As the sun set on a late January evening plummeting the streets of Buenos Aires into darkness, but the oppressive heat of the day refused to dissipate. Deck hands and captains alike left the docks and entered the city streets. Throngs of warehouse and factory workers joined them. The neighborhood surrounding the port began to pulse.
Sweaty and exhausted Fernando and his friend José clocked out and joined the crowds in search of food and drink. They purchased slices of grilled steak from a vendor and washed them down with two beers.
"El Paraíso?"asked José rhetorically.
"Sí," replied Fernando.
Always El Paraíso. Always was Maria in Fernando's heart.
As the two men walked through the streets, light and laughter flowed from open-doored bars. Chords from bandoneons and violins floated out of various establishments–those offering only booze designated by lace curtains in the windows, and those that offered more by sheer pink curtains.
El Paraíso's pink curtains hung still with no breeze to budge the stubborn summer air. Fernando and José ordered drinks and found seats in the corner. But they were quickly shooed away by the owner making room for a small trio of musicians. The friends stood with the rest of the men craning their necks for a glimpse of the ladies on display.
Amongst them stood Maria, eyeing her prospects and gauging the wealth she might extract from each one. Her eyes never rested on Fernando, much to his disappointment. But her lack of attention didn't surprise him. They both knew he didn't have enough money to pay for her services.
The music began with three sorrowful notes–un tango criollo–and the ladies made eye contact with their choice of men. No words were exchanged, just nods of the head, and they were whisked to the dance floor. The remaining men paired up together to dance. José dragged Fernando to the dance floor even while Fernando's gaze remained fixed on Maria.
"Close your eyes," urged José. "Pretend you dance with her tonight."
Fernando did close his eyes as José led him through ochos, seccads, and cortados. On the crowded dance floor , their movements were small, their embrace as tight as that Maria shared with the ship's captain she had chosen.
Then tanda ended, drinks were refilled, partners switched. Maria disappeared with her captain upstairs.
Fernando drown his longing in alcohol and his loneliness in the embrace of his friends until he forgot about Maria, the time or even where José had disappeared to.
It must have been late because the bar was nearly empty. Perhaps he had blacked out or fallen asleep. But as he looked up, he met Maria's eyes. She stood across the room drinking a glass of Fernet-Branca. The bandoneon player struck the opening notes to another tango criollo. Fernando cocked his head to one side.
Maria nodded.
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