Love In Destin ✔

21 - if the world was ending

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𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒂

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A BEAUTY IN its own right, French is a language of angelic delight. However, as much as I adore it, Lana's words sound absolute gibberish to me.

"Les Oiseaux chantent," she enunciates, cheeks rosy from her dainty smile.

"What does it mean again?" I ask, raising an eyebrow, while I sip my hot chocolate in dismay.

"It means the birds sing," she says, highlighting a few sentences in her notebook. "Now, I need you to say it,"

"L-les Oiseaux chanter...?"

"Yes you're almost there," she grins.

A small breeze subtly blows into the coffee shop, right from the window beside our table. I made plans to meet up with Lana early this morning, so she can keep her promise about helping me with French. It sure has been a bumpy road, but I did end up correctly pronouncing a few words after the many I mispronounced.

"Here are your orders ladies," beams Kat, settling a plate of chicken pie for Lana and a plate of  shrimp toast for me. "Enjoy,"

"Thank you," we both say in unison.

I had to race out of the house this morning, so I barely had time to have breakfast. Aunt Abby gave me money to buy myself something to eat, and to be honest, I'm thankful; however, I feel sorry. I feel like I am a burden to her, a thing my mom suddenly chucked under her household for her to take care of. I mean, Aunt Abby has never had a child of her own and, therefore, wouldn't know how to care for one. The money she had been spending only on herself for so long, now she has to share with an unexpected extra. Extra food, extra clothing, etc. My insides squeeze just thinking about it.

I release all the thoughts in an outward breath as I notice something odd about how Lana is eating her pie. She's eating the inside first, then after she's concluded with that, she goes for the crust. It's oddly weird.

Swallowing down my food, I try to pronounce a sentence again while Lana observes me. I keep tripping at a particular word, and Lana instantaneously groans in frustration. "Oh my god, Maya, it's not that hard to say bisou!" she says, contorting her lips. "B-i-s-o-u, oui?" she rolls her eyes, chugging down her mug of lemon tea. The sudden outburst stuns me to the core, a reaction I never quite expected from Lana. Perhaps she's just tired. She has been patient with me this whole time. I guess she can't take it anymore.

"I am so sorry, Maya, I didn't mean—"

"Lana, it's okay," I interrupt as she buries her face in her hands, the tips of her ears red. "I guess I was too slow,"

"No, I got mad as if I wasn't ever in your position before,"

"Hey," I smile. "Getting angry happens. I get mad, too. It's part of life, so it's okay,"

"Okay," she exhales, smiling.

"I would just like to say that you have a very weird way of eating pie,"

"I don't know. It's just a habit I have. I've had people giving me funny looks because of it,"

"Well, weird is cool. I mean, who even said that pie should be eaten with the crust and the filling altogether,"

"I know, right? I am sick of people, and their 'that is so cringe, that's not how you eat a pizza blah blah blah," she says, in a mocking interpretation and that pushes me to burst into a fit of giggles.