The Senora cooked a delicious meal that night. The three of them sat down together at nine o’clock.
The basket of fresh bread went around the table. The bread in Spain was baked just right. Lethe lingered over the crust in his mouth as if he’d never tasted bread before. Steam rose from the soupy bowl of creamed broccoli. The thick potato-and-egg tortilla shimmered with blotches of oil. The Senora had left open the balcony door and cool air was coming in, mingling with the heat from the oven.
At an unexpected moment, the Senora projected her voice across the table. The great curio cabinet seemed to tremble nervously behind her.
“I’m reading a wonderful book right now. It’s called The Alchemist. A young man goes to seek a buried treasure in Egypt. I would imagine he’s the same age as you two.”
The Senora and Donte exchanged quotations they had memorized from the book. The Senora chuckled while Donte’s eyes sparkled like polished gems.
“This stupid book is actually bonding them together,” Lethe thought.
And then Donte brought up that old book by Cervantes . . .
“The true Spanish bible!” The Senora exclaimed.
“My favorite part, Chapter 26, I’ve read it hundreds of times, when the Sorrowful Knight kills the puppets because he thinks they’re real people!”
“Master Peter’s Puppet Show. Master Peter’s Puppet Show . . .”
“Don Quixote wants to save the damsel, that’s why he destroys the puppet theater. He’s gone completely mad!”
Donte, the old professor, praised Cervantes to the heavens, and his perfect poof of hair bounced energetically.
“Ingenio, ingenio . . .” Donte uttered.
Lethe observed them tensely, his hands balled into fists under his chair. He couldn’t understand why the Senora had picked Donte as her favorite and not him. That sounded so juvenile to think in terms of favorites, but it was true! Donte was the Senora’s favorite surrogate son. And Lethe, well Lethe was just a boarder–
“I can tell you haven’t read it,” the Senora said to Lethe conspiratorially. “Here, use my copy.” She shoved the big book in front of him.
Lethe shamefully thumbed through the dry, yellow pages. He glanced at the little black sketches at the beginning of each chapter.
“There’s a bookstore on la calle de Felipe. Go buy yourself a copy in English. Nobody can figure out exactly what the novel is about and it deserves your attention. Maybe you’ll be the first one to decipher it, Lethe.”
She brushed some crumbs into her hand and smiled at her two boarders. “Now it’s time to go to bed.”
It’s so hard to go to a foreign country where one can’t speak the language. It’s harder still if people don’t try to include or involve the person in their conversations. So I’m glad that the Senora had the sensibility of getting Lethe into the conversation, making him feel at home.
I havent read Don Qixote before. I should, one of these days.
Tasha
Thank you for your extensive comments, Tasha. I’m waiting for your next installment.
I really do have to work on my novel, huh? I’ve been distracted with writing other stuff and reading and commenting on everybody’s blogs. Hehe.
Thanks for waiting.
Tasha
“…..Lethe lingered over the crust in his mouth as if he’d never tasted bread before. Steam rose from the soupy bowl of creamed broccoli. The thick potato-and-egg tortilla shimmered with blotches of oil. The Senora had left open the balcony door and cool air was coming in, mingling with the heat from the oven….”.
Very evocative.
Thank you, Christopher.
[...] Lethe realized that most of the books were in Spanish. The Senora had recommended Don Quixote a couple weeks ago and had told him to read it in Spanish. Now was his chance. He reached for the holy grail of [...]
Vivid setting. I can feel the breeze from the balcony, and almost taste that creamed brocoli.
Thank you, Mark
Mmm, I want to taste that bread, have that creamed broccoli soup and feel the “cool air coming in, mingling with the heat from the oven.”
On the other hand, Donte is getting slightly on my nerves as I remember a colleague of mine. She was from South America and spoke perfect Spanish (of course). In our office we had a lot of Spanish speaking ppl and due to this commonality they mostly hung together and invited “their ppl” to most of “their” events. She fit perfectly within both English and Spanish speaking coteries. (While I did so only with the Eng. sp.) Needless to say she didn’t shy from flinging offhand remarks about having so much fun at so and so event and how exhausted she was with attending all those parties!!! Oh well, sorry for digressing.