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“I have a feeling you can,” I tell her.
She stills briefly, and I know she wants to look at me, but she keeps her head down, her feet in tempo. “No offense, but I kind of expected somebody older to teach this class.”
Maybe she expected somebody older, or somebody different. This community is full of wonderful dancers from so many parts of the world. Dancers and mentors that I am lucky to call friends—Argentinians, Chileans, Romanians, even Americans like me taking to dance and competition.
I huff out a laugh. “I get that sometimes. I’m thirty-three, but some days I feel ancient.”
Argentine tango was always my favorite, so I decided to focus on it the most when I started really dancing. The love for it fueled me through my teen years when I needed the focus, to later in life where it continued to be a lifeline. Right now, it’s teetering on the edge of exhaustion. I’ve been giving my all for so many years, some days all I feel is my body breaking down. My alarm clock reminding me to get out of bed, but my body fighting it every step of the way. My heart saying,you loved this, remember?and my brain saying,what does it matter anymore?
“I’m a year older than you so if you’re ancient, what does that make me?”
“Prehistoric, probably,” I joke.
She lets out a surprised gasp, something close to a snort, and her smile starts to unfurl. My eyes track the movement, my own smile mirroring hers, my heart speeding up as I watch.
The song ends, and we part. I give her a bow in thank you, wondering why, right now, my body is saying,bring her back, do it again.
I head back up to the front of the class where Tara and I discuss next week’s steps and agenda.
“Once the twelve-week course is up, we host a fun milonga night with students and other regulars in the tango community. Tara and I have been doing this for several years now, and it’s always a great time. A night of social dancing, drinks, usually some locally made empanadas. A great time all around.”
The class breaks out in scattered applause and cheers.
“That being said, we’ve got some news to share,” I start.
“As some of you may know, my boyfriend, Silas, is in medical school,” Tara cuts in. “He just got matched for residency and …” she pauses to take a breath. “We’ll be moving to Arizona in ten weeks.”
This news is met with gasps and congratulations, surprisedohsand sadaws.I even see Tara wipe her eye as she thanks them, taking one more breath. I happen to notice Julie, eyes wide like in shock, clapping along with everybody else.
“I will be here till the end of the session. And not to get too ahead of myself, but I do want to thank you all for being such a wonderful community.”
“This milonga will be a goodbye party, too. Let’s make this a big send off for Tara,” I add in. “Thank you for a great class. See you next week.”
The crowd disperses, most of them coming up to Tara to give hugs and chat. Shortly after, they grab their belongings and walk out the door. Julie grabs her bag and checks her phone, frowningonce more, then says goodbye as she follows the other students out.
“You okay?” Tara asks behind me as I’m looking at the door.
“Yeah. Good.” My response is almost robotic.
“Uh-huh,” she says like she doesn’t quite believe me.
“What?”
“Maybe your future is in Pro-Am,” she laughs.
“Oh yeah? You pawning me off on amateur dancers now?”
“Just one,” she says pointedly, laughing again.
“Oh, shut up.” I move and start gathering my own belongings. We fall into silence as we both pack up together. There’s been something else on my mind, and I don’t know how to bring it up, but with that ProAm comment now may be a good a time as any. “I’ve been looking for some jobs.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Really?”
“Just looking.”
“For what?” She stops packing up to face me.
“I don’t know,” I sigh, frustrated. “Something normal? Something that doesn’t involve so much travel.”
