And after?

I think it is safe to say that he and I were not each other’s favourite tango partner. I thought he was in too much of a hurry to achieve great things in the dance and wanted him to be calmer. “I can’t cope with be being pushed around by your arms” I once snapped (me with all the arrogance and authority of someone who’d been dancing only a little longer than he had). “It’s my body that’s moving” he replied. “My arms just happen to be stuck to it” which is a fair point though I wouldn’t admit it at the time. We avoided each other a bit after that. When we found ourselves on the same flight to Schiphol we didn’t exactly rush into each other’s arms with joyful anticipation.
Then there were those lovely, frosty days at Taboe with so many new ways of finding tango. It was the last night (or quite probably morning) and he asked me to dance. Woah... where did this connection come from? We were close and relaxed, focussed totally on each other and hearing the same music.
That afternoon I was walking slowly back to my dorm through the woods to avoid the icy path. He appeared at my side and gently changed my direction so that we were walking away across the field in deeper snow. “I just want to say thank you for the lovely dances last night” he said. “Oh me too” I replied. “They really were lovely. We have both come a long way.”
Then there were goodbyes, more flights, returns to frozen homes and the real world. Our regular tango night restarted and I wondered how it would feel after Taboe. We danced again, he and I. The walls of the contemporary arts block melted away and were replaced by older walls of wood and pillars wrapped round with Christmas lights. “Oh good” I thought and I smiled.