Letters to Audrine

10- The Language of Love

"Do you really believe it can be that easy?" Silas asks me, looking over at me with raised eyebrows.

I shrug, twirling my braid through my fingers. "I don't know. I'd like to think so. It's a romantic thought, love at first sight."

"Yeah, it's romantic."

"Have you ever been in love?" I don't know why this question comes out of my mouth, but I can't stop it. The smell in the air starts to change, and I think we're getting closer to the market.

"Sure I have," he nods. "I wouldn't say it was love at first sight though. We had a history class together all year before I thought about making my move. And even though it wasn't as romantic as our grandparents' first meeting, it was still a good relationship."

"That's good," I suddenly feel awkward, and jealous of this other girl that had history with Silas.

"But she wanted to go to a university in Spain, so we broke up after school," Silas continues to explain to me. "I'm not saying that love at first sight isn't possible though. I just didn't experience it with her."

"I didn't experience it with my ex either," I try to get passed my stupid jealous feeling to tell my story. "We met in school too, we'd known each other since elementary school but didn't start dating until tenth grade."

As we round a corner in the pathway, we're greeted by a long street full of booths of fresh fruits, vegetables, herbs, and other foods with merchants behind each booth to try and sell their goods.

"How good is your French when it comes to foods?" Silas asks me as we start to approach the first of the booths.

"I think it's pretty good," I gloat, because I feel like I've done a lot of lessons on Duolingo centered around food, especially fruits and vegetables. "But don't hold me to that."

"Too late, I'm already holding you to that," he says quickly. "Let's get started."

We start off on a very bad foot, because the first booth that we visit is for herbs and spices-- of which I know none of the words for.

"That's garlic," I point to the only basket of items that I recognize-- and I only know that it's garlic because I know what garlic looks like, not because I know the word for it in French. All of the baskets are labeled with what food is inside and the price, but they're all in French and I'm not familiar enough with different types of herbs that I can distinguish them just by their looks.

"Name just one more thing," Silas challenges me, looking very amused.

I shrug in defeat. "I can't. This is a really bad start, but I'll get the next one."

"You just said that you know what you're doing," he teases me as he grabs a bushel of one of the herbs and pays the merchant. Silas has a few bags hanging in the crook of his elbow, so he puts his little bundle of bright green herbs in one of them and we continue moving. "But okay, that was a hard one."

We pass a lot of people in the aisle between the booths as they are also shopping around the market. I get luckier at the next booth that we stop at. There are a lot of buckets of familiar vegetables, and even if I didn't know the French words for them, I'd know what they are. Different types of peppers, cauliflower, asparagus, and other fresh vegetables paint the table with their different bright colors.

"This one is better," I feel confident.

"Do you want to order something?" he questions me, not in a teasing way, but genuinely asking.