Lithuania

“Where did you go, you silly kid?” Huh? A slightly overweight blonde boy calls out Little Eddie in a so familiar drawl. No fashion sense. Ugh, his swim shorts pulled up all the way to his belly button. I have no idea how old he is, can be eight, can be twelve. I can’t tell how old Nechami’s kids are, have to ask shamelessly every time.

“This is Martin, he’s from Lithuania,” says Eddie. You’re joking with me, right?

“Do you know where Lithuania is?” Martin repeats in a perfect sing-song London accent.

“Say what?” I swoon and suppress a giggle at the same time. How is it even possible, to swoon and giggle, that is?

“Li-thua-ni-a,” he repeats, syllable by syllable. Up-up-down-down. Four round notes form a pleasant melody. No wonder all the greatest musicians came from there. How do they do it, so effortlessly, unaware of what it does to us? But most of them know. Nick knows too well, that bastard, and milking it. Out of all them, he milked it to the highest degree, all the way to the White House. No wonder I have to beg him to do the accent.

“Of course, I do. Baltic Sea. Do you live there?”

“No, I live in London.”

“Were you born in Lithuania?” I ask more inquisitively this time.

“I was born in London.”

Bummer, should I tell him? If any girl, woman, chica, bird, even sheila, don’t see too many of those here, asks you ‘where are you from’, for the rest of your very long life, you will answer, ‘I’m from England’! I get it that your parents want you to remember their roots and traditions, but, darling, we are not deaf. You open your mouth, and I can pinpoint your accent down to the city. You open your mouth, and I smile like an idiot, sorry, like a numpty. Nah, no more meddling for today. He will figure it out on his own in about three years, maybe even earlier. Those Brits don’t waste time.

“How old are you, Martin?”

“Eleven.”

“Martin, it’s quite grand of you to take care of young Eddie here. See you around, boys.”

Just a short snippet today, no spanks, no smut, maybe a tiny smidge. The scene is happening on the beach. A quaint day on the beach, Izzie is drawing a little boy Eddie, when another boy Martin comes over looking for Eddie. The very first days of Izzie and Nick story. 

Is anybody still reading it??