Chapter Text
—¿Vamos?
—Vamos.
And now we meet two young men going down the stairs, leaving that beautiful university. One of Montevideo's many architectural gems, the Universidad de La República, or popularly known as UDELAR. Those young men were Sebastián Artigas, a law student; and Luciano da Silva, a Brazilian exchange student from the renowned University of São Paulo studying architecture. Montevideo was the perfect city for the two young men's combination of interests.
What passed between them was very interesting. They met by chance at the cafeteria line and when they realized it, one was already in the other's routine even though they were studying in different units, it was a simple beginning of a small meeting at the college's headquarters that escalated into a great friendship. To the point that the Brazilian left the student's dormitory room to share an apartment in Zabala to help the future licenciado pay the bills in that expensive city. Despite being 3 kilometers away from the university, the two preferred to get back on foot to the apartment following the straight lines that the city traced with its streets and avenues, taking advantage of everything that the country’s capital had to be appreciated. Sometimes returning along the shores of the enormous River Plate enjoying the strong wind on hot days. And sometimes passing by Plaza Independencia for Luciano's interest in the different architecture of the buildings surrounding it, or sometimes for Sebastián's interest in sharing a marijuana at the feet of the old bronze Artigas and his horse. And of course not to mention the weekends they spent in Cagancha with its colorful string lights in order to meet up with other university colleagues to party.
They stopped by a market to buy groceries.
—I don't know why we stopped at Frog. I prefer Ta-Ta. —The exchange student expressed his preference for the grocery store franchises.
—I know the employee treated you poorly that day, but look at the shelf, the prices of cleaning products are much cheaper. —Sebastián replied, picking up products and showing them to his friend.
—Yeah, you’re right. Damn you small pesos coins. —The architecture student humorously agreed.
—¿Prefieres pagar en real? —Artigas then replied satirically, mimicking the jargon of sellers when they would discover that Luciano was Brazilian despite his excellent Spanish. The truth is, Sebastián was very proud of the vocabulary he could teach to the Portuguese speaker in just one year. He can still remember as it was yesterday the times when his roommate was still learning how to swear.
—Ta. And about today, are you going with Julián and Evangelina to see the play? —Changed the subject.
—I know Wednesday is free, but I'm not much into it. Even more since tomorrow is already the last day and you know, I'm going to visit my family, so I want to spend some time quiet, at peace, and rested. —The Uruguayan sighed. They went to the self-service checkouts to avoid the long queues of chatty elderly women who never stopped talking to the cashiers.
—Yes, you’ve told me about it. But I don't understand why you get so stressed out about going to see your family in Colonia?
—It's just that my family owns a traditional restaurant there, and in the summer season it gets very crowded. So I always end up working twice as hard and in the end I get back to Montevideo exhausted.
—Ta. What if I go too and help you with the work?
—What? You’re kidding, right Lucho? —Sebastián suddenly stopped typing the numbers on the card machine when heard that absurd suggestion. Brazilians usually joke around, maybe it’s something cultural? Perhaps.
—No, I'm serious. I've always heard that Colonia del Sacramento is beautiful, and I'm super interested in seeing how the Portuguese architecture looks like.
—But you're not going there to walk around, besides, in reality you must be missing the cities of Brazil. Aren't you going to visit your family on vacation?
—No, my mother is in Bolivia studying some Amazonian species and my father, you know, he's in Portugal... And at this season of the year, there's no way I'm traveling there.
—Fine, but then you have to promise me that you'll take me to Florianópolis when you graduate. Given that, I can’t deny your help, it will certainly be very useful with Brazilian tourists who make waiters go nuts. But first I have to see with my parents if it's okay for you to go.
—Yes sir. —Dividing the weight between the ecobags Luciano was so excited that he almost jumped and sent the groceries flying.
…
After a 2 and a half hour trip on a full bus, the two finally get off at the terminal of Colonia del Sacramento.
Gradually, the exchange student already felt familiar with the structures, the sun was warm, much hotter than Montevideo, and the energy of the place reminded him a bit of the interior cities of Santa Catarina, but only a bit. Because the personality of the city was different. From the cars to the people on the street. He didn't want to admit it, but at this point he was more in love with Uruguay than his own homeland. Probably part of it was the fact that the best friend he'd ever had was the uruguayan.
Passing by several colonial homes, Sebastián leads a stunned Luciano to a small alley where, after a few knocks, the door of a house that seemed tiny opened.
—¡Sebastián! —It was the family from Colonia that the young man mentioned.
When looking from the inside, the house was really huge, the facade was really deceiving, the old appearance hid a small luxury in those furniture and in the grandeur of the residence.
Sebastián's family received Luciano with great appreciation and, above all, they insisted on thanking him for his help. Of course they knew about the different nationality given da Silva's different appearance. While Sebastián was a man with fair skin, long straight blond hair and honey eyes who wore glasses; Luciano was a man with mulatto skin, voluminous fluffy hair and brown eyes. After the welcoming, they had lunch and, after an unspecified amount of time, shared a mate in a circle that Luciano couldn't refuse despite having already made it clear to his friend that he preferred tereré to mate. The relatives explained how the shifts worked and all the service procedures, in general it was a very simple job for him, being a kind and attentive waiter with the tourists. Finally, Sebastián, after a lot of talking and a little drunkenness, decided to leave and take his friend to his room.
The room was simple, it only had a closet and two beds. And there the two fell asleep to the sound of the ceiling fan.
In Colonia, the service day only started on Tuesday, and that Tuesday the family insisted on starting to clean up the restaurant earlier. This very fine and beautiful restaurant was located in front of the city's yacht harbor.
The view was beautiful. It felt like paradise , that's what the exchange student always said to his native friend.
Montevideo's strong winds have been replaced by calm morning breezes. For both of them it was an insane rush, calmness was the last thing they would think about. Customers did not stop showing up. Food and more food being ordered and every time they entered the kitchen to take the orders the screaming of the cooks caused shivers even on the scalp, and argh the customer ordered dessert, the other wants more beer, uff and that other one who is repeating the dish for the third time wants another portion. Sebastián felt grateful to be able to see the faces of the foreign customers relax as they were served by his friend and received many compliments on the service at the place, but mainly for having someone to share the service with so many customers. Still, they almost couldn't handle it, there were too many people. And the smell of food. What a wonderful smell. It was torture to work surrounded by that succulent smell and not be able to take even a sliver of that exquisite food. By the end of the day, the legs no longer could be felt, the heat in those waiter uniforms was suffocating and fatigue was inevitable.
“Good job everyone! Today was massive!” The head of the restaurant exclaimed and the voice sounded distant, as if they were coming out of a trance, cooling down from the heat of the moment everyone decided to go home after eating the leftovers of an American customer who had ordered more than the mouth could handle and left a whole lunch left to be thrown away.
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The next day and the other days were the same. Luciano already seemed to be getting accustomed to the routine and Sebastián was also beginning to get used to the tiredness and frantic work.
But the fourth day was a different day, well, it started out the same. Until a specific customer appeared.
Towards the end of the afternoon, this customer who sometimes stopped there to eat appeared, and his orders were no big deal, he always asked for some parilla accompanied by water and a simple salad. He was a classic Argentinian, always said about the superiority of his nation's meat, from time to time watched South American friendlies on the restaurant's TV, sometimes hummed some Argentine rock music that played on the radio and had some typical Buenos Aires slang.
—Is that all for today, sir? No water this time? —Sebastián asked, due to the unlikeliness of the recurring order.
—No. To be real, money is tight, I need to save even if it means to drink tap water. —The Argentine said with a good-natured disgust. Then glanced at the bill and started to look for the money in his pocket.
—We're hiring, if you’re interested. —Sebastián replied in the usual way with the intimacy that he had already created with the client, a joke almost as if it were mere politeness, without much pretense that the man would take it seriously.
—Oh , really? If you insist, I accept it.
—¿Como? —Sebastián was stunned by the other's arrogance. If it wasn't already a regular customer he would certainly create a bad impression.
—You guys are about to close, right? Well, may you please let your boss know that I'll be here waiting after the restaurant closes to find out the details. —The customer then paid the bill and with a cocky but polite smile settled back in his chair.
—I’ve never seen a customer wanting to be promoted to employee. Ta, we close at 18:00. —The waiter said playful and left with the bill.
Going to the kitchen, Luciano starts to accompany him with a tray full of dirty glasses and plates.
—What is up with that one? —He nodded toward the man planted at the table behind. —Is he leaving, or not?
—Oh, him? He's waiting for an interview with the boss. And better get used to it because I'm sure my mother will hire him.
—¿QUÉ? The Argentine working here!?— Luciano said in a betrayed look.
—Uh, yeah. I didn't knew you had a problem with Argentines, you actually serve them well. —The law student replied with a shrug.
—And I don't, my problem is with people like him. With that stuck-up face.
The customer was a handsome fair skinned blond with green eyes, a perky nose, and a smoldering proud smile. Everything that Luciano loathed and had a thing for, and Sebastián knew that because every man of that kind that his roommate went to sleep with became trouble afterwards.
—Oh, Luciano, stop. Go talk to the girls at table 6, they've been asking for the check and they're crazy about you. The more your back is turned, the more likely they are to eat your ass with their eyes. —Sebastián took the tray from his friend's palm and went into the kitchen. —Mamá! There's a client waiting for a job interview.
“This is Martín Hernández, and starting tomorrow he will work with you serving tables, but for today he can help clean up and then you can show him how things work here” Father Artigas introduced the new work partner to the two waiters. The younger Artigas greeted him and showed everything they did and what their protocols were, da Silva knew how to hide his distrust well and so the three of them stayed in the restaurant alone to finish cleaning while the family left to exchange the money for pesos at the exchange office.
—Why did you accept to work here Martín? Do you have any experience as a waiter? —Sebastián handed him a cleaning cloth and an alcohol spray.
—Yes, I used to be a waiter when I studied in Buenos Aires. —Martín replied, politely avoiding the first question.
—Studied what? —Luciano asked in a very invasive way, almost as if he were a detective questioning a suspect.
—Paleontology. —Proudly he said.
—Ah, so you're here for the museums. —Sebastián concluded casually.
—Yes, precisely. I am conducting some research on the fossils of Colonia for my master's degree dissertation. —Martin finished cleaning the last table and so the three began leaving the chairs upside down at the table surfaces.
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—I think that's it. —The brunette wiped the back of the hand across his forehead.
—Do you wanna go home? —Sebastian asked.
—I don't know. Do you?
—Nope. Show Martín our thing and I'll go boil the water. —Sebastián went to the kitchen and left them there.
—Sebas! —Luciano exclaimed.
—Give me two minutes and I'll be right up! —The sound was muffled by the kitchen's round window doors.
Luciano turned back to look at his new colleague with a grudging eye. Grumbling.
—Puta que pariu, ein… — Whispered to himself and hoped the Argentine hadn't heard. Then he went to the cashier's counter and pulled a trapdoor in the ceiling.
—I know you don't like me. No need to try hard, I hate falsehood. —Unfortunately Martín had indeed heard.
—What are you talking about? I don't even know you. —The Brazilian pretended not to understand and when he opened the trapdoor a vertical ladder fell. He indicated for the rookie to go up.
—Precisely, you don't even know me and already dislike me. Humpf, You know what, I don't like you either. —The blonde then went up and faced the roof of the restaurant. That view was stupendous, you could see the moon reflected in the wide river and in the background the lights of Buenos Aires almost like a mirage.
—Well, this sure makes things easier. —The exchange student finished climbing and also began to enjoy the view.
—At least I have a reason. Jerk. —He practically spat the words, at that point no more facades would be maintained.
—Me? Jerk? Oh okay, cocky b-...
Hernandez was already preparing to reply…
—Oh my goodness! Can you guys please keep it down?! —Sebastián appeared, carrying two mate and a thermos. —Here, some matecito for you to fill your throats and shut your mouths.
The three then sat on the edge of the roof and with their legs dangling, enjoyed that warm and tender breeze.
—Here is your tereré. —The Uruguayan handed it to his roommate.
—Thanks amigo. —Luciano took the cold gourd.
—So, you don’t drink mate? —Martín asked cautiously so as not to irritate Artigas. —I heard that Brazilians drink it too.
—The ones who drink it mostly are those from Rio Grande do Sul.
—And where are you from then?
—I’m from Santa Catarina.
—Florianópolis. —The one with the glasses completed. Almost as if he wanted to remind his friend of the promise they made.
—Yep… How did you know that I'm Brazilian?
—Ah, it was simple. I heard you mumbling words I couldn't understand just now. Not only that but I saw you sometimes hitting on tourists. —Martín replied, shrugging, taking a sip of the mate, then exhaling hot air through his mouth.
—Look Lucho, I just don't think it's bad because you're bringing money to my family. —The other blond concluded, making the warning clear.
Luciano narrowed his eyes and remained quiet sipping his drink. It was then that Sebastián remembered an important point of the whole conversation that was left unanswered.
—You still haven't answered my question, Martín.
—Question?
—Yeah. Why did you accept to work here?