Don’t Let Me Go(19)

“I don’t know,” Felipe said. “She just said to bring you down there. She said she told you about it.”

“Oh,” Grace said. “Maybe. Maybe she said something and I forgot.”

“Do you mind going down there?”

“I don’t think so. Not really. I was just looking forward to going to Billy’s, because he’s teaching me to dance. He’s teaching me this dance called the time step. He says it’s the first, most basic thing I gotta learn. Except I don’t know why they call it the time step, because it’s not a step. It’s a whole dance. It’s like, tons of steps. I have trouble keeping track of them all. But I only had one lesson so far. It’s tap. Do you know what that is? Tap?”

“Sure,” Felipe said. “I’ve seen tap dancing.”

“I have to wear these special shoes, that are tap shoes. And I don’t have tap shoes, of course. I mean, why would I have tap shoes? So Billy let me wear this really special pair of his, from when he was young. They’re really special because they were his very first pair. From when he was about my age. But, you know what? They’re still too big for me. Even when Billy was my age, his feet were bigger than mine. I guess because he’s a boy. Anyway, I had to put on three pairs of socks, and then they fit me. I can’t take them home, though, because they’re too special, but I can wear them at his house. And I have to dance in the kitchen, because you can’t tap dance on a rug. Anyway, I was just sort of looking forward to getting my second lesson, but I guess I can do that tomorrow. You’re not listening to me, are you, Felipe?”

“Oh, sorry,” Felipe said. “Yeah. Mostly. I was mostly listening.”

“Were you thinking about the thing you’re sad about?” Grace asked, because he looked sad.

“A little bit. I guess I was, a little bit.”

“Do you want to tell me? Sometimes that helps.”

“Maybe not today,” Felipe said. “Maybe someday, but maybe not today. It might be hard for you to understand, anyway, because it’s grown-up stuff. You know. Man — woman stuff.”

“Oh,” Grace said. “Yeah. That stuff is hard to understand.”

They walked in silence for a block or so, and then Grace asked, “Felipe? Do you speak Spanish?”

“Oh, yeah. I speak Spanish better than I speak English.”

“I think your English is good.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you teach me to speak Spanish?”

“Well,” Felipe said, scratching his head. “I guess so. I guess I could teach you a little bit. Here’s a good thing to know how to say. ‘Como se dice en Espa?ol…?’ That means, ‘How do you say in Spanish…?’ And then you could just point to the thing you wanted to know how to say. Or tell me the word in English. And then we could add a word every day.”

“Como se dice in Espa?ol,” Grace said. “Why is there an English word in there?”

“There isn’t.”

“In.”

“En,” Felipe said. “E-N.”

“Oh. Como se dice en Espa?ol.”

“Very good.”

“But you have to tell me how to say something. Today. That’s not enough for today, just learning the question. I think I should have an answer for today, too.”

“OK. What do you want to know how to say?”

“Tap dancing. Teach me how to say tap dancing, OK?”

“You have to ask it right, though.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry. Como se dice en Espa?ol…tap dancing?”

“Baile zapateado.”

“Whoa. That sounds hard.”

“Maybe we should do an easier one today.”

An old man walked by with a bulldog on a leash, so Grace said, “Como se dice en Espa?ol…dog?”

“Perro.”

“Perro,” Grace said.

“Good.”

“Felipe? Do you like me?”

“Sure, I like you.”

“What do you like about me?”

“Lots of things.”

“Name one.”

“Well. You asked me to teach you a little Spanish. Nobody ever asks me that. Everybody just figures Spanish-speaking people should learn English. It never occurs to anybody to learn a few words of Spanish. That shows a lot of respect for me. You know. And for my language. That you asked.”

“I liked my Spanish lesson,” she said. “I guess if I had to miss my tap dance lesson, it’s good that at least I got a Spanish lesson. I wonder why Rayleen wants me to come down to her salon.”

“I think she wants to do something with your hair,” Felipe said.

“Oh. My hair. Right,” Grace said. “That explains a lot.”

? ? ?

“Good Lord in heaven,” this lady named Bella said, holding up the back of Grace’s hair.

Bella was a big, heavy African lady. Not African-American, like Rayleen, but really African-African, from Nigeria (this is what Rayleen told Grace), with that nice accent that people have sometimes when they’re from Africa. And dreadlocks. She wore her hair in dreadlocks.

She was one of the hair-stylist people at Rayleen’s salon, and friends with Rayleen, who stood close by, shaking her head and clucking her tongue.