Short Story: Ramona

“Do you shake hands?” asked Rose, leaning over and opening her right hand, but keeping it close to her body for now.

Photo: ymcatuscaloosa.org

“Yes,” Ramona answered, and they shook like two grown-ups. “We make grilled cheese,” she confided.

“Oh, I like grilled cheese,” said Rose enthusiastically. “Would you like to learn how they say ‘hello’ where I live?”

Ramona laughed. “It’s ‘hello!’” she replied. “Everybody says ‘hello.’”

“But they don’t say ‘hello’ where I live,” Rose explained. “They say ‘happy noon.’”

“They do?” Ramona’s big, round eyes got bigger.

“They do.”

“Happy noon!” said Ramona, and Rose and I both answered, “Happy noon!”

“I’m not sure I should tell her how to say goodbye,” Rose said quietly to me.

Photo: sheknows.com

“Uh-oh,” I replied, “What is it?”

“Literally, it just means ‘see you later’ but it’s…” Rose lowered her tone some more and came half a step closer. “’Lookim you behine.’”

I smiled. I liked this woman, but I wanted to see the rest of the booths, too. I’d been browsing off and on since Friday and hadn’t yet seen all of them, because I always stopped to talk too long. “How about I tell her that in a couple of years,” I suggested, “when she starts to learn about appropriate and inappropriate places to say things.”

“Good idea,” Rose smiled.

“Lookit my behind!” crowed Ramona, and bounced off toward the Russian Federation booth.