The French Bartender

There is a French bar that I go to with some regularity because I like it.
The French guys who own it are nice for French guys and they have this very specific French taste in music which leads to some of the best Jazz and Experimental shows in my part of New York. When no one is on the stage, they have a great collection of African and Brazilian vinyl. I go there, order a Bitters & Soda and a Rolling Rock and I listen to music and read my book or meet a friend to talk about something. If I meet Ramon there, we always drink Pastis.
The brother of one of the owners has a girl's name even though he is a boy. Of course it is a French name so maybe its not a girls name at all but I can say with some authority that in my country it is definitely a girl's name.
He is tall and dark with long, stubbly, somewhat hollow cheeks, sunken, sometimes despondent looking French eyes and has a dark puff of curls on his head, way up there.
He used to be around when the place first opened up. He never seemed all that happy unless the music was loud and live.
I asked him a long time ago how they got such good music in that little nowhere bar and he looked at me, dead serious, in the middle of all this crazy horn blowing going on onstage and said "We have the love," his dead-pan birdy eyes showing me just a hint of real glee for the first time.
That just about blew my socks right off right there.
He disappeared for a while and I asked his brother, the owner, who has a very normal, boy's name, where he went.
The brother said that he left New York because people were not happy enough. No one had any joy. People worked too hard for nothing. I thought about that a lot. This quintessential French guy calling out the New York way, making it seem like New York had lost some part of its vitality was a pretty terrific thing to me.
I saw him outside the bar a couple of weeks ago and said hello and we small-talked for a couple minutes.
He is back in New York for a while. I couldn't understand what he said when he told me why he was back. The music was too loud and his accent kind of messed things up for my ear.
Every time I see him though, I screw on this kind of extra happy face and make it seem like I am having the time of my life.