Date: Sat, 30 Apr 2005 07:57:01 -0700 (PDT)
From: Ray <yaalc@yahoo.com>
Subject: sebastian chapter 1 (revised)

Author's note: most of this story will take place in
Argentina. You will see some Spanish phrases. I've
kept them very basic to avoid having to translate all
of them. Although Argentina is a Spanish speaking
country, they have a very distinct dialect, instead of
the tu form they use the vos form. It changes some of
the spelling and accents especially with verbs. As
this is Spanish as I learned it, I'm using it here.

Sebastian: chapter one

     I stood outside at the curb, waiting for the
paperboy. It was misty, dark and the air was so full
of moisture I thought it was drizzling, maybe it was
and I just couldn't tell, I scrunched down into my
coat, and walked around in circles a bit, trying to
keep warm. "This is totally fucked up" I thought, just
last week I was home, it was spring, the weather was
awesome, and now here I am 6,000 miles away, winter is
just starting up again and damn it all, I hate being
cold. I'm small and skinny, without an ounce of fat,
or a lot of muscle even, to protect me from it.

     I bitched to myself while I waited "damn
country", I thought, they don't even have newspaper
deliveries, and damn my dad for his obsession with
having the newspaper to read every day."

     I could hear the boy coming down the street,
yelling "diario, diariOooo" which I guessed was
Argentine for newspaper, but I couldn't see him
through the mist.

     "Come on hurry up" I groused to myself, and as if
someone had answered my pleas, a human shape
materialized from the dark and fog.

     I'd only been in Argentina for 2 days and I was
totally unprepared for the shocked feeling I'd have at
the way some of the people lived. As he got closer and
I could make him out more, I realized he was about my
age and size. He was dressed in a thin, worn coat. I
saw holes in his shoes and in the threadbare sweat
pants that he wore. His dirty blonde head was
uncovered and matted to his head from the moisture in
the air. I couldn't tell if his hair was truly a dirty
blonde or just dirty, it looked like he hadn't bathed
in days, and his clothes were stained and filthy. He
walked with his head down, and shoulders hunched, an
air of defeat surrounding him, like he realized he was
doomed to have a shitty life, I wondered if he even
ate every day.

     "Queres un diario?" he asked me as he
approached.

     "No hablo espanol." I responded with 3 of the few
words of Spanish I knew as I thrust out the money for
the paper.

     For the first time he looked up, a puzzled
expression on his face, my breath caught in my throat,
and I'm sure my mouth hung open. He wasn't the most
beautiful person I'd ever seen but there was something
about him that left my throat dry and an unpleasant
squirming in my stomach.

     He reached up to move his bangs out of his eyes,
and I felt like I was falling into the most brilliant
deep green eyes I'd ever seen, his eyes caught mine
and I couldn't have looked away for anything. He had a
smattering of freckles across his nose, his lips
weren't thin or full, they sat there like they knew
they belonged. His nose was a little bit small, and
his cheeks were pinched, I knew right then that he
wasn't eating enough.

     He cocked his head to the side as he looked at
me, I know he said something, but I have no idea what
it was, I just stared at him blankly and repeated,

     "no hablo Espanol."

     At those words he giggled a bit, said something
more, and when I didn't respond he got a huge grin on
his face, his eyes shining. I knew he was teasing me,
but I couldn't do anything about it. Damn I felt so
impotent standing there like a dork.

     He finally handed me the paper and tried to give
me some change, which I refused, again he looked up at
me, with that toothy grin and puzzled expression, then
he shrugged, the transformation that followed ripped
my heart out, I watched the fire in his eyes burn out,
his face sagged as he lowered his gaze to the road,
and he shuffled off, his shoulders hunched again in
resigned defeat. I turned to follow his progress with
my eyes and watched until he disappeared into the fog.
I stood there for several minutes with so many
thoughts and emotions passing through me that I felt
like I couldn't function.

     "Sean!" my dad yelled standing inside the door
frame, "if you got the paper bring it up, we've got a
busy day ahead of us."

     I ripped my eyes from the fog where he'd
disappeared and slowly turned to climb the steps
leading up to the house, I didn't understand why, but
I felt like I'd just let something precious slip
through my fingers and a hole I hadn't know existed
opened up inside of me, leaving me weary and scared.

     "Hey son" my dad said as I entered the house,
"you ready for your first day of school here?"

     "Not really, Dad"

     He'd made breakfast for us while I stood outside.
I sat down at the table and loaded my plate with eggs
and toast.

      "I'm really nervous, I don't know anyone, and I
can't speak their language."

     Saying that brought to mind images of what my day
was going to be like. I put my fork down rapidly. I
didn't feel like eating anymore.

      "Don't worry about it so much, you know you're
only going to school here to pick up the language, it
will take a bit of time, but you will be fine. Don't
worry about the other kids, its not like your going to
need them, we should only be here a year or so
anyway."

     He spoke gently, knowing what I must be going
through, after all he had been through the same thing
some 20 years earlier.

     I knew he was excited about being here. Dad's a
business consultant specializing in helping companies
get their products to new markets. I had seen the
sparks light up in his eyes when he told us about the
job offer with a company in Argentina. I knew we would
be coming here. He was going to spend a year with a
company helping them break into the U.S. market,
advising them on advertising, distributing and
anything else they needed to know to sell their
product in the U.S.

     I would have loved to stay back home with my mom,
but she was going to be traveling a lot over the next
couple of years. She's a doctor, but does mostly
research. Her team had made a discovery about the
human genome, which had the medical and scientific
communities very excited. They would be spending a lot
of time going to different universities and research
facilities to share their discovery, and hopefully
expand on it.

     "Dad, how did you cope with it, when you came
here and couldn't talk to anyone?" Dad had come here
on a mercy mission with our church 20 years earlier,
right after he got out of high school. He spent a year
here helping the people, building houses, digging
irrigation ditches, things like that.

     "It was different for me. I was older than you. I
had friends and people with me that were also from
America, so I wasn't lonely. I never felt like there
wasn't anyone I could talk to. But you'll do fine,
your 14, your brain will pick up Spanish a lot faster
than mine did. And soon it'll be like you were born
here."

     He opened up the paper and I knew our
conversation was over. Once he starts reading, you
didn't interrupt him unless the house was burning
down. I sat there still feeling queasy, but resigned.
It wasn't like I had much of a choice.

     The house had warmed up a bit. Dad had left the
burners on the stove going. I guess nobody down here
had heating or air conditioning. Suddenly I wondered
where the newspaper boy lived?  How cold was his
house? Did he even have a stove to heat up the house?
With those thoughts running through my mind I
showered, got dressed and waited for dad to take me to
school. I couldn't help the feeling of dread that had
crept over me though, and I just wished the day was
through.


        Constructive criticism and comments gladly accepted.
Please email me at yaalc@yahoo.com.

Copyright Notice - Copyright 2005 by yaalc.
This story is copyrighted by the author and the author
retains all rights. This work may not be duplicated in
any form, physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise
without the authors expressed permission. All
applicable copyright laws apply.