I’m not expecting company…
“[mumble mumble] Diaz?”
a strong, authoritative man’s voice on the other side of the door.
Uh oh. Is someone in trouble? Someone named “Diaz”? They have the wrong person! I don’t want anyone knocking my door down!
I do a quick check in the bathroom mirror on my way to answer the door. Two men in dark jackets through the spyhole. I open my door.
“Hello, I think you have the wrong address…” I start just as they state again:
“Oh!” So that’s what they mumbled through my door!
“Do you speak Spanish?”
“No,” I shake my greasy bedhead hair in sympathetic apology.
“Does anyone in the house speak Spanish?” they ask incredulously, peering past me into my hallway.
“No, it’s just me,” I lean against the door frame. Probably shouldn’t tell strange men you’re home alone in the middle of the day in heart-splattered lounge pants and a Snoopy t-shirt.
“And you speak no Spanish?” he cannot comprehend my trespass. He asks again in his lilting accent.
“Enhhh…” I want to try to reply in Spanish, something clever, but I know by now that it’s best to play dumb unless it’s an emergency. I scrunch my face up and gesture with my fingers apart a small distance. He laughs.
“We are sharing the good news!” He makes a grand gesture with his right arm and shows me the book in his left hand. “The Bible!”
I am caught off guard.
“Oh! I’m sorry. Um. I’m really sorry. Have a good day, anyway!”
With both hands, I shut the door slowly on the two gentlemen as their smiles turn to faces of confusion.
You and me, both, guys.