Speak Without Words by C.C. Hansen

Author:C.C. Hansen [C.C. Hansen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dancing Willows Press
Published: 2022-07-06T00:00:00+00:00

Claire squinted into the morning sun as she approached Flores de Fernanda. The frosty air made her shiver, but the sky had yet to yield the promised snow. She was a block away when Maite emerged with a bucket.

“Hey Maite.”

Maite dropped her cargo and jogged to her. “Hola, Clara, ¿Qué pasa? You need a movie day?”

Claire grimaced. How bad is it when your friend assumes you need cheering up? Lately, she’d spent more time at Maite’s than her aunt’s. Maite gave Claire whatever she needed—a hug, a laugh, a listening ear. Claire had never reciprocated. I’m a terrible friend.

“I’m ffffine. Why don’t I help you wash the window?”

“No, no, no.” Maite tried to rout her, but Claire spotted the vandalism. Scrawled in orange paint were the words Lern English or Go Back to Mexico. Lern? This guy should take his own advice.

“Did you see who did it?”

Maite nodded. “Johnny Carmichael, but I can…I will…lo tengo controlado.”

Judging by her dismissive gesture, she’d said something akin to “I’m fine.” Claire shook her head, amazed that B.S. had no language barrier. She grabbed a sponge from the bucket and scrubbed.

“I’m supposed to re-re-recruit you for Coach’s traveling team.”

Maite squinted at her, as if debating whether to take away her sponge or roll with the topic change. She grabbed another sponge, resigned to accept Claire’s help.

“Oh?”

“Will you try out?”

Maite scrubbed the first L. “Depende. I have hapkido, and I have to help Abuela.”

“But if you can work it into your sss- schedule? Volleyball wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Maite smiled. “Quizás. Maybe. I will think on it.” The orange hatred dripped down the window as they cleaned. Maite scrubbed hard at one stubborn dot. After it disappeared, her smile vanished.

“Abuela live here twenty-seven years. Her English is perfect.” Maite lost herself in her reflection. Claire waited as her friend put her fluent Spanish thoughts into not-so-fluent English words. No rush. She understood having trouble with words.

“Americans can speak Spanish too, no? Why can’t I eat la bandeja paisa and watch the Vikings?”

“I don’t care what you eat, but you cannot cheer for the Vikings.”

Maite splashed her. “The Packer’s defense is terrible.”

“The b-best defense is a good offense.”

Maite grinned. “We will say volleyball is the best sport, and Jackie Chan is the best of everything.”

Claire laughed. “Okay.”

They finished scrubbing, and Maite fetched a bucket of clean water.

“You know,” Claire said as Maite rinsed the window, “where I’m from, we ffffffffork people’s lawns for this kind of crap.”

“Fork?” Maite gestured as though eating.

Claire chuckled. “Same utensil, but you buy a hundred plastic ones and sssss- ssstick them in the lawn.” She examined the sky. “I don’t think the ground is frozen yet. Should I shop for forks?”

Maite pursed her lips, then grinned. “I have a better idea.”

Johnny Carmichael awoke the next morning to find his front lawn covered with an inch-thick layer of rose stems and flower petals.

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