by Lewis Shiner
I called my landlady from the office and told her there would be two people staying in the flat for now.
«Your wife has come back?»
The question made me see myself with double vision, one of me completely finished with Lauren, the other feeling exposed and guilty. «A friend,» I said. «A very close friend.»
«Ah,» she said. «Congratulations, Beto. I hope to get to meet her.»
When I got home, Elena had made dinner—vegetarian, easy on the dairy, with wine for her and agua con gas for me. There were candles on the table and Hugo Diaz played softly on the stereo. I was speechless.
«Beto, has no one ever taken care of you before?»
«No,» I said. «I never let them.»
«Well, you take care of me, so I will take care of you. You will have to get used to it.»
Over dinner I tried to explain. My parents had divorced when I was 5, and at first I stayed in Virginia with my father while my mother went to live with her sister in Phoenix. Then, after a year, my father met somebody and packed me off to Arizona. They traded me back and forth for holidays, summer vacations, every time they started a new relationship. I learned to stay out of their way, hoping that if they didn’t notice me they wouldn’t send me away again.
«They both had the same sayings, clichés in English. ‘If you want something done right, do it yourself,’ that was their favorite. That and ‘Children should be seen and not heard.’»
She nodded and took my hands in both of hers. «Here we say, ‘Flies don’t enter a closed mouth,’ and ‘God helps those who get up early.’ I got so sick of hearing it. Growing up like that can make you hard, but I think it was the opposite for you and me.»
She took one hand away to wipe at a tear. «It’s like I don’t have any skin anymore,» she said. «I’m so sensitive, it’s crazy.»
«It’s not crazy,» I said.
«Are they still alive, your parents?»
«My father died of cancer. I guess it was eight years ago, now. My mother died in February. She had…a disease of the lungs.» I didn’t know to say Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disorder in Spanish. «I found out from my cousin that my mother was dying, and I called her and told her I was coming. I got on a plane the next morning and she was dead before I landed. She couldn’t even wait long enough to say goodbye.»
«She was dying, Beto, I’m sure she couldn’t help it.»
«People do it all the time,» I said. «They hold on. If they want to bad enough.»
She gave me a few seconds and then said, «You can cry for her if you want to.»
«I want to,» I said, «but I can’t.»
I ate some more food. Even with Elena, it left me sour and tired to talk about the past.
She seemed to sense it. «And speaking of being responsible for yourself,» she said, «I need to find another job.»
«They’ll take you back at the shoe store. Your boss thinks you’re wonderful. Just like everyone else does.»
«Do you really think so?» Then it hit her. «So you went there? Looking for me?»
«Yes. I was desperate.»
«Beto, I’m sorry I hid from you.»
«It doesn’t matter,» I said. «Nothing matters now.»
*
On Tuesday Elena went to Abasto and got her job back on the spot. She wanted to celebrate by practicing tango at the apartment. «Then we can go out tomorrow and be perfect.»
I brought empanadas home and after dinner we pushed the furniture against the living room walls. I showed her a few of Don Güicho’s moves, then we just danced, stopping when things didn’t go like they were supposed to. She was reluctant to correct me at first, until I convinced her that I was serious. She was gentle and sweet and surprised me with her technical knowledge.
Wednesday after work I called Sam. I failed to keep my excitement from showing and finally admitted, “I’ve met somebody.”
“If she’s the reason you looked so bad last week, I have to disapprove.” Though he’d never said it, I knew he hadn’t let go of the hope that Lauren and I might work things out.
“How do I look now?”
“D, you’re my parental unit. It is totally repellent to even think about the probable reason you look the way you do. So are you going to tell me about her or not?”
I gave him the high points, trying not to sound like a lovesick teenager.
“D, she’s closer to my age than yours.”
“You guys wouldn’t work out, you don’t tango.”
“Gross. How serious is this?”
“It feels pretty serious.”
He slapped himself repeatedly. “My stepmother! My stepsister! My stepmother! My stepsister!”
“I could bring her along next time I call.”
“Let’s wait a little. Maybe you’ll come to your senses.”
Much as I wanted him to talk about what he was really feeling, serious was not Sam’s style. He deflected me with a sideways reference to Lolita, and I let him go.
That night I took Elena to La Nacional. Tango etiquette made it awkward at first. Because we’d come in together, no one was supposed to dance with Elena until I danced with someone else, and for half an hour no one made eye contact with me. Then my German friend from La Ideal arrived and set Elena free.
Nothing should have shaken my confidence at that point. Still I felt twinges of jealousy when I saw her with men who were younger than me, better looking than me, better dancers than me. I was smart enough not to let it show. At one point she had just finished a tanda with one man when another one came up to her at the edge of the floor and said something that made her laugh, then took her off for the next dance. I recognized him as Miguel Autrillo, the former student of Don Güicho’s that I’d met at El Caburé. I had to admit that he was an amazing dancer, as dramatic as a silent movie star, with an arsenal of advanced moves that he deployed in perfect time with the music, all while making her look as poised and graceful as a ballerina. I sat out the tanda to watch them.
When she came back to the table she said, «You know what a piropo is, no?»
I nodded. It was the kind of overblown compliment I had used on her myself.
«That guy said, ‘You have to dance with me, or your boyfriend has to kill me.’ Then he says, ‘Either way I’ll be in heaven.’» She laughed again at the memory of it. She was utterly at home in this world, and I thought how happy she would have been in the thirties and forties when tango truly ruled the city, when 12-piece orquestas typicas played cavernous dance halls every night. As much as I loved tango, I would never belong here the way she did and the thought gave me a pang.
«What I didn’t say to him was that I hope there are dance teachers in heaven, to teach him not to try so hard.» She laughed harder and took my hand. «Come, Beto, dance with me.»
Thursday I brought her to my lesson with Don Güicho. He was harder on me than he’d ever been, maybe feeling he needed to bring me down from my cloud. He was hard on Elena too. The difference was that Elena thrived under the pressure and got visibly better, more precise and balanced, by the minute, as I lagged behind. She was floating as we left class, asking if we could go home and practice instead of going to El Beso. She didn’t care that I was struggling to keep up, I told myself, so why should I?
Friday she had to work late. When she got in I gave her a massage and we ended up not getting out of bed.
Saturday she did a day shift while I caught up on my sleep, and she called me at lunch. «Would you mind if I went out after work and had dinner with Adriana and a couple other girlfriends? We can go dancing after.»
«Of course I don’t mind. I can fix myself something here.»
«Listen, why don’t you come with us?»
«Are you sure that’s a good idea? You guys are old friends, it would be weird to have a stranger there.»
«I want to show you off a little. Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?»
I couldn’t be completely sure that she was kidding. «You know better
than that.»
«You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.»
Somehow the conversation had drifted into no-win territory without either one of us intending it. «I would love to meet your friends,» I said.
«We’re all going to meet up at the store at six. Is that okay?»
«Perfecto,» I said.
*
It started badly and went downhill from there. Elena was tied up with a customer until 6:30. Adriana still hadn’t shown up by then and I didn’t know which of the other young women circling around the store were Elena’s friends. I took my cues from Elena and she did the same with me. The result was an awkward hug, under the suspicious stare of the woman in the cat-eye glasses, who was clearly trying to remember where she’d seen me before.
We ended up at a McDonald’s in the cavernous Patio de Comidas on the top floor. I had to go off by myself to find some empanadas de verduras. At first the conversation was as uncomfortable as I’d feared, with Adriana and Elena making an effort to include me, then before long they were all talking at high speed about people I’d never met, laughing hard and using slang that completely eluded me. I followed as best I could and kept smiling, while unable to think of anything except how terribly young and alien they all seemed.
When we left, after nine, the others were headed to a movie and I felt the sadness in Elena. «We don’t have to dance tonight,» I told her. «If you want to go with your friends, I promise you it’s okay with me.»
She shook her head. «I don’t want to have to choose between you and my friends.»
Clearly she did have to choose, and it felt like my fault.
We rode the escalators down through the glittering mall toward the exit to the Subte station. «You hardly said anything all night,» she said. «It couldn’t have been much fun for you.»
All I could do was shrug.
The Subte car was crowded and it was impossible to talk. Elena held my hand but didn’t look at me. My thoughts were grim. I pictured us back at the apartment, Elena finding an excuse not to go dancing. More silence, and separate sides of the bed. There had been too many nights like that with Lauren.
We squeezed off the train at our stop and climbed up to the street. She hadn’t looked at me in a long time. She said, «You must feel like a canguro. Like a—»
«I know the word.» Babysitter.
I stopped her and turned her to face me. We looked at each other until I gathered her in and kissed her and kept kissing her until she melted into me and kissed me back.
«Ay, Beto, I get so scared sometimes.»
«Tell me about it.»
«I don’t want to drive you away.»
«You’re not going to drive me away.»
«You’re so different from me. So old and frail, one foot in the grave…»
«And you, barely out of secondary school, your whole life ahead of you…»
Her laughter was like the highest notes on a piano. «Can we change our clothes and go dancing now?»
«Right now? Here in the street?»
She made a face. «Sí, claro, here in the street.» She grabbed my hand and took off toward the apartment at a run.
For her it was over that quickly. I continued to brood, but by four in the morning, when we finally staggered out of El Beso and into a cab, I was too tired to wind myself up anymore.
*
With the afternoon half gone on Sunday we were still in bed. We’d made love and dozed and we were lying naked in each other’s arms, the bed full of her fragrance, a faint breeze from the airshaft tapping the blinds against the window and drying the sweat on my chest.
«Beto.»
«Mmmmm.»
«Beto, I have to figure out what to do about my father.»
«How do you mean?»
«Those files that he was talking about. I have to at least try to do something.»
At some level I had known that the last week had been an interlude, a reprieve, and at the same time I had wanted to believe that it could go on forever. The very things that had brought us together in that tiny apartment, that had allowed me to become her lover, were destined to drag me back into the train wreck of her past.
«You mean look for them,» I said.
She heard something in my voice. «Oh, Beto, mi amor, you don’t have to be part of it. This is something I need to do for myself.»
«What did you call me?»
She raised her head to show me her mischievous smile. «Mi amor.»
My love.
«I don’t think you ever said that to me before.»
«Didn’t I? Does it scare you? Maybe just a little?»
«No. I’ve been in love with you since the first time I danced with you.»
«Another piropo?»
I shook my head, too emotional to speak, and she was serious again in a fraction of a heartbeat, the endless darkness of her eyes burning into me. «I love you, Beto.»
«I love you too. I’ll check around tomorrow, see if I can find anything out about the files.»
«Oh, Beto…»
«Todo o nada,» I said, and then in English, “All or nothing.”
And then she was kissing me and there was nothing else in the world, not even the fear.
*
For two hours I sat at my desk, doing no work, pumping up my courage, getting my story straight, anticipating the things that could go wrong.
At 11:30 I looked again at our instant messaging system. It showed that Bahadur was still at his desk, like he had been the last six times I’d checked.
I told myself that the thing I was going to ask him was perfectly reasonable. If he said no, I told myself, I would simply walk away.
I stood up, suddenly light-headed. Just this one thing, I thought. Then you can tell Elena that you tried and you’ll be done.
Bahadur was senior enough to rate an office. I knocked on the door, which was open, as always. «Adelante,» he said, without looking up. His turban that day was a muted green.
I waited while he finished a line of code and considered it, his hands poised above the keyboard like a magician in the middle of a mystic pass, then he spun around in his chair.
I looked into his brown eyes, which were gentle and glad to see me, and I couldn’t speak. Elena hates liars, I thought. This is wrong.
“Rob,” he said, “what the hell is up with you, man?”
“Sorry. I’m kind of dead on my feet.”
Bahadur shook his head. “You are much too old for this nonsense.” I had of course told him about Elena. He had pretended to disapprove, looking wistful even as he told me I was squandering my spiritual strength.
I’m sorry, Elena, I thought. I don’t know how to do this without lying. And I don’t know how to not do this for you.
“Listen,” I said, “can you give me the combination to the lab? I want to come in some night this week and run a few stress tests when there’s nobody else around.”
Bahadur looked unhappy. “They really don’t like letting that combination out. Can’t you run them remotely?”
“The error messages only show up on the client monitors. If I telnet into them it’ll affect the performance results.”
“Oh, hell, I can’t imagine anyone is going to complain if I give it to you. Don’t write it down anywhere, yes?”
He went through it with me, these two buttons together, then these one at a time, these last two together. I nodded and he sent me to try it out.
My hands shook so badly the first time that I botched it. I went through it again, slowly, and the handle turned. I let the latch slip back into place and returned to my desk.
It doesn’t matter anyway, I told myself. The cops took it all, the computer, everything in the drawers. It was nothing more than a gesture, to prove something to Elena and to get myself off the hook.
*
Elena had been grocery shopping. It was her day off and she’d found a recipe online for squash and sweet potato soup. We cooked it together in the tiny kitc
hen while I told her what I’d done.
When I finished, she held my face in both hands and kissed me. Then she said, «Can we go tonight?»
«We?»
«I want to go with you. If it’s dangerous, I have to take the risk with you.»
It was probably more dangerous, and harder to explain, to have her with me. There was no explicit rule against her being there, though, and I liked visualizing her in my cubicle, knew that I would remember her there the next day. «If you’re really sure,» I said.
«Totally sure. When can we go?»
«After ten, I guess. There shouldn’t be anyone around by then.»
«Okay.»
«Remember that there are security cameras all over the place. So we have to look like we only came in to start my tests.»
Elena looked disappointed. «So we can’t make love on your desk? I wanted to make sure you would remember me at work.»
«Elena who?» I said.
She grabbed me by the hair with both hands and kissed me. “This Elena,” she said.
*
We spent the evening on the couch reading, wrapped around each other. Elena’s love of physical contact woke a need in me that I’d always stifled before. At first I’d been afraid to hope that this affair was anything more than a passing, incredibly generous impulse on her part. Now I was afraid to think that it would someday end.
I dozed off and she woke me at ten, stroking my face and kissing me. «Beto, it’s ten. Are you awake?»
I got up and washed my face. I couldn’t think of an excuse to call it off and she was clearly not going to offer me a way out. Her eyes were luminous with excitement.
We walked to Avenida San Juan in search of a cab. The night was warm and still and dusty-smelling. Everyone we passed on the crowded sidewalks seemed to scrutinize me. I told myself it was only because of Elena.
«Your hand is so cold,» Elena said. «Are you nervous?»
