Page 109 of Two to Tango

Walking to Logan, ready to dance in these shoes, to this beautiful music: this is exactly where I was meant to be. This is somebody and something that was meant just for me.

His arm comes around me to settle in the middle of my back. Mine finds a place around his shoulders. Our palms meet, and he squeezes my hand just once, like a reminder that he’s here. That it’s just us.

And then we start to dance.

***

The awards are luckilyhanded out right after the dancing portion, moving the night along. Logan and I are standing on the stage with the other couples, awaiting news for first, second, and third place.

Third place goes to a couple from Texas, and they rush to grab their trophy, joyously cheering along the way.

“Second place goes to Number 110 from Florida, Julieta Martí and Logan Beck.”

There is polite applause, and then there’s our table, which has erupted in cheers. When I turn to look at Logan with wide eyes, he looks back in shock, and elation.

Second place.Second place!

We walk up to claim our trophy, and congratulate the other winners, too. When we walk off the stage, Logan wraps his arm around my waist, bringing me in for a tight hug, lifting me off the floor.

“You fucking did it!” His smile is the biggest I’ve ever seen, but mine must be mirroring it. One huge grin from ear to ear. My heart’s racing from what we did, from everything we’ve done, this wild journey from the beginning.

“That was amazing,” I gush.

“Thatwasamazing,” I hear Tara say.

Agostina and Delfi come in for a big hug, too, squeezing me so tight. “We are so proud of you!”

“Ready for the next one?” Tara asks with a smirk.

“Oh, I think I got it out of my system.”

Logan laughs loudly, those eyes crinkling at the corners again. “So, this was it?”

“This was perfect.” I kiss him because I can’t help it, because I want to. “Thank you for this.”

“Thankyou,” he says. And he kisses me back, proudly, passionately, in front of everybody.

The very last time I saw my grandmother was on a family trip to Buenos Aires. I got to watch her dance there, and I felt so close and attuned to my culture and my family. I felt so understood, so complete. And I hadn’t felt that since. Not until Logan blindfolded me, and everything shifted. Before that everything had been, maybe naively, just something to do. Just something on a list, just a way to use the shoes. But that night it became bigger than everything else. It became bigger than me. Theghosts of everything before me led me to that very moment. They converged to build inside of me, overwhelming and terrifying.

And liberating.

It was like limbs that had fallen asleep, but bit by bit woke up. The tingling feeling sparkled throughout my body, bringing everything back to life. And I look around now and wonder, so fervently, how I ever could have slept through all this.

Those shoes, dropped on my lap, carried me to the studio, to the milonga, to Logan. To here.

My grandmother always said tango gave her the love of her life, but it seems for me, it gave me everything.

Epilogue

Julieta, one year later

When you spend enoughtime in Buenos Aires, your schedule gets tossed upside down.

Like how it’s ten thirty at night and we’re just now headed to dinner because that’s when our reservation is. They didn’t open until eight thirty, anyway.

Like how we spent some time having a siesta in the hotel because that’s what everybody does, and frankly it’s the only way to make it through the night.

We’re headed to Bar Sur, a small tango bar that hosts dinner shows nightly. A place my grandparents visited maybe a handful of times.

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