“How was it?” Milagros asks timidly.

“Mmmm?” I act like I’m taking my time and savoring the small meal.

“How was the atolé, Papi?” She pleads to know.

I sip the warm drink made from corn meal and chew on the last bit of pastry before I answer. Her eyes widened in suspense. I hold my breath for a brief moment. I can see the torture in her eyes.

“Rico! Delicious as always mi amor.” I hear a slight gasp escape her lips.

“Oh good. Doña Elena will be happy to know.” She grabs the plate and cup from my hands.

“Oh I'm sure she knows how good her food tastes.”

“No Papi. She was really nervous. She loves cooking for you…” She stops abruptly.

I hear a gasp…but not from Milagros lips. It is followed by a tray hitting the ceramic tiles on the floor just outside my door.

“Doña Elena?” I call out the landlord’s name. “Is that you? Are you ok?"

“Um…yes,” states a gentle voice from the hallway. "Thank you? I mean…yes, I am fine thank you.”

My daughter looked at me incredulously. She mouthed to me silently, “how did you know?”

I can only smile. My one good eye darts back and forth from the doorway to my child.

The sound of a few more ceramic dishes hit the floor just outside of my doorway. One manages to roll into the room, spin, and come to a stop.

“Dios mío Dios mío…I'm so stupid.” Elena can be heard using some very descriptive language under her breath. I hope Milagros doesn’t pick up on it.

I barely make out the last part of her exclamations as her voice trails off in between the sound of broken plates and mugs.

“Mija, can you go help her real quick?” I feel bad for not being able to move. “I’m not fast enough, especially in the morning.”

“Yes Papi.”

“No!” Elena’s normally quiet voice grows loud with desparation. “You are fine…

I mean I am fine for you…oh! Please don't worry. Nena, stay with your father I'll take care of this.”

“Mija, go anyways. I'll be there in a bit,” I whispered to my little angel. She nods her head and walks towards the mess outside the room.

“Doña!” Milagros isn’t very good at keeping her voice down when excited. “What?! Are you sitting on the floor? O my goodness.” I drop my head to my chest. I know the neighbors are going to be listening at their doors. ”Your clothes are wet. They are just clinging to you…”. I shake my head. Doña is having a rather embarrassing day. The sound of another ‘oof’ followed by clanging silverware tells me so.

...