Musical Escape

"Whatever." Jeff said heading out of the house. His green eyes stinging from the bright rays of the sun causing him to put the dark shades over his eyes. He hated how he was judged by his appearance, especially by his mom and her abusive boyfriends. Just because he had dark black hair with a blond streak didn't mean anything to him. It was his way of being an individual in the world. The lack of respect he got from the house was unreal, mainly when he ensured the bills were paid. "One more year." He said softly to himself as he dug the keys from his pocket. "At least I have you." He hoped into his 1988 Chevy Blazer He'd had the truck for a few years now ignoring the tyrannical rant his mom went on about him spending his money on himself. Luckily his mom's license had been revoked otherwise she might have wrecked it, then again with that helping him bring in his income it was unlikely she'd mess with it. His hand ran over the door panel then the handle opening the truck door. He needed to get away with the bit of cash he still had before his mom stole it from him. He turned the engine over beginning to pull out of the driveway a few minutes later. He wasn't sure where he was going to go or what he wanted to do, he just wanted out of the house.

It was so hard to learn everything all over again. She was 17 years old, and as far as she was concerned, she had learned everything that needed to be taught to her when it came to language and customs. Unfortunately, her family didn't feel that way, because America had better opportunities. She'd be able to get into a better college (free of charge, mind you), and get a better job. The only tough part was that before she could do any of that, she had to learn English and that was the hardest language to learn. Karla Mariposa Diez had gotten a new home, and had to start the learning process all over again.

She sighed as she looked at the products on the shelf. Her parents had sent her to the store to pick up some bread. They were trying to eat new American cuisine and god knows what they wanted the bread for. Her brown eyes enveloped the items that were on the shelf as she tried to pick out something. There were about five different varieties of bread, how was she to know which one was the right one?

A young man who was wearing a red shirt walked around the corner of the aisle and she waved her hand in the air. "Excuse me," She called out with her voice extremely heavy with her Spanish accent. The man lifted his head once to look at her, her long brown hair flowing over her shoulders, a red tank top covered by a jean jacket, and a pair of low rising jeans, then he shook his head and walked away.

"Por favor! [please]" She called out after him and then swore under her breath, catching herself speaking in Spanish. She kicked her foot in anger and turned to look at the shelves again...the bread dilemma continued.

[Please note that I do not know if this is actual direct translation or even accurate I'm just copy and pasting from a translator lol]

He found himself heading out in the direction of the local lake, which at this time in the year seemed like a very good idea. He slowed the car s the light turned yellow and then stopped at the crosswalk line as it turned read. Most people would have sped up to get past the light although the truck was his baby and he didn't need to be recklessly driving for any unwanted tickets. His stomach growled rather loudly as the car idled waiting for the light to change once again. He brushed the sound away but a few seconds later another came from his body. "Alright fuck." He growled back in frustration. As the light changed he put his foot on the gas crossing the intersection then changed to the right-hand lane heading for the nearest driveway into the shopping enter.

Jeff thought about going to the restaurant but decided he could get more for his money if he just bought the supplies. Having made his choice he parked his truck in a parking space, locked his truck and proceeded towards the store entrance. What was he in the mood for? He didn't really know perhaps a sub from the deli department, or maybe some of their fresh fried chicken. As his brain continued with Ideas he wandered the store. He happened across the bread section looking over the various types down the isle when his ears hear something. A store associate trying to explain that he couldn't understand what a woman was saying. "Perdón. [Pardon.]" He said walking closer to try and help the store worker. "Perdón. Tiene problemas? [Pardon. Having trouble?]" He asked once again trying to politely interject the woman as her words flew fluently from her mouth.

"Él no habla Español. [He doesn't speak Spanish.]" Jeff said softly then he told the worker he would handle it. It had been a while since he had needed to speak in the language that he was taught in middle school. Out in this area it was rare for someone not to know the language, particularly since they were in the mid northern United States. "Me español está oxidado ... ... ... ... . por favor hable despacio. [My Spanish is.......rusty please speak slowly.]" He explained having to pause to think of the proper translation for the word rusty.

She was just about ready to give up on the task when a voice caught her attention. He was speaking her language, but the delivery was absolutely terrible. He had no idea where to put accent or how to pronounce the vowels, but the idea that she could talk to someone was fantastic. She smiled brightly, the smile spreading up into her brown eyes as she turned around to face him. He looked like he was about her age, and he obviously only had a rudimentary teaching of Spanish, but it would do. She hooked her thumbs into the belt loops of her pants as she walked towards him.

"Hola, ah...sí...yes, yes." She was going to continue to try her hand at this English thing. She had already grasped a few of the words so she knew what she wanted to say, sometimes it was just hard for her to get the words out. She turned back towards the bread and flailed her hands at the massive shelf where all of the varieties were organized. "I need bread, por favor." She sighed softly as her eyes roamed over everything that was laid in front of her again.

She picked up a loaf that was all packaged nicely. There was a light colored loaf inside of the bag with brilliant colors on the packaging. "Bueno?" [Good] She nodded her head towards the bread to indicate that is what she was talking about. All she wanted to do was go back home where she could talk to her parents in piece. At least there they were all united by the common language that they spoke. She sighed as she placed the bread back on the shelf and forced her hands through her hair in her frustration. She felt like asking her parents to just give up and go home. "Ugh! I am....no good."

He nodded at her dilemma then as she picked up the loaf of bread. He looked at the bread she had in her hand the frustration evident by the way she moved. "No no, está bien. No hay muchas personas aquí que hablan español aunque la mayoría aprende francés debido a nuestra ubicación geográfica. [No no, It's alright. There aren't too many people out here that speak Spanish though most learn French because of our geographical location.]" He explained picking up a loaf of wheat from it's place next to where she had pulled the white from. "El pan depende realmente de la comida. Lo que vas a estar comiendo? [The bread really depends on the meal. What are you going to be eating?]" Jeff maintained every now and then making sure it was clear he wasn't upset with speaking her language. After all if he moved out of the country he was sure he would have to learn the native language, but if nobody was willing to help it would be difficult. "Por ejemplo. Blanco y el trigo son buenas para bocadillos normales, a menos que se trata de algo más de un estilo mercado creación. El sandwich de ese tipo que quieras más de un pan gourmet como siete granos o patata. [For example. White and wheat are good for normal sandwiches, unless it's more of a market style creation. For a sandwich of that type you'd want more of a gourmet bread like seven grain or potato.]"

He set the bread back on the shelf still wondering what type of cuisine she was wanting the bread for. Having to fend for himself most of the time at home meant he had plenty of years experience in tasting and creating his own meals. "Muchos panes para muchas cosas, muchos gustos para muchas personas diferentes que guste o disguste. [Many breads for many different things. many tastes for many different people to like or dislike.] His stomach growled once again this time with a bit more irritation and slightly audible that it had yet to receive nutrients but again he ignored it. "¿Qué alimentos son que planes de comer? ['What food are you planning on eating?]" He wasn't sure if some of the words where the right ones for his explanations but it would have to do for now.

She listened to him intently and turned her head to the side as he talked. She could have jumped into his arms and hugged him for speaking her language. She had the hardest time getting a hang of the English thing, but she knew that she was going to have to sooner or later. Karla smiled at him and listened closely as she he was explaining the different breads. She almost laughed at herself out loud for needing his help. It was just bread, after all. All she wanted to do was forget this whole bread situation and go home. Just tell her parents that the store didn't have any and she didn't know her way around town yet.

She laughed to him when he finished his speech. "Nosotros comemos...grilled cheese...?" [We are eating grilled cheese] She looked at him with apologetic eyes and opened her hands to show that she really had no idea what she was talking about. She sighed as she tucked some of her hair behind her ear and replaced her thumbs in her belt loops on her pants. "Sorry, my family they are...trying new things..." Her voice was soft as she tried to form the words correctly, not really wanting to have to make him struggle with her language anymore. "They don't...even know how to cook..." She laughed softly as she spoke, shaking her head in sorrow.

"Asados queso es entonces, una vez más que dependería de preferencia, ya que algunas personas como el blanco de trigo, pero tampoco es muy bien. [Grilled Cheese it is then. again that would depend on preference. some people like white over wheat but either is fine.]" He picked up the two loaves as the had translated out into English which most likely would have been difficult to understand since there wasn't any Spanish translation on the packaging. He held the white in his left and the wheat in his right. "Pan blanco...... [White bread.....]" He said holding up his left hand. "tiene una luz dorada corteza que puede absorber una mayor variedad de sabores. [has a light golden crust that can absorbs a larger variety of flavors.]" He held up his other hand lowering his left this time indicating the wheat bread. "Trigo es más oscuro interior respecto a blanco, pero es sólo un poco más sano, pero usted pierde un poco de sabor de ella. Pero, una vez más bien están bien para lo que usted busca. [Wheat has a darker inside compared to white but is just slightly more healthy, but you do lose a bit of flavor from it. But again either are fine for what you are looking for.]"

She looked between the two things of bread that he had in his hands, feeling like he had helped her out immensely. She couldn't even contain the large smile that had broken out over her lips. It did wonders as it reached up into her chocolate eyes and made them sparkle. She wondered what her parents would want to have, and then almost laughed to herself. When they made their native food, what were they worried about? Flavor! She smiled so wide to herself that she probably looked like she was going crazy. She couldn't help it, she was just so happy that she was going to be getting out of that store and finally going home. "Tu hablas espanol muy bueno, senor." [you speak spanish very good, sir]

She snatched up the loaf of white that he had in one of his hands and almost hugged it to her chest, before she remembered that she would have squished it. Karla could feel the happiness welling inside of her again, and she quickly leaned up and kissed his cheek. "gracias, senor!" [thank you, sir] She could have danced her way up to the register, but she decided that would probably not be a good idea. Instead she just walked there, a smile plastered on her face the entire time. At least someone here in America was nice and had the patience to figure out what she was saying.

She took the money out of her pocket, crisp American money and handed it to the clerk who was ringing her up. He seemed much happier that he didn't have to talk to her, and she had to admit that she was pretty happy about not talking to him as well. He put her bread in a bag and she headed out of the door and down the street, ready to take her bread back home to her parents so that they could try their hand at making this silly grilled cheese dish. It seemed very simple and in the end she would probably wind up making it, because they were a little afraid to try and cook something new.