Page 83 of Sombra
We spend way too much time stealing kisses and sneaking glances and passing notes. I wish it were different, but I’m accepting it for now.
“¿Cómo qué tal hablando el español ahora, Kim?” Guillermo asks. “Como pasa un mes, ¿es másfácil hoy? ¿Entiendes más? Me pareces que te has mejorada.”
“Un poco.” I pause. “No. Todavía es dificíl hablar, pero entiendo mucho más que antes.”
And Ihavegotten better at Spanish. Between classes and practicing with Tavo and just being steeped in the atmosphere, I’ve learned more in the weeks here than I did in all four years of Spanish class.
When he’s finished, Tavorises and brushes off his hands. “These were really wonderful,” he says. I know he wants to say more, but he glances around and doesn’t. “Guillermo, go bring cookies to our grandparents.”
“De acuerdo.” Guillermo and Antonio each kiss my cheek and take off with the plate of cookies.
I’m pretty sure that’s the last I’ll ever see of it.
“I’m so glad they liked my baking!”
Tavo gives me his shy smile. “You have a gift, Kim.”
“And that’s one of the things you wanted to learn here,” says Mari Carmen.
“Yes! Exactly!”
Mari Carmen takes the dishes off the table and sets them in the sink. “What else did you want to learn?”
“Besides everything and anything?” I joke.
“The guitar,” Tavo says. “It’s time for you to learn.”
I clapmy hands. “Yay!” Wiping off my hands and removing my apron, I walk with him back to his casita. I resist the urge to hold Tavo’s hand. I know he wants to hold mine, too. But we don’t need any questions since as far as everyone else knows, I’m engaged and he’s promised.
When we get to his place, he goes inside, picks up his guitar, and we sit outside on the stoop. He pauses for a moment,then hands me the guitar. “First you need to learn how to hold it.”
I can tell this means something to him. Gingerly, I arrange the guitar so my arm drapes over it on the one side, and I hold the neck with my other hand.
“Muy bien.”
My hands tighten around it while he sits next to me and arranges my fingers on the strings. My hands are all wrong. The first time I strum, adog howls in the distance, and not because it’s happy.
He arranges my fingers yet again, and this time it sounds … well, I can’t say it sounds good, but it’s less bad.
“This is harder than it looks. You make it look easy.”
His easy smile reassures me. “I have years of practice. Let’s try it again.”
I press my fingers hard on the strings and strum again. It sounds likea bad banjo. He and I look at each other and laugh. “Is it supposed to sound like that?”
Tavo stands and rearranges himself sitting behind me, his legs on either side, and putting his hands over mine. “Let’s try it this way.” Moving my fingers, he gently presses his skilled ones over mine, shaping them into the chord. “Now,” he murmurs, and sucks on my neck.
I gasp, bending my headback toward the sky, because it feels so good, and bring my other hand down the strings, making a semi-decent sound. “That’s better, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
I keep playing the same chord, getting excited that it sounds right. “Pretty soon, I’ll be playing along with you,” I say. “We’ll have to get me my own guitar.”
He traces his finger along my jaw. “I’d love that.”
Wesit, and I pick at the guitar for a long time, so pleased with the one chord and two notes I learn, and loving the way he feels around me. I can’t play a song, but at least I didn’t break any glass with the off-notes. The days are getting shorter, and the sun goes down earlier.
“It’s going to be dark soon,” I say, leaning back into him. “We should go inside.”
