Page 25 of It Takes Three To Tango

“You’re smoking,” I point out uselessly.

“I’m old. It’s only luck and stubbornness that have kept me going. But you’re still young.”

“I don’t feel young.”

“Believe me, when you’re my age, you’ll give anything to be your age again. At your age, I was in my prime. Don’t waste it by being old before your time.”

I shrug and take a drag. Her words don’t help that much.

“You should give it up. It’ll kill you,” she continues.

“And you?”

“I’m already dying. What’s your excuse?”

“Maybe I wish I was.” My voice is flat.

“Do you?” She narrows her eyes at me.

“I did, for a long time.”

“Pah.” She sits back, unimpressed by my melancholy. “It takes courage to find something to live for.”

Her words bounce off me.

“It’s too late for that. My fate has already been decided.”

“Fate be damned. Life’s what you make it,” she scoffs.

“I can’t ignore the signs.”

“What signs?”

She already knows about my bar, and of course reinforced her nephew’s assertion that I was to stay at the house as long as I needed to. So I told her my other fears, that this had happened just as I thought there might be a brightness in my future—not love of course because lightning never strikes twice—but I didn’t expand on what that brightness was.

“I can’t help feeling that this is the universe’s way of reminding me where my focus should be. Back on the bar, back with Valery.”

I finish speaking, and she does nothing for a minute but slowly smoke, looking at me intently.

“Your ceiling collapsed because of poor building maintenance as you well know, not for any divine purposes. You smoke and I’ll wager you drink too much as well.”

I wince at her words and her look shows she saw me.

“Is that for divine purposes too? Don’t let your own ceiling fall down, Constantin.”

She’s obviously done with me as she rises and refuses my offer of help. I sit there for a long time, finishing my cigarette, not sure what to make of her words. As I come to the end, I instinctively reach for another. I stop and stare at the packet for a minute. Laughter reaches me from the ballroom. Florencio and Rafe. The noise sparks an ember deep in my core. I place the cigarette packet down on the table and rise. I make my way to the ballroom. I feel like playing the piano.

“Let’s do the basic to the cross,” I say, and we move, Rafe stepping perfectly in time. “Now, pivot and step-pivot and step.” I guide him through theocho.

“Okay, this is where the fun begins,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows at him and making him laugh. “I’m going topasadato block your movement by placing my foot here.” I put my foot against the one he’s standing on.

“Now you willpasada, step over it with your free leg, touch, and then in this sequence you’re going to step back. Then we’ll step to the side and back to finish. Have you got that?”

“I think so,” he replies.

“Right, let’s go through it a few times slowly.”

We practise the short sequence a few times for Rafe to get the hang of it.

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