Page 57 of Sombra
“Then let’s begin. Immersion is a good thing. I learned a lot of English by watching TV. Let’s watch something, and you translate to me what you think they’re saying.”
“Okay.” She sits so still it’s almost eerie.
I turn on the tele. While we have original programming, much of Spanish TV is dubbed from English. I’m a particular fan ofLos Simpsons. As I flip around, I stop on oneof the greatest films ever. “Desayuno con Diamantes!”
“I’ve never seen it.”
“Qué coño.” I shake my head. “You call itBreakfast at Tiffany’s. There’s the poster,” I say, pointing. “You’ll love it.”
“Yeah? It looks good. I haven’t seen many old movies. What’s with you and old things?” She gestures around my place. “Old movies, old music?”
“It’s not as old as Spain.”
She grins. “True.”
“I like American things.” And I’m including her in that statement, whether she knows it or not.
Music plays at the beginning of the movie, and Audrey Hepburn walks down a perfect street. Kim nails the initial dialogue, but after about ten minutes, she starts sputtering. “I can’t do this! They talk too fast. Their voices are weird. They don’t sound right atall.”
“Keep trying.”
“Why is she putting on lipstick using a mirror in her mailbox? Something about not worrying … Taxi. I understood that. Taxi is the same in both languages. I don’t know. I mean, she said I don’t know.Dar mucha prisa. That means she’s in a hurry, right?” Collapsing back on the couch, she wails, “This is so hard! I’m only picking out a word every once in a while.
I kneel beside her. “Are you understanding it?”
“No. I’m getting what’s going on, though.”
“Let’s just watch it then.” She joins me on the floor. I put my arm behind her on the couch cushion, careful not to touch her.
And as the movie plays, she watches, rapt. I translate parts that she doesn’t understand. After about a half hour, she chirps, “I understood an entiresentence!”
“Bravo!” I laugh, and we look at each other. I want to kiss her, but I can’t, so I don’t.
I think she wanted me to kiss her, though.
When we get to the scene in the movie where Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard pass a day doing things they’ve never done before, like drink champagne before breakfast, go to the public library, and shoplift, Kim snuggles under my arm.
Her closeness, her smell. She’s driving me wild.
“I understand her.” She points to Audrey Hepburn.
“Holly Golightly?”
Nodding, she says, “I’m just like her. From a podunk town. I’ve never been anywhere. I’ve never experienced anything.”
My English still is far from perfect. I scratch my head. “Podunk means?”
“Hick.”
That’s no help. “Hick means?”
“Country. Small town.”
I furrow my brows. “Like here?”
“No. I mean that people all think the same. It’s not just boring, you don’t get to experience all the diversity you would in a big city with more people. Everyone knows me. I went to elementary school, high school, and college with the same people. Over here, it’s really cool because there’s no expectations as to how I’msupposed to behave. I could reinvent myself like Audrey Hepburn.”
“And that’s what you want?”
