Page 116 of Hang the Moon
BRENDON (11:32 P.M.):I’m watching L’amour est dans le pré and there are no subtitles.
BRENDON (11:32 P.M.):I lost my favorite translator and I’m dying here.
A vicious ache rippled through her chest as she slipped back beneath the covers. He was still watching even though she wasn’t there to explain what was happening.
If she could’ve blinked her eyes and been sitting on his couch beside him, she’d have done it in a heartbeat.
ANNIE (11:34 P.M.):It means “little by little, the bird makes its nest.” It’s a French proverb about persevering and having patience. Like, Rome wasn’t built in a day.
BRENDON (11:36 P.M.):Ah, okay. That makes sense. Thank you
Her fingers faltered on her keypad, second-guessing what she’d typed out.
Thank you for being patient with me. I miss you, by the way. More than is fair, but I do.
She scrunched her eyes shut and hit delete, playing it safe.
ANNIE (11:37 P.M.):Anytime.
***
Monday, June 21
Annie flipped through the folder Brendon had given her on job opportunities for linguistics majors.
Lexicography
Speech and language therapy
Teaching
Freelance translation
Copyediting
Technical writing
Half the options made her wrinkle her nose. Others had promise. Lexicography had a certain appeal; the idea of compiling and editing dictionaries, especially dictionaries for bilingual speakers, was intriguing.
Freelance translation caught her eye. That was totally up her alley.
She reached for her phone and navigated to her web browser.
She had some research to do.
***
Tuesday, June 22
BRENDON (10:56 P.M.):I’m in need of translation again.
She smiled. God, was that the first time she’d smiled all day? She hadn’t had much to smile about lately.
ANNIE (10:59 P.M.):Hit me with it.
BRENDON (11:02 P.M.):C’est a tes coat que je view construir ma vee
It took a minute to translate what he’d typed into actual French. The words materialized inside her mind and she dropped her head, staring at her toes against the bare laminate flooring of her living room.
