The plane landed in Verona Villafranca Airport around noon. We booked a private arrival transfer from the airport to our hotel so we wouldn’t spend extra time waiting for a taxi. We found the taxi driver holding the sign with our surname on it at the arrivals hall. We presented our travel vouchers to the driver, and we got into the taxi enjoying a convenient, stress-free way to start our Italy vacation. As we rode to the hotel, having my sunglasses on and the car window down, I glanced up at the bright sun and smiled widely at the warm air.

My siblings and I arrived at the hotel where we will be staying for a week. Our hotel was just next to Casa di Giulietta or Juliet’s house where the Capulet is said to have lived. The rooms were luxuriously decorated with beautiful furniture and adorned with antique rugs, magnificent drapes and art objects. A lovely refuge offered a singular view of Verona from an attic terrace. From there, you could admire the town while in an intimate and private environment. What made it more romantic for some people was that this historical house was situated just opposite Juliet’s Balcony.

“Wow, this place is awesome,” exclaimed Renee, Gin’s fiancée. “Everything here in Verona is so romantic. I would love to get married here someday as well.”

Gin came near and kissed her. “Baby, wherever you want.”

That’s disgusting. Why the hell are they making out in front of me? Seriously? Nobody wants to see them having a tongue fight.

“Oh gross, get a room you guys!” I said.

Ken passed by the door, carrying some of our luggage. When he saw the two lovebirds, he said. “Do you two ever stop? Scotch might see what you’re doing.”

Gin finally stopped kissing Renee, who was now looking at me with an annoyed look on her face.

I rolled my eyes and looked at her as if asking, ‘what?’.

I like her, but yet again, another brother is being taken from me.

My phone rang. It was Carl.

“Hey Brands, how was your trip?”

“Boring and ass-soring.”

“Oh, come on, don’t give me that pout, baby sister. I can see your lips from here,” he mocked, laughing on the other line.

“Are you calling just to remind me that this is going to be your wedding, and I’m going to wear a very beautiful dress on Friday?”

Carl laughed. “Relax you still have three more days to prepare yourself. You’ll be the most beautiful Snow White maid of honor ever.”

“Beautiful, my ass,” I blurted, and again he laughed then hung up.

It took us a couple of hours to finally settle ourselves in.

“Hey Ken, will you attend to Scotch today? I’d like to take a better look around Verona if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead. Just remember to return to the hotel with a complete set of our liquor names!”

“Oui!”

“It should be Si, smart ass! You’re not in France,” he corrected me while laughing.

I laughed with him acknowledging my mistake.

I scanned the map I had of the city, marked with places I wanted to visit. I was wandering around when my phone buzzed, my best friend, Marge, was calling.

“Hey, bitch! How’s your Verona escapade? Meet any cute guys? Tell me!”

“No, none yet.”

“You’re in Verona right? Where Shakespeare’s most romantic play ‘Romeo and Juliet’ was set right?”

“Yeah, I guess. That’s the dumb, boring play that makes Verona famous.”

“It isn’t dumb or boring you insensitive! It’s romantic! It’s the tragedy of love and how hatred can destroy even the purest feelings,” her voice sounded sickeningly dreamy.

“That doesn’t sound romantic at all,” I told her with a shrug.

She hissed. “Where are you now?”

“I don’t know, but I am standing in front of a wall covered with papers. There’s a bronze statue which I can barely see due to the throng of people.”

“You are standing in front of Juliet’s statue!” Marge squealed.

I held my phone away from my ear and waited for her to finish squealing. “Damn it, Marge! I think I lost an eardrum.”

“You idiot!” she snarled. “They say, if you grope the left breast of Juliet’s statue, you will have luck in love.”

“Gah, do you believe that?” I shook my head at her silliness. “Letters to Juliet seems strange that they make a big deal out of what may or may not have been the inspiration for Shakespeare’s play, but good luck in love if you grab her left breast is totally crazy!”

“It’s true, Brandy! You just have to believe it! You know better than me, you are a love advisor after all.”

“So basically, if you feel her up, you get some lovin’ huh? This entire city is just made to get us laid. Stop daydreaming!”

“Brandy!”

“I got to go. I have a lineup of activities and places to go today. Bye, Marge!”

These Italians sure are obsessed with love, I thought as I walked away from Juliet’s statue. This city became famous for two lovers who, God knows, didn’t even exist.

I left the place since it was already getting crowded and made my way to Piazza di Signori, considered the heart of Verona. Historical buildings such as the Palazzo del Comune, the Palazzo del Capitanio, and the Loggia del Consiglio surround it. The buildings are joined with elegant arches, mostly dating from the 14th Century. Despite the wide array of architectural styles, the buildings somehow look great together.

Next, I went to Arena di Verona located outside the city walls. It was a Roman amphitheater built in the first half of the 1st Century.

As the sun bid its goodbye, I found myself walking back to Casa di Giulietta.

It was no longer as crowded as before. I saw women of different nationalities scribbling something on pieces of paper. Some women were even crying while writing. I actually found the whole thing very touching. I walked into the Capulet courtyard, and I saw a tunnel where people from all over the world had written love notes on the walls. I wasn’t usually a sentimental person, but I liked the spirit of camaraderie among the lovelorn.

A short while later, a woman with long brown hair wearing a simple sun dress came and collected all the letters in a basket she was carrying. She turned around and walked away.

Curious, I followed the woman. I thought she must be one of Juliet’s secretaries.

“Excuse me,” I called.

“Ciao, posso aiutarti?” She turned around and walked slowly toward me.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian,” I responded, giving her a confused look.

The woman smiled and said with a strong Italian accent. “I said, may I help you?”

“Oh…um…I happen to be a love advisor in Boston. I was wondering how the Secretaries of Juliet actually do it.”

“Veramente?” she asked with wide eyes.

I smiled coyly.

“Come with me.”

The woman’s name was Agata. We walked through a restaurant into the kitchen and up some stairs into an office overlooking Juliet’s balcony.

It was a small, modern-looking office filled with desks and filing cabinets. Three friendly-looking women and a handsome guy looked up as Agata, and I walked in.

“Ladies and gentleman, this is Brandy,” introduced Agata. “These are the Secretaries of Juliet and the only guy over there is the Secretary of Romeo. We respond to the letters Juliet receives from around the world. We personally answer each of these letters,” Agata explained.

“You mean you respond to these sack-loads of letters every day?” I asked.

“Veramente mio amore,” said a kindly looking woman in her fifties. She got up from her desk and approached me. “Buon giorno, mi chiamo Clotilde. We have fifteen self-appointed secretaries here, but only five are present today. Our ages span from twenty to sixty with a mix of marital statuses and occupations that range from ballet teacher, a young student, psychologist, translator, to interior designer,” added Clotilde while pointing to each of them accordingly and lastly to herself.

A pretty girl stood up and walked toward Agata to collect the letters. “Ciao, mi chiamo Elena. Some secretaries come to the club once or twice a week,” she said. From Clotilde’s introduction, I gathered she was the ballet teacher. “Some every day, some once in a while and reply to the letters at home, but we all do it for free,” Elena continued.

“Free?”

“We’re all volunteers. What we do promotes the city’s identity as the hometown of Romeo and Juliet. It’s not a bad thing for tourism so the city helps us out by paying for stamps and paper but the secretaries work for free,” said the only guy in the group, flashing me a wide smile.

“Hey Brandy, I like you to meet my brother. His name is Ivo. He is a psychologist and a professor at Università degli Studi di Verona. He is still single. He’s volunteering because he’s having a case study about women behavior when it comes to—”

“Agata, stai zitto. Sorry about that.” He turned to look at me and apologized for his younger sister. “Pleased to meet you.”

I was blown away not because of his smile or his accent but because of the selflessness of these people. They offer advice, support, and a listening ear for anyone who needs to talk about love.

I couldn’t do that. If I were to write a column for an advice, I should be paid or else I’m not going to respond to anything.

I needed to work for a living for my mom. Her insurance picked up the cost of most of her nursing home care, but it’s the most expensive type of long-term care facility. The maintenance for continued medication was not covered by her insurance.

“Membership is open to anyone interested in becoming a secretary. The elder secretaries check on and advise newer ones in a testing period. Hi, I’m Genoveva, pleased to meet you, Brandy,” the translator among the group said.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t need any testing period. She’s a love advice columnist she told me,” Agata announced to them.

Great! I mentally rolled my eyes. I gave them an unsure smile and nodded.

“Would you like to help?” asked Ivo.

“S-sure why not,” I agreed, rather hesitantly.

“You can sit here if you want,” Ivo offered me a seat beside him, which was, unfortunately, the only unoccupied seat there.

I reluctantly sat down, opened the first letter, and began to read. “I didn’t know Romeo has a secretary, too.”

“Well, since this are letters to Juliet, I’d still have to keep up the tradition signing it as ‘From Juliet’ or ‘Love, Juliet.’”

“That’s cool.”

“I don’t mind being a Romeo in disguise. I’m learning and enjoying at the same time.”

They all smiled at me and started reading and answering as many letters as they could.

“Do you specialize in certain relationship problems?” I asked.

“We don’t try to specialize in any specific topic. People don’t look for a technical answer,” Clotilde explained. “You have to be a sensitive, empathetic, and open-hearted person. You bear in mind that you write on behalf of Juliet, who has become the universal symbol of romantic love because she was a strong, brave, and passionate young girl.”

“I guess this would be fun then. Coincidentally, my pen name is Juliet.”

All their eyes went wide looking at me.

“Oh, Juliet sent you to us. Maybe you’ll be the answer to my prayers,” Agata said.

“Huh?” I asked, bewildered.

“What she meant is that there are even more letters coming in. Maybe you can help us answer some of the letters,” Ivo explained. I noticed him glaring at Agata.

“Listen to this letter,” called out Genoveva and started reading the letter aloud.

Dear Juliet,

I know you get millions of letters with love problems written from around the world. I write today to ask you for strength. I met Christian in my last year of college. He was tall, dark, and handsome. He was rumored to be gay, but I never bothered to ask. We were good friends, who enjoyed each other’s company, and that was what mattered. We were teased as being sweethearts, which was a ridiculous idea until I woke up one morning, having feelings for him. I told him about my feelings, but his passiveness had left me lost with false assumptions. We drifted apart. It was inevitable. Yet despite the changes, I still loved Christian. I wanted to be with him, but I never learned to forgive him for not appreciating me and for not expressing his feelings. I love him, Juliet, but I hate him for not loving me back. I tried to get back the old bond between us, but he kept himself busy instead. I’m a mess. Please, only you can understand my problem.

Love,

Kyla

They all sighed, feeling a sense of pity for Kyla.

“Would you like to answer this one?” Genoveva asked.

“Why me?”

“After several years, let’s say by now we are pretty expert. We are able to manage when this happens, but it is also true that sometimes a particularly difficult letter arrives and then we speak amongst ourselves to try and decide how the letter should be answered,” said Clotilde.

“Okay, I’ll give it a try.” I took the letter and started scribbling my response.

Dear Kyla,

Unrequited love is a very painful experience one can have. Falling in love is akin to an addiction that can destroy you and him, but only if you let it. Being hurt in a relationship that hasn’t even started yet can be hard, but not being able to push away love for someone who doesn’t love you back is harder still. Kyla, genuine love is forever whether it is unrequited or not. The most I can hope is that God will let you feel it again one day with someone who can and will reciprocate your feelings. Until then, the best you can do is have the courage to walk away, move on and want something better – for the both of you. Learn from the past, rather than looking back and seeing all the hurt it caused. Be thankful for the good times and be forever grateful for the love you shared with Christian.

Love,

Juliet

The letters had been read and sorted. The Secretaries composed their responses all by hand. Hopefully, I won’t mess up.

The night of responding to tons of letters was over at last. I massaged my hand, now cramped from all the writing I did.

“Thanks for being with us today, Brandy,” Agata beamed as she looked at her brother. “Ivo will walk you to your hotel.”

“Of course.” Ivo cooed as he nodded his head.

“No, It’s okay. The hotel is just next to Juliet’s house. I can manage.”

“No, no, no,” said Clotilde. “Primitivo here will walk you to your hotel, mi amore.”

“Cloti! Ivo will do,” he protested. We all laughed at his insistence.

The walk to the hotel felt weird somehow. We talked about nonsense just to kill the time.

“So why are you here?” Ivo finally asked a sensible question.

“To have sex with an Italian,” I said in my usual blunt manner, “also because my brother Carl is getting married to an Italian girl this Friday.”

He was momentarily taken aback. He grinned at me and shook his head.

“What? I’m just being true to myself. You, tell me, why are you actually here? I know for a fact that you’re having this case study bu—”

I tripped and nearly fell over. Ivo had to catch me from hitting the pavement, making our faces only inches away from each other. I could smell his sweet breath, and my lips began to quiver.

“To get laid,” he replied.