"Dis iz my bible!"
"I iz what it seys I iz!"
"I do what it seys I can do!"
I walk out of the office and towards Consuela who is repeating after Joel Osteen in the living room.
"My heart iz open!"
I sit down on the couch behind her and watch. She says that Joel Osteen is helping her believe for her Taco Stand. I want Consuela's dreams to come true, so I tolerate her yelling at the TV.
She doesn't notice me, so I stretch out my legs and place my feet on the coffee table in front of us. I actually don't mind Joel Osteen. Him and Victoria just might be the two happiest people on Earth, they are encouraging with their big bright smiles -- and they seem to be doing wonders for Consuela's self confidence.
I sit for a while and watch as she scribbles notes with her pudgy little fingers. Her scrunchy has come loose and her hair tumbles off to one side. I resist the urge to fix it because I don't want to disturb her.
Beside her is a copy of Las Mujeres y el Dinero: Toma Control de tu Destino.
I laugh.
Her determination alone will get her that Taco Stand.
I look at my toes and calibrate whether I have enough energy to give myself a pedicure. It's late evening and sleep is starting to set in.
A moment later I reach over and fix Consuela's pony tail. Her flyaway hairs were starting to drive me crazy. As I smooth her burly hair with my hands and reposition her pony tail, I lean over to see her notes. They're in Spanish, so I don't really understand them.
"Consuela," I say. I figure she'll just ignore me if she's too into her Joel Osteen.
"What!?" she snaps.
I'm bored, so I take that as an open invitation to start a conversation.
"Consuela, why do you think you need Joel Osteen to help you buy your Taco Stand?"
She ignores me, so I prod her again.
"Consuela..."
"WHAA-AAT MIA!? Yer iz no let me talk to yer when yer iz writing -- so why iz yer talking to me when I iz have to listen to da message from Senior Osteen?!?!?"
She's having a mini meltdown, and so, I manage it the only way I know how:
"Answer the damn question!" I snap back at her.
She turns around and glares at me with tears in her eyes.
"Beeecuz, Mia" she says.
Her chin starts to quiver and I feel bad for pushing her. I really should manage my boredom better.
"Yer iz don't understand der people I iz deeling wis. Dey iz don't like me. Dey iz not care about me. Dey iz don't want me to have my Taco Stand. So, da Senior Osteen, he remind me dat my Taco Stand iz important to God -- and so, God will change der people's mind."
Poor Consuela, her Taco Stand politics are starting to get to her. As soon as the tears fall, I take that as a cue to walk away. There's a clinking noise outside in the courtyard, so I open my front door to see what's going on. Charlie stands on a ladder near Dina-Pina's apartment. He's installing a new sensor light. A moment later the entire courtyard is illuminated. It's quite jarring.
I close the door and go back inside. My eyes take a moment to readjust. I hear Joel Osteen telling Consuela to give her dream to God.
There's something very comforting about that idea.
A moment later I pick out a nail polish for my toes. I figure my time is better spent giving myself a pedicure than derailing Consuela from her life's dream.
