Love and Latin

CHAPTER 5

Apparently Silas' way involved getting burgers at 'Corbett's Burgers' and eating them on the rooftop of an abandoned movie theatre.

During this escapade they mostly argued about his fast driving and her constant panic. At Corbett's burgers they argued about him buying her food after she relentlessly told him she wasn't hungry. An obvious lie. And on the rooftop on which they sit, they argue about Latin pronunciations.

"No, Alora, this is how you say it." Silas instructs, Alora has a book given to her by Silas currently resting on her thighs - mainly to prevent the wind from lifting up her skirt.

"How are you soo good at Latin?" Alora asks him, flabbergasted at his knowledge of it.

He shrugs as he chews the last bit of his burger. "My dad taught it to my brothers and I when we were kids." He says, "We spoke it around the house."

Alora was about to inquire further when she saw the look on his face and remembered that his dad was dead. She didn't know what the appropriate thing to say was.

"You must like it." He says suddenly. "You can't pass if you think it's ridiculous."

"I don't thin-" Alora begins, but is quickly cut off.

"Yeah, you do. I can see it on your face. You don't respect the language."

Alora didn't think Silas respected anything let alone a dead language. She just thought he was one of those effortlessly smart guys who skip half the year and still got good grades. "You're right. I'm sorry, I don't respect it."

"Then that's where we'll start."

"What?"

"Translating and learning basic composition isn't going to do shit for you. You need to feel it."

"And how am I going to 'feel it'" Alora finger quotes, rolling her eyes.

Silas gives a mischievous smirk. "For starters, this abandoned movie theatre you currently sit on was owned by Anthony Ruiz. Don't want to bore you with the details but he was of Latin descent. He opened this theatre for his favourite mistress and stuck a poem for her on the doors, right before he shot himself."

Alora flinched as if slapped on the face. She wondered about the full story. She wondered even more about how Silas knew that.

"Curious aren't you?" He smirks again. Alora's skirt lifts slightly and he shifts his gaze to the inch of exposed skin.

"A little." A lot. She was not about to give him the satisfaction of being right.

He smiles as if he knows she's lying. "Your first assignment from me: research the full story, write down the poem and come read it to me. Tomorrow."

Alora considers this; it doesn't sound so bad. "Okay, sounds good."

"And one more thing," of course, "It's written purely in Latin, there's no English translation anywhere," that must be why she's never heard it before, "I want you to translate it. And don't use some bullshit method like google translate. Tomorrow, read the Latin to me and write down the English version. If you do it properly, maybe you'll get another lesson." He gets up.

Alora should be grateful, she didn't expect him to agree to this let alone put in effort to help her. She could do this. "Fine, and uhm, thank you. For the burger, and for the lesson." She says, awkwardly wrapping the other half of her burger to eat at work later.

"Don't thank me." He says, taking her hand to help her off the ledge. "Now come on, I've got to get you back."

Alora felt dizzy, the past hour felt like a dream.

He drives back to school at a reasonable speed and parks with five minutes to spare before her next class.

"Thank you." She says, grateful. When he doesn't respond, she gets out of his car and walks to the entrance, she could feel his eyes on her as he re-starts the engine.

~*•~*•

When Alora gets home at 7pm, her father is back from work early. Her mother makes a simple sandwich with shaky hands, a bruise quickly forming on her cheek. Alora sighs.

"Mom? What happened?" She asks, already knowing the answer.

"Your mother is fine." Her father says, walking up to the fridge and grabbing what looks like his fifth beer.

"Go to your room sweetheart. I'm fine." She forces a smile that doesn't stay for long.

"Mom..."

"Alora, please."

Alora goes to her room. It wasn't much of a room. There's a mattress on the floor, a single bedsheet and a single blanket. There wasn't much walking room. In their trailer, there were the basic things needed in a household and nothing more.

She grew up here, she lived here, but it was no home.

She snuck into her parents' room - after quickly changing out of her school uniform - to use the only device in the house that could connect to the internet. She did not have a phone or computer of her own.

On the old-fashioned dusty computer, Alora begun her research on what Silas told her to look up. Turns out, the full story was very interesting and the poem even more so. If only the poem wasn't six pages long. She was going to be up all night.