One of the things Juan loved most about Maria was that she always seemed to understand what he was feeling. He didn’t have to explain. She just knows me.
“What did Richard tell you?” she asked.
Juan chewed his lip. “I’ve been in America twenty years…” he began.
“More than that,” Maria corrected.
Juan grinned, “More than twenty years. When I got here, George Bush was President. But I never felt like he was my President. Barak Obama, Donald Trump, I didn’t feel like they were my Presidents, either.”
Maria held him quietly. She ran a finger past his ear, pushing a stray lock of salt-and-pepper hair back into place as she gave her husband time to express himself.
“But now I’m gonna vote. And the next President is going to be mine.”
Maria cocked her head slightly, “Isn’t that good?”
“What if I pick the wrong guy?”
Maria’s giggle tinkled brightly across the room, “Aw! I thought Donald Trump was the guy?”
“He is!” Juan reached for Maria, but she skipped away from him, back to the meal she was preparing. “Everything was different when Trump was President. Everybody was makin’ good money, and we didn’t have no wars.”
“And things weren’t so expensive!” Maria chimed in. “I had to buy cheese yesterday, do you know how much it’s gone up?”
Talk of money reminded Juan of something else he needed to discuss, “Did you know Carlos asked me to co-sign a loan for a new truck?”
“No…” The way Maria said the single word carried the expectation that Juan would tell her more.
“I told him no,” Juan stated flatly.
“Why?” Maria asked, “He doesn't have a car. He needs something."
"He doesn't even need to drive!" Juan objected. “He’s living on the base in California. Where’s he gonna drive?”
Maria shook her head. “He needs something. What if he has a date?”
“He doesn’t need a big new truck,” Juan insisted stubbornly. “You know how much they wanted for it? Sixty-three thousand dollars!” He shook his head angrily and reached for a warm tortilla. Maria slapped at his hand. “That’s almost as much as I paid for this house. This whole house!”
“Everything is so expensive,” Maria pursed her lips and reflected, “I don’t know how young people can even get started anymore.”
“My first truck cost three hundred dollars,” Juan fumed. “My uncle helped me get parts from the junkyard to fix it up."
“You should call him back, Juan,” It was clear that Maria had made up her mind. “I want him to get married someday.”
Juan stalked back to the dining room table as Maria began to dish up the pozole. “You see? This is what I’m talking about. You think the guy I vote for can fix any of this?”
Maria considered this for a moment. “What if the person you vote for doesn’t win?” Juan glanced up to see if she was teasing him again. She wasn’t.
“Oh my God,” he exclaimed, visualizing four more years of Joe Biden. “We’ll all go broke!”
She softly touched his arm, “There’s your answer.”
Juan furrowed his brow.
“Your vote matters,” she said. “You’ve got to do your best to pick the right person.”