The Guzmáns house is... quaint. Although, everything is quaint against a lifetime of Casita.
The house before them looks three sizes too small and is too clean to be anything approaching 'cozy.' Señora Guzmán alternates between staring open-mouthed at the amount of bodies suddenly in her home to staring open-mouthed at Tío Bruno to having hushed conversations with Mariano about exactly how he thinks this is going to work.
Mamí y Papí decide to leave the particulars to their hosts, kick all of their passengers out of the cart, and head back towards the ruin to get the rest of the family, and by the time they return, the only decision that has been made is that Abuela will stay with Señora Guzmán. Everyone else piles into the house to make a case against sleeping in a broom closet or stairwell.
Camilo lugs his allotted blanket, pillow, and bag of assorted supplies up the stairs to the last bedroom where Mamí y Papí decide that it is much too small for their entire family of five, so he treks back up the hall to the largest bedroom to share with all the men until the Mamí y Tía insist that the married couples will have their own room, then it's back down the stairs to the spare room with no furnishings to share with Tío Bruno and Mariano, who awkwardly work around each other without talking or looking at the other one, then into the living room where he might die of secondhand embarrassment because his only choice seems to be rooming with two men he barely knows or with all four of the girls, who protest loudly when he drops his stuff on the couch.
"What if we have to change!"
"Or talk about girl things!"
"That's emfive/em people in here! And I already called dibs on the sofa!"
"And you snore!"
"If it's going to be that big a deal, maybe I emwill/em just sleep outside!" He snaps.
Which isn't supposed to be something the adults agree to, but they do because nothing the adults ever decide to do makes any sense.
And then he takes everything out into the front yard, which is too exposed for even his comfort, then to the garden right under the living room window, out of which Isabela and Dolores are glaring at him, and finally, to the veranda set snugly on the side of the house where he has a little shade, a lot of cobblestone, a matching set of wicker furniture, and no roommates.
emAnd/em he can sleep on the sofa.
He tosses the blanket and pillow and himself on it and starts rummaging in the bag to see what Tía decided to get them, which turns out to be individual toiletries and no food.
He's just about decided to abandon the Guzmáns and their hospitality when a small movement catches his eye.
Tío Bruno makes his way around the side of the house and is dragging his own blanket behind him, apparently lost in thought as he studies the wooden posts that hold up the ceiling and humming thoughtfully. Camilo watches with interest as Bruno spreads his cover out on the ground and stands on it, pacing the length of it a couple of times.
"What are you doing?"
"Measuring."
"...oh."
Grown-ups.
Bruno looks up at the support beams again and points at a couple of different spots then looks back down at the trail of dusty footprints. "Mmm... yeah, this will work. Probably. If it doesn't, don't tell your Tía."
"What?"
Bruno sits down and pulls a length of rope out from under the blanket, which he bunches together before tying it off with a large knot on one end. He wraps the rope several times around one of the posts then tosses the rest toward the next closest one and secures it before tying up the other end of the hammock.
Bruno tests the tautness of both the line and the bed before gingerly lowering himself into it at an angle. It swings lightly with his momentum as he sinks. He closes his eyes, and a sigh of relief and pleasure escapes him.
"So... you're just moving on to the porch. Just like that?"
"You can always go back and share with Mariano."
"Well, why aren't you?"
"Bribery. Told him if he could find some spare rope, I'd let him have the place all to himself."
"But you don't mind sharing with me?"
"Do you?" One eye pops open and studies him.
"Um...well, no, I guess not."
"Good. I just got comfy."
Camilo is spared the need of having to make anymore small talk when Dolores wanders over to their section of the house and giggles at the one foot swinging out of the hammock.
"You're just jealous," Bruno calls to her.
She gives his sandal a playful flick, and he nearly topples out when he retracts his foot. "I am an old man trying to take a decent nap. Do you mind?"
"You're going to miss dinner." Dolores says coaxingly.
"Won't be the first time."
"Tío."
And there's the version of Dolores's voice she uses on Camilo when he's being difficult – a warning and a plea.
"They'll come looking for you," she says.
"And they'll find me this time. Asleep."
"You can't put it off forever."
"I managed to for ten years."
"That's not funny."
"I wasn't intending it to be."
"It would mean a lot... to me. To actually have a meal with you again."
A deep, resigned sigh comes out of the hammock. "That's blackmail."
"Well... you do owe me."
"...and that's extortion."
A small smile Bruno can't see creeps over Dolores's face that means she's won. "Dinner is at six."
Camilo waits until his sister is out of earshot – then squashes a pang of guilt that there is such a thing as Dolores being out of earshot – to speak.
"What does she mean you owe her?"
"Same as Isabela y Luisa would probably mean."
"Which is..."
"Which is the reason I will not be getting nap before dinner." He replies evasively.
Camilo tries a different tack. "She talks to you like you're me."
"No, she talks to emyou/em like you're emme/em."
"She gets to tell you what to do?"
"She thinks she knows when I'm being unreasonable."
"And are you being unreasonable?"
"I don't think so. I'm tired; I sleep."
"Through dinner?"
"Yes, through dinner. I'm used to keeping odd hours."
"Why?"
Bruno pinches the bridge of his nose. "I just am. Always have."
"Mm."
A silence falls between them. Bruno dangles his foot out of the hammock and rocks it back and forth. His eyes are still closed, but he doesn't seem any nearer to sleep than he was fifteen minutes ago.
Camilo takes the opportunity to study the man – a ghost of sorts, back among the living. He doesn't have very many memories of Bruno, and the ones he does have are vague and nondescript... a man in green staring at a bowl of soup, Mamí arguing with a mass of dark curls, a tired voice trailing off as Camilo flips through an old book. He had thought them half-imagined stories or dreams, at best.
It's like finding out Casita is – was – actually haunted.
Intriguing... like he'd always known there's more to the story.
"You're staring." Bruno says lazily.
Camilo hastily looks at his toes. "I mean, I have spent the last ten years thinking you were dead."
The foot stops swinging. "Yeah...yeah, I guess you have."
Bruno tips the hammock until he can roll out of it with both feet. "I suppose I have to prove it takes more than that to get rid of me."
And he walks off without another word, as preoccupied and resigned as a man facing down an army.
Which, given what happened at the last family dinner, is probably what his uncle is about to do... but...
There's just gotta be more to it.