Buber’s Basque Story: Part 42

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The show, a musical reenactment of Sherlock Holmes’ last adventure in which he fell from the waterfall, was remarkably well done. Maite was taken with the costumes and the stage sets and was thoroughly engaged by the dramatic story. Kepa, who struggled to follow the dialog and who had had his fill of adventure for the day, as predicted, fell asleep. Maite nudged him more than once as his snores threatened to drown out the actors.

“Would you be quiet?” she hissed in his ear, clearly exasperated, as she poked him in the ribs for the fourth time.

Kepa shrugged apologetically. “Barkatu, I can’t help it.” 

Buber’s Basque Story is a weekly serial. While it is a work of fiction, it has elements from both my own experiences and stories I’ve heard from various people. The characters, while in some cases inspired by real people, aren’t directly modeled on anyone in particular. I expect there will be inconsistencies and factual errors. I don’t know where it is going, and I’ll probably forget where it’s been. Why am I doing this? To give me an excuse and a deadline for some creative writing and because I thought people might enjoy it. Gozatu!

Just then the first act ended. The curtains fell and the lights came on for intermission. 

Kepa stood and stretched. “I may hang out in the lobby for the rest of it, so I don’t disturb the play,” he said.

“I’d hate for you to miss it,” said Edurne as she also stood.

“Lasai, Edurne,” replied Maite with a glare at Kepa. “He’s already missed the first act.”

Kepa gave her a sheepish look as he made his way down the row of seats and into the aisle. As they all headed to the restrooms, Kepa headed to the lobby. “See you when it’s done,” he said.

Maite pulled him close and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Try not to snore too loud out there either,” she said and then queued for the restroom.

Kepa made his way to the lobby. Fortunately, the theater had a bar. He found a seat. The bartender eventually found his way to Kepa. “What will you have?” he asked.

“Gin kas, please,” replied Kepa in his heavily accented English.

“Gin and what?” asked the bartender.

Kepa shook his head, exasperated. He was too tired to figure this out. 

“Could he get a gin and tonic with an extra splash of lemon juice?” a voice next to him asked. “Make that two.”

The bartender nodded as Kepa turned to see Unai settling in on the stool next to him.

“Eskerrik asko,” said Kepa. 

“Ez da ezer,” replied Unai.

“What are you doing out here?” asked Kepa.

“Truth be told, I really don’t go for these plays. It’s not really my thing.”

“Isn’t Eric going to be upset?” 

“Nah, he knows that I only tolerate these things at best. And this time, I have an excuse for ducking out.” The bartender brought the two drinks, placing them down in front of Kepa and Unai. Unai held his glass up. “Mil esker,” he said with a smile.

“Ez da ezer,” replied Kepa, returning Unai’s smile as he took a sip of his drink.

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