Chapter 4: Being
Summary: Walking and talking, drinking and thinking.
"Does Sara know?" Linc asked idly, waiting for Michael to catch up.
Michael finished his farewells with Señora Duarte. "Know what?" He waved at Juanita and smiled at her grandmother.
His brother waved his arm expansively. "About them. All of them - your harem."
Michael laughed. "I just help them out here and there. And they help me with my Spanish. Anyway," he finished, "I have it on good authority that she's not a jealous woman."
"Yeah, right... Bet you never thought she'd kill anybody, either! Help out how?"
"Oh, you know the kind of thing - odd jobs, bit of muscle power. Stuff right up your alley, actually." He threw Linc a sidelong look, smiling at the open, flapping shirt. "You could lend a hand - never know, might score yourself some pleasant company."
"Nuh uh. Wouldn't wanna get them too excited - women around me are jealous." He smiled benignly. "And thanks, baby bro, but really... me needing your help with the ladies?" He shook his head, sadly.
"Yeah... So, heard from Jane lately?"
"Fuck off."
Laughing, Michael dodged a sideways punch, and strolled into the taverna. Jiggling the loose change in his pockets, he threw Linc an enquiring glance, only to meet a disgruntled glare.
"Aw, gee, Mike, I dunno - strawberry daiquiri?" Point made, he stalked off to the old jukebox in the corner, slapping several backs in greeting along the way.
Michael strolled over to the bar, still grinning. "¡Hola, José ¿Cómo está?" He leant sideways against the counter, surveying the smoke-hazed room. Only 11:30 and the usual suspects already present and correct.
"Hola, Señor Miguel - muy bien. ¿Y usted?"
"También. Pero, José - no 'señor' Miguel, solo 'Miguel', por favor." He knew that wasn't right, but close enough. (1)
"¿Solamente 'Miguel'?" José gently corrected. "Algún día, quizás. ¿Cerveza?" he asked, already reaching for Linc's icy brand. "¿Usted también, o quiere otra cosa?" (2)
Otra cosa? Oh, yes. He wanted something else. He glanced up at the top shelf. But what he wanted, he couldn't have. Not now. This life half lived? Easier if it was also a life half remembered.
José plonked the frosted bottle on the counter, and followed Michael's gaze upwards. "Lo siento, señor," he shook his head sadly. "No es posible, ahorita." (3)
"Sí, lo se. Es bien- " he stopped. Damn, he thought, Hamlet had it wrong - it definitely was 'to be', but which one? "Está bien. Me gusta la cervez... " The rest of his words were drowned out. (4)
"PANAMA! PANAMA-A-A-A-A-A-A...!"
"LINC!" he yelled, as his brother started into the rest of the chorus, head nodding to the familiar thumping beat.
Linc looked up, a huge grin on his face. "WHAT?" he yelled back, raising his hand to catch the bottle flying towards him.
"PLEASE, SOMETHING ELSE! SOMETHING...NEW!"
Linc smiled and nodded, as the brothers raised their beers in silent salute.
Yes. Otra cosa? Maybe. Again. One day. But for now? He'd settle for cosa nueva. (5)
1) Me, too. But, José - not 'Mr' Michael, only 'Michael', please.
2) Just 'Michael'? ... One day, maybe. Beer? ... You, too, or do you want something else?
3) I'm sorry, sir. It's not possible, right now.
4) Yes, I know. It's good- ... It's okay. I like beer-
5) Otra cosa Something else. Cosa nueva something new.