Show me a native San Diegan who doesn’t speak Spanglish, and I’ll show you a damn lie. Hell, just the way most people pronounce San Diego is Spanglish. But I have been working on improving my Spanish-speaking skill.
It came in handy today when my mother unwittingly let a lizard into the house. Fortunately, my sister was here, but she was just as upset about it as I was. She started knocking on neighbors’ doors, hoping to find someone to assist. She found Jose. Neither of us knew Jose, but we were sure glad to see him.
He didn’t speak English. I said, “Mi español es no bien.” I sure hope that meant “my Spanish is not good” because that’s what I was trying to say.
I must have conveyed meaning because he responded, “Bueno.”
He commenced to ridding my palace of the uninvited guest. Afterward, I was so grateful that I offered to pay him. “Puedo pagar?” That’s how it came out, but he understood what I meant. He declined.
I asked if I could do anything for him… I think. That came out like, “Puedo ayudar cada anything?” I don’t know what I offered that man, but thankfully, he turned that down, too.
He did, however, accept a hug. And boy, did he ever. He held me. I mean, held me like I haven’t been held by a man in a very long time. Then he gazed into my eyes and said, “Tengo mundo…” I didn’t catch the last word. Why is he telling me he has a world? What kind of world is he talking about? I felt as though he were about to offer me a dowry.
Then he cupped his hands around my face and said, “Muy guapa.” I know what that means.
I said, “Gracias,” and tried to scoot him out before the marriage proposal came.
It was flattering, though, especially considering I was wearing a t-shirt, sweatpants, and a hair bonnet.
