The Keys

A short Spanish tale...

 

The Keys

 

 

 

   The last customer had left and Luis made ready to leave, tired and content. His little bistro was beginning to prosper and after many years of working for others he felt that he was becoming his own man. He would have to arrive early the next day to clean and prepare, but he would soon be able to employ a cleaner, and later a waiter. In a couple of years, God willing, he would open a second establishment; but, he thought, let's take things step by step.

   He walked out onto the main thoroughfare, putting on his black jacket against the chill as he passed the hotels and restaurants where he used to work and would work no more. He would cater for the people, not for the rich, whom he scarcely considered people any more. He would feed and water people who were hungry and thirsty after a day´s work. He would treat them well and they would appreciate this and respect him. Big tips would be frowned upon in his chain of bistros, and all employees would be paid slightly above the going rate.

   On passing the most opulent hotel in the city Luis paused to light a cigarette, but before he could take out his lighter a large individual bore down on him. This smartly dressed, bloated specimen thrust a set of car keys into Luis´s hand.

  “Bring round the red Aston!” and he disappeared into the lobby. Luis´s instinct was to let the keys slide through his fingers onto the ground, and that is what he did. He walked on without a glance behind him and chuckled bitterly. These people, he thought, don´t treat others as people and they, therefore, are not worthy of any consideration. Later in bed he thought about the man and the keys and felt a tiny tug of remorse, which he repelled. In any case, the man would have soon re-emerged from the hotel, found the keys on the ground, and would perhaps have learnt a little lesson.

   The bistro was busy the next afternoon when the three policemen arrived. Luis´s recently acquired and nurtured customers looked on as they brusquely questioned him and ordered him to close the bistro and accompany them. He first ushered out his clientele, without charging them for what they had consumed, and told them that it was a misunderstanding. On retrospect this was not the best thing he could have said, as it caused all kinds of speculation as to the nature of the supposed offence.

   It transpired that the keys, predictably garnished with an Aston Martin key ring, had been swiftly employed to steal the car, and that the car was nowhere to be found. A doorman at a neighbouring hotel had seen Luis drop the keys and was quick to report this scandalous breach of trust. Luis explained that he had simply rejected stewardship of the property of a person unknown to him, but the officers considered it appallingly low behaviour to mistreat in such a way the car keys of the new president of the city´s foremost football club. Luis spent the night and most of the next day in a cell while they were failing to find anything to charge him with, and was released at nightfall.

   The next day was Sunday, Luis´s weekly holiday, and he attended church in an attempt to remove the smouldering resentment lodged within himself. He reopened the bistro on Monday and noticed that some of his regular customers did not appear and that there was not a little whispering among the others. Luis made no comments regarding the incident that day, or any other day, as he was too proud to do so.

   The bistro continued to function sufficiently well for him to be able to sell the business for a reasonable price the following year and set up in a modest seaside town where his shameful story was not known.