The Salsa Class

The dance academy is on the second floor of the market, right above the fruit stalls. Mariela signs up for the beginners' class on Mondays at seven. Her goal is simple: to dance at her cousin's wedding in December without looking silly.

On the first night, the teacher, Don Lalo, puts everybody's name in a hat. Mariela pulls out Gonzalo, a tall, quiet man with very big shoes. In ten minutes, she steps on his feet four times. "Sorry! You're much better than me," she says. "Me? No way. You're faster than me," he answers. During the break, she tells him about her cousin's wedding in December.

Mariela doesn't want to embarrass Gonzalo, so she starts to practice at home with a broom. Across the city, Gonzalo is doing the same thing with his sofa. Neither of them says a word about it.

After six weeks, they step on fewer feet and turn more smoothly. "You two are improving faster than anyone," says Don Lalo.

At the end-of-course show, the room smells of mangoes from downstairs. Halfway through the song, they both forget the next step at exactly the same moment. They freeze and look at each other. Then, without a word, they both spin around twice and clap their hands.

The audience cheers. "What a great idea!" a woman shouts. "That was the best part!" Don Lalo just laughs, because that move isn't in his class.

Later, on the stairs, Mariela confesses. "I practiced every night with a broom, so I wouldn't be worse than you." Gonzalo starts laughing. "I practiced with my sofa, so I wouldn't be worse than you!" Then he asks, a little shyly, "Do you need a partner for that wedding?" "I think I do," she says. "A broom can't spin."