"Staaaahp, Mia!!" Consuela yells.
We lock eyes. I bolt around one of the chairs and hop over the coffee table so that I can reach it first. Before she has a chance to stop me, I've managed to pull out the CD and fling it on top of one of the bookshelves.
"Enough!" I tell her.
She begins to sulk. First I've robbed her of her precious telenovellas (for her own good) and now I've taken away the only thing that seems to keep her going; that she may one day be rescued by Enrique.
"MIA!" she wails, and falls to the floor. "Iz no fair! You iz take away my Esmerelda con Amore and now I iz have nossing!"
I ignore her as I flip the stereo over to my favourite Easy Rock station. "There!" I say. Sure enough, they are playing my favourite song. Perfection!
Consuela begins to cry. I look down at her and say, "Why does everything have to be from South America? Don't you want to listen to some of my music?"
Her silence is my response, I suppose. Truth be told, if I have to listen to my crazy housekeeper blasting music 24/7, it might as well be some stuff that I like too. So, I have a plan.
"Come on!" I say and extend my hand. The half-empty living room makes for a perfect dance floor. Sure, at one point, I had lots of hopes and dreams for it. The bar was suppose to go over there, and the Karaoke machine was suppose to fit right over here -- but the finances of a struggling writer being what they are, have dictated another outcome: empty floor -- henceforth known as.....the dance floor.
Consuela ignores my hand and stands up on her own. She's a marvel that defies gravity. I watch as she carefully balances half her weight on her chubby little hands and leverages herself up from the floor. I can almost hear the strain on her knees. She dusts herself off; and re-adjusts her banana clip.
For a second I wonder if she's had her clip since the 80s, but since the music is playing; I soon lose that train of thought.
"Come on, grumpy!" I say to her as I begin to dance around on my newly christened dance floor. Maybe I'll send her to the dollar store later and get a disco ball...
Consuela begrudgingly stands there with a pout on her face as I dance around her. "Come on!" I yell. I think it's funny that she's having such a negative reaction to one of my all-time favourite songs.
"Consuela, you have to dance to this song because it's my theme song....just think how much writing I'll do today because we heard it!"
She begins to side step slowly, like an awkward 12 year old girl at a school dance. One foot lightly taps the other off rhythm.
"Consueeelaaaah" I tease as I grab her limp arms and begin to dance with her. She moves slowly at first, but then begins to shake her booty; and for an instant I think I even see a faint smile.
The music plays, and the song climaxes. I make eye contact with Consuela and, thinking that she understands what that means, proceed to raise my hands and turn around to spin -- but Consuela, being from Nicaragua, has no idea that this is the northern hemisphere's non-verbal cue for "let's spin right this second!". And so, I inadvertently fling her into the bookcase.
"Aaaarghha!" she wails as one of the pictures falls on her head. I laugh, and continue to dance because the song isn't over yet -- and besides, she'll live.
"Mia, I iz too tired to dance, ok?" she says, slumped on the floor. I ignore her, because for the first time in three days I'm actually enjoying the music blasting from the stereo. It's cheering me on. Telling me I can go the distance.
Anything is possible.
For a brief second I wonder if this is what frustrated women did in the middle ages? Did they resign themselves to the blasphemous titles of "spinster" and "witch" and say; to heck with it, I'm gonna go dance in the woods. Did they find a clearing in the middle of the night under the moon, and dance around a fire when no one was looking; just to soothe their own lonely souls?
It was an interesting thought...
I skip around Consuela's outstretched legs. She's picking at her cuticles while I hopscotch around her, and the fallen picture frame. I like this dance floor -- it has possibilities.
And come, hell or high water, Consuela will start to like my music. After all, my house -- my rules.
She can sulk all she wants. I've accomplished what I wanted to. The tide is shifting. Things are starting to go my way.
Earth, Wind & Fire - September from joseyyo on Vimeo.
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