Group Writing Project #3
Author’s note: I feel like a little kid turning in a late homework assignment, but I was in Spain studying during the GWP3 project (inspiration for this story) and only got a chance to type it up now. This story contains these 10 items; Jello, a favorite candy bar, sundaes, a special event, a favorite TV show, a broken vacuum, a piece of jewelry, a small toy, a chat room, and a quote from Shakespeare. All of the locations in the story are real (I was there!), and I gave the translation of any Spanish words i used in parentheses next to the word. Oh, and if you ever get a chance you should try Trixie and Mart’s favorite Spanish breakfast, churros con chocolate.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Western Publishing. "Love stinks" is by the J. Geils Band and lyrics can be found at www.gunther.simplenet.com/v/data/lovestin.htm. "What’ll I do" was written by Irving Berlin. "Missing You" is by John Waite.
MISSING YOU
By Laurie
Trixie Belden smiled to herself as she stepped out onto the sidewalk of the Calle Carreta in Madrid at an amazingly early (for her, anyway) hour. It always surprised her that a city as hot as Madrid in July could be this cool early in the morning. As she passed the Coca-Cola clock on the corner she saw the temperature flash on the screen: 20'. Stupid Celsius, she thought to herself. There was a way to convert the Celsius degrees to Fahrenheit, but Trixie was always the first to admit that doing math in her head was never productive: she always came out with the wrong answer. She knew exactly two temperatures on the Celsius scale: 30' ("incredibly hot") and 40' ("stay in your room and take a siesta"). She laughed out loud, thinking about how surprised her family would be to see Trixie Belden, the notorious late-riser, not only out of bed at such an early hour but actually ready to start the day. But given the typical Spanish work day-businesses were open from about 8 to 2, then shut down until about 5 or 6 until 9–Trixie was ale to get plenty of sleep in by indulging in her favorite Spanish custom–the siesta. And getting up this early meant she could treat herself to her favorite breakfast in Spain---churros con chocolate–before class started.
Trixie was just beginning the second week of a month-long intensive Spanish program in Madrid. Whoever would have thought that I would be voluntarily sitting in a classroom in the summer, let alone in the inferno that’s Madrid in July? But she was preparing herself to be accepted by the FBI, and given that her grades, while certainly better than they had been in high school, were still nothing to brag about, she had to find a way to stand out among the many applicants. Besides, these days, knowing even a little Spanish could get a person ahead in almost any job field. When she had told her brothers about her plans for the summer, Mart had laughed. "Not that I don’t think it’s a great idea, Trix," he had said, still chuckling, "but I don’t think it’s possible for you to blend in in any crowd of applicants. You’ve had too much of a –shall we see unique–start to your career."
Trixie’s good humor faded a little as her memories of her family started to make her homesick. But that wasn’t the only reason she had to feel depressed....She brushed those thoughts aside as she arrived at her favorite churrería and ordered her usual–café con leche y churros con chocolate. She pricked up one of the oblong, crispy doughnut-like fried cakes and dipped it in the cup of warm, thick chocolate that she had been served. Delicious. You can always trust Mart when it comes to maters of food. Her brother had spent a semester studying Spanish in Spain several years ago, and had given Trixie the low-down on what foods to look for–and avoid–in Spain.
Trixie and Mart had grown much closer since they had begun college. Not that they hadn’t been close–in their own, special way-before, but now she considered him one of her closest friends, and in fact, she felt she could talk to him about certain topics that she couldn’t talk to Honey about–"certain topics" meaning, of course, anything having to do with her "special friendship" with Jim. Trixie always swore that the closeness between her and her almost twin was due to their (at first) anonymous encounter in the Lucy Radcliffe/Cosmo McNaught chat room. Not realizing that they were chatting with each other, Trixie and Mart had agreed on every point being discussed. Their surprise at discovering that each was chatting–and agreeing, not arguing–with their almost twin had made them realize how much they really had in common. And though neither would admit it, Trixie was touched that Mart had read all of the Lucy Radcliffe novels after their big fight about her. She had been secretly reading the Cosmo McNaught books herself. At least, that was how Trixie explained it. Mart insisted that the two had become united because of their mutual lack of luck in love.
Trixie sighed at that memory. Di and Mart had broken up when Di had graduated from high school and decided to study drama in England. Mart rarely mentioned the break-up, but Trixie knew that it had hurt him badly. She never knew the reason for the split–she and Di had saved their friendship by finally agreeing never to mention it–but she was certain it hadn’t been Mart’s idea. As for herself and Jim....Best not to think about it. But she couldn’t help herself. Being at different universities had been hard of course–not seeing Jim often enough had been one of her chief complaints to Mart when they got together to play "Love stinks" a million times and grouse about their lives–but she had been certain they could weather the storm. And they had–for awhile. Until about two months ago, to be exact. Trixie told herself-and anyone who dared to ask–that she was fine, but the memory of their last fight still haunted her. How stupid he was. How stupid I was. We just weren’t listening to each other, that was the problem. We heard each other speak, but we weren’t listening. It didn’t help, either, that they each had a hair-trigger temper. She had mistaken his genuine concern for her safety as a sign that he was trying to keep her from her dreams, and he had taken her stubborn refusal to pay attention to his concern as a sign that she didn’t care about his opinion. But it did matter, Trixie thought miserably. It did matter, and it does matter. His opinion has always mattered to me, and it always will, like it or not. They had fought about this before, but this time seemed different. She was sure that it was over for good when Honey the peacemaker, Honey the matchmaker, had given up trying to bring the two back together after only a week. Trixie sighed again as she paid for her breakfast. It wasn’t up to Honey to mend their relationship; they should have been doing it for themselves. At least that was how Mart saw it. And, unfortunately, Mart was often right. I screwed up. Her cheerful mood completely destroyed, she headed for class.
That afternoon Trixie entered her dorm room after a terrific "comida"–lunch. She glanced over at her roommate, still huddled in bed with the covers over her head. A voice came out from under the sheet, demanding–not exactly in those words–that she keep the noise down. Trixie sighed. 10 Jell-O shots and she’s surprised she has a hangover. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of the tiny magnifying glass that the BWGs had given to her as a joke Christmas gift in Arizona. I wish the other BWGs were here. As she headed towards her desk she caught sight of the tremendous pile of homework waiting for her. That’s all I need right now. She hesitated; Buffy, cazavampiros (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) was on in about five minutes on Canal Plus. It is in Spanish after all. I would be practicing my language skills that way. Yeah, that’s right. Practicing. Good one. She grinned as she headed out of her room for the TV room in the basement of the Residencia, pausing only to grab a Hershey bar out of the package Honey had sent her yesterday.
Several days later Trixie exited the Burger King that stood only a few blocks from her dorm. Lunch that day at the dorm had been, in her mind, inedible, so she had decided to treat herself to a Supermenú del verano número uno–that is, a Whopper combo. She consoled herself for the slight guilt she felt for "cheating" with American food with the thought that she had in reality been practicing her Spanish: how else could you find out that in Burger Kings in Spain a sundae was called a "sandy?" This is too great. Everything I do here I can justify with the thought that it is practicing my Spanish! But her momentary amusement faded as she caught sight of a New York Times in the newspaper kiosk on the corner. It was July...the same month she had met Honey and...and Jim, the month that had changed her life forever. And now...Honey was thousands of miles away and Jim...well, Jim was further away from her than he had ever been. And this was to have been such a great time for them both. Back when Trixie had planned for the trip, she and he had planned for Jim to take a few days from his summer internship to come visit her for a long weekend. But now...I have to get over this mood, she thought, as she headed towards El Gallego, an Internet café on the Gran Vía. I’m going to email Mart, she thought. I will email Mart and then I will feel better. Trixie paid her 600 pesetas ($4) for 15 minutes on the Internet, and sat down at her computer. All the commands were in Spanish, and the keyboard was set up differently from the ones at home, so it usually took her a while to get things going. After the webpage finally loaded, Trixie opened her account and read her messages. News from home that made her smile and then made her feel even more homesick. She read Mart’s last, and he managed to make her smile: his witty remarks were just as funny in emails ("emilios" in Spanish, as he reminded her) as they were in person. He had been describing a horrible blind date he had had the night before, and his dating woes made hers seem small by comparison. He ended it, though, on a serious note; responding to her message that she was missing Jim and regretting their breakup, Mart wrote: "Remember what old Will Shakespeare once wrote: ‘The course of true love never did run smooth.’ There are going to e bumps in any true relationship, so don’t give up. I know, I know, I know what you’re thinking: Take your own advice, big brother. But don’t compare me and Di to you and Jim. You two were meant for each other ever since the day you found him in Ten Acres, and everybody knows it. You two just have to make it through the rough times and before you know it you’ll be as sickeningly sweet with each other as you were before :). You’re both just too stubborn to make the first step. Trust me on this one; I’m the ‘sabelotodo’ (know-it-all), remember. I know wherefrom I speak. Hang in there Beatrix, and get a churro for me. Mart."
Trixie smiled. But then she realized her fifteen minutes were almost up, so she hastily wrote a quick note back to him. " Thanks for the advice Mart, but I don’t know. I’m don’t want to make the first step and then find out Jim doesn’t feel the same way. If I could be sure... But you’re probably right. You were right about the churros, after all. Oh, and I took your advice and started reading the newspapers here, especially the ‘anuncios’ (ads) in El Pais. You were right; they ARE a great way to pick up vocab (although I’m not sure where I’ll get to use some of it) and they’re funny too. Gracias por todo (Thanks for everything), Trixie..
She clicked "Mandar" (send), then logged out and sighed. She had to admit, Mart was right about a lot of things. But she was feeling bad enough right now without risking being rejected by Jim again. Her temporary good mood was gone. The jukebox in the café wasn’t helping either. Old American songs were popular in Spain, but Trixie had to wonder about the coincidence that caused someone to play "What’ll I do" at the precise moment she was there. What’ll I do when you are far away and I am blue, What’ll I do? What’ll I do when I am wondering who is kissing you, what’ll I do? What’ll I do with just a photograph to tell my troubles to? When I’m alone with only dreams of you that won’t come true, What’ll I do?. Trixie sighed. The next song was almost as painful: Every time I think of you, I always catch my breath and I’m still standing here, and you’re miles away and I’m wondering why you left. No one ever played ‘Love stinks" when you needed to hear it.
Thousands of miles away (and 6 hours behind), Mart Belden tripped over the vacuum cleaner his roommate had broken three days ago. The only good vacuum cleaner is a broken vacuum cleaner, he thought to himself as he stumbled over to his desk. Regaining his balance, he switched on his computer to check his email. After reading Trixie’s message, he stared thoughtfully at the computer for a few minutes. Two stubborn fools, he thought to himself. At least one of the almost twins should be lucky in love. And I think I know how to make it happen Thoughtfully, he reached for the hone and dialed a familiar number. No time like the present; his plan would take a few days to get ready.
Although this morning was as beautiful as all the other days, Trixie was not in her usual good mood as she walked down the street. She already knew the reason why, but the date on the newspapers she bought at the kiosk on the corner confirmed what she already thought: exactly 9 years ago that day, she had seen Jim through the window of Ten Acres. Nine years..and look what had happened. As she reached for a few coins to pay for her copies of USA Today and El País, she caught sight of her own bare wrist. It still gave her a shock to see her wrist without the ID bracelet Jim had given her so long ago. It wasn’t on her wrist, but it was still with her; she had been unable to leave the country without it, and even now it was in her pocket, a cold, hard reminder of what she had had...and what she had lost
Carrying her papers, Trixie headed for the churrería. After checking out the USA Today, she turned to El País and began checking out the headlines. Taking a bite of her churro, she turned to the ‘anuncios." These pages were essentially a combination of want ads and personals. They were usually good for a few laughs, and, as Mart had told her, were a good place to pick up new vocabulary words. Today there wasn’t much; she skimmed down the columns, catching words here and there until one large ad caught her eye. She mentally translated the first couple of words: SE BUSCA (Wanted (literally, ‘looking for’). The churro caught in her throat as she read the rest of the ad. It was in English, but she still wasn’t sure she was reading it correctly She closed her eyes, then looked again. Yes, it actually said that:
SE BUSCA: a Schoolgirl Shamus
to solve the mystery of my broken heart
You’re the only one who can find the solution;
You’ve always been the only one.
Please call 92 67 43 to add this mystery
to your long list of successes. I’m sorry.
JWFII.Trixie’s hands were shaking as she slowly folded up the newspaper. It couldn’t be...but it had to be. But how...and the telephone number listed was local–Madrid. He wasn’t...he couldn’t be..Dropping pesetas on the counter, Trixie snatched up the paper and ran out the door. She ran to the first public phone booth she saw and pulled out her phone card from her pocket. With shaking fingers, she was about to shove it into the machine when she hesitated for a moment. She pulled the ID bracelet from out of her pocket and carefully fastened it to her wrist. It glinted in the early morning sun as she slowly punched in the numbers. It seemed like the call took forever to go through, but a few seconds later the call was answered by a voice as familiar to her as her own. She finally managed to speak: "Jim? Is that really you? Oh Jim, I’m so sorry..."
The next day Mart Belden received an electronic greeting card from Spain. It read:
You are a sneaky devil, Mart Belden, and I love you for it.
I owe you a million for this one. Love, Trixie.
The End