a girl like her, but he felt obligated to comfort her and take care of her for the time being. “It’s going to be fine, haizi.” The man mumbles—speaking the little Chinese he could; thus gaining a shocked look from the girl beside him. But, even though she wanted to ask him if he spoke Chinese, she continued to cry.

She's began to realize that she had been crying way to much for longer periods of time. And she's also realizing that she doesn't like crying nor will she ever like crying because it makes her feel pathetic and useless. When she knows deep down inside that she's not, nor will she ever be, useless. Because it takes a lot of courage to just up and leave a place you've known all your life.

She wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but it may have been because he felt bad for yelling at her earlier. The man offered to take her to get some tea, and warm up at the small café around the corner, and she luckily accepted. The first few minutes were, to say the least, awkward. It was quite, and they both were waiting for the warm green tea. Neither of them dared to look each other in the eye.

“My name’s Lucca.” The man with the dark brown hair, and light green eyes said gaining her attention.

“I, Mei Fen.” She said back while fumbling with her Italian once more. He nods his head, and once again the two were back into that awkward phase of not talking. “Molte grazie, Lucca.” The man didn't dare to move, because he was quite sure that if he did, she'd start crying again.

“Are you here alone?” He asks while gesturing around the place as if to say ‘are you alone here in Italy’. Mei nods her head while plays with the end of her pretty wet shirt. “What about your family?” He asks before putting up his hand to stop her from saying anything before he quickly continued, “You can speak Chinese, I understand a little.”

She sighs, thankful she doesn’t have to speak a language she really doesn’t understand. “I left my parents to travel.” Lucca takes a minute to try and understand. She looked young, to young, to be out on her own and all by herself. 

“How old are you?” 

For some reason, Mei felt comfortable being with Lucca. It wasn’t because he saved her. It was because he was friendly. Something she wasn’t entirely used to. He didn't come off creepy. Nor did he come off as anything other than a nice man. “I’m eighteen.” She responds and he laughs. Not in an amused way. In a way that say's she's way to young to be out on her own.

“I’m twenty-two,” He responds with difficulty in Chinese, still trying to make her comfortable. And she felt completely thankful to the man she had only met exactly an hour ago. “Where are you spending Christmas?” He asks, and it was then that Mei remembered Christmas is only a few weeks away.

She shrugs, “I’m not quite sure, maybe on a plane, or another country.” The man tilts his head to the side as their drinks are delivered to the table, which immediately Mei holds to her chest to warm her up.

“Why don’t you spend Christmas with me and my wife?” He asks.

It was weird. She met the man almost an hour ago when she was close to dying. Yet, he was friendlier than most, and for that reason she accepted. And to this day she still talks to Lucca and his wife Bella. Lucca is like her older brother, always looking out for her, and Bella will forever be like a mother to her. She stayed for almost two months in Sorrento, the longest yet on her journey. She left the hotel, and moved into their guest bedroom. The three of them were always together, and if it wasn’t the three of them it was Mei and Lucca or Mei and Bella. They were her family.

She worked hard on learning Italian. And the two worked hard on learning Mandarin. This helped Lucca in the long run since he got a promotion at the National Bank to be a translator for Mandarin to Italian. And as time went on, Bella gave Mei a temporary job at her small restaurant where she washed dishes and was a waitress for a bit.

Christmas was amazing for Mei. She bought Bella a new set of cooking pots, and Lucca a new watch since he broke his last one when diving into the ocean to save her. In return Bella got her two new, beautiful, shirts and Lucca gave her a silver necklace with a small heart in the middle. She didn’t get why it was there, but it was, and she cherishes it—even to now.

It wasn’t until the day she was leaving for the next country that things got back to being sad. “Now make sure you eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We’ll call you every day to check up on you and you better answer.” Bella dictated while fixing the edges of Mei’s peter pan collar.

“Honey, leave her be.” Lucca said while he moves up to encircle Mei in a hug. “You better be safe. And if you ever feel sad, I’m just a phone call away.” Mei could feel the tears forming in her eyes already, and once she got her boarding pass and went through security, the tears began to fall. Especially when she looked back at the two friends she had made. Bella was holding onto Lucca with tears, and Lucca was waving at her like crazy.

All she could do was offer a smile and wave, before walking up the stairs to the terminal. She was about to leave, again. It wasn’t near as heartbreaking as it was to leave her home—it was worse.

a u t h o r s  n o t e :

I will confirm for you all, that in the next chapter Jun will finally be introduced and the story will begin. Hope you enjoyed! 

d i c t i o n a r y :

• Hazi: the phonetic sounding of kid/child in Chinese. Written like: 孩子.
• Molte grazie: Thank you very much in Italian. Now, before you go saying that it should be written as Molte gracias, let me remind you this is Italian NOT Spanish.