The difference

"The ignorance of the English-speaking reader never ceases to amaze me"-Manguel

While reading Love in the Time of Cholera, I met sweet, handsome Pablo Charoksy, a young Argentinean man who rode the city bus with me to Miami-Dade Community College. Engrossed in the novel, somehow I still managed to become distracted by this man's intense, blue-green eyes, mainly because they were staring directly at me. Feigning lack of interest, I tilted my chin up and continued reading. Marquez was a recent discovery, his stories so absurd, crass, and yet beautiful. Bus rides to school were the only time between work and school that I could sit and enjoy the book.

I gave up, put the book away, and sighed noisily. When I did so,the mystery man finally spoke.

"What is the difference?" he asked, the "r" in difference rolling a million waves out of his mouth.

I blinked at him.

He began again. "Uh…English or Spanish? Which do you like better? What is the difference?"

He had assumed I had read the original, and anxiously waited for a response. I finally said,

"I wouldn't know. I have yet to read the original."

"Do you speak Spanish?" He looked worried when he asked me this.

"Yes."

"Oh..que lastima, to waste such a beautiful tale on the English language."