—He ain’t getting any stronger. But I ain’t gonna let him take away the little I got left either. I have lots of things I still want to do in life. I was thinking that I wouldn’t mind building something. You know, I have some money saved in the bank.

—I thought you didn’t have any money. You can barely pay for medicine.

—Even when you don’t got nothing, you have to save something.

Mrs. Hernández went about getting ready to go to work at the laundromat.

—On some days, I save two dollars, other days I save one dollar, but no matter what, I never touch it. I keep those dollars in the bank and pretend it’s not even there. Let them accumulate and do what they will.

—Well, I don’t know if you know anything about building, Mrs. Hernández. But you can’t build much with a few dollars.

—You could if you’ve been saving a few dollars for as long as I’ve been here. Compound interest, it’s called. You see, I wasn’t lucky like those gusanos who got rich from the U.S. government. No, I came later, when the embargo had us all eating like we were on some low-protein diet.

Esperanza had always wanted to build something too. Nothing fancy. Just a white house, on a few acres, with three or four bedrooms. Elegant columns on the front porch. And some fireplaces. She had always liked the way they looked on television.

—If I told you how much money I’ve saved, you’d know how old I am. Mrs. Hernández started to laugh to herself as she pinned up her dyed black hair and pulled down the red sweater buttoned all the way to her neck.

—I got a lot of life in me yet, Mrs. Hernández said, sucking her teeth and pushing in her nose hairs before she applied her lipstick.

—I thought you were going to work.

Esperanza noticed she had more spunk than usual.

—I am. What exactly are you implying?

—You look very nice, that’s all.

—You got to be ready for things in this world. Mrs. Hernández kissed Mr. Hernández good-bye on his forehead. —Now don’t give Esperanza a hard time.

Esperanza took a deep breath, happy to be alone in the serenity the Hernández apartment offered. Mr. Hernández was reading the paper propped on his lap. She wheeled him over to the window so that he could seize the last bit of sunlight of the day. Then she rolled up her sleeves to do the dishes. It wasn’t part of her job, but Mrs. Hernández expected her to do them, in the same way she expected Esperanza to prepare her breakfast. At first, it infuriated Esperanza. She pretended not to hear Mrs. Hernández when she asked her to make coffee or sweep the kitchen. But throughout the years, she began not to mind it. After all, she was practically living in the Hernández apartment. And she’d never gotten to see her own parents grow old. She never got to see Santo grow old. And when she grew old, would someone take care of her? She didn’t want to think of it. She hadn’t thought about meeting anyone new. When? How? Where? She didn’t have the time. And the children, how would they accept such a thing, especially with Don Chan being alive? Besides, it’s not like Bobby Ewing would be knocking on her door anytime soon, if ever.