Waltz of Hearts

The DJ is playing still another tango waltz, and I am suddenly interested in pouring water into my plastic cup. I am so tired of Dos corazones that I eye the door of the milonga, open to the night and the only haven from this endlessly old-fashioned music.

El Perdido moves so quickly that I don't see him until he cuts me off at the door.

'Dance with me,' he says with his melting smile, and I put my cup of water down and turn my back on the door. I put my young hand in his, and he leads me to the edge of the floor where dancers are already swaying with the rhythm of this vals. He is 70 but strong and experienced. And, in the usual way of tango, that is all I know about him.

I follow his first step, and I am instantly lost in the hypnotic swing of this song.

When he asks for close embrace, it is natural to move my arm up his. Our chests meet, and we dance as one.

Como el fuego que envuelve el estío,

como nube que abraza otra nube,

así son tu cariño y el mío

que se funden en un solo ideal.

As the fire that wraps the summertime,

As the cloud that embraces another cloud,

Thus is your affection and mine

that fuses itself in one single ideal.

The gentle voice of Rosanna Falasca dies away, and El Perdido and I stop in the middle of the floor. He does not draw away, and I feel his chest shake. I pull away, and his eyes are closed.

My hand is at his cheek, and it comes away wet.

'My wife and I loved to waltz,' says El Perdido. 'We were married 52 years, and I loved every day of it, and I miss her.'

He is loosening his embrace and about to retreat to the shadows beyond reach of the fairy lights of the dance floor. I put the hands of El Perdido back into place.

'Ask them to play it again,' I say.