Um amor verdadeiro (or whatever)

So I'm in the guidance office Friday when the secretary stops me, making sure I know that I'll have a new student on Monday, a kid from Brazil. I make a mental note to thank baby Jesus that this year's exchange student also speaks Portuguese, and I pepper her with questions in order to begin trying to figure out what we'll do with our new friend Rafael, my precarious classroom balance being thrown off once again:

"Is he a freshman? Does he speak any English? Do we have any transcripts? When are they coming?" and in the midst of it I remember that this is the kid whose new potential step-dad is an American from town.

"So the mom must speak some English, right?" I ask, conjecturing that that would mean the kid does too, and hoping it's true, since it tends to make high school in Missouri just that much less impossible.

"Nope."

"What?" and while that's really not the answer I wanted, now I'm especially intrigued. "Does this guy speak Portuguese?"

"Nope."'

"And he says they're 'engaged'?"

"Yep."

"Oh, God. Don't tell me: they both speak 'the language of love.'" *


*which, I just betcha, has a phrasebook that includes, "Would you like a green card?" and "Those sure are nice implants."