A million competing thoughts ran through Juan’s mind. What do I think about the American elections? He recognized his habitual way of viewing the subject and now had to adjust his thinking. What do I think about OUR elections? I’m an American now.
He bit into the tortilla, savoring its texture and warmth. Finally, he said, “I don’t know… maybe it’s like Tio Pablo says. Maybe it’s all a big game. If so, then I guess that’s just the way of the world.”
Maria looked sad.
“What?” Juan turned in his chair, “Did I say something wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” Maria replied, turning back to her cooking.
But Juan could tell something was bothering her. “No. Tell me, cariña. What’s the matter?”
Maria remained silent for a long time. She stirred the contents of her frying pan furiously, something she did when Juan was in trouble. “You made me come here all those years ago,” she said. I miss my mother. I miss cooking together.”
Juan’s eyes widened, and his mouth hung open. He had no idea what she was talking about. But decades of marriage had taught him to hold still and keep silent when Maria started talking like this. He knew that if he just waited and listened long enough, he’d find out what he had done wrong this time.
“I don’t want America to be just like every other country!” She turned and stomped her foot as she met Juan’s dumbfounded gaze. With one hand on her hip, she slid the pan off the heat and then pointed an accusing finger, “You told me America was more than just a place to make money! You said America was a dream, an idea. Now, you tell me it’s just like every other country? Then why are we even here?”
Oh, now I understand. Juan’s chin lifted in silent recognition of Maria’s argument, and he held out his hands to forestall more accusations. “I didn’t mean that,” he tried to soothe her with his words. He’d never been very good at that, and it didn’t work this time.
“Then what do you mean?”
The question made Juan hesitate. "I believe in America," he said at last. He furrowed his brow. Maybe I didn't really understand that when I came here, but I do now. That's why everybody tries to get here. It's what America represents. It's not the money." Juan took Maria's hand and pulled her to him. He looked deeply into her eyes. "America is a dream, one that's come true for us."
"I still miss cooking with Mama at home," Maria brushed away a stray tear and rested her head on Juan's chest.
Juan held her gently for a long time. He was so grateful for the life he had, but there was something on his heart, and he wanted Maria to understand him. So, he pulled her back gently so that he could look into her eyes, "You remember what it was like back then." He could tell by the way she compressed her lips and nodded silently that she remembered. "We didn't have any kind of future there."
Maria laid her head back on Juan's chest.
"Look at everything we have now," he waved his hands around the room. "Sofia's in college. Carlos is a respected Marine. Think about all the friends we have, even white guys like Rob and Richard. We're accepted here."
“So, it’s not just about the money?” Maria asked. She gazed up at Juan, looking for confirmation of her secret hope.
"No! It's not just about the money," Juan chuckled reassuringly. "I'm talking about freedom. In America, the leaders are not corrupt like back home. Here, you don't have to make a bribe to get something done. Here, I've had the chance to make something of my life. We never could have had any of this back home, you know that."
"I'm sorry, mi amor." Maria folded back into his arms, and he caressed her hair.
She sniffed and wiped her eyes, “You’re a good man, Juan. I thank God for you every day. I won’t talk to you about the elections anymore. I don’t want to upset you. You don’t have to vote if you don’t want to. I don’t mind.”
“I’m gonna vote,” Juan objected. “Don't you know? My vote might decide this whole election!” He reached into a basket on the kitchen counter where he kept the large envelope containing the Presidential Preference Election information. “Look, I’m gonna fill this out right now, OK?”
As he sat down to start filling out the unfamiliar document, Juan worried about the choices he was making. He didn't recognize many names, but that didn't matter much. Juan knew he'd check the box for Joe Biden to be the Democratic nominee. He’s a good man. He's the only one who's really looking out for the people. I want him to win.
Technically, this was Juan’s first vote as an American. He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel, but he found himself thinking about the economy. Perhaps it was the heart-to-heart talk he’d had with Maria, or maybe just the act of filling out paperwork, but a spark of optimism filled his heart. Business has been good lately. Prices were going down, and interest rates were returning to normal. Bidenomics is working.
Why Does Juan Think Bidenomics is Working?
Choose Option 1: Low Prices and Inflation
Choose Option 2: Low Interest Rates