"There'll be a 48 hour hold on any amounts over ten thousand dollars," the Teller says to me as I sign off on the last of the paperwork for Consuela's account.
Since she's not 'legal' per se, I thought it best that I handle the money side of the operations. I've given her a temporary loan to start her business, which she is to pay me back interest free. I'm not sure Consuela understood what 'interest' was when we shook on the deal, but she definitely understood the word 'free'.
I walk over to one of the ATMs where I instructed Consuela to wait for me, and begin to show her how to use the bank card to deposit money.
"And dis iz where yers can takes da money out too, right Mia?" she says coyly.
"Yes," I tell her. "But in the beginning you shouldn't be spending so much money. You need to have enough money to buy supplies."
She nods. There is a slight glint in one of her eyes and I know that on some level she does view this ATM as a slot machine.
"Consuela?" I say to prod her out of whatever fantasy she was in.
"Si?"
"This is serious. How you treat your bank account is important. If you respect the money, the money will respect you back, ok?" I say to her as nicely as I can.
"I iz respect da money, Mia! Yer is no haf to be so means to me alls za time!" she snarks as we walk towards the car to go source Taco Stands.
I stop in the middle of the street and look her square in the eye. "Consuela, you think I'm mean to you?" I ask. I thought we were just kidding around.
"Yer iz always saying da 'fat ass' and yer iz no likes my Ricky Martin t-shirts," she says as the water begins to well in the bottom of both her eyes.
I look straight into her dark brown eyes and feel a tinge of remorse. I don't want Consuela to feel bad about herself. How can she possibly soar at her Taco Stand business if I'm being mean to her?
I put my arm around her and tell her that I'm sorry, and that I was only joking.
"If you want," I offer as we near closer to the car. "I can help you go shopping once you make some money. Wouldn't it be nice to have a new haircut, and maybe buy some new clothes?"
Consuela takes a moment to inspect her faded Ralph Macchio airbrushed Karate Kid sweatshirt and bicycle shorts, and then takes a good long look in the reflection of the store window beside us.
"Maybe, da new clothes iz ok," she says as she tries to tame her wild hair that is barely restrained by her banana clip.
I watch as she struggles with the clip, first combing up one side of her hair -- only for it to snap in half and have her start all over again in frustration. She makes eye contact with me before barely saying above a whisper, "Yer iz no sink da Consuela iz purdee?"
I put both hands on her shoulders, and without hesitating I say firmly and with grandiose conviction, "Consuela. You are beautiful."
I think this warms her heart.
I begin to try and help her with her unmanageable mane and continue, "But, if I'm being honest," I start as I point to some of her more wirier strands, "I think you would look really nice with shorter hair," I tell her as I help her to clip what I can of her hair back into place.
"Si," she says and raises her chin a little higher.
"Si." I say back to her and nod with firm approval.
We take a moment and stare at the faded reflection of a person about to go under a transformation. A person who is very much in need of a pampering.
So, in essence, it's as if this half-reflection is almost a ghost of who Consuela was.
We turn back towards the car in unison, and when Consuela isn't looking I do a little waive to the ghost in the window because I know it is the last time that I'll see her. She winks back at me as we turn the corner as if to say 'thank you' and 'i'll be just fine'.
"Mia," Consuela says to me as we both slip into the car and put on our seat belts. "Do yers want dees bicycle pants when I iz getting rich and buying da new clothes?"
I use my Jedi training to control my laughter. When I think I have stabilized my cheek muscles enough to respond without cracking, I start the car and tell her simply "No, I'm good. But thanks anyways."
And with that, we turn into traffic, hoping to score a good deal on a Taco Stand that I let Consuela source on Craigslist this morning. And as we drive into Consuela's trendier future I begin to silently pray to every known God in the Universe that 'taco stand' isn't Craigslist code used by perverts, rapists, or murderers.
