I'm so so so sorry… if there are still any readers out there, I owe you a most sincere and profuse apology for not updating sooner… my vacations are sadly over and writing time severely diminished… enough adjectives, let's spend the day with Edward and 400-year-old Bella.
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"Shit, Alice, I don't think I can do this." I ran my hands through my hair nervously and glanced at the girl. She was standing a few feet away, watching us warily. I gave her a quick once-over, startled at how different she looked. Alice had thankfully gotten rid of the horrible mom-dress, and dressed her in a long flowing skirt and blouse. In a pair of summer sandals and her hair loose about her face, she looked kind of bohemian… pretty, even.
"You'll be fine. Here, I made this for you." Alice pulled out a sheet of paper. I read it quickly to myself. "It's a list of some useful Spanish phrases with phonetic pronunciation. It won't really help with casual conversation, but it's something."
"Um… have you… does she…" I gestured towards the guest bathroom with my head and raised my eyebrows.
"Oh, yeah. Last night, I showed her how to work the bathroom." She shook her head. "The flushing really freaked her out." Alice stifled a laugh.
"Anything else I should know?" I really didn't want her to leave me here alone with Crazy Chick. What if she had another panic attack? What the fuck could we talk about? Was I supposed to entertain her, or just leave her up to her own devices?
"Do not drive with her anywhere. In fact, try not to leave the house, unless it's an absolute emergency. We really can't have you slapping Isabella," Alice said. She looked at the girl as she spoke; she cocked her head to the side as she heard her own name. Alice smiled reassuringly. "Debo irme, pero Eduardo estará contigo por hoy. No te preocupes, él cuidará bien de ti."
"I don't think that's on the sheet, right?" I held the paper at arm's length, but there was only stuff about going to the bathroom and being hungry or thirsty.
"I told her that you'd be staying with her today, and that you would take good care of her." Alice rolled her eyes and grabbed her purse. "I'll try to be home as early as I can, but if you really need me call me, okay? Bye!" Her voice trailed off as she banged the front door behind her.
I glanced at the girl, who was still just standing there, perfectly straight and oddly demure. You're getting paid by the hour, I reminded myself. Suck it up, dude. I stepped closer to her and took a deep breath. She automatically took a step back and made a weird sort of curtsy. What. The. Fuck.
"Um, look…would you like to sit down?" I gestured uselessly towards the couch as I walked around her and sat down myself. She raised her head and smiled tentatively. Crazy Chick took a seat next to me, spreading her skirt around her gracefully. With her hands cradled in her lap, she alternated between staring at the floor and peeking covertly through her eyelashes at me. A couple of minutes passed, and not a word was said. Talk about awkward.
And it was barely nine o'clock.
Alice had pounded on my door at eight, causing me to hurl myself off the bed. In my sleep-soaked state, I was sure I was still at my tiny studio apartment, and the banging at the door was my fucking landlord or something—maybe a home invasion. Then I really focused on the décor, all unmistakably my sister's handiwork. And I remembered. I had a job for the day.
We just sat there, not talking, barely moving. The silence was soon heavy, almost crackling in the air around us. I thought she might be waiting for me to speak. I didn't know if it was plain awkwardness or some throwback thing from her alleged time. Either way, no words. Nothing. Zilch.
"Uh… okay. Let me see," I said. I took Alice's list and spoke phonetically. "Tee-eh-ness am-breh?" Alice had typed translations next to each phrase: Are you hungry?
Crazy Chick shook her head no. I tried the next one. "Tee-eh-ness said?" Thirsty? Again, no. Christ on a cracker, this was going to be a long-ass day. Unless I could figure out how to try and converse with this girl. I didn't want to lounge in front of the TV all day, but it sounded really tempting. Alice was just paying me to watch her, not perform a song and dance. Shit.
"So…" I shrugged my shoulders. I hoped she would take it—
"Me recuerdas a alguien que conocí hace tiempo." Holy shit, she was talking to me. Wait, fuck, what the hell is she saying?
"I'm sorry? I don't… understand you." I flipped Alice's paper over, but the back was blank. Then I remembered the stupid Oxford sitting next to my bed. "Okay, I'll be right back. Don't move." I held my hands out to her in the universal sign for 'stay put' and pointed to the ceiling, indicating I'd go upstairs. I ran to my room, grabbing the dictionary and racing down again.
I rifled through the pages on the Spanish section, looking up her words. Recuerdas… recuerdas… all I came up with was recordar, which apparently was the infinitive form of the verb. It meant 'remember'. Okay, we're getting somewhere. Then there was alguien. The pages stuck together, and she watched me as I went through the Oxford like a deranged man. I found the word, it meant 'someone'. She remembered someone? Was that what she was trying to tell me? Shit, I'd forgotten what she said.
"Um, can you—I mean," I stammered, looking up the translation for 'repeat'. "Repetir? Por favor?"
The girl regaled me with a shy smile. "Me recuerdas a alguien que conocí hace tiempo." Wow, she'd understood me again. At least she was smiling at me in my lame attempt to speak her language. For a split second, and for the first time in my life, I regretted taking French instead of Spanish. Then I snapped out of it—fuck that, I'd always loved French! It was elegant and sophisticated. I'd no idea I would one day babysit some Crazy Chick who suddenly forgot her native tongue.
Meanwhile, I had to focus. I had another word, tiempo. I got to the T's in the Oxford, and it said 'time'. Holy fuck, this was getting us nowhere.
"Tal vez tú deberías enseñarme tu idioma." Shit, now I had an entirely new phrase to try and translate with the dictionary. This could take all day. And then it hit me.
"Fuck this shit. Oxford sucks ass. Wait here." I held my hands out to her again before I dashed to Jasper's office. I snatched the laptop off his desk and powered it up as I walked back to the living room. The girl's eyes grew wide as she stared at the computer; I set it on the coffee table and sat on the floor in front of it. As soon as I opened a browser window, I went to an online translation site. I typed in her words.
And there it was. With the simple click of a button, Spanish. Fucking Spanish. Crazy Chick had just told me that perhaps I should teach her my language. No shit, Sherlock, I wanted to say to her. Maybe you should try to remember it on your own.
"Ugh, I can't believe I didn't think of this before. Here," I told her as I typed in the text box what I wanted to say. "Queer-ehs aprender een-glehs?" Do you want to learn English? The pronunciation was probably shot to hell, but at least I was making an effort. Alice was going to give me a complex.
The girl blinked, and nodded. Fuck , she nodded! Okay, this was getting a tiny bit easier. I frowned, thought for a minute, and began typing words. A brief vocabulary lesson was sure to kill an hour or two.
Hopefully.
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"Watch your step," I warned, even though she couldn't understand me. I pulled the girl into the attic, which was stifling. I quickly plugged in the extension cord to the portable fan I'd brought up a couple of days ago. It pushed the stale air around in a breeze, mildly cooling us. I still clutched the laptop with my free arm. I was still getting a wireless signal; I set it on the wooden table and typed in a phrase.
"Me gusta pintar," I told her. I like to paint. I pointed out the canvases leaning against the far wall, and waved at the rest of my art materials. She lost her cautious step, wandering around and touching the charcoals and trailing over the pastels. She rubbed at the chalky color residue on her fingertips. The girl smiled.
I stood by one of my easels. I watched as she inspected everything, her curiosity winning over her trepidation. I had managed to teach her a few English words, and she learned with surprising speed. I shook my head, still amazed.
The girl finally noticed the small window. The midday sunshine poured in, the only light source in the place at the moment. She practically ran to it, her hands curling on the windowsill as she gazed at the street and yards below. I could see her face in profile, her expression filled with innocent wonder. She lifted her long hair into a pile on top of her head, and I could see beads of perspiration on the nape of her neck. With a soft sigh, she let her hair drop down again. The light caught the red streaks hidden in the wavy locks. My fingers itched; and I knew what I wanted to do.
I picked up a blank canvas, medium-sized. I set it against an easel and adjusted the height. I picked up the case of oil pastels, and began sketching. I worked fast, almost feverishly. She still hadn't turned around, and the outline of the picture was very rough. But I didn't think it would look any better than if I had days to work on it.
It was a woman, and all you could see was the back of her. She had dark brown hair, a rich mahogany. I painted over with different shades of brown, the pastel sticks staining my fingers too. It took maybe all of five minutes, but it was enough. The girl finally glanced over her shoulder at me, smiling. I met her eyes over the canvas, and the corner of my mouth lifted briefly in response. I hadn't painted anything in awhile.
The girl came over and stared while I added a few touches here and there. I finally signed my name in the corner. She reached out to touch the outline of the girl's head. Her fingers pulled back before she actually touched the canvas, and she stroked her own hair instead.
"Soy yo?" Her hand went to her chest, and I didn't need fucking Babelfish to tell me what she'd asked.
"Yes, it's you. Sort of." I offered her a lopsided smile as I nodded.
For once, the picture was worth a thousand words.
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Yeah, that's what happens with bilingual dictionaries. Just buy a phrasebook, or be like Edward and Google that shit. Reviews get you a portrait by Artward.