Ji-Hye was very disappointed. She had imagined her day in the word light as an occasion to serve strawberries and chocolate, champagne and Billie. Holiday. Not Bragg. But no. It was the opposite of gracious or intimate.

We were parked in the sweltering heat of the afternoon Austin sun, a bunch of pre-freshman orientees swarming the sidewalks on the right. Cars in the beginning afternoon rush hour inching along Guadalupe St on the left. We were parked in front of some store. And I asked her to give me a word. After the shock of it all, she decided she wanted to write on my foot. I reached under the steering wheel and in some form of contained acrobatics, managed to pull my shoe and sock off which, by the way, I had only been wearing because I knew I was going to be inside most of the day. Normally, I'm a sandal/flip-flop kinda gal.

So, here I am stretching my wrinkly foot over the gear shift (hoping my feet don't stink) and Ji-Hye ponders for a minute. "What shall I write? This is not how I pictured it."

sombra

"For three reasons. One, because you helped me find Chavela Vargas. I had been searching for her for ten years. Ever since I heard her voice in the Flower of My Secret [a film by Pedro Almodovar]. Two, because it is your first language. And three, because it is so hot where we are sitting right now, I wish we were sitting in the sombra."

After we cracked up, I re-started the car and drove her the block and a half to where she was going. I didn't bother to put my sock or shoe back on until a bit later. When I knew the ink had dried.