She sat across from him and grabbed for his glass of wine, throwing her legs over the round arm of the rattan chair Silvio must have bought recently, probably when she told him to expect guests.
“Does Silvio know you’re playing his records?” she asked as the needle started “Mack the Knife.”
“Me and Silvio”—Ben held up his fingers and crossed the first two—“we’re like this, T.”
Tenzin started laughing at the lazy, half-lidded expression on his face. It wasn’t often Ben let himself become intoxicated. When he did, she had to admit she found it entertaining. She sipped the wine and recognized a familiar vintage.
“I see you discovered my wine,” she said.
“I moved a few cases to my suite.” He sat up and kicked his legs out, grabbing his glass back from her fingers. “I figured you’d want to share. Tenzin, this place is amazing.”
She looked around and nodded. “I like it.”
“No, no, no. You don’t like a house like this.” He waved a hand toward the canal. “This is la dolce vita. This is a house you escape to as often as you can.”
She shrugged. “I come here more often than you might guess. Venice is very peaceful at night.”
“That’s good. I’m glad. I’m glad you come here.” He stared at her, his eyes heavy-lidded, his mouth spread in a lazy smile. “Peaceful places are important.”
She laughed. “You’re drunk.”
He slid off the chaise and scooted over to her, sliding his knees across the polished marble.
“Maybe a little.” He leaned his elbows next to her and leaned his chin on his hands. “Do you mind?”
She mussed his curls, damp from the muggy Venetian air. “Of course not.”
He laid his head on the arm of her chair and closed his eyes. She was a little worried he was going to fall asleep until his ears perked up at the sound of a simple piano melody from the record player.
Ben stood, unfolding his rangy frame with the grace of the slightly buzzed, and held out his hand.
Tenzin shook her head.
“Yes,” he insisted, tugging on her hand until she rose to her feet. “You have to.”
“It’s my house.”
“And it’s Louis singing ‘A Kiss to Build a Dream On.’ On a record player.” He swung her into his arms and began to lead her around the entry hall. “In the most perfect house in Venice. We have to dance.”
She gave up and let him slide one arm around her waist. “What is this?”
“This is… kind of a drunken foxtrot,” he said. “Don’t question it. Just let me lead.”
She laughed when they slid a little too close to the canal steps and Ben swung her back at the last minute. “Just don’t lead us into the water!”
He whispered, “Shhhhh.”
Ben kept them away from the canal. They swayed as the song crackled in the air, the singer’s voice rasping over the smooth trumpet and piano. She felt Ben sigh deeply and pull her closer as the trumpet rose in chorus. He hummed under his breath and continued to spin slowly around the checkerboard floor. Tenzin heard a gondolier outside singing along, his voice raised as he passed the dock and spied them dancing.
“Bacialo!” the gondolier called with a laugh. “Kiss him!”
Before Ben could respond, Tenzin floated up and pressed a fleeting kiss to his open mouth.
“Shhhh,” she whispered. “Don’t spoil it.”
Ben smiled his sweet, lazy grin and turned them in another circle.
It was a crystal moment.
A balmy summer night in Venice, the water lapping quietly at the dock as a beautiful boy danced with her under colored lanterns. A slow turn and whirl that reminded Tenzin she was alive. After everything… she was alive. She tucked the dance into a corner of her mind, next to the scattering of other crystal memories.
A baby’s laughter.
The feeling of stars inside her.
A gentle brush of paint over bare skin.
A familiar face stamped on the boy in front of her.
An unexpected dance on a warm summer night.
The song wound down, and Ben dipped her back until her hair swept the marble. He slowly raised her up and hugged her tight. “Thank you,” he sighed out, “for making me come here.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I needed this.”
“I know.”
“Yeah,” he said, laying his cheek on the top of her head as “Takes Two to Tango” came on the record. “You always seem to, Tiny.”
“That’s because I am very old and wise.”
“And I’m kinda young and stupid sometimes.”
She pulled back and looked up at him. “We all were. Even me.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Don’t believe you.”
Ben started to move her to the music again. The wine must have been wearing off because his movements were just a little tighter, his feet a little faster.
“Where did you learn how to dance?”
“Caspar insisted,” Ben said, spinning her around with ease. “Told me I’d thank him some day.”
“And have you?”
“Many times. Girls love a good dancer.”
“So, are you finally relaxed?”
“That depends.” He pulled her to his chest and tipped her chin up. “Are you going to introduce me to your forger?”
Tenzin smiled. “I knew you’d figure it out.”