“I like the way you teach me Spanish. You’re better than my
mother was. She tried to teach me Spanish, but I only learned one thing.” I
said.
“She didn’t have the use of the tools I do.” My Colombian wife
laughed.
“The first Spanish I remember is ‘un burro sabe más que tú,’ a donkey knows more than you! I bet my
mother said it to me ten times a day when I was a kid. Spanish became a big
part of my life.”
“Los burros no son tan
brutos,” she said. “Donkeys aren’t so stupid.”
“Well, my mother’s donkey had a big influence on me.”
“I won races on a donkey, when I was a kid.” She said. “My
father bragged on me. He said I could ride like the wind—on horses too.”
“I didn’t win any races
on that donkey my mother said was smarter, but it did cause me to take
up studying Spanish. I got a D my senior year in high school, so my mother might
have been right with that ‘burro sabe más
que tú’ business.”
“You speak Spanish now,” she said.
“Well, I do live in Colombia with a beautiful Spanish teacher.”
“You think I am beautiful?”
“I do. I’ve been preparing myself for you all my life too. I
enrolled in a course of Spanish every semester in college. I bet I took a dozen
courses and even studied some French and German. Probably should have studied
some Italian.”
“Probably you should have. I loved Italy.” She laughed. “My
trips to Italy were educational.”
“I am happy to put all you learned in Italy to good use.” I
laughed. “If I ever meet your Italian teacher, what’s-his-name, I am going to
hug him and thank him.”
“He’ll love you too.” She laughed again.
“I’ll bet.” I laughed. “I’m here in Colombia studying Spanish
with you and still trying to prove that my mother was wrong about that burro. I don’t know where your Italian is.”
“México.” She smiled. “He’s in
México.”
“Hmmmmm. México? Wow.” I
shook my head sadly. “Mexico’s a long way from Bogota, Colombia.”
“Not too far.” She laughed again.
“I’ll probably never get a chance to hug him and thank him for
your lessons.”
“Too bad. He was a good teacher. You have a lot to thank him
for.” She laughed.
“I do appreciate you passing on all you learned on to me.”
“You’re welcome, but I think you knew everything before you got
to Colombia.”
“I did go to graduate school. In my part time, I studied Spanish
Lit too.”
“In your part time?” she shook her head. “I can imagine what you
studied full time.”
“Probably not. I was at the University of Arkansas.” I laughed.
“The sexual revolution hadn’t made it to Arkansas in the sixties—probably still
hasn’t—so, how much could I have learned?”
“No mientas, David.” She laughed. “Don’t lie. Your face gets red
when you lie. I can tell.”
“Well, I missed my chance to see if I was a homosexual. I don’t
think I am.”
“I don’t know.” She shook a finger at me and laughed. “Where is
Arkansas, anyway, and how do you know you’re not gay?”
“Arkansas is next to Oklahoma. I don’t know for sure whether I’m
gay or not because I turned down my chance to find out.”
“You turned it down?”
“I did. I had a roommate the summer I went back to finish my
masters.”
“You became lovers?”
“I told you I turned it down. That’s not funny.”
“How do you know you’re not gay, if you didn’t try it?” She
laughed.
“Well, I don’t know for sure, but since I am living with you, I
suspect that I’m not.”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I do. I had my chance and I missed it.”
“You regret it though, don’t you?” She laughed again.
“Well, but only because I don’t think I’ll get another chance.”
“Why did you turn it down?”
“He was not my type.” I laughed. “Seriously, I thought he would
follow me home, and I didn’t believe my wife would appreciate a young man
knocking on our door and telling her how much he loved me, or maybe I was
afraid I’d fall in love with him. Anyway, I missed my chance.”
“You didn’t want your wife to know you were gay?” She laughed.
“It’s not that funny, but I did give it about one second of
consideration. He was not bad looking, and when he said, “I want to embrace
you;” I thought maybe I should make love to him just for the experience.”
“I bet you did.”
“No, I didn’t, but I thought about it.” I shook my head. “The
truth is I was not that attracted to him.” I laughed. “Also he was fucked up.
He was catholic, and a priest seduced him when he was choirboy. I felt bad for
him. I liked him, but I didn’t want to be part of his history like that. Plus,
honestly, it would have just been for the experience, and not because I really
was gay.”
“I believe you, David.” She laughed. “You don’t have to convince
me. Why is your face so red?” She laughed again.
“You’re the one with all the gay friends.” I told her with more
indignation than I intended.
“Say no more, David. I believe you. You’re not gay.” She laughed
harder and got up from the table. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul.”
