The little book of foreign swear words

“Cao!”

Sunday afternoons were usually spent scrolling Instagram on the sofa, cuddling and exchanging funny reels. Today however, Liz opted to curl up next to me with a book. 

I hadn’t thought much of it, but at her sudden outburst, I stared at her blankly.

“Sorry?”

Liz paused, checking the pronunciation again.

“Cao!” Liz waved the book in my face, “it’s the Chinese word for fuck, apparently!”

I set down my phone, eyeing her thoughtfully, “... and are you planning on visiting China anytime soon, Liz?”

“Well, no,” she flipped to another page, “Yujin gave this book to me. She said I would ‘find new words to use aside from pabo.’”

I took the book from her, closing it to read the title.

“The little book of foreign swear words”

“I think fuck is quite the step up from idiot, don’t you think?”, I asked, as I returned her the book, “besides, I like it when you call me pabo. It’s cute.”

Liz huffed, blushing slightly, “but it's getting boring, you ben dan!”

I frowned, tilting my head. “Bend down?”

“What?”

“You just told me to bend down.”

“No! Ben. Dan. It's Chinese for stupid.”

“Ah.”

I nodded solemnly.

“You know, we should go to that Chinese restaurant down the road.”

Liz narrowed her eyes.

“Why?”

“You can practise your new vocabulary on that sweet old lady who runs the place,” I paused, continuing, “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear her sweet Liz cussing like a sailor. She might even teach you a few new ones!”

She gasped, swatting my arm. “I’m not doing that! She loves me, if I swear at her she might chase me out! Besides, you promised to make me katsudon for dinner!”

I stood up from the sofa, reaching down to ruffle her hair, “You’re right. I should get on the prep, bend down.”

“Wha- you mean ben dan! Ben! Dan!”

While I navigated the task of preparing dinner, Liz hovered along behind me, practising words under her breath.

She paused, rereading a page, “Wow this one’s harsh, how did it make it here?”

“What is it?” I asked, chopping vegetables.

“Mm, I don’t want to say it,” she flicked to the next page, finding a new word.

“This one’s French. Merde!”

I looked up from the prep, “What was that even?”

“It's French. It means shit.” She circled the word with her finger, like she was bookmarking it, “I like this one.”

I shook my head. “I’m convinced that French is a fake language.”

Liz giggled, as she flipped another page, “Oh! It’s similar in Spanish! The word for shit is mierda.” She repeated it, enunciating the word.

“Jiwonnie, could we move past talking about shit while I’m cooking here?” I turned my attention back to the pan, glancing fondly once more at Liz, “why don’t you throw a pabo my way, hm?”

“Pabo! Pabo, pabo, pabo!” Liz punctuated each word by whacking me with the book.

“Okay! Ow! No more pabos till I’m done cooking.”

“Nope! I’m hungry. Learning new languages is hard work!”

I sighed, “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“But you love it though,” she grinned, “...pabo.”

Liz still had her nose buried in the book when I served dinner. 

“Put that away Liz, let’s eat”

“Mm, smells amazing!”

She took a bite, letting out a satisfied groan, gesturing wildly at the cutlet, “Uwahh, I might have to marry you for this~” 

And for a moment I thought back to Liz, curled up beside me on lazy Sunday afternoons like a house cat. I found myself staring at her for perhaps a little too long.

“Is that all I am to you, love?” I asked, grabbing my chest in mock offence, “ Am I just your personal chef?”

Liz smiled at me, a twinkle in her eyes.

“Don’t forget chauffeur!”

I held out a finger. 

“I’m also the one who has to make sure you finish your food,” I glanced at her plate, “eat up, and we can start movie night.”