IRA AND JULIANA or maybe Tango for Love and Life?? or maybe
A Tango for Life
Juliana was trying on her new tango shoes when she heard Gabriela outside her door.
"Julia, are you ready to go?”
She opened the door. "Look at my new tango shoes, Gabriela! They feel so great."
"They're beautiful. Where did you get them?"
"My tango teacher told me about a store in San Telmo. Just picked them up today." She put them in her shoe bag.
"Let's go, Gabi. I'm ready for anything now. Where are we going for dinner?"
"Down by the river. Jumpin' Jack."
"I love that place."
They got in Gabriela's car and sped off into the early evening of Buenos Aires.
After a walk down by the River Plate and then a long, fun, gossipy dinner at nearby Jumpin’ Jack, they piled into Gabi’s car and she drove like a madwoman down to Capital Federal where their favorite club was, La Viruta. It was inside the Armenian embassy and rather low-key, open only weekends, mostly porteños, with few tourists ever finding it.
When the three of them were getting out of the car, Juliana asked her friends, “Do you want to place bets on who gets asked first to dance?” She knew it was going to be Gabi, and so did Alicia. They looked at each other and laughed.
As they approached the front door of the club, a single man dressed in the requisite all-black attire for a tanguero, stood aside and opened the door for them. He didn’t speak, just nodded and smiled. “Gracias señor,” said Gabriela, as the other two walked in. Gabi turned immediately to Juliana, whispered, “He liked you, Julia.”
“Oh Gabi, you’re just trying get rid of him.”
“No, he looked at you. I was watching who he was picking to dance with.”
“God, you’re sneaky! How do you do that?”
“Practice, chica.” She laughed.
“I still have lots to learn from you, amiga.”
They found a table right next to the dance floor, then Alicia went upstairs to the advanced classes. Gabi and Juliana changed into their dance shoes then looked around the room to check out the available men. Gabi didn’t favor the tangueros because they usually wanted one or two dances and then went onto their next partner, but Juliana would dance with them occasionally. “Too Argentine,” Gabi called them, meaning solitary and arrogant. Gabi spotted the man who had opened the front door for them, pointed him out to Juliana.
“There he is, Julia,” she said, “and see, he’s looking straight at you. I told you.”
“He’s looking at you, not me.”
“I just winked at him to see if he was looking at me or you. No winking back – it’s you he’s after. Oh, he’s standing up. Get ready, Juli.”
He literally unfolded, stood and started walking towards the two women. Very tall and lanky. He wore a black suit with black shirt, open at the neck. He wasn’t a muscle man, but he did have broad shoulders. And nearly black, very curly hair a tad long at his neck. Curly hair, even with pomade.
By the time he reached their table, Gabi and Juliana were trying to stop giggling. They pretended one of them had said something terribly funny. He stopped in front of them, smiled and then bowed slightly, “Señoritas.” That’s all. Juliana was trying hard not to laugh and ended up smiling big time. So, of course, he looked at her, held out his hand and asked her to dance. En español. Perfect accent and dialect with a dark, soft sound to his voice.
She stopped smiling right away and darted a glance at Gabriela as if to say, “Help! Now what?” So Gabi, of course, nudged her with her foot under the table. Juliana said, “Sí,” very quietly, “gracias,” and stood. He took her hand and led her to the dance floor. They stopped in an open embrace and stood still for a few seconds; he was looking down at her. He shifted side to side a couple of times, then led her to the cross where he very smoothly took her into an easy-to-follow tango. Once or twice he pulled her in close and invited her to embellish with a few voleos. After the second close embrace, she wished the whole dance was corazón. At the end of the dance, he took her to a sweet little dip and turn. Then he returned her to the table because the set had just ended. But he asked, “May I?” as he pulled up a chair from the next table to sit with them.
Gabi spoke up right away, “Por supuesto, buenas noches, señor, este es Juliana y a mi Gabi,” and the conversation took off. Juliana was relieved Gabi was taking over now because she was a little thunderstruck from dancing with him. She was hoping he’d ask her to dance again, but also relieved he might be interested in dancing with Gabi instead. She wasn’t looking for “thunderstruck” with any guy.
His conversation with Gabi was in Spanish, and he was either a porteño or a fluent norteamericano. He kept up with Gabi’s quick pace. But they weren’t exchanging anything personal, so Juliana didn’t quite understand what was going on. Well, actually she knew what Gabriela was up to – that was easy. She was setting her up with this guy. Last thing I want or need, Juliana thought.
When the music started up again, Tall Black Curls turned to Juliana and asked her, in English this time, to dance just as Gabi was approached by another man who had nodded at her from across the room. This time Juliana was pulled in very close to Tall Guy (is he norteamericano or porteño?), he led her to the cross then did a couple of very quick ganchos, swung her out for some improvisation, then close again for some very fast and fancy footwork, but very easy to follow. Oh, this man is good, she thought, delighted with the dance. The music was by Astor Piazzola, her favorite tango composer, and she was very happy, with this man’s long right arm wrapped nearly to her other side, fingertips pressed into her flesh, and dancing heart to heart with him. She felt enveloped and guided and she became one with the music. And with him. It was a little embarrassing when the song ended and he’d made a nice final move then dipped her lower than she expected. He practically had his face right in hers. He looked into her eyes just a beat before lifting her up and releasing her. They danced to three more songs, including a very quick milonga, and Juliana begged to sit down.
All Juliana could think was, what just happened? She knew tango was meant to be a series of little romances over the evening. This felt different.
When they sat down again at the table, Gabi nudged her with her foot and when she looked over, Gabi raised her eyebrows, subtly asking, was it good? Do you like him? Juliana knew her friend’s looks. She smiled and lifted her eyebrows, too, as if to say yes, it was good, and maybe I like him, with a little side nod for maybe.
Now the tall handsome stranger with black curls and dark-brown eyes was leaning over to ask, in very American English, if she wanted something to drink.
“Just some soda water with lime, please.”
“Seltzer?”
“Yes, seltzer.” New York. Jewish, she thought. When he returned, he leaned over and said, “My name is Ira and you are … ?”
“Juliana. I’m Juliana.”
“You’re quite a good dancer, Juliana.”
“Thank you, but so are you, Ira. I like corazón style, too – much easier to follow.”
“I like it, too. My teacher is having me learn open embrace but I still prefer the traditional position.”
“Oh, do you now?” Oh my god, Juli, shut the hell up. He smiled, though, and just blithely said, “Yes, I do.”
Oh, don’t look at me like that. Go back to talking to Gabriela. Everyone likes Gabi. It felt so good to dance with him, though. Don’t even go there, Juliana. Remember your promise – no relationships, just friendships. Period.
He asked a question but she didn’t catch it because she was busy talking to herself, saying things like, he likes Gabriela, and he’s too handsome and nice for me. Her same old self-talk about men, plus an instant rejection before anything could even get started.
“What, I’m sorry, I missed what you said.”
“Where are you from?”
“I’m from Denver. And you’re from New York, right?”
“My accent?”
“No. Seltzer.”
“Ah. I am from New York City, as a matter of fact.”
“But you’ve been down here awhile – your Spanish and your tango are both quite good.”
“I’m here a lot, yes. I do a lot of work here so I keep an apartment all year. How about you?”
“I came down for three months and have been here for six now. Not sure what to do next.”
Gabi, Juliana and Alicia had arrived around 11:30 that evening, so it was easy to stay till closing, around 4:30 a.m. Especially since they were all dancing a lot tonight. Juliana danced several times with Ira, but other men she’d danced with nodded at her from across the room, and she danced with them, too. Ira sat out those dance sets and he disappeared for a short while, too. But he returned and then seemed to make a point of staying near her the rest of the time. Finally, the lights began to come up signaling the time for the folklórico dances, and end of the evening.
“The lights are coming up,” Juliana said. “Time for the folklórico dances. Do you stay for them, Ira?”
“This is my first time here. They don’t do this at the other clubs I go to.”
“It’s just line dancing and singing. And lots of fun. We always stay. Then go eat breakfast near the River Plate. Stay, por favor?”
Gabi, Alicia and Julia got up to dance and Ira came with them. Adventurous.
The dancing was fun. Ira fumbled a little at first but caught right on. She glanced at him every so often.
The folklórico dances and singing ended, and he was chatting with Gabriela in Spanish and she was laughing a lot and then being very conspiratorial with him. What are they talking about?
Once they were driving away, Juliana asked Gabi what she and Ira were whispering about.
She laughed and said, “About you. And about breakfast. You’re so funny! This man really likes you, Julia. He was wondering why you were ignoring him sometimes.”
“What? I danced with him a lot and asked him to stay…”
“Julia, you need to let a man know you are interested in them, and them alone! They need help.”
She laughed. “Okay, what should I do then?”
“Sit next to him at breakfast and touch his arm or something every so often. Only talk to him.”
“But…”
“No, you need to do this. I think he’s perfect para tí. And he seems lonely so he needs attention.”
“I thought he liked you and was pursuing you.”
“Julia. I have Jorge. That’s all I can handle. Besides, Ira is not my type. But he is definitely your type. Es bueno! Claro?”
“Sí claró. You are the wise woman here.” Even though I want nothing to do with any man at this point in my life.
“Julia – I think he is wealthy.”
“Why? What makes you say that?”
“I’m not sure – his clothes, his perfect tango boots, his manners. He is a real gentleman, verdad? I think he will be very nice to you, treat you well.”
“I wish I knew how you know all this stuff. But yeah, I noticed, el caballero. Right away, saw that. But he kept moving around and I couldn’t tell who he was trying to look at.”
Gabi smiled and held up one finger, pointing at her silly norteamericano friend. “Listen to me – he was looking at you todo de tiempo. I was keeping an eye on him – todo de tiempo, está bien?” Juliana started laughing.
“Está bien! You win, chica.”
Ah, the big Shell station by the River Plate and Newbery Airport. Their favorite after-tango spot. The sun was just now coming up over the River Plate. Magical night and sunrise.
Ira drove up and parked next to them at the Shell station off Avenida del Libertador. Juliana was back to feeling shy. He looks even more handsome in the dawn light. Oh my goodness, look at that head of hair – full of black curls. She wanted to touch them. It looks like he toweled off the tanguero pomade. Curls everywhere.
“Buen día, Juliana.” Big grin. Sweet face in the daylight.
“Buen día, Ira. Amanecer,” she said, and pointed to the dawn sky across the river.
“Nice word, amanecer. Never heard that before.”
“Dawn. But I like its metaphorical meaning.” She paused then said quickly, “Have you been here before?”
“No, but I’ve heard other people talk about it. Wouldn’t find a classy gas station like this in the states.”
He stuck close to her and it would have been impossible to sit anywhere but beside him.
Gabriela was beaming, her usual happy self. But Julia knew she was also pleased with the seating arrangement. She wasn’t so sure about this.
They were all talking at once in Spanish. Gabi and Alicia talking so fast Juliana couldn’t understand them eventually. Ira gave up, too, but it became obvious he wanted to talk to her alone. He was also sitting so close it was impossible not to touch each other occasionally. It seemed to her he was trying to touch her, though.
She still felt that shyness around him. She realized she was staring at him, but she’d turn her head and then turn back to him and he’d be looking at her, just like at the club but even more so now. Pretty soon they were whispering to each other. Their heads were touching every so often, too. Juliana distinctly felt that same current running back and forth between them, just the way it felt when they were dancing.
He told her he was a photographer, and she had lots of questions about that. He liked to talk about it and got very excited describing what he did for work.
Next thing she knew, though, he was asking her to go with him to Patagonia on a shoot the following week. “Just a few days,” he said. “You’ll love it there.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Well, have you been there?”
“No, but I’ve been wanting to go there since I read Paul Theroux’s adventure of riding trains from Boston to Patagonia.”
“Here’s your chance. And you don’t have to take a train.”
She stared at him for a silent moment. “Okay, hold on a sec here. I just met you a few hours ago, danced some very nice tango with you, I don’t even know your last name yet or who you really are, and you’re asking me to…wait, I’m confused.”
“It’s Lowenstein.”
“What?”
“My last name. So you can google me.”
She couldn’t help smiling. Well, of course she was going to do that. But she was still freaking out. Trust this guy, trust any guy? That would be bad news for her, not what she wanted or needed right now.
And then, hell, I work, I have deadlines. And sick on top of all that. I can’t just leave town for a week. With a stranger? Oh god.
“You can ask me anything you like,” he said.
“Well, I’m trying to form a question but I gotta admit – you really caught me by surprise.”
“What is your biggest concern about going with me?”
“Of course that you’ll trick me into going there so you can rape, murder and bury my body where no one will ever find it.”
“Would you prefer I leave it by the side of the road then in plain view?”
She sputtered and spit out a nearly swallowed mouthful of coffee from laughing so hard.
“Oh god, I sprayed you with coffee! I am so sorry.” But she laughed even more while he was wiping coffee off his face.
“I think I earned it.”
“Hm, maybe,” she stopped laughing and smiled at him.
“Well, truthfully that isn’t really my biggest concern. I have work and deadlines this week and I need internet to work. I can’t just take off like that,” I said as I snapped my fingers. I’ll leave out the being sick part. Like forever.
He was starting to look hurt by this exchange.
“I just want your company. I get lonely on these trips. The shoot’s done during the day and then the other photographers and assistants want to go drink all night. That just doesn’t interest me. You interest me.”
“Oh.”
“I like talking to you and I just thought you might like a trip out of town for a few days.”
“Um, we can talk about it, but right now I just want to sleep. And my kitty is missing me.”
“Could I see you this afternoon? Meet your kitty maybe?”
“Um, well,” (there was Gabi’s foot again) … “sure. That sounds nice.”
“Then you could google me and find out I don’t have a criminal record.”
“Oh, that.”
“Here’s my cell number,” and he handed her a business card. Complete with National Geographic logo and phone numbers in Washington. Juliana was impressed. And simultaneously thinking, anyone could do this. Boy, am I in for a ride, she thought.
“Call me when you want to go out this afternoon.”
“It’ll probably be around four o’clock.”
“Can I give you a lift home now?”
Gabi spoke up, “I’m taking Julia home, Ira.” Gabi said his name with that nicely rolled “r.” Made it sound sexy.
“Yes, thanks for the offer, but I’ll ride with Gabriela.”
He got up to leave, shook everyone’s hands, and held both of my hands in his. Now he was looking bereft.
“I’ll call around four, okay?” I said. “And oh, Fields.”
“What?”
“My last name. Juliana Fields.” His whole face lit up with a beautiful smile. Uh-oh, I’m in trouble now. He’s even got a dimple in his right cheek.
He turned to leave and all of us were silent, watching him.
When the door closed, Gabi exclaimed something I didn’t understand. Then she said, “He is a very nice man and very handsome, Julia.”
“Thanks for the coaching under the table. He is nice, isn’t he? Funny, too. Hey, what was that you said en castellano when he was walking to his car?”
She laughed and so did Alicia. “I said he has a nice ass! Tiene bonito culo! Now you can tell him, too.” They were still laughing.
“He does! But I’m not telling him that. Not today anyway.” Then they were all laughing and dancing around the parking lot.
Ira drove home slowly, took all the side streets back to . He was distracted by his thoughts about Juliana. New woman. What was he thinking asking her to go to Patagonia with him? Some first date, idiot.
There’s something about her I can’t put my finger on, but I know I want to find out more about her. God, I’ve been alone for so long, I don’t even know how to act around beautiful women. When was the last time I went out with any woman? It wasn’t in Buenos Aires. New York? To a museum or something? I usually just hang with friends there. Play it safe. With Barbara around, I don’t feel like acting like an asshole in front of her or her parents.
I just know I want to spend time with Juliana. I feel comfortable with her, like I could be myself. I liked that she laughed and spewed coffee all over me. Wow, you are weird, man. She’s cute, she’s sexy, she’s smart and quick-witted, and probably a smart ass. That fits my definition of “desirable woman to spend time with, risk getting attached.” That last part – geez, I’m so terrible at relationships. I even married my best friend, knowing she was on her way to being fully turned off to men, just so I could play it safe. What is that?
Are you sure you can do this? You’ll have to tell her all your crap secrets, like being currently married. I’ll be honest. I got that she wouldn’t tolerate lying – something we have in common. Maybe she has secrets. It’s one date, dude. Man up. Patagonia is on hold with her for now anyway.
Violet was glad to see her and get her breakfast and a clean litterbox. She was walking all over Juliana and purring like a fiend instead of letting her sleep. Finally she slept.
She woke up at 2:30 feeling groggy, Violet sacked out in her corner of the bed.
Oh god, where’s Ira’s card? Ah, pants pocket. Hm, wear a dress today. Date.
She hadn’t googled him yet. Shower, get ready first, google if time.
It was after three by the time she’d showered and found just the right dress and shoes to wear. And she hadn’t even turned on her computer. Still have almost an hour, she thought.
Damn, no WiFi. Have to go to a locutorio. Like I have time for that.
When she was finally sitting in front of a computer, she googled “Ira Lowenstein.” She didn’t expect what she found: His own Wikipedia page about his work, a biography, and then separate listings of awards he’d received in photojournalism. And there was a link to National Geographic and he was listed as one of their long-time, award-winning photographers. There were New York and Washington galleries displaying his photographs, some for sale. Then photos of him with other well-known photojournalists she recognized. He was who he said he was.
Now she felt intimidated. This guy is well-known. So why does he want to go out with me? I’m a few years older, obviously not well-heeled, nor do I have any awards for anything I’ve done. But he does seem like a regular guy, even better than that actually. A gentleman, in any language.
Okay, don’t worry about this. But I’d rather not feel intimidated by someone I’m going on an afternoon date with. So don’t, silly. You are fine, perfect. So act it. Besides, it’s not really a date. Just friends. That’s it.
She walked back home, pondering what she had just discovered. By the time she got back to her apartment, just a couple blocks away, she was smiling and felt more relaxed about going out with him. Not to Patagonia, though, for crying out loud.
She called him and he answered on the second ring. “Ira? Hi, it’s Juliana.”
“I know your voice. Did you have a good nap?”
“Yes, once Violet stopped walking all over me.”
“What…Violet?”
“My cat. That’s her name, Violet. She misses me when I’m gone and we have a love festival as soon as I get home.”
“Lucky you.”
“She’s a sweetheart. Did you sleep?”
“No, I got some phone calls from people in New York I work with. They forget I stay up all night on the weekends here.”
“If you’re too tired to go out…”
“No, no! I want to see you. I just had a double espresso and don’t feel tired anyway,” he said.
“Okay, where do you want to go?” I asked.
“Maybe grab something to eat and go wherever you like.”
“I do love San Telmo and La Boca and don’t go there often. What do you think?”
“I love those barrios. Yes, let’s go there. Where do you live? I’ll pick you up.”
“Oh, um well, could I meet you at a café?”
“Sure. Where, which one?”
“There’s one near the corner of Calle Piedras and Avenida de Mayo. See you there in 15, 20 minutes?”
“Sure, honey. See you soon.”
Honey? He called me honey? Mr. Gorgeous with the Nice Ass and the head full of soft black curls? I could feel my heart racing and my face felt hot. Not what I expected. Or wanted.
I called Violet “My Little Honey” and told her I’d be back soon. She was already curled up on my pillow asleep.
Of course, Juliana had fudged on how long it would take her to get to the café, and figured he’d have to find parking. It was right across the street from her apartment building. But he caught her. He was laughing when he got out of his car as she emerged from her building. He put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a side squeeze.
“Still afraid of the rape and murder thing?”
“I’m not good at this, Ira.”
“You trust…?”
“Slowly, if at all. Sorry,” I said.
He put a finger on her lips. She felt an electric shock when he touched her.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s okay. My long suit is patience.”
“You’re going to need it.” More than you know. He gave her his goofy sideways grin, the one that showed his dimple. It felt like the sun broke through the clouds.
They were standing in front of the door to the café and he leaned over and kissed her cheek. She could feel how red her face was.
They went inside the café and the two waiters Juliana knew looked up with little hidden smiles in their eyes only. She nodded and smiled briefly at them.
“Oh, someone is looking out for you,” Ira whispered.
“This is my afternoon café. Yes, I know them. Very sweet guys. And very macho. So be careful.”
He smiled and touched her shoulder.
They ordered empanadas and coffee.
“You’ve been in Buenos Aires six months, right, Juliana?”
“Yes, I got to the end of the three months I was going to stay and I couldn’t make myself leave. At one year I have to return to take care of some business, though. I’m thinking I’ll come back. Feels good here.”
“I hope you stay here.”
Hm, lust. Or is he really romantic?
“What about you, Ira? How long have you been here?”
“I’ve been here pretty steady for about six years. It suits me and I get a lot of assignments here, too.”
“Where do you live?”
“Can I trust you with that information?” He looked dead-on serious.
“I don’t think you can. But I still want to know what barrio you live in.”
“Palermo. Near the Polo Field.” He smiled. “Are you going to stalk me now?”
“No, apparently that’s your job,” she said, smirk in place.
“I stayed in Palermo a month on one of my early visits. Do you live in a condo there?”
“I do, but I’m looking at some houses nearby. I want a little yard.”
“Aren’t you gone a lot for work?”
“Yes, but I’m tired of riding elevators.”
“I get tired of my stairs, but I much prefer them over stinky elevators.”
“When I get my house, I want you to come over.”
“Not now?”
“No, I want to go to your apartment and meet your cat.”
I looked at him. Who is this guy? Is he hiding his girl friend at his apartment? Maybe a wife.
“I did google you, you know.”
“How am I doing?”
“Pretty good so far. You have your own Wikipedia page, seem to be quite the well-connected photographer and photojournalist.”
“I am. But I’m still just a lonely guy. Maybe I should google you.”
“I don’t think you’ll find much except how to find my address in Denver and whether or not I have a criminal record. If you pay for it.”
“Okay, do you have a criminal record?”
“Not one that I know of.”
“Then we’re good, right?”
“I think so.”
They both sat in silence, but Ira was looking straight into Juliana’s eyes. She felt compelled to match his stare. Finally, Ira cleared his throat and touched her hand resting on the table.
“Hey, let’s go over to San Telmo and La Boca now, shall we? Otherwise, I could just sit here and stare at you the rest of the afternoon and evening,” he said. She looked down.
It took awhile to drive there and they were both pretty quiet. Juliana was busy with lots of thoughts and fears running through her mind.
He would occasionally reach over and hold her hand for a little while or put his hand on her thigh. When he’d hold her hand, her heart would thump and she could feel her face getting hot. I really want him to stop touching my leg, she thought. It’s driving me insane. Finally when he placed his hand on her thigh again, she picked up his hand and held it. He looked over at her and gave her a big grin.
“Ira, are you a toucher, you know…?”
“No, I’m not. Not usually. But I’m really drawn to you and it feels good to touch you.”
“Well, holding hands is okay, but I’d rather you didn’t put your hand on my leg.” Quietly she said, “It’s driving me nuts.”
“What did you say?”
“I said, it’s driving me crazy when you put your hand on my leg!”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Yes and no. I’m trying not to rush things between us. Please?”
She stared out her window for a long time, as if everything was so interesting. Honestly, though, she was now wondering why she was here.
“Juliana?”
“Yes.”
“Are you okay?”
“Sort of.” I still had my head turned away from him.
“Talk to me? Please?” he said.
She remained silent, looking out the window.
We were in San Telmo now. He stopped and parked the car. He turned to face her, then pulled out a clean, white handkerchief from his pants pocket and handed it to her.
“What’s this for?”
“You looked like you were going to cry.”
“Well, I’m not!”
“Juliana.”
“Sorry, Ira,” she whispered, looking down.
“I just want you to know this. I care for you a lot, Juliana, and we just met a few hours ago. I’m mystified but at the same time I’m not. You are a beautiful woman, after all, and I’m attracted to you physically. But the powerful emotions I’m feeling for you are already blowing my mind. Honestly, Juliana, I’ve never felt this way about any woman I dated, married, or was otherwise entangled with.
“It’s new, strange and wonderful, and I just don’t want to mess it up with some stupid habit I have,” he said.
“I have a ton of stupid habits, so I’ll probably beat you to the punch.” She was trying not to smile at him. He may have some bad habits, but it certainly didn’t change how attracted she already felt. She knew she was toast if she stuck around this guy for very long.
It’s just not going to work. The whole illness thing will show up eventually and he’ll take off.
He held her close to him now. Then he kissed her on the mouth. This was no cursory peck. Wow, this man knows how to kiss. This is feeling like one of those Argentine experiences Gabi talks about wanting me to have.
“That was nice,” she said softly.
“You were kissing me back.” A grin was forming on his face.
“But I’m trying to maintain a little self-control here.” She was already beginning to see that was hopeless.
“I’ll try to do the same. Would you like to wander around a bit?”
Within a block they found a couple dancing tango on the sidewalk, a small crowd gathered. Juliana saw the white statue lady and pointed her out. “How does she do that? I always give her a sympathy tip.”
Another couple started dancing across the street and they were better dancers, so they walked over there.
“It must be hard to tango on concrete. These two are pretty good,” she said.
“We would look better than that.”
“Oh, you might. Not me.”
“You’re good, Jules. Really graceful and quick, and a surprisingly good follower.”
“What does that mean, ‘surprisingly?’” she said with a smirk on her face.
“Well, that’s a compliment for one thing. Surprising because you’re such a take-charge woman, but then you totally surrender when you dance. It’s so erotic. I imagine you have a following of tangueros who love to dance with you. I saw a couple of them last night.”
“Erotic? Are you just trying to find a nice word for slutty?”
“Far from it. You exude sensuality and sex and coolness all at the same time. Takes my breath away.”
She looked at him. He is crazy. Then he put his hand on her mostly bare shoulder, and she shivered. He leaned over and whispered, “Erotic. Just like now.”
“We’re going to have to leave soon if you don’t stop that. This is our first date.” She shook her head slightly.
Here she was in Buenos Aires, the Southern City of Love, and acting surprised that the two of them were heating up.
He turned and faced her, embraced and then kissed her in public as if they were alone. He kissed her softly at first while he whispered something in Spanish against her lips, then ran his tongue along the closed seam of her lips, opened her mouth to his.
Lots of tongue deep, wet, and he had pressed their bodies together. Juliana could feel his excitement against her body. Some people nearby were quietly clapping and cheering them on. Ira didn’t seem to notice them.
Oh, good grief, she thought. Stop already. But she had her tongue in his mouth, too. She’d never met such a wild kisser.
Then he pulled back, kissed her forehead, and put his arm around her shoulder, leading them toward some shops across the street. She took a deep breath and tried to remember her name.
There was a tiny bookstore that looked ancient.
“Look at that small bookstore. Let’s go in,” Juliana said.
A bell tinkled as she pushed open the heavy wood and glass door. A typical door in Buenos Aires. Tall, wide, ornate woodwork, brass and dark wood, frosted patterned glass. The store smelled musty, of old books and paper. Finally, she felt grounded among the books, something familiar.
A small man in a black apron appeared. “Buenos tardes, señorita.” Ah, making points with señorita. He and Ira conversed quickly in Spanish, Ira asking about poetry and photography. The man led us over to a small cache of books – the poetry – then over to some larger books on display shelves – the photography. There was both Neruda and Borges along with other Spanish poets, Octavio Paz, and even a book of poetry by Garcia-Marquez. She wondered how he knew she wanted to look at poetry books?
Ira had moved on to photography books. “Hey, look at this,” he said, “an old book about Patagonia. What a find! People in little villages. Some vintage photos in sepia tints. Wow, who’s the photographer, or are there many? It’s an anthology. Published by Lorca in…1940! Wow. Why did you bring me here? I’m trying to travel light! But I have to have this book.
“Cuánto cuesta por favor, señor? 2000 pesos? No no no.” He put the book down.
Juliana knew how this was going to go. And she was right. Ira did pay 1250 pesos for the book, but it was a steal even at that. She paid 50 pesos for the Garcia-Marquez poems, likely never translated. He tried to pay for them, but she wouldn’t let him.
When they walked out of the bookstore, Ira suggested a pizzeria he knew that was very good, just a short walk over to La Boca.
“I love pizza in Buenos Aires but some places are better than others. This one is special,” he said.
Juliana looked up from her pizza and Ira was just looking at her, not eating.
“What?” she said, with her mouth full.
“You really love that pizza, don’t you?”
“I love to eat. And yes, I’m loving this pizza right now. I hope my mouth was closed while I was chewing.”
“You just looked so happy and alive. I wanted to watch you. You’re beautiful.”
“You’re crazy. Stop that.”
“No, I won’t stop. You are beautiful.”
She looked at him. For a long time they simply looked into each other’s eyes. He reached his hand over and touched her left hand, picked it up, turned it over and touched the center of her palm. Juliana felt chills and warm shudders in her belly at the same time. She wanted him to stop. And not stop.
“What’s happening here?” she whispered.
He looked up, “I’m not sure. I just know how good it feels to be with you.”
“Ira, you don’t really know me.”
“I know that, but it seems like I’ve known you for a long time. This feels right being here with you.”
I’m getting in more trouble the longer I hang out with this guy.
“I just hope you’ll travel with me to Patagonia next week.”
“We’ll talk about it.”
“Don’t say no yet. Come on, let’s go get a gelato.”
I need some air, some space. And quit reading my mind! Poetry, pizza, now gelato?
They ended up back at Juliana’s apartment. She hadn’t intended to let Ira come up, but said yes when he asked. She didn’t put any ground rules down, nothing. Just said, “Come on up and meet Violet.”
“Oh, a little tuxedo! She’s looks photogenic with her symmetrical markings,” he said. He took lots of pictures of her with his phone, and asked to come back, take more photos with a camera and better lens. Violet was completely spellbound by him and his attention. His voice must have suited her just right. She didn’t hiss or hide from him, just went right over to him and rubbed his leg. Such a little slut.
He looked at her bookshelves and they talked about books a little bit. He was intrigued by all the poetry books.
“I had a feeling you liked poetry. Do you write poetry?”
“I used to write a lot more than I do now. I always travel with poetry books, though. I kept a tiny notebook for years where I’d write down words and quotes I liked. Sometimes I’d write my thoughts. But when I started writing in earnest, I was taking classes from a poet. I like to see and tell the naked truth. It also makes me a ruthless editor.”
“You’re very serious about your writing, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am. It took me a long time to make a commitment to it, though.”
“Why?”
“Fear. Of failure, of success, how to make money and still spend an inordinate amount of my time reading and writing. Finally I got pushed over the edge. And then nothing else mattered.”
“What was it that pushed you?”
She hesitated. She didn’t want to talk about illness, but she’d walked herself into this corner. She took a deep breath, looked at him and answered. “Illness.”
He looked at her expecting her to say something else. She didn’t.
“Juliana?”
“I’m sure you have questions and I’ll answer them. But I already know your first question. And here’s the answer – yes, I’m still sick. And then, you’ll say, but you don’t look sick. No, I don’t. I know it and I’m glad. Makes it easier to hide.”
“May I ask what you’re sick with?”
“Well, first of all, nothing you can catch. I don’t like to talk about it. Could we talk about it maybe later?” She was thinking, like maybe never.
“Why not now, Jules?”
“I barely know you, Ira. I don’t like moving fast.”
“But you will tell me – if I stick around?”
“If you stick around, yeah.” But I know you won’t, she added silently.
