his accent » tiago mendes

dois|tiago

My waiting was impatient, to be honest.

It was like telling a three year-old child that they were about to be punished, and then having them torturously wait to find out what that punishment was.

Passing the hour by was not difficult though. I just flipped on some lousy American TV show and sat back in the mass of pillows that surrounded me. Comfortable, yes, but not a comfort.

The bored expression on my face never ceasing, I heard a soft click coming from the door as I recognized the sound of the key turning in the door. Scrambling a little to sit upright once again without hurting myself accidentally, I quickly snatched the remote control from my side and watched as the bright curved HD screen of my TV vanished into a tiny dot.

Whoever the person taking care of me was, I did not want them to think that I was some sort of idiot that wasted his time on horrible shows.

The door slowly creaked open, and had this not been real life, I would've thought that it was a scene from some sort of horror movie.

I couldn't even try to twist around, like I normally would've done, to see how she looked like. So I just waited until the woman got out of my far peripheral vision and stood right in front of me.

Looking frantically to make sure that my leg was set straight, I hadn't noticed that my new carer was standing right in front of me--that is, until a soft voice uttered a kind, "Buenos días."

Lifting my head up, I felt my eyes grow as wide as English teacup saucers.

She wasn't beautiful. She was a real-life, flesh-and-blood Aphrodite.

Beautifully sun-kissed skin, narrow eyes that seemed to sparkle like clear spring water and are impossible to be defined by a particular color (though my closest guess was a stunning mix of hazel, emerald, and chocolate), an elegant nose that had the tiniest of freckles splashed on its surface, with smiling lips that embraced a graceful smile, and naturally high rosy cheeks.

Her face was slightly more on the angular side, but never ever had I ever witnessed such glorified beauty in such a natural state, with her graceful posture and almost model-like stance.

To say I was shellshocked would be an understatement of the situation.

I had to bite back my tongue from letting out a sharp Portuguese curse at her undeniable beauty; I think it was way too much too handle.

"Buenos días," I replied back in my friendliest tone, not wanting to come off unkind to her because of my foul mood, as she made her way to sit beside me on the couch.

Crossing her legs in her dark jeans, her eyes twinkled a little as she spoke again with a scoff, followed with a teasing smile, "Doesn't seem much like a happy day to you."

Surprised that she actually managed to notice that through the way I spoke, I answered with an amused smile as I shuffled around as much as I could to face her, "Well, no, but I'm pleased that you realized that."

She didn't give me a look of sympathy like everyone did, she just wrinkled her nose at my white cast in disdain.

"They couldn't possibly have given you a more bland cast," she shook her head, "It's almost like they don't care."

I snorted, even if it came off as rude, "Honestly they don't."

She shifted closer as she smiled at me, friendly patting my back, "Aw, c'mon, surely they do," she looked at me with those kind twinkling eyes, "If they truly hadn't cared, they wouldn't have bothered to hire you help."

"I think it was more to save them the bother of constantly checking up on me," I replied honestly, cocking my head to the side in defeat, still letting the corner of my mouth lift up in a weak half-smile.

She gave me a firm pearly white smile that made her look years younger than she must've been, and a million times more beautiful than she already was, and said in such a quirky tone I couldn't help but smile, "You're my friend now, I won't just be helping you."

"Thank you," I nodded softly, "It gets lonely sometimes."

"But where's your wife?" she asked curiously, and I felt pain wash over me like the ebb and flow of tide, causing my eyes to unwillingly flutter shut as she seemed to peer around the place, "Not to pry, but when I read your file, it said that you got married 13 years ago."

I sighed unhappily, sort of wondering why on earth would management go around writing down such personal stuff in files.

"She died a few years ago," I gulped as I watched her expression sink, "She'd been fighting leukemia for a while."

"I'm sorry," the brunette whispered, brushing back a strand of wavy locks that had fallen from her bun, "My father died from leukemia last year, so I'd know how it feels," she shrugged as she got up from the couch, "But it was better for us to know that he wasn't suffering any more."

Despite the easily recognized sadness that had washed over her emotions, I could just about see a sliver of what seemed to be peace.

Looking up at her as she reached behind me, I leant forward to let her fluff my cushions for me, not forgetting my manners and remembering to thank her afterwards.

I peered at my twiddling thumbs, thinking carefully.

"Raising two kids alone was not easy," I admitted, something I had always refused to say in front of people, "Sometimes I wondered: If I left this world, who would take care of them?"

She nodded her head in understanding, urging me to go on while she adjusted my leg on the coffee table so that it was in a straight line.

"Now I've left their world, in another way."

She gave me a sad smile, "It'll all be better. Trust me on this," she gave me a promising look that was so fierce I almost fell back, "You'll be running around in no time, with your children."

I nodded, knowing that I must have faith in her.

She seemed to be lost for a moment, before asking, "Do you mind telling me where I'll be staying?"

When I came to answer, I just realized that I had not found out her name yet.

"Sure, as long as you don't mind telling me your name," I grinned teasingly up at her.

She laughed a little, "My name's Beatriz," she paused to shake my hand properly, "Beatriz Espejel. And you're Tiago Cardoso Mendes," she went on with a cheeky smile on her face.

"A stalker, now, are you?" I joked, listening to her joyous laugh before pointing up the stairs, "Your room is conjoined with mine, so that I can call you for help anytime" I explained as she nodded her head, while I shifted my elbows to feel comfortable, "It's the first door to your left on the first floor."

Nodding once again like an innocent child, she began to go up the stairs two steps at a time, before stopping halfway to look back with that glimmer in her brown topaz eyes, "Oh, and by the way, your accent doesn't exactly conceal your identity;" she playfully jabbed while I arched an eyebrow.

"Your accent is clearly Portuguese and it's cute," she went on with a kind smile, causing my cheeks to burn while she left in a flurry of feet.

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