I take a moment, close my eyes and breathe as slowly as I can through both nostrils. Everyone in the meeting room is silent.
"You can do that if you want," I start as I begin to open my eyes, "but I haven't the faintest idea how you'll execute it -- and even if you could, it wouldn't be as good as if I were doing it."
And with that I collect my things and walk towards the door, dignity in tact and refusing to be bamboozled.
My blood starts to bubble up both arms as I walk towards the elevator, then the front door -- then....
Home?
It's one of those moments where racing home feels so anti-climactic. Empty rooms greet you and manage to magnify the rampant thoughts that have taken over your head...
I can't go home -- not yet.
Aimless wandering eventually leads to a blur of streets, people, and nameless storefronts. After a while, my breathing resumes and I found myself back in my neighborhood at the edge of the parkette. The sun is particularly hot today so I head towards Consuela to borrow some napkins to wipe the sweat off of me. At first, she doesn't notice me. She has her headphones on and is singing off-key and double tempo to Enrique Iglesias...I think.
On her grill are two of the saddest hot dogs that anyone has ever seen. Pathetic really. They look as if they've been sitting there for most of the afternoon and lack any moisture.
"Hey!" I yell at her as I wipe away the sweat from one of my armpits.
She ignores me because she knows the lecture I'm about to give her.
Consuela thinks that if she turns her back to me that I'll somehow change direction on my train of thought and leave her be.
I won't.
"What the hell are you doing?!" I yell louder and reach over to yank one of her ear buds away from her.
"Styaaahp it, Mia. Yer iz no suppose to be heres. I iz busy!"
I look around at the empty parkette. Empty, except for the two people sitting quietly behind Consuela waiting to see if she'll throw them a bone.
"Consuela..." I say in a more hypnotic but firm tone.
"Wha-ah-tuh!?!?" she says as she snaps around. I duck to miss the barbeque tongs aimed at my head.
"How long have they been sitting there?" I say to her and give her a glare with my right eye whilst trying to simultaneously nod and smile at them.
They nod back.
"Dey iz da vegeeetareeyuns," she says and pretends to dust the glass part of her cart with the bottom of her t-shirt.
I look at the two corpse dogs on the grill.
Perhaps Consuela tried to offer them something, but gave up?
"So." I say and continue to glare at her hoping that my discontent will boil her spirit and make it do the right thing.
"So, dey iz can nots eat dees!" she says and throws her tongs on the grill. I can tell that she's pissed that she wasted two dogs, but the fact of the matter is, that she has food. And the two women behind her need food.
This isn't brain surgery.
With Jedi precision I reach out one of my hands and grab Consuela by the lobe of her ear and begin to twist. I take out all my frustration from stale negotiations, douche bag comments, and well -- let's say the last two or three failed relationships. I twist that lobe with everything I have expecting that eventually when the blood drips from it, the poison in her heart will have seeped out.
"AYYAAAH!" she screams back and smacks me across the face with a free hand.
The women look concerned, but then one of them snickers.
"Just give them some fucking food," I say to her as I grab some ice from the cooler where she keeps her sodas and apply it to my cheek before letting it run down my back to cool myself off.
Consuela begrudgingly reaches into her rations and takes two buns out. She fills them with sauerkraut, olives, pickles, and other salty toppings before toasting and handing them over to each of the ladies.
I think at times, we can easily make excuses as to why we can't rise to the occasion. But what Consuela needs to understand is that maybe one day she will need the protection or the help of these ladies -- and if not from them, then perhaps someone else to fulfill their karmic obligation.
And as I walk away I hear them thanking Consuela for her generosity.
"So very kind of you," says one appreciative voice.
"Yes, very kind indeed." chimes the other.
