The language of hello
“¡Hola!” he said timidly as he approached her table. The Parisian café was half-full this afternoon, so there was no need to shout to be heard. Sébastien could feel his cheeks firing up. He was shy after all, and it didn’t take much for him to blush.
“¡Hola! Eres español?” chirped Lucia, her eyes gleaming with excitement at the sound of her native language in a foreign place.
“Eeehh…” Sébastien stuttered, lost for words. “What do I say now?”, he thought to himself.
Lucia was the type of beauty that fit the stereotype of “being Spanish” – long brown hair, a smile that mesmerized you, and crystal brown eyes that pierced right through you.
On the other hand, Sébastien was a tall, blond timid French boy. One that was raised in a mentality of nationalism that prevented him from properly learning a foreign language.
“Em,” he continued, “moi…sit…ici?” he asked pointing at the empty chair facing Lucia.
“¡Claro!” she replied, with a welcoming gesture.
So he sat there facing her smile. And she gazed in his almond eyes that sunk in his blushing red cheeks. It made her smile even more. But he was not going to give up that easily. If you spotted them from across the room, you would think they were playing pantomime with all the hand gestures going on. But to them, it was a simple effort to communicate.
She knew one-two basic French words. He knew “hello” in Spanish. They both knew very few English.
But three years later, they were still together.
And when they returned to that same Parisian café, Lucia told her friends “this is where he had me at hello!” and they broke into laughter.
Sandrine, their daughter, can speak French, Spanish and English fluently, at 8. They call her “smart-ass” but she knows…it was true love.
Also part of Trifecta Writing Challenge – the prompt word was: ass
3. (adverb/adjective) often vulgar—often used as a postpositive intensive especially with words of derogatory implication <fancy-ass>