Because the Night

dancing here

For a second she was too disoriented to ask what he meant. One twirl but she was dizzy. Was that possible?

Was there dancing?

She didn't say anything but she was acutely aware of how she must look. Her face gently sliding off her skull, probably. A slack expression. Was there a helicopter that could airlift her out of this situation? Could she go back to college, where everyone she talked to she already knew?

Oh, get it together, Lily. She ceased the internal dialogue with a stomp. She actually almost stomped. Speak.

"What do you mean, you dance here?"

Diego had an amused expression on his face, like he had read all of her thoughts and found them delightful, but also was happy he no longer had such thoughts. That's what aging does to the best of us. Irons out the fizzy insecurities until you are confidently, clearly yourself.

And that he was.

He was all Diego, every inch, every six foot four. He laughed and said that he was a dance instructor here.

"You know, for the tango week that's going on."

"Oh, yeah. Of course. The tango week."

Lily said it. Then she realized. "Wait! I'm here for the tango week!" She said it as she realized it, too, so it was the opposite of cool, just a huff of an epiphany.

"Well," he said. "I guess I'll be seeing more of you."

He reached past her for the small knob on the door. It made a creaking noise as he pulled it. He didn't leave it open for her, as if he wanted her to stay behind and watch him walk away. Or maybe he was uncomfortable. Or maybe — maybe he wanted to get away from lily.

Every single thing he did, she weighed the possibilities of what it really meant.

This could get exhausting, she thought. But she also thought: I haven't been out of breath in a long, long time.

Maybe this is good for her. Living. Really living.

Of course she watched him as he walked away. She was surprised he did tango — or dance at all. It looked more like he would chop down trees. Dancing, to her, was delicate.

She didn't know much about dancing.