By the Beer

Midday reared its head with the sun high in the sky. The market square in Bremen overflowed with tourists. Every turn down an alley were street vendors and restaurants. Pigeons hovered near speckles of food on the ground. Tourists surrounded the popular Roland Statue next to Bremen’s Town Hall. Hand in hand, the American man and the girl strolled through uneven cobblestone streets. It was a hot and dry day, a slight breeze passing by rarely. The girl wore a beige cloche hat, a slight shade over her eyes. Searching for a place, the man and the girl perused the restaurants.  

“Look at the beer he’s holding.  How refreshing!” The girl squeezed his hand, pointing towards the restaurant’s open window. “Let’s try that place.” She insisted.  

They waved down a waitress. She sat them down at the patio. The girl sat with her body positioned facing the open bustling street.  

“What are we having today?” The waitress asked.  

“Two of your most popular beers please,” The man said.  

“Coming right up.” She grabbed the unopened menus from the table.  

“What if it don't taste good, baby?” The girl said.  

“Better than bootleg”. The man laughed.  

“What do you suppose they’re talking about?” The girl pointed her head towards a couple on the street.  

“Looks like a bearcat to me,” The man waved his hand.  

“Doesn’t look like she’s making a fuss,” The girl responded.  

The waitress returned with two glasses. Both beer cups were filled to brim, white foam running down the sides. She placed two paper coasters on the small round table, then the beers.  

“You always assume the worse.” The girl added. She took the glass, drinking a mouthful.  

“Lecker!” The girl grinned, waving towards the waitress. “I heard the locals say it. It means delicious in German,” The girl looked at the man.  

A wind gusted by, dropping the girl’s hat to ground. The girl bent down to pick it up, noticing a silver bowl near the restaurant entrance.  

“Look over there,” she pointed towards the bowl.  

“I think it’s for cats.” The man said. “Looks like milk in the bowl.”  

“What a lovely little joint.” The girl exclaimed. “I love kittens.”  

“There’s this jazz bar somewhere around here I want to check out.” The man said. “Let’s go there after these drinks.” The man picked up his glass.  

“I been writing to my mom more.” The girl said. “I guess I’m missing family.”  

“What about it?”  

“All we do is go to different bars and drink.”  

“Don’t be such a wet blanket,” The man said. “That’s why we’re here.” He placed his drink back on the table. “We could go dancing instead?”  

“I don’t feel like dancing.”  

“Then what do you want?” The man’s tone grew impatient.  

“Do you love me?”  

“What’s eatin’ you, Jig?” He responded. “You know I love you.”  

“You never thought of settling down with me?” The girl played with the rim of her glass.  

“Don’t you like traveling with me, baby?” He asked.  

“I do.”  

“Then what’s the problem?”  

“Nothing. I’m just saying.”  

“You’re being an earful today, Jig.” The man took his glass, drinking the last bit before standing up and stepping outside. “I need a ciggy.” He walked to the restaurant front.  

The girl also finished her drink, putting her hat back on and walking towards the entrance. A black and white cat brushed by her feet, strutting away from the milk bowl. The cat crossed the street, revealing two kittens by her legs following her.  

The girl stood next to the man; her face turned away.  

“Looks like he bought her flowers.” She said. Across the street was the same couple they were talking about earlier. The woman had a flower in her hand, a flushed smile on her face.  

“There’s this popular historical mill in Bremen. Should we join the tourists and go see it?” The man puffed his cigarette.  

“I’m tired of going places.” The girl responded.  

“It’s not even sundown yet, Jig.”  

“I don’t feel good right now.”  

“Thought you wanted to do other things.”  

“That’s not what I meant.”  

“Don’t be like this, Jig. Be a doll and just come with me.”  

“You go be an Egg, I’m going back to the hotel.” The girl started to walk. The man grabbed her wrist, stopping her from going further.  

“I need you to level with me, baby,” The man turned her head to face him. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?”  

“I don’t want to talk about this with you right now.” She swung her wrist, releasing his grasp. “Butt me.” The man reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of German cigarettes. The girl took one.  

“Just days ago you were looking forward to Bremen. Now you’re talking about settling down and your family.”  

“I am having a good time here.”  
“You’re not acting like it.”  

“Can you just let it go.” The girl stubbed her cigarette out. She started walking back in the direction of the restaurant. The man trailed slowly behind her.  

“One minute you’re happy, the next you’re upset.” The man said.  

“That’s not true.” Her footsteps were heavy and loud. She stopped near the milk bowl. She crouched down, observing the kittens drinking the milk. “And I’m not upset.”  

“I’m not stupid.” The man stopped walking.  

The waitress from earlier came out of the restaurant. She held a bottle in her hand. Crouching down to the girl’s level, she refilled the bowl.  

“They’re the cutest right?” The waitress said.  

“Ab-so-lute-ly," The girl replied.  

“These kittens were born just last week.” The waitress continued. “I try to take care of them when they come around.” The waitress then stood up and went back into the restaurant.  

The man tapped his foot impatiently behind the girl.  

“We can talk about it later. I’m tired.” The girl tried to pet the kittens who shied away at her hands.  

“Maybe you should get checked up, Jig.”  

“I don’t need to.” The girl paused her movements. “I’m not stupid either.”  

“You already know, don’t you?”   

“I don’t want to discuss this with you right now.” She sighed. She then stood up and turned her heel and walked back in the direction of the hotel. “We can talk about this tomorrow.” 

About this piece:

This short story was written for my Creative Writing class as an exercise in capturing the distinct voice and style of Ernest Hemingway. It serves as a prelude to “Hills Like White Elephants”, exploring the events leading up to the original story while maintaining Hemingway’s signature brevity and subtext-driven dialogue.