The Unspoken Rings

El Generoso gathers La Fidele into his close embrace, and they silently glide into Julio Sosa's En este tarde gris. The milonga this evening seems to be taking a break, and they are alone on the dance floor. Light catches on a lifted glass from the tiny bar in the corner. Laughter from the dark fringes of the small room buffs the lonely edges of the song.

... apiádate de mi dolor,

que estoy cansada de llorarte,

sufrir y esperarte

y hablar siempre a solas

con mi corazón.

... take pity on my sadness,

I am tired of crying for you,

suffering and waiting for you

and always talking all by myself

with my heart.

La Fidele accepts the invitation to the deep volcada and the little space that is between them melts, flesh on flesh, and she turns her eyes as he looks down at her, and their glance is a net. El Generoso looks quickly away at their outstretched arms, following her black silk all the way to her pale hand. On her third finger is a set of wedding rings.

On this gray evening, the song ends, and the voice trails off, the bandoneon quiets. El Generoso takes the left hand of La Fidele to lead her back to her chair. He feels the set of wedding rings that is also on this hand.

As she turns to thank him, El Generoso raises both of her hands and kisses each to let her know that he knows. She smiles and is glad.

In the way of tango, he will never ask, and she will never explain.