Page 93 of Two to Tango

“Very.”

“Sabes quién me llamó?” my mom asks the table, probably about to get into some anecdote about an old friend that called her. “Javier.”

Suddenly, I’m wide awake. T and Delfina look my way instantly.

“He said he was so proud of you, Julieta. He was so happy to see you out, and he said he’d never seen you look so happy, either.”

Motherfucker.I take a big bite of an empanada.

“He said I must be so proud of you, too, taking after abuela and following in her steps.”

The whole table turns to look at me, wide-eyed. But Cecilia’s face slowly turns into a smile.

“And so I had to tell him that unfortunately my daughter hadn’t told me anything. Guess I didn’t deserve to know what was going on.”

“Maria,” my father says with a sigh.

“She doesn’t have to tell you what she’s doing,” T adds, throwing fuel to the fire as always.

“No, she doesn’t. But I don’t like lies, either,” my mother says, matter of fact.

“Nobody lied, ma,” I say, exasperated.

“You just omitted information?”

“What does it matter?” I throw my hands up.

“Javier said he had never seen her look so happy and you completely bypass that to make it about you? En serio?” T says.

“Agostina,” Ana says in warning.

“No. Honestly, this is so stupid. Who fucking cares what she’s doing? She’s a grown adult woman. But since you are all so interested in how she’s been deceiving you, at least take a look for yourselves.” She pulls out her phone, showing my mother a video she must have taken at the milonga. She watches it with almost no expression, mouth firm.

“Look at your daughter. Look at the joy. And thetalent!”

“And what exactly are you going to do with this?” she asks me. She’s referring to the dance, as if it should be some tangible good with a purpose. As if the joy of it alone isn’t enough.

I guess this is the part where Future Julie has to own up to her mess. “I’m taking a weekend away.”

“Dónde?”

“California,” I say.

“You think that’s a good idea?” she asks.

“I think so.”

She shrugs, not saying anything else. But she doesn’t have to, I know it by heart.It’s not a good idea. It’s a bad one, in fact. You’re pushing your responsibilities aside; you’re wasting time on frivolous things. You should be grateful for your job. They’re going to fire you and then what?

“Abuela chose dance over her family. And that’s what you’re doing, too.” And with that, she gets up and walks out of the dining room.

The accusation is a low blow, a real punch. It’s meant to make me feel guilty and ashamed. It’s meant to make me stop whatever I’m doing. And the worst part is that she knows me well enough to know that it would absolutely work.

I can’t make the trip to San Diego. It was laughable to even think I could. To dream enough to actually book it.

I can’t do any of this anymore.

She's right. My job will fire me and then what? I will have thrown away my years of studying and their sacrifices for my tuition on some dance classes?

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