It’s just Peppi and me this weekend. On Friday, I invited her to grab an afternoon coffee with me. Her face lit up, eyes bugging with happiness. “Sí,” she replied through a beaming smile, “el domingo!”
Today, I casually awoke from my siesta and threw on my favorite summer dress. Peppi and I hadn’t spoken much about our plans, so I headed downstairs a few minutes early to make sure our date was still set.
Of course, there Peppi sat confidently upon the white linen couch, wearing her favorite zebra pattern dress and a fresh coat of lipstick, hair neatly fastened behind her ears.
We headed to a café around the corner. Our entrance was followed by roar of hello’s from the male employees. The workers immediately paused their chores to greet her with dos besos. A celebrity had arrived.
Everyday for twenty years, Peppi has visited the same cafetería. We sat at her table and shared churros y chocolate, a delicious fried Spanish delicacy paired with a small cup of perfectly-sweetened, light chocolate sauce. One by one, the waiters stopped by our table to chit chat, joke, and attempt to shell out a few pick-me-ups. Aye! Guapa! Americana! Peppi flawlessly put an end to their banter, laughing, smiling, and retorting with poised sass. She owned the place.
“Peppi,” I said, smirking, “tú eres la dueña.” You, my dear, are the owner.