Matias might have only just met this man, and not even formally met at that (for they still hadn’t exchanged names, not something that particularly bothered him, though he supposed it was a little strange, not to mention bordering on rude, to be fixing someone’s car without even introducing himself) but it was easy for him to read the discomfort in the other man’s expression after the slip into English, or maybe at his surprise. Truthfully, Matias missed the chance to speak in Spanish in Wilmington. He got moments with Anna, whenever Morgan wanted a lesson, and of course phone conversations with his family, but that wasn’t the same as stepping into his mother’s bakery, or his mother’s house; places where Spanish was the first language, not the second. He realised belatedly that he’d likely gotten swept up in the chance that he hadn’t thought any further, and shaking his head at the other man’s disclaimer. “No iba a decir nada …” though certain diction was impossible to ignore. For his part, Matias spoke with his Abuelo’s accent, his slang an odd mix of very dated terms and things he’d picked up from music or favourite films.
“Menos cerveza,” Matias repeated with a grin, comfortable with the oddness of this particular dietary quirk. Besides, it could always change – just because he hadn’t liked beer even as a teen didn’t mean it would always be that way. “Muy bien, muchas gracias.” It was nice, nevertheless, to know he wouldn’t get a beer he’d rather not drink as thanks. He waited patiently while the other man dug through the glove box, taking the yellowed book eventually unearthed and offered with a quiet, “Gracias,” then started paging through it. His face brightened as he saw, “Sí, así es.” It was a relief not to have to remove the spark plugs before they had new ones on hand, and even more to confirm the engine only needed four, not six. “¡Qué suerte!” Old cars like this that had gone through multiple owners didn’t always have such things still. He pulled out his phone to photograph the right page, then handed the manual back. They could always bring the manual along, but this was easier. He slammed the front hood shut before following round to the back, another sigh of relief escaping as he saw everything they really needed was already in the toolbox, “Incluso una llave dinamométrica, qué lindo.” Matias nodded, then said, “Estamos bien para ir,” jerking his head in the direction of the mechanic’s where they’d buy the spark plugs and the lubricant necessary to make the repair. Pausing to give the man a chance to lock up, and grab anything he needed from the car, Matias asked as they started walking, “¿Y, eres nuevo en Wilmington? ¿Dónde vivías antes?”
It was hard to say what David expected Matias would be like coming to Wilmington and meeting him. There were mental images and expectations that were straight out of a sci-fi novel and had no grounding in reality. He had been ecstatic to learn about the brother he always wanted but never had, even though they only shared one parent─ the one David had gotten along with less of the two. The reality, of course, had been nothing like. There was no unspoken bond between the two of them that suggested they shared blood. No immediate spark of recognition that pointed to something beyond them which intertwined their fates. And, yet, David had not been disappointed. On the contrary: as unexpected and unplanned as their encounter was, it turned out to give him exactly the brother he had been wanting to meet: helpful, responsible, knowledgeable in ways David was not. A figure to look up to in a way, if for nothing else then for the kindness of his heart that had him aiding a stranger. Whatever happened from here on out, this was something no one could ever take from him. “Te lo agradezco,” he said, an appreciative smile set firmly on his lips.
David watched as Matias flipped through the pages of the manual, knowing exactly what to look for, and he was swept up in awe and relief that the older of the two of them knew exactly what he was doing, despite his disclaimers and reservations before. “Tienes que estar listo para cualquier cosa,” he responded to Matias’s excitement with the contents of the tool box, a surge of pride sweeping through his chest at the reaction he elicited. There were not many things David was good at or good with as he was with his tools, and to have that recognized─ by his half-brother, no less─ gave him a certain sense of accomplishment. A feeling his own father had never really inspired in the son he’s known his entire life. Returning the manual in the glove compartment, relocating the tools to the passenger seat where they would safely await their return, David checked for his wallet and locked up the truck. Hopefully the dollar bills he had tucked away in the worn out brown leather wallet would be enough for what they needed. Their steps fell in sync as they headed in the general direction Matias had pointed in, the younger of the two focusing his gaze on the distance briefly before responding. “Viví por todas partes, de Haití a Chile, pero nací en California,” he said matter-of-factly, wondering if the broad mention of California would trigger any alarms for the other. “He estado con Habitat for Humanity durante los últimos nueve años. ¿Y tú?”
