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Sometimes, Manousos remembered when he thought writing was the coolest thing ever. When nobody cared to listen, his pen and paper would bring whatever he wanted to to life.
But after thumbing through the electromagnetic book and translating most of the words, writing started to lose its charm. His hands and head were starting to ache. So, before giving himself the chip-and-soda break he desperately needed, he jotted down one last word: those consistent notes that he had heard from the radio. A loop.
Maybe Carol would have something new to say about this. Or better yet, maybe she'd have some food that didn't make his stomach ache after gorging on. He was getting better at asking for help. First the bandages, and hopefully now a decent meal.
He leaned against the countertop and held the phone between his ear and shoulder. If she was trying to relax, he didn't want to scare her shitless with the ambulance horn or a loud knock. It's what a good neighbor would do, right?
Manousos started to type the landline number in with his non-greasy hand. As soon as he pressed the zero key to start the number, the phone immediately started dialing.
"¡Hola Manousos! Esta es una grabación. Puedes..."
Voicemail. He slammed down the receiver with a hiss. Even if that same silky-warm and suave-voiced man from last time answered his message, he didn't feel like asking him questions.
He glanced back to his table of notes with a scowl. Never could escape being the curious one, even when the world around him was unraveling.
His lips pursed together and for a moment he saw the fast-speaking kid with more questions than brains. That Colombiano Manu who couldn't shut his trap.
Back then, he had learned Guarani like his life depended on it. So the other boys would talk with him the same and not talk behind his back in words he didn't understand.
He glanced out the window at Carol's house. English felt the same for him. Except now, his life actually depended on it. Communication is more important than companionship.
It was a far-away hope, but maybe, one day he hoped him and Carol wouldn't need the translator to save the world.
Without any more hesitation, Manousos dialed in the nine-digit number into the phone's keys. The phone rang for a few seconds before he heard the other phone connect.
"Yeah?"
Carol mumbled into the reciever. She had that heavy, nasally slog in her voice and he could hear the loud, overpowering TV.
The sound of Carol's tipsy voice made him feel at ease. Even though he couldn't hear her well, it brought him comfort.
Even the heated spats they had were more human than any conversations he had with the weirdos. Nobody could take away the humanity from Carol.
"I would like to come over. To talk."
He chose to omit any mention of his notes. Carol didn't seem to be in the mood and he didn't want the weirdos listening on the phone to know what he was doing.
Manousos heard Carol sigh to herself before sheepishly admitting "Please" before hanging up the phone.
After freshening himself up, Manousos makes his way over next door. His notes are under his arm as he walks. Before he steps inside Carol's house, he gives a side-eye to the atom-bomb box like it's watching his every move.
Carol's on the couch with her feet up and a pillow gripped tightly in her arms. She scoots forward her WINE MOM tumbler and a half of a sandwich to Manousos.
He takes the dishes with gratitude and he looks down into the cup's wavering reflection. Water. Probably for the best: he hasn't been easy on his liver with all the cola he's been chugging.
He nods a quick thanks and glances over at Carol. The TV's paused on two women in a comfortable-looking suite. Doesn't look like a TV show, unless there's someone on cable who looks exactly like Carol.
Manousos curiously glances at the two women on the TV.
A word comes to his breath instantly "Su esposa?"
He doesn't know if it's his place to comment, or to even be seeing the video. Carol's smiling and her face genuinely lights up when the woman looks at her. The camera is shaky, but he can make out the two on a balcony speaking excitedly.
Carol's silence is the answer he expected. He feels a little awkward just watching Carol, but she seems fine with him being there as company.
For a while they sit and sip. Carol pours more wine once she finishes her glass.
"Her name is?" Manousos gives a small glance in Carol's direction and the backyard.
Carol hesitated for a breath before speaking up.
"Helen." Her voice stammers. She grips the pillow tightly. She stiffles a sniff and wipes her eyes and nose in a tissue.
"Todo bien. Just a hard night." She adds, too quickly to sound like she actually means it.
"But... thanks for coming." She murmurs softly under her breath. Her tense back starts to ease up but she still looks pained.
Manousos doesn't think her behavior needs an explanation. "It's alright."
The video ends a few heartbeats after, and Carol awkwardly plays with the fringe of a pillow before turning to Manousos, phone in hand. "What about you? Did you have anyone like this in your life?"
As she speaks, Manousos feels as if she has asked this question before. Her tone is more casual, and there's no hesitation in her voice. Like she's just asking him what he had for breakfast.
It's a personal question, one that he's always tried to avoid, but he doesn't see a reason to lie.
"No" He admits, shaking his head. He lifts the phone to his lips. "My mother considered me less than filth for not wanting to marry a woman."
After his father died, his mother had told him to look for a girl who was prettier than the rest to spend the rest of his life with.
It was a tall order to put on a now reclusive and timid fifteen-year-old kid who had been told his whole life to stop being so expressive and annoying.
But he had to bury those feelings deep inside to where he himself forgot about them. He needed to prove that he was the man of the household now.
Not the dumb kid who felt warm and fuzzy when he was clapped on the back by a strong jock after blocking a soccer ball like his life depended on it.
That day, he headed to school to pick a crush. Arami has smooth and soft black hair. Serefina helped him with a hard math problem once.
He thinks of girls as being nice to him. Not looking to judge. They have soft hair, too. Just like a friend. Everything he wanted in a partner was what he wanted in a friend!
He'd excitedly told his mom that he had found not one, but two new friends!
His mother was not pleased at the news.
Carol's eyebrow raised. "Choose?" She looks him in the eyes. "You don’t choose something like that. It just comes... naturally to some people.
Manousos looks away from Carol and puts his head in his hands. He picks up the translator and speaks into it softly, saying what he hasn't ever expressed before. "I keep waiting for it to happen. Everybody says it takes time. To feel sparks. That it's a normal part of life."
After a pause, Manousos pensively speaks into the phone. "Unknown word or name. Is it a normal thing to have no physical attraction?"
Carol looks at Manousos holding out the phone with a sympathatic glance. She stays silent for a second, like she doesn't know what to say. She then whispers "Yeah. It is. It's normal."
He recieves the translator from Carol's hand. "People talk about wanting others. If I can ask, did it come naturally to you? How did love make you feel? Unknown word or name."
Carol looks off to the side and nods her head. "It did. It felt like... I could be myself when I was able to accept that I loved Helen. Didn't have to lie that I felt something I didn't." She catches her breath, voice quivering before she speaks up again.
"I'm sorry if you had to love someone you didn't. If you felt like it was your fault for not loving right." Carol speaks into the phone.
Carol's hand clenches into a fist. It felt like she was reliving some of those cold nights all over again. "It hurts like a motherfucker to hear that love can be wrong. Fuck them. Fuck them all."
Manousos listens closely before he bites his lip. "Motherfucker..." he repeats in English. A smile creeps on his face for a second. He's totally using that word later.
Carol switches from the home-video to a rerun of Golden Girls instead. With the pleasant, warm noise of the TV in front of them, they sit in silence for a while. Carol starts to relax again, but she still has tenseness in her muscles.
Manousos turns to face her and the translator repeats his quick message. "I'm sorry about Helen. I wish she was still here with you." He glances away from the smiling faces on the TV to meet Carol's eyes. Even as Carol's trying to drink and bury herself in TV, it's not helping what's bothering her.
Carol thinks it's the first time that someone has said it to her who actually means it. Carol pours out another cup for herself.
This time, it's just water.
Manousos thinks back to when Carol had asked him about his scars. How he felt small and weak to admit his shortcomings, his mistakes.
It wasn't easy for him to remember, but he slept better that night after being honest to the one person who cared.
"You can talk about her if you'd like. I would like to help." Manousos offers. "With or without the telephone. I will listen."
The dam keeping Carol's emotions in check burst. She didn't rush to repair it, to keep herself in check. She cried.
Manousos idolized Carol's strengths before, and this was no different. He sat back with his legs crossed as he let Carol spill her guts.
Her lips quivers as she details her grief. How the one moment she stepped away from Helen ended up killing her.
He doesn't quite know what to say, so he just listens. Maybe one day he'll tell her how the first time he heard her words in the storage unit, it made him cry. But right now, he listens.
The guilt ate at Carol, and she was barely getting her words coherent. Her sadness, drunkenness, and rage cultivated into sobs and tears that she couldn't hold back.
This is different than what Zosia had told him.
"It's okay to let it out." The translator beeps.
Manousos wished that somebody had told that to him all those years ago. But now it was his job to tell Carol.
The room fell quieter after a few long minutes. After her rage had tapered down into soft cries, Manousos got a little closer.
"Goddamn it, I miss her... just so... much." Carol's fists rolled into balls and she weakly sobbed into Manousos's shoulder.
Despite Carol's red eyes and jetting tears, she was less tense. She wasn't holding back what had been eating and ripping through her heart.
Manousos cautiously placed a hand on her shivering back. She hugged him like he was an old friend she'd known for years. Just a few weeks ago they'd been clawing at each other's throats.
He knew it sounded silly but the physical intimacy of just a friendly hug was more contact than what he'd allowed himself to have for years.
He felt like he didn't deserve to let anyone in because he would let them down. Carol starts to still in his arms and he releases her onto the pillow pile.
After looking around, he sees the half-open door of the guest bedroom and hoists Carol to the next room to grant her some privacy.
Once he gets back to the couch with his back aching and Carol tucked in, he can't will his eyes open any longer.
Manousos wakes up on Carol's couch and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He realizes where he is and curses to himself.
Immense guilt washes over him from overstaying his welcome and not asking to stay beforehand. He hesitates before looking through the cracked door of the guest room. She's breathing under the covers where he put her.
"Baby... Helen, please, please wake up..." She gurgles in her sleep, twitching gently at the sound of the door creaking.
He lets her sleep.
Manousos takes a piece of paper from Carol's study with a shaking hand before starting to jot something down in Spanish instinctively. His breath is racing, but all the words are coming to him naturally.
Writing didn't feel so stupid to him anymore.
Helen,
I have never met you, but I know you are a wonderful person. You had nothing but pure love for Carol.
Carol misses your presence more than she can say.
May you rest in peace.
Manousos finished writing and tacked the note close to the grave. Once he gets back into the living room, he unlocks the phone and murmurs out the next question he wants to ask.
"Unknown word or name. Could a soulmate be someone who just makes your life better?” The translator repeats in a slow voice. “Not a lover. Maybe a business partner? A good friend? Or just a loyal companion?”