The Recorder's Cough
beginnereducation231 words
Lila practices English by shadowing a mysterious voice on an old recorder—but the voice isn't who she thinks. Tomorrow, her abuela arrives.
Lila presses play. The recorder crackles. "Good morning," a voice says. She leans close, repeats. "Good morning." Her tongue trips, but she tries again. Abuela arrives tomorrow. Lila must speak English—no more hiding behind Mom.
The voice on the recorder is soft, with a little cough after every third word. Lila copied it for weeks. Mom found the recorder once, asked, "Where did you get that?" Lila lied. "A teacher gave it." She couldn't say she found it in Abuela's old box, under letters and a dried rose.
Tonight, Lila plays the recorder again. "I missed you," the voice says. Cough. Lila repeats, but her throat tightens. What if Abuela doesn't understand? What if Lila forgets all the words? She presses stop, holds the recorder to her chest.
Morning light fills the room. A car door slams. Lila runs to the door. Abuela stands there, gray hair in a braid, same as in the photos. Lila opens her mouth. Nothing comes. Then she hears it—the cough. Abuela coughs, soft, after every third word. "You... look like... your mom," Abuela says. Cough.
Lila smiles. She presses play on the recorder in her pocket. "I missed you," the voice says. Cough. Abuela's eyes widen. "That's my voice," she says. Cough. Lila takes her hand. "I missed you," she says. Cough. Abuela laughs.
The recorder hums in Lila's pocket. She doesn't need it anymore.