Margherita's Notebook Read Online Free PDF Page B

a good number of men and women of all ages were dancing tango figures, following the rhythm carefully and with purpose. For a moment, as she stood watching them, enthralled, she forgot why she’d come. When the music stopped, a Junoesque brunette wearing a tight bright red dress clapped her hands. “Bravo! Bravo! I’ve never seen you do such a good job!”
    The lights came on. And that was when Margherita saw her father.
    â€œPapa!”
    Armando glared at her as she rushed over.
    â€œI mean . . . Armando!” Her father gave her a big hug that in no time became a “close embrace”: cheek to cheek with his daughter, he improvised a couple of tango steps, forcing her to follow him whether she wanted to or not.
    â€œMy little girl! It’s wonderful to see you . . . Ocho adelante! ” he said.
    Armando swung her in a figure eight.
    â€œPapa . . . I mean Armando, you know how much I love you, but . . .”
    â€œAnd I love you, too, chica ! Giro! ”
    As her father swiveled around, she was forced to follow him.
    â€œSo now it’s the tango? The last time I saw you it was an easel and paintbrush . . .”
    â€œToo static for me. Can’t you see how much better it is to dance? Rhythm, allure, sensuousness . . . parada! ”
    Armando interrupted her step, pulling her toward him, which made Margherita lose her balance.
    â€œCan’t you ever be serious?”
    â€œI’m very serious! I am a true tanguero  . . . Gancho! ”
    This was followed by a backward kick with the heel raised.
    â€œArmando!”
    â€œGrand finale with casché !”
    He wrapped one of his legs around hers, lowered his arm to encircle her waist, and bent forward so that she curved backward.
    â€œ Olé! ” Armando concluded, his eyes looking straight into his daughter’s.
    Giulia walked up to them, smiling. “A new student?” she asked.
    Armando shook his head.
    â€œNo, she’s a city girl, just passing through.” Then, as he continued to gaze at his daughter: “Margy, this is Giulia, my gorgeous tango instructor, as well as a new member of Roccafitta’s culture and tourism association. She is the one who has made me see that the tango is mystery, complexity, joy and sadness, communication and solitude . . . Giulia is very caliente— ”
    Margherita, somewhat embarrassed, interrupted him.
    â€œI see you’ve already gotten to know him . . .” She held out her hand and added, “I’m Margherita, his daughter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
    For the second time that day, Armando gave her a disapproving look. “Did you really have to say that?”
    Margherita shook her head. “Papa!”
    Giulia smiled in turn.
    â€œArmando is a whirlwind, I wish there were more people like him! The world would be so much more fun,” she said as she shook Margherita’s hand. “It’s a pleasure, and if youstop and stay awhile, I hope you’ll join us, I suspect you may have the tango in your blood . . .”
    â€œJust like her father!” Armando remarked, smiling, and before she could answer him, he kissed Giulia’s hand gallantly, then took his daughter by the arm and steered her toward the exit.
    On their way home, Armando launched into passionate, relentless praise for the tango and its magic.
    â€œYou see, my little one, there’s something primordial about the tango. As Borges would say, it evokes regret for lives not lived; in the tango, music and dance become one in an irresistible whirlwind . . .”
    All at once, Armando realized that Margherita hadn’t said a word. He stopped talking abruptly and looked at her carefully. In an instant he knew there was something wrong. As they reached the gate in front of the house, he stopped.
    â€œWhat is it, kiddo? What’s