I take it as a compliment that the couldn't-have-been-13-year-old (he claimed he was 15) overdid the grilling of the two tiny lamb kebabs . . . we were having such a fine time chatting. American movies and such. When I climbed up out of the underground Uni-mart, he had taken off his belt and was swinging it like numchucks, but quickly held it down beside him when he realized I was going to be a customer.
We talked, me open and gently prodding, his curiosity getting the best of him. He was born here, but it's obvious that Mandarin is not his first language. Mine neither. It took us long minutes to try to communicate simple ideas. At first I mistook his shyness for disgust; he would turn his head down and away when I utterly missed the point. . . . but I was in that mood where laughter comes freely, and in the end we were friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment