Salsa Lessons – Part 2: The Last Song

By the fifth week, Valentina could dance a full song without kicking anyone. She still counted under her breath, but she smiled while she did it, and Andrés had stopped wincing.

"You are doing it," he whispered, in the middle of a turn.

"I am doing it very slowly."

"That is the best way."

On the last Saturday, the school held a recital in the square outside the cathedral. Paper lanterns hung between the balconies, and a band played in the corner under the clock tower. Families sat on benches, children ran between the tables, and an old man sold coconut sweets from a basket.

Valentina wore a red dress she had bought that afternoon, her hair loose and her heart racing.

"I am going to forget everything," she said.

"You are going to remember everything," said Andrés. "And if you forget, I will lead you through it. That is what a partner is."

The music started. The first bars were gentle, and she let her body move before her mind could argue. Andrés's hand was warm at her waist, steady and sure. They spun, and stepped, and turned, and for the first time she did not count at all. The lanterns blurred into gold. The band's trumpet rose like a bird.

When the song ended, the whole square applauded, and Valentina realised she was laughing, tears on her cheeks, one hand in Andrés's.

"You did it," he said.

"We did it."

"You did it. I only held on."

They sat on the cathedral steps afterwards, sharing a coconut sweet, the square emptying slowly. The brass band had moved to a slow, sad tune.

"Can I ask you something?" said Valentina.

"Yes."

"Why did you say yes to your aunt? You could have refused."

Andrés looked at the lanterns. "Because I saw you at the back of the room," he said. "You looked like someone who was trying very hard not to be seen. And I wanted to be the person who made you glad you came."

Valentina's throat tightened. "You were."

He smiled, shy and warm. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Yes."

"Would you stay in Cartagena for one more month? I would like to teach you the next dance."

"Yes," she said. "But only if I get to choose the music."

"Deal. Can I kiss you? Here, on the steps, where my aunt can see?"

"Yes," said Valentina. "And if I say stop, you have to dance with your aunt."

"That is a very terrible threat," said Andrés, and kissed her.

It was warm and sweet, the taste of coconut and night air between them, his hand rising to her cheek. The band played on in the dusk, and somewhere behind them, an aunt clapped.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" he asked.

"Green," said Valentina. "Very green. Now teach me the next dance, Andrés. I am not counting any more."