The Language Exchange – Part 2: Final Exam

The Catalan oral exam was at ten o'clock on a hot Thursday morning.

Chloe sat in a bare corridor with sweating palms, murmuring conjugations. Marta had drilled her for six weeks. They had practised in cafés, on buses, and once in the middle of a cheese shop. She knew every verb. She felt sick.

"Next," called a voice.

She went in. The examiner asked her about her family, her favourite food, her plans. She answered in slow, careful Catalan, with the gentle r, with an accent that still wobbled but was clearly improving. At the end, the examiner nodded.

"Molt bé," she said. "You have passed."

Chloe emerged into the corridor in a daze. Marta was waiting, leaning on the wall with two paper cups, a huge grin splitting her face.

"Well?"

"I passed!"

Marta flung her arms round her. They stood in the hall, spinning, while students stared.

They walked to their café, where the usual table was in the sun, patterned with the shadow of an old balcony. Marta ordered pastries. Chloe sat quietly, turning her cup. The afternoon light fell across the tiles in long gold stripes.

"I want to say something," said Chloe. "In Catalan."

"Go on."

"M'agrades molt," said Chloe. "Més que no pots imaginar."

Marta's eyes filled. "Your r is perfect."

"I practised."

"Can I ask you something?" said Marta.

"Yes."

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes," said Chloe. "And if you say stop, you must correct my grammar for the rest of our lives."

"I would anyway."

Marta kissed her, sweet and slow, a hand rising to cup her freckled cheek. Chloe kissed her back with joy, tasting of coffee and cinnamon. The café hummed around them, indifferent and kind.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" asked Chloe.

"Green," said Marta. "Very green."

They still meet on Thursdays. Chloe teaches her English slang. Marta teaches her the word for home.

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