The Sound of Their Presence

Chapter Thirty One: Foreign Feelings

Shane's POV

    "Hallo, Freund!" I awkwardly proclaim the literally forgein syllables. The grocer looks at me with a blank stare, unconcerning. Did I say the wrong thing to the cashier?

    Cheyenne starts rapidly speaking with the cashier, beyond my comprehension of German. I had hardly mentioned to say, 'Hello Friend!'

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    "Where did you learn to speak French and German from?" I press Cheyenne, back at the hotel room. "They don't teach foreign languages so well in school when you move about so much."

    "I know much more than German and French," she glares at me, resentfully.

    "How many languages do you speak?" I as incerdously.

     "Russian, Gailic, English, obviously, Portugese," she begins to reel off, counting on her fingers, eyes trained on the ceiling. "Spanish, Greek-"

    "Ok, a lot, apparently. Where did you learn all of them?"

   "Unicorn travel teaches you a few things," and she struts out of the room, agitated. Cheyenne is agitated a lot lately. At least where I am concerned.

   I don't bother to follow her out. I made that mistake three days ago and ended up with a sliced ear. She was buttering a slice of bread in an elevator, and the knife ended up stuck in the wall by my left ear.

    Brinnnggg! Brinnggg! The landline at the hotel almost flies off the hook before I rip the phone off the reciever.

    "I know we are late to check out! I am going in a minute! I am packing up right now," I yell through the reciever at the manager trying to kick me out of the hotel.

    "What are you talking about?" Aunt JIllian asks, puzzled. Oops.

    "Nevermind. Any updates on the Tina issue?"

    "Yeah, sort of . . ." Jill pauses, trailing off randomly.

    "Well don't stop there! Continue!" She clears her throat from the other end.

    "Talk to you later, Shane. I didn't know you were PMSing."

    "Sorry! Don't go, please. I am just kind of cranky lately."

    "No, duh," Jillian sighs on the other end. "Tina is with your mom, but your b*tch mother said she would go to the police if I came back to her property. She said something about kidnapping you and that I couldn't get custody over my kid after disappearing for four plus years."

    "But you were serving your country that entire time!"

    "I know, Shane. It is total BS, but I can't get a lawyer," my aunt sounds depressed. "Where is Cheyenne?"

     After I remain silent, Jllian continues, "Girl problems, huh?"

     "Understatement of the century!" I retort.

    "Well go make up with her! She has been p*ss*d at you for what- Three weeks now?" She was right. We had been in Germany for several weeks and I still hadn't had a conversation that didn't end with slamming doors and complaints from hotel staff or a a new knife hole in the wall from the inaccurate butter knifes that just barely missed my head.

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    "Cheyenne!" I rap on her door for a minimum of five minutes while shouting before, at long last, she answers.

    "What do you f*ing want?"

    "Language!" I am awarded with a harsh slap across the cheek that makes my face nerve endings sting in fire and feel raw. "Sorry!"

    "So?"

    "I want to make things right-"

    "I don't care."

    "I just want to be able to talk to you again-" we stutter at the same time. I follow my instincts, and lean in . I cross the distance between our lips. After a moment, Cheyenne is red in the face and shoves me away. 

    "What the h*ll!" Cheyenne then knees me hard between th legs, right below the waistline. Apparently following my male instincts was not a good idea.

     My conclusion is affirmed when her hotel room door is slammed.