Mate on the Rambla – Part 2: Five Evenings

Bruno kept his promise. On Tuesday, he took her to the old market, where the grills smoked and the butchers shouted and the whole hall smelled of woodsmoke and meat. On Wednesday, they walked the old town's cobbled streets, where the peeling colonial houses glowed in the afternoon light. On Thursday, a drumming parade swept through the Barrio Sur, the whole street shaking with candombe, and Sofi danced with a stranger's grandmother.

On Friday, they sat on the Rambla with the gourd between them, and Sofi said, "I do not want to go."

"You have a flight."

"I have a flight that I booked when I did not know anyone."

Bruno was quiet. The sun was low on the water, and the old men were fishing from the sea wall, their lines glinting.

"Can I ask you something?" said Sofi.

"Yes."

"If I stayed, what would I do?"

Bruno smiled. "Drink mate. Walk the Rambla. Teach English to the grandmother who danced with you. She told me she wants to read Jane Austen."

Sofi laughed. "That is a very poor job offer."

"It is a very good life," said Bruno. "I would show you."

She looked at him. He was watching the water, his profile soft in the light.

"Why did you stay in Montevideo?" she asked. "You could have gone anywhere."

"Because I like knowing which stranger will hand me the mate on any given evening," said Bruno. "It makes the city feel like a family."

Sofi's throat tightened. "I have never had that."

"You can have a bit of it," he said. "If you want. I would share."

She took the gourd, sipped, and held it for a long moment before passing it back.

"Can I ask you something?" said Bruno.

"Yes."

"Would you let me hold your hand? Only until the sun is down."

"Yes," said Sofi, and slid her hand into his.

They sat that way, their fingers laced, until the last red light slid under the water. A boy on the wall began to play a guitar, softly, a tune she did not know.

"Can I kiss you?" asked Sofi.

"Yes," said Bruno. "And if you say stop, I will drink your mate."

"That is a very terrible threat," said Sofi, and kissed him.

It was warm and quick, the taste of grass and sun between them, his free hand rising to her cheek. The guitar played on, a soft, sweet melody, and the river rolled gold and then violet in the dusk.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" he asked.

"Green," said Sofi. "Very green. I think I will change my flight, Bruno."

"Good," said Bruno. "The grandmother has already bought you a copy of Pride and Prejudice."

"That is deeply presumptuous."

"She is a very determined woman," said Bruno, and poured her another round.