Memories of a Life That Never Happened

Chapter 4 - The Brother

 La Bodeguita was the restaurant at which doorstep locals and visitors lined every day for breakfast. It was the only one right at the beach and it was there that Micaela worked during weekday mornings. The small room had five rows of tables at each side and each table accommodated up to four people. The two tables closest to the door and the ones on the left side were the busiest. They stood by the restaurant's large windows and while the right-side table overlooked the quaint street where the restaurant stood, those on the left had a prime view of the cockleboat-covered beach. 

That morning, Micaela arrived much earlier than usual and found the front door still locked. She went around the building, toward the back entrance, where a stout woman was discarding empty beer bottles onto a plastic crate.  

"Morning, Sandra." 

Bent over the crates, the woman turned her head. Sandra had an oversized forehead and her frizzy strawberry blonde hair was tied in a tufty ponytail. The sun made her squint, and she looked at Mica with one eye closed.  

"Hi there! What time is it?" 

"Don't worry. It's early."  

"Do you have ticks in your bed or something?" Sandra wiped her hands together, studied Mica for a second. "You look very happy."  

Mica's hands interlocked behind her back and her hips swiveled from left to right. "Sandra, you won't believe who I just saw."  

"Who?"  

It could really be anyone. American actresses, British singers, French politicians. During those few weeks, Buriti was packed with the rich and famous. Those who often populated the covers of magazines, however, were the most reserved. 

"One of the Chuster boys!" Mica beamed.  

Sandra grabbed the sides of her face. "You did not! Which one? That boy you have a crush on?" 

"No," Mica's excitement went down a notch. "His brother. He was lying on the beach when I got there, all alone. Do you think that he slept there?" 

Sandra snorted. "Don't be silly!" she said and headed to the kitchen. "Why would he do that when he surely has a big, comfy bed in that huge house they have uphill." 

"I don't know." Mica shrugged, following her inside. "Maybe he drank too much."  

"No," Sandra refuted. "That sounds like the one you like. He has a reputation for this sort of thing."  

"You don't know that."  

As a sign of peace, Sandra raised her hands to Mica. "Not my words. It's what the newspapers say." 

"Don't you know that the news always blow things out of proportion?" Mica protested. "Anyway, he seems fun." 

"Well, I'd say what he looks like trouble," Sandra declared. "That's what I think. And it ain't just me. Any mom with a teenage daughter will agree."  

Sandra was more than just Mica's boss. She was someone who cared. Time and again, she had proved to be a loyal friend to her mother. Many years before, Mica's parents, Jacira and Angelo, built the restaurant where they were now standing. Jacira cooked and served the fish that Angelo caught every day. When Angelo left, Sandra offered to help Jacira at the restaurant. Soon after, she bought half of the establishment and the two women became partners.  

It was a perfect symbiosis. Sandra's creativity found fertile soil in Jacira's determination. The unsurprising result was a long-lasting friendship molded amongst flour and butter. Sandra witnessed the day when Jacira and Escobar met. When they got married, she was the maid of honor.  

Then the years of sickness came and gnawed Jacira's health away. Even though she tried, she could no longer work every day. That was when Sandra and her husband bought the other half of La Bodeguita. They were now its owners and offered Mica her first and current part-time job. Mica had been there for years now was already used to the daily grind.  

"You may not like him, but you can't deny he's really handsome." She wished Sandra would agree there was something alluring about this boy. 

Three matchsticks ignited and snuffed out before Sandra managed to turn on the oven.  

"I'll give you that. I ain't surprised his family's photos are everywhere. His mom could be a top model, though I doubt she would. Why work when you're already filthy rich? His dad ain't bad looking either. What about the boy you saw, is he handsome?"  

Mica took three large baking trays from the cabinet below the counter. "I think..." She pouted, holding the trays aloft. "I guess he sort of looks like a cherub. You know, with that blond, curly hair. I think he's shorter than me. His clothes were nice," she added, placing the trays on a wide wooden table that stood in the middle of the kitchen. 

Sandra opened the fridge and took three large tupperwares out of it. "He was alone, you said?" She started emptying their contents into the trays.  

"All by himself." 

"Why didn't you go talk to him?"  

Mica scoffed. "Sure! And say what? Hi, I'm Mica, a nobody. Can you invite me to your dad's party so I can meet your brother?"  

"Do you think he would?"  

"What? Invite me to the party?"  

Sandra acquiesced, checking the trays full of what looked like inert yellow Ping-Pong balls. 

"Maybe," Mica pondered as together they loaded the trays into the oven. "But with my clothes, I doubt I'd make it past the bouncers." 

The two of them laughed.  

"Would you want to go? Really?" Sandra asked. 

"Are you kidding?" Mica stared at her. "I'd give anything to go! I mean, who wouldn't?"  

"I don't know if I'd want to. All those snotty people looking down on me. I can't imagine a worse way to spend New Year's Eve." 

"Who cares what they think? You'd never see them again anyway." 

"Hmm." Agnes' nose wrinkled. "I just don't think I'd choose to be in this situation." 

"Well, I wouldn't miss it for the world," Mica disagreed. 

A neat sandwich assembly line started to form as Sandra laid baguettes, sliced cheese and ham, tomatoes, lettuce and whatnot on the table.  

"Sweetie, could you put down the chairs and open the windows for me?"  

"Sure," said Mica, stepping out of the kitchen, past the counter and into the main room. Once she was done with the chairs, Mica began pushing the shutters open. She had just fastened the second pair to the wall when a short man with a lean mustache came running toward her. He was waving his hands and calling out her name. 

"Mica! Thank God I found you." Panting, he bent forward and rested his hands on his knees. "You must come with me. Now." 

"What's going on here?" Sandra appeared on the window beside Mica. "Eloy. What on Earth?" 

"It's Escobar," he said, still catching his breath. "Something happened to him at work." 

"What's wrong?" Mica drove a hand to her chest, gripped a fistful of her top. "What happened to him?" 

"I don't know. I saw Jacira jumping into a car, hitching a ride. She told me she was going to Mary's House, that health center in Marumbi. She said Escobar was there and asked me to take Mica to them." 

Mica shot a pleading glance at Sandra, who nudged her. 

"Go! Of course! Right now!"  

She wasted no time opening the door and vaulted the windowsill. Mica landed beside the messenger, on the soft sand, and Sandra watched the two of them dart out of the beach, to the city center.  

Sandra crossed herself as she prayed the coming year would be docile to the Ortiz family. Hardship seemed to be the only constant in their life.