CITA and Di Sarli

I forgot it was Saint Patrick's Day. Had I known or remembered, I would have worn a different color - other than the green outfit I picked. Got to CITA late - sent you a text message saying: if you want to swing by around 1am, maybe we can dance one tanda together. I thought CITA was going to have more people. I get to CITA and I know I am not going to get any dances. Since many of the people there don't dance with me, some people are away, some people I just don't dance with anymore - or better yet: I don't dance with them anymore. I kept my poise. I was holding a secret. I thought this guy M. was going to be the dj and to my dismay he wasn't. The music was blah, even though I shouldn't complain. It was tango after all. But still. Being at CITA you always expect good music. CITA is like a home to me: it was my first milonga. Less than a year ago, I performed there and I hold that memory very close to my heart. Not because I was performing, but because I was in your arms and I was under the illusion we could make it work that time around. I was at peace with the idea that we would always fight, but we would make it work at the end. Hope. Small drops of hope. Hope in all possible forms. Hope that hoping would cease the restlessness of my mind. As I was sitting, the most odd thing happened. L that I met at a workshop a week ago walks in, sees me, and greets me. He finds room at my empty table. He looks good. His hair looks funky. He chats. He is interested in chatting maybe because to be silent requires a great effort. He invites me to dance and D'Arienzo is playing. The dancing has potential, but somehow I don't feel like L has what it takes to make me feel like he's in control. A woman comes to our table and says that we dance beautifully together. I think to myself, she doesn't know anything about tango. I worry a little because the milonga is getting empty. L starts dancing with another girl. I enjoy the music. I text people. I look at the clock. I text you and I say: can you make it here before midnight? No answer.

L comes back to the table and gets into his chatty, happy mode. We exchange information. We get to know a few things about each other. His upbeat attitude and his desire to read me bores me to death. I learn he is younger than me. Much younger. When I realize it's almost midnight and I explain to L I am expecting someone to show up, he insists that we should dance the last tanda together because my friend is not going to make it and it's probably going to stand me up. I tell L I am expecting the person I used to dance with. We had a special tango together and we haven't danced together in five months or so. I change my shoes. I have brought a special pair with me to dance OUR tanda. It's the pair you gave me at the tango congress we attended a couple of years ago. I have them reserved. I call you because Sr. Juan is closing everything. He is putting the music away and L is telling me I was a fool for waiting. I tell him that I wouldn't feel good about myself if I started dancing with him and "my friend" got there. I get panicky. I look at the door every ten seconds. L says I look anxious. I was nervous. I go to Sr. Juan and I whisper to him, it's me asking a big favor from him: Sr. Juan, Konstantin is coming, could you play something for us? Now he knows my secret. We are going to dance one tanda, the last tanda. I am waiting for him. Sr. Juan asks me: what do you want: I tell him something romantic. Something romantic. Something. I can't think. He says: Di Sarli? And I say smiling: yes! Di Sarli. Di Sarli is perfect. Our tanda goes by and you don't show up. I call you, then you call me and you say you are one traffic light away. I say you will never make it.

Then I see you. L and I see you. Sr. Juan says: there he is!!! L kind of looks disappointed. I tell you to hurry up. Senor Juan plays the tanda again and we dance for nobody, but ourselves. We are in a way performing at CITA again. The lights are dimmed. I feel the presence of a few people. We are both nervous. Our hearts tremble and our feet are confused. I hold you as tight as I can and I try to dream in your arms. I am so nervous I can't close my eyes. I feel your force and your energy. I hear some comments from people. The darkness of the room protects me from crying. Maybe, maybe there was a tear. At the end of the second song, L says a shy goodbye and we keep on dancing to our last song.

When our tanda ends, Sr. Juan shakes your hand and we say goodbye. Sr. Juan adds looking at K: we love that girl. And you too Konstantin. We leave and we go see the stars under the spell of Blue Alert.