David E Balaam - Columbus Day

"Papa, please help," she said in English.

"¿Qué él está haciendo con mi jukebox?" He asked Maria, demanding an answer.

George looked at Vincente, then Maria. "He’s your father?"

Maria turned to George. "Si, he is, I’m sorry, I did not hear you come in."

"Do not apologise to him for me being your father." Vincente raised his voice to Maria.

"I did not say that! Please help him Papa and I will explain everything."

"Jorge is it. How long has Jorge been here? What is going on?" Vincente had still not moved from just inside the door. He stood there, defiant, with arms folded.

Now Maria was getting cross. She walked over and stood directly in front of her father and looked up into his sparkling blue eyes and spoke to him in Spanish, and from her tone, George guessed, she was not too pleased.

"Papa, if you had been here, and not gone away without telling anyone where you go, and for how long you are going to be away, you would know what is going on. Now help him with that thing, please." Pointing to George, without taking her eyes off of her father.

Vincente walked slowly over to the jukebox and leant over to George and whispered in his ear. "Do you have children?"

"Si, err, yes I do," George replied.

"My condolences Senor." He said with a sigh. "Excuse me, Jorge. Let me take over." George tentatively released his grip. The jukebox did not move.

Vincente took the same pose as George and gripped the sides and lifted. The back of the jukebox responded to the upward movement, and reluctantly released its grip from the rusty bracket.

Vincente placed the jukebox on the floor as if it had been a sack of feathers.

"Now, Maria, my darling daughter. Tell me what has been going on here."

"George Morton" George extended his hand to Vincente. Vincente looked at him with suspicion and did not shake his hand.

"Papa!" Maria decided to take control. She continued in her own language. "Come and sit down and have a coffee. And you George. Come and have coffee."

"Maria, I must apologise for not coming back sooner with what I owe you."

"What! What does this man owe us? He has only been here five minutes and he is in debt." Vincente turned to George for an answer.

"Excuse me, err . . . " George looked at Maria for help.

"Papa, this is George Morton. He has moved into the farmhouse."

Vincente still did not offer his hand.

"Maria, please explain. I think he is going to hurt me."

"Both of you sit!" Her voice was as firm and commanding as any school teacher putting her class in order.

Maria continued to explain to her father who George was and why he was here this morning. George could not understand a word but was more concerned with the way Vincente kept looking at him.

When Maria had finished talking, Vincente turned his gaze back to George, saying in a calmer tone, "Why do you want to mend this music box?"

George was not sure if this was a trick question but decided to tell the truth. "Because it is broken," and shrugged.

Vincente smiled for the first time since he had entered the bar. "Good luck to you Jorge," and then turning to his daughter. "Now, where is my coffee and my favourite waitress?"

He leant back in the chair and smiled as if he did not have a care in the world.

Maria got up to fetch coffee. "Papa . . . behave please." George understood by Maria’s expression, if not the words. That awkward moment then came when two people who feel uncomfortable with each other, not knowing what to say. In George’s case, the latter was literally true. Fortunately, Vincente broke the ice or was about to. He smiled such a wide smile, George instinctively asked, "Why are you smiling like that?"

"Did Maria tell you my grandson's name is Jorge?"

George smiled too. "Yes . . . she did," he offered hesitantly.

"Have you met him yet – he is a lovely boy."

"No. I have only been here once, with my son, who helped me move in at the beginning of March."

"Si." Which was more a confirmation than an acknowledgement, as if Vincente already knew that.

Just as George was about to ask Vincente a more probing question like, where have you been, or, what do you do around here, he was interrupted by a squeal of delight from Vincente, seeing Angel approaching with the coffee. Vincente immediately rose and greeted Angel with two kisses, and from what George saw, accompanied by a firm pat on the bottom.

Angel hugged him and kissed him again on the lips, and they entered into a long dialogue, in Spanish, which must have included ‘where the hell have you been for four weeks’, and ‘why did you not call me’, all of which no Spanish conversation would be complete without the gesturing of the hands, raised shoulders and finger-wagging, which was abound.

Maria joined the group and George took the advantage to stand up and make his excuses to leave the ‘family’ reunion. Maria, however, interrupted the other two with a scornful look with hands-on-hips. "Leave the staff alone, Papa. Angel, get back to work." Angel obeyed and blew Vincente a kiss as she turned and walked to the other end of the café to clean the tables.

"Papa, please stop encouraging her – she is younger than me – it’s embarrassing."

"Maria my lovely, it’s only some fun – she likes to flirt."

"Si, she is not the only one."

Father and daughter looked at each other momentarily, in a calculating way, without speaking.

George took his chance again to leave in the calm of the moment.

"Thank you for the coffee, but I think I should leave now."

"Jorge!" Vincente called out, seeing an escape route. "Do you want help to your car with the music box?"

George looked perplexed. "Ahh . . . actually, I do not have a car yet."

But without time to explain further, Vincente saw a good excuse to leave his simmering daughter. "Si, good, I will take you in my pick-up, OK?"

"That’s very kind of you. Are you sure you have nothing else to do." George asked, looking at Maria.

"No, nothing," also glancing in Maria’s direction. "Maria, I will collect Jorge from school for lunch on my way back, OK?"

With a faint smile, she raised her hands in defeat. "OK, but no treats, and bring him straight home, Papa." Then she seemed to remember something, and called out as the two men picked up the jukebox, "and Papa, he is not to ride in the back, Papa please say so."

"Si, Maria, not in the back – now may we go, this is heavy."

George and Vincente carried the jukebox out into the sunlight, which nearly caused George to drop his end. "Just over there." Vincente nodded in the direction of the car.

Car, however, it was not. It was the biggest, shiniest pick-up George had ever seen.

A Dodge 3500 with burnt red metallic paint. They put the jukebox down behind the truck and Vincente opened the drop-down tailgate. "OK Jorge, on three into the truck. Uno, dos, tres," and it was in. George was breathing heavier than usual which Vincente noticed. "You must drink more water out here. You are not used to the heat I think."