A Love Lost in Translation

3- Nancy

The day was May 10th. Mama had already warned me about the battle down in the low countries. I had just risen from bed when Louis had pulled my blanket from off of me.

"Get up, Nancy!" He yelled. I sat up and looks at him. He inherited dad's green eyes and curly, light brown hair. Freckles scattered his nose and dimples caved in his cheeks. Lucky. I got mom's wavy blond hair and dull blue eyes. Nothing original. Louis grabbed my hand and dragged me out of bed.

"Louis! Stop!" I yelled back. I yanked my arm away from his grip, pulling on the sleeve of my blue nightgown. I pulled back the curls of my long hair and wrapped them with a blue ribbon. The curtains had been pulled back, giving me a clear view of the house right across from mine.

Across from mine.

Across the border.

Mama always swore the devil was constantly cursing us, the worst house in the country, right next to the worst people in the world. She would constantly shake her head every time she walked past any window facing the houses. So would Papa.

The old floorboards creaked and groaned with every step I took. I could already smell the crepes and syrup when I reached the first floor. There I saw Mama, covered up to her elbows in flour. The sun shining through the window made her blond hair a platinum white.

"Bonjour, Nancy! Did you sleep well?" She asked. Her eyes crinkled the slightest way when she smiled. I remember seeing an old photo of her. She could have been barely 20. She was standing outside of an apartment. I could see the Eiffel tower. She had her hair in a bun, and was wearing a white dress with a ribbon. She also has white gloves. Mama said her old boyfriend, Francois, took it. He loved photography. But I never knew where the picture went.

"Bonjour, Mama." I said back. She smiled.

"The crepes are almost finished, so after you eat, you can come to the market with me."

"Not fair!" Louis shouted, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. I had forgotten that he was still in the house. I noticed he had a crepe stuck in his mouth. He scrunched up his nose. "Why do I have to go to school when she can go to the market with you?!" 

Mama walked over and handed Louis his backpack. "I'll bring you back something like a mango or peach, ma souris. Now go, you're going to be late, and it isn't even that long of a walk." She patted his head and hurried him out the door. After he left, the house was quiet. 

"Now," Mama said, smoothing a stray hair behind her ear, "let's eat some breakfast."

                                                                              ~~~~~~

I've always loved going to the marketplace. There are so many people and so much interaction between one another. So much diversity. I could hear various different accents. Mostly French, but occasionally some German or Polish. The sun shone on the windows and doorknobs, making the whole place look lit up like a star. Stylish people walked by in stylish clothes. The scent of oranges and parfum permeated the air. The cobblestone that lined the streets clacked as heels and shoes scuffed among them. A faint cry rung out, followed by a string of apologies. An orange rolled by the heel of my boot. 

"Excuse me, could I have that?" A voice asked. I bent down to pick up the citrus, before standing back up, face to face with the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Her hair burned a deep orange in the sun, falling past her shoulders and spilling onto a white dress unlike any other I had seen before. She caught my gaze, and I started for far too long. Her eyebrows began to waver, then gently furrow into a frown.

"Uhm, excuse me, the orange?" She asked. Her voice was light and bubbly, with an accent I couldn't quite place, lingering at the back of her throat. She gently took the fruit back and thanked me.

Before she walked away.