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“Logan? Cómo estás?” He shakes his hand, a genuine smile on his face.
“Re bien, Javier.” Logan answers. “Cómo te va?” Yeah, that Spanish is still hot.
Javier looks between us, thinking who knows what, then turns to me. “Y tus viejos cómo están?” Javier asks me, inquiring about my parents.
“Bien, bien. Todos bien.” I feel like a bobblehead with how much I’m nodding and smiling in this conversation.
He looks at Logan again, and I almost feel the words build up, the way I’m going to talk my way out of this. Defend it, deny it, whichever. But Logan just smiles at him, talking briefly about classes and tango and people I don’t know. A whole community of people that I know nothing of. It should be awkward, like I’d rather sink in my seat, except that there is a literal seat at the table for me here. I get to be here as much as everyone else, and it’s something I never quite realized I was missing. Soon enough, the conversation wraps up, and Javier says his goodbyes.
“Chau, Logan. Nos vemos. Chau, linda.” He leans down to give me a kiss on the cheek, then walks over to a woman and offers his hand to dance.
“You know Javier?” I ask.
He nods. “He’s big in the tango community.”
“Ah, that makes sense,” I say. “He’s an old family friend. My parents met him at night school when they were learning English.”
“I love that,” he says warmly. “How about we dance now?”
“I would love to,” I answer. “Oh wait, you’re supposed to make eye contact, and I have to hold it and nod.”
He laughs as he gets up from his seat, holding his hand out for me to take. I take it immediately.
The floor is crowded, but couples are keeping everything moving, and keeping their moves contained. Suddenly, thrown into the middle of it, my nerves decide to make a new appearance.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“It’s just you and me, Julie. Just you and me here. Nobody else matters.”
But I notice Javier on the outskirts. Friends about his age chatting, friends that maybe knew my grandmother and in turn may know me, and I just feel silly. Like I’m a poor excuse for a replacement, like I didn’t deserve to get these shoes let alone dance with them.
So, while I would love to think that nobody else matters, right now, in my mind, in my line of sight, everybody does.
“Stay with me, Julie,” he says right in my ear. “Take one deep breath.” My body complies, almost frustratingly quickly. “Good, now take another one.”
This one I pull from deep down within me, hoping to summon some of my grandmother’s bravery, hoping to find some of my own.
“You,” he whispers almost definitively, squeezing my hand, inching me closer to him. “And me.”
And maybe it’s the breathing, or the calm way he speaks to me. The way my body just molds to his in comfort and familiarity, this dancing position like muscle memory. Or maybe, I think, this is all I need right now.
You and me.
And the tanda begins.
Chapter twenty-one
Logan
The milonga style cantake a minute to pick up, but I have no doubt that she can do it. The improvisation will do her good, the social dancing could be what she needs.
She’s dancing with Roberto right now, an older gentleman who is gentle and accommodating. The look on her face could be one of concern, but her moves are fluid, her feet are in rhythm.He’s no Ethan, I think to myself.
I try to keep her in my sights as much as I can, watching from afar, but somebody else pulls me into conversation. It’s been a while since I’ve been to a milonga, and I’ve missed it more than I realized. This place has always felt like home.
“We’vemissedyou,” Susana says with feeling.
“I know. It’s been a while.”
