Flying Circus - 3. The Kid - Part III

Sunday, 2 May 2027
Barcelona

“¿Ens fem un vermut?” On the steps outside the basilica, Arnau’s question confused Ritch and the kids but delighted the other adults.

“What does that mean?” Liebe, like her brothers, switched between English and Spanish seamlessly, feeling comfortable with either or their version of Spanglish. She had no idea what their cousin had said.

“It’s Catalán for should we do a vermouth.”

Ritch apparently had no idea what the Spaniard was talking about either. “I figured it was Catalán since I’ve been hearing it since I landed.” Sharing Latin roots with Spanish, it was one of Catalonia’s official languages. Signage in Barcelona was often in both languages, but in many places, if you were unfamiliar with Catalán, you were out of luck. “What is it we’re supposed to do with vermouth? A bit early for martinis, I think.”

The grandfathers chuckled while the fathers laughed. Arnau just smiled. “It’s a local ritual, Ritch. Since they’re all laughing, I’ll guess they’ve heard the expression before.”

CJ nodded. “We did that yesterday. Let’s show you instead of telling you, bro. Arnau, any good vermuterias in the neighborhood? Something with outdoor seating?”

“1992. Ten minutes away, it opened for the Olympic Games that year, and it has a five-star rating.”

“Perfect. That fits in well with what we did yesterday.”

“What’d you do?”

Liebe felt bad for Ritch; he had missed a lot by not arriving in Barcelona the same day the rest of the family had. “CJ dragged us to see a bunch of buildings.”

“HEY! What the heck? I didn’t hear you or your brothers complaining. Tell him what we really did.”

Liebe tried not to grin too much; she and the twins had enjoyed the sightseeing, but it was fun to pick on her father. “CJ and Ozzie took us to the Olympic Park.”

“Roo and I liked riding the forniculo and the flying bus.”

An amused César ran a hand down his grandson’s back. “Fu ni cu lar, Jeffer. It’s pronounced funicular.” The boy shrugged, and César turned his attention to Ritch. “It was built in the late twenties, and the ride only lasts a couple of minutes. You take it from the town’s center to the cable car station, where you switch to a gondola to the top of Montjuïc Mountain.”

“And what’s there?”

It was Roosevelt who replied. “A big castle! And we got to go in and see everything from up there.”

“It’s an old fortress with great views of the city and harbor, bro.” CJ winked at Liebe and encouraged her to continue. “Go ahead, Munchkin. Tell him where else we went.”

“From the fort, we walked to this old stadium where they played the Olympics.”

Arnau interrupted her to provide clarification. “The stadium was built around the same time as the funicular, Ritch. For the 1929 Barcelona International Exposition. But it was gutted and rebuilt, retaining the façade, prior to the ninety-two Games.”

“Cool… Did you like it?” The question was for Liebe.

“It was okay. Looked old on the outside but new inside. The museum was fun.”

The Juan Antonio Samaranch Olympic and Sports Museum, named after the International Olympic Committee’s chairman at the time of the Barcelona event, stood in front of the stadium. It was their destination after touring the site of the opening and closing ceremonies.

“We liked that one too! Liebe, Jeffer, and I got to show off.”

Owen came to Ritch’s rescue. “They have displays for all the Olympic events, and they posed in front of each, mimicking how the athletes were portrayed.”

“So, you did the Olympics thing. What about after?”

“We’re not done, Uncle Ritch. Then we went to see the big tower up close. Jeffer and Roo wanted to climb it, but we didn’t.”

Brett rolled his eyes. “You think your brother would pass the chance to visit something designed by his favorite architect?”

“Frank Lloyd Wright designed something here?”

“Not that one, his other favorite one. The Spaniard.”

“Calatrava,” Lucy offered. “The same guy who designed the Milwaukee museum with the wings you liked when you visited.” Ritch had spent part of a summer at Lucy’s family dairy farm in Oshkosh, Wisconsin.

“That’s the same guy with the subway station in New York, right? The one next to the 9/11 site?”

“Yep.”

“And he designed a tower you can’t climb?”

Arnau came to the rescue once again. “The Torre de Comunicacions de Montjuïc was built for Telefónica to transmit television signals during the Olympics.”

“And what’s so special about it? Aside from the architect?”

“It’s really tall, Uncle Ritch. CJ said it showed someone carrying fire, but I didn’t see it.” Liebe’s shrug was reinforced by her brothers’ nodding.

“It’s an abstract representation of an athlete kneeling while holding an Olympic torch, bro. He covered the base with trencadís, Gaudí's mosaic technique made from broken tile pieces. And because of the tower's orientation, it also serves as a giant sundial, using Europa Square to indicate the hour. It was pretty cool.”

“I hope you all took pictures.”

Liebe vigorously nodded. “I did, Uncle Ritch. I used my glasses to take them outside, and the dads took pictures of us inside with their phones.”

“Great. I wanna see ’em sometime this week. Now, where we going again?”

CJ draped an arm over his brother’s shoulders. “A vermuteria’s a place that serves vermouth. Around here, they drink it by the gallon. But not the dry stuff we use for martinis. What they like’s sweet instead—an aperitif. You sit, drink, eat, and talk. I did it with Grandpa A two years ago when we came over to check out the Abelló museum. Couldn’t wait to do it again when Grandpa Cap announced the trip.”

“You’re going to enjoy it, Ritch.” Owen held Liebe’s hand while each grandfather looked after a twin. “Yesterday, we lost track of time while talking to Alex and Dani. It was so late, and we had eaten so much, our kids and their boy all fell asleep.”

“I hate it when you guys just drop names. Who are those people?”

“We met Alex and Dani the weekend we spent in Tulum back when we lived in Mexico. They own a gym in Sitges.”

“That’s south of here, right?”

“Yeah, a little less than an hour away.” Owen picked up the conversation thread. “Anyway, we’ve kept in touch, and they drove up yesterday afternoon to see us. Their boy, Cody, is between Liebe and the twins in age, and they all got along well. We sat at an outdoor café, drinking and eating while the kids ran around. We had to take turns watching them since they kept trying to jump in the fountain on the plaza.”

At 1992, the seven adults and three children crowded around two small tables brought together by café staff. Liebe found herself squeezed between Ritch and Lucy, the first time the couple had not been next to each other since leaving the hotel. “You can sit next to Aunt Lucy, Uncle Ritch.”

“Thanks, Liebe.” Ritch glanced at his girlfriend and winked at her. “I don’t mind you being with us while we eat. So how does this work?”

When he asked the question in English, the server raised a finger and replied in Spanish. “My English not very good. I get someone better.”

“No need, we all speak Spanish, and he speaks Catalán.” Ritch, replying in Spanish, pointed at Arnau.

“Bro, don’t worry about it. We’ll order for you. Lucy, you wanna start?”

“I’ll have the vermut de la casa.” After the server acknowledged her, she glanced at CJ. “Since you did so well yesterday, why don’t you get food for the table?”

“I will, but all I did was order what our friends suggested. Let’s get the vermouth orders in, then we’ll worry about food. I’ll have a Padró Reserva Especial—”

Ritch interrupted him. “What’s that?”

“Local stuff aged eighteen months in oak, sherry barrels. Our friends recommended it yesterday, and I loved it. It’s made about an hour down the coast from Sitges.” CJ returned his attention to the server. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Agustí.”

“All right, Agustí. Bring my brother the same. Two Padró—”

This time it was Owen who interrupted CJ. “Make it three.” When Arnau nodded, Owen changed the order. “Executive decision time. Make it six. And bring a second vermut de la casa and two empty glasses.” Owen held a thumb and forefinger together and pointed at Liebe and the boys.

The server understood. He nodded and walked away. Liebe also figured it out. The two empty glasses were for her brothers. She and the twins would split the second house vermouth.

“Okay, not that I’m thoroughly lost, but I’m thoroughly lost.” Ritch glanced at Lucy with a confused expression. “How the hell did you know what and how to order? And why did you pick the house stuff instead of the fancy one?”

Lucy pointed at a bright-red metal cylinder in the middle of each table, resembling a miniature scuba tank. “That’s a soda siphon. Based on how easy this stuff goes down, and how much we drank yesterday, I’m emulating the locals and adding a splash to mine. I’m smaller than the rest of you and can’t drink as much. With you here, the last thing I want’s to be sleepy when we return to the hotel.” Her wink made the grownups grin.

“Ritch, vermouth’s an aromatized wine full of all sorts of flavors; probably why it pairs so well with gin in martinis. The base of sweet vermouth’s allowed to absorb essences over several months. Each brand’s exact recipe’s secret, but typical ingredients include quinine, wormwood, citrus peel, coriander seed, vanilla, thyme, basil, ginger, cardamom...” César passed his phone over, so Ritch could see the list of ingredients.

“Okay, more detail than I needed, but thanks. What about food? What are we getting?”

“Ham.”

“Both kinds.”

“Bread.”

“Goat cheese.”

“Do they have escalivada?”

“Slimies!”

Ritch appeared more confused with each suggestion. “Stop! You’re driving me nuts. I can’t believe you’ve been in town for one day, and you’ve all gone native. Let’s start with the ham. What both kinds?”

“Don’t be confused. We’ll explain.” Lucy patted her boyfriend’s hand.

“Use little words so he can understand.” CJ picking on Ritch was normal.

“Go to hell, bro.”

“The two types are Ibérico and Serrano.” Lucy tipped her head in CJ and Owen’s direction. “Their friends told us about them. Because the hams come from different pig breeds, the flavors are different. Jamón Ibérico has more fat, which makes it juicier than Jamón Serrano.”

Ritch leaned over and kissed Lucy’s cheek. “I love your accent when you speak Spanish.” He glanced at the twins seated across the table. “What about slimies? Fresh oysters or clams?”

Lucy again came to his rescue. “Nope. From cans.”

“Really? I thought this week the plan was to eat as much fresh seafood as possible.”

“It is.” César appeared lost in thought when he closed his eyes. “The first time I was in Barcelona, I discovered vermuterias were known for serving tinned seafood. Don’t ask me why; I never heard a good explanation.”

Arnau shrugged, indicating he had no idea about the tradition’s origin either.

Liebe had the final word when it came to ordering food. “Get the baby squid in ink, Ceej. I liked those a lot.”

After gorging themselves, and being allowed an extra portion of vermouth, the kids gradually faded as the afternoon light softened. Not wanting to once again carry them to the hotel asleep, CJ announced it was time to leave. “You gonna take care of the bill?” he asked Brett.

“Yeah, what the hell. What’s a few more hundred Euros? I already broke the piggy bank for this vacation.”

“You can have one of ours, Grandpa Cap.” Roosevelt’s proposal was seconded by his brother vigorously nodding. “Jeffer and I have two, so we can share the other one.”

“That’s very generous of you, boys.” The other adults matched César’s smile. “Breaking the piggy bank’s an expression for when someone spends a lot of money. Grandpa Cap didn’t really have one to break.”

“When we get home, we’ll give him one of ours anyway. Everyone should have a piggy bank.” It was Jefferson who made the offer, with his brother concurring. “And we don’t need the money. CJ and Ozzie can give us more.”

“Brooooooo…” Ritch’s surprised look made Liebe giggle. “They’re four, and they’re being that generous? I’m impressed. You and Ozzie are doing a kickass job raising them.”

Owen shook his head. “Not us, mate. We’ll take credit for Liebe, but she’s the one who’s taught her brothers the joys of sharing.”

“And her cousin!” CJ winked at Liebe. “The munchkin’s trained the twins and Raish. So well, we can’t always tell what belongs to each boy. Clothing and toys. These two leave stuff next door all the time, and the other one does the same at our place. They’re nowhere near perfect, they need reminders now and then, but so far, so good.”

“How do you find the time?” Ritch stared at Liebe, looking proud of her. “When I last saw you, you were going to school, playing soccer, doing martial arts with CJ, and learning how to play the piano. That’s a lot.”

She felt a little embarrassed about the praise, but Liebe also felt the need to correct her uncle. “I’m also learning Chinese.”

“Say whaaat?”

Liebe was enjoying how shocked Ritch looked. “I met this Chinese girl at the park, and whenever we played together, she tried to teach me a few words. I wanted to learn more, so the dads signed me up for classes.”

“Actually, that’s a pretty good idea. In the Air Force, they value some languages more than others, and Mandarin’s one of them. You’re such a little overachiever. Proud of you, Liebe.”

“Geopolitics, bro.” CJ tossed his napkin on the table and stood. “I’ve been preaching vigilance in our dealings with China for a while, but I realize they’re here to stay. Learning their language’s one way to deal with them on better footing since most of their diplomats and business people speak English. Come on, let’s go.”

Arnau hugged and kissed everyone goodbye, leaving CJ for last. “I’ll send you the auction details. Remember you have to register in advance in order to bid.”

“I’ll take care of it tomorrow. Have you talked to my staff about the exhibit? We’ll loan you the Angel for it.” CJ sounded certain he and Owen would be the highest bidders.

“It might be a little too late to organize it for this winter, but definitely next summer.” CJ had asked his cousin to mount a retrospective of Joan Abelló’s works in Washington, and The Davenport Family Foundation had agreed to underwrite the majority of costs. “I’m sorry you’re not in town for longer. I would have organized a reception at the museum and invited other relatives to meet you.”

“Next time, Arnau. I’ve truly enjoyed what I’ve seen of Barcelona this trip, and we’ll be back for sure.”

Back at the Mandarin Oriental, the boys wanted to jump in their grandfathers’ balcony spa, so CJ and Owen stopped by their rooms to change into bathing suits. In the suite, they found César on the phone. “Seven o’clock would be perfect.”

“What would be perfect, Grandpa A?” Liebe slipped off her t-shirt to reveal a one-piece bathing suit. “Are we going outside?”

“Sure, Brett and I were waiting for you guys. And that was room service. I ordered food.”

CJ dropped himself next to his father on the couch. “What the hell for? I’m stuffed.”

“I’m a little hungry.” Liebe joined her father and grandfather on the sofa.

“Me too. I didn’t get a lot of slimies ’cause Uncle Ritch kept eating them.” Jefferson’s pout made Liebe giggle.

“You and Roo can eat all the time. You’re always hungry.”

“Like you aren’t?” CJ’s expression elicited more giggles. “I remember Grandpa A joking about how expensive it was to feed me when I was fifteen. He should see what we spend on groceries.”

“If you didn’t shop at those expensive, organic markets, it’d be cheaper. Who’s ever heard of paying fifty bucks for a lousy chicken?” Brett had a way of boiling conversations down to the basics, and his chicken comment was based on an experience Owen had shared. “Where’s the flyboy?” Ritch and Lucy had not yet rejoined the family.

“Prolly going at it again.”

“CJ!”

“What? Last time they saw each other was in January. I bet they’re making up for lost time.”

“Ceej, is that why they keep kissing so much? Why do grownups—” The door opening distracted Roosevelt.

“What about grownups?” Ritch had obviously caught the tail end of the comment.

As usual, CJ was quick to throw his kids under the bus. “Roo was asking if the two of you miss each other so much you’re gonna keep making out the entire trip.”

“Ceej!” A laughing Owen did not appear overly upset.

“Maybe we will.” Ritch leaned down and pecked Lucy’s lips. “I thought we were going in the hot tub. Why’s everyone inside?”

“Let’s go, Uncle Ritch!” The twins each grabbed a hand and tried to pull the man towards the glass doors.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming. Let’s go, fam.”

The temperature had dropped, and the wind had a bite to it. Liebe did not wait for anyone. “It’s cold. I’m going in the hot water.”

Ritch followed close behind, balancing a clinging nephew on each arm. He unceremoniously dropped them over the spa’s edge and joined them a moment later. “This feels great. Come on in, Lucy.”

She did, and Brett attempted to follow; Owen’s grip on his forearm stopped him. “Hey!”

“Stay out here and talk to us, Cap. You get to see the kids all the time. Let them spend time with the uncle they rarely do.”

Liebe tried not to giggle, and the adults chuckled when Brett pouted. “Don’t be sad, Grandpa Cap. We love you too.”

CJ elbowed his other father. “How the hell do you live with this? He’s like a little kid.”

The look between Grandpa A and Owen confused Liebe. When they both cracked up and said “Patience,” she at last understood. They thought Grandpa Cap and CJ were the same. Ritch tapping her knee made her turn in his direction.

“So, you’ve been teaching Roo and Jeffer and Raish how to share. Anything else?”

“Yeah! I helped them learn all the letters and numbers. And they can count real high now.”

“Sounds like you have a knack for it. You want to be a teacher when you grow up?”

The tips of Liebe’s long hair had soaked in the water, and droplets flew around when she shook her head.

“So what do you want to be when you’re older? You know what you want to do?”

“I wanna be like the dads and help people.”

Ritch glanced at CJ and Owen for a moment before returning his attention to his niece. “Is that what they do? Help people?”

“Duh! Of course they do, Uncle Ritch. Ozzie’s a lawyer helping to save the world, and CJ runs the city trying to make everybody happy.”

“I don’t know about that, Munchkin. I want to create opportunities for people to have a better life, but some are so grouchy, they’ll never be happy.”

“That’s just the weirdos who don’t like you because you’re gay or because you own a gun and go hunting.”

Ritch was definitely surprised. “Bro?”

CJ grinned and shrugged. “What can I tell you? She pays attention to the news. I mentioned something about Grandpa A complaining about grocery bills when I moved in. I also remember everyone saying I acted older than my age. It may be genetic.”

“Okay, so you haven’t decided what you’re gonna be when you grow up. What about school? Have you figured out where you’re applying to college?”

“Uncle Ritch! I’m only seven. I don’t have to do that until I’m old.”

“Old? Trust me, kiddo, being a teenager ain’t old. You know? You could go to the Air Force Academy. I went there, and I help people by keeping them safe.”

CJ shook his head. “Don’t even think about it, bro. She’s going to a real school. Georgetown’s where she belongs.”

Ritch hugged his niece and drew her closer. “Don’t listen to your dad. He’s wrong. I think he’s forgetting it’s easier to get into Georgetown than the Academy. What is it at GU, CJ? The Academy only accepts ten percent of applicants.”

“Whatever, flyboy. We’re gonna raise her and her brothers to love The District so much they’ll never want to leave. Unlike you who abandoned us.”

“Says the man who moved to Mexico when I went to school and ended up in Cuba a couple of years later.

“We just did that to broaden the kids’ worldview.”

“Yeah, right. What about the two of you?” Ritch asked the boys who had been competing, trying to see who could hold their breath underwater longer.

“I wanna be a fireman! And fly planes like you. And build houses like the grands.”

“Nooo… I’m gonna be the fireman. You get to be a cop.”

“No! You’re the cop. You said you wanted to be a marine like Grandpa Cap.”

“I can do all of them.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Yes, I can.”

“You can’t.”

“I can.”

“You can’t.”

“I—” The boy was unable to finish the statement.

“Enough.” CJ did not raise his voice, but the firm tone was sufficient to quiet the twins. “How about we dry you guys off, and I’ll stream a Sesame Street for you?”

“Yay!” The twins shivered when they stepped out of the warm water, but their fathers were ready with towels. A short time later, they were on the couch, huddled under a light blanket, with a tablet between them.

Liebe was exhausted. The twins had already fallen asleep on one end of the couch. From the terrace, where the adults had remained while eating, drinking, and now smoking, she eyed the sofa’s other end. It called to her, but she resisted. Her fathers were allowing her to stay up as late as she wanted during the trip, but she was having trouble remaining awake while listening to the grown-ups. “Ceej, I’m tired.”

CJ immediately placed his cigar in the ashtray, his drink on the side table, and rose. “Then let’s put you to bed. You were a trooper today, Munchkin. I’m surprised you lasted this long with only a fifteen-minute nap.”

The girl shrugged.

“Come on. I’ll set you up on the other side of your brothers. You three get to spend the night with the grands.”

“Hey! What happened to I’m paying for the trip, so I should get my own room?”

“Suck it up, Grandpa Cap.”

Liebe giggled. Some people always looked at her fathers and grandfathers funny because of how they talked and argued. To her, it was the way it should be. She knew they all loved each other.