Un dia, un hombre conoció a una mujer en Argentina...
Once upon a time, a man met a woman in Argentina...

As the airliner was on its approach to the airport in Buenos Aires, Bradley Taylor looked out at the metropolis below. It was a huge city — as one would expect, since almost half of Argentina’s population lived in the greater Buenos Aires vicinity.

There weren’t many ‘tall’ building — not the skyscrapers that had filled the downtown financial district in Santiago, Chile — but there were so many what appeared to be 4-5 story buildings. Brad thought that they were probably apartments and condominiums. They weren’t located in any particular area, instead they were distributed all over the city.

Off to one side of the city was the rather brown looking Rio de la Plata, which even though it was many miles inland from the sea was still deep enough for ocean-going ships to dock and unload their cargos. The old dock region, ‘La Madera’ had been revitalized and now boasted some of the best restaurants and tango clubs in the city.

This was the last stop on a long-planned vacation. It was a group tour, so everything had been arranged for them — people picked them up at the airport and transported them (and their luggage) to hotels; every day the group was taken to the ‘must see’ places in the city with knowledgeable guides to inform them, and perhaps just as important, make sure that they didn’t get into trouble.

The group had started in Santiago, Chile, seeing the city sites and then into the agricultural regions just to the west of the city. They visited Valparaiso, Santiago’s port city (for which Valparaiso, Indiana was named; Interesting story). The Andes Mountains framed the sunrise in the east. But like Los Angeles and Mexico City, Santiago is a city in a valley surrounded by mountains — with a thick layer of smog because the winds aren’t usually strong enough to blow the smog away, and the rains that might clean the skies are too infrequent.

A long flight to the south and the group took a 3-day cruise through the fjords and glaciers of southern Chile. Like all cruise ships, they pampered their passengers with more food than they could eat, open bars and excursions from the ship on average three times a day.

The glaciers were ethereal in their translucent blue beauty as they calved massive pieces of ice into the bays; porpoises swam alongside the small boats leaping out of the water, giving the group the thrill of being close to the wild sea creatures.

From there, the group went to southern Argentina and into Patagonia — a mostly barren landscape suitable only for grazing sheep, or in a few cases cattle. They encountered all of the strange (at least to North American eyes) wildlife of the region — condors, large and magnificent, using the winds and thermals to circle effortlessly in the skies looking for carrion; guanacos — related to the camel and the llama — wandering in herds, rather unafraid of people. And where there are guanacos, there are mountain lions (usually called ‘pumas’ by the locals.) The group had actually encountered a female lion guarding her guanaco prey on their way to the ‘estancia’ (ranch) where they were spending the night. Rheas, large, flightless birds related to the ostrich were periodically seen as they drove around the area. There were innumerable other species of birds as well.

During all of that time in the south, there hadn’t been any reliable wireless or even digital signal for their phones except sometimes at night in their hotel rooms. At the isolated estancias, the power was turned off from 10 PM to 7 AM, but it didn’t matter because there was absolutely no internet or cell service there anyway.

Brad was actually relaxed by the isolation, a barrier between him and the rest of the world!

But now they were reentering civilization. Welcome to Buenos Aires.

He turned slightly and looked at the young woman seated next to him. He smiled one of his rare smiles these days, while she returned the smile and took his hand in hers.

“Oh, Daddy! I’m going to be SO happy to be able to connect to the world again! Do you have any idea what it is like to be virtually cut off from your friends and social media for more than a week?”

“I’m sure that is how you see it. But I actually enjoyed some time without phone calls and especially without having to read all of the negative news — and is there any other kind?” he laughed.

The speakers came on and Brad and his daughter, Amy, put away their trays and straightening their seats to ‘the upright position.’ The landing was smooth and soon the entire tour group was in the airport retrieving their luggage and meeting their tour guide outside where a large bus was waiting.

As they wended their way through the city on the way to the hotel, the tour guide announced that they had arranged special surprise — after they checked into the hotel they were being divided up into four subgroups and were invited to join local families for lunch! It was an opportunity to meet locals and ask them about their lives, their perspectives on living in Argentina. Brad thought that it sounded like a really fascinating thing to do.

Brad and Amy were sharing the same room on this tour. It wasn’t any sort of problem for them, father and daughter — they had often shared hotel rooms as they went back and forth across country when Brad was driving Amy and her belongings back and forth to college.

But it was not how things were supposed to be on this vacation.

“Amy,” Brad spoke as they were unpacking, “I’m so glad that you were able to get the time off to come with me on this trip.”

“Oh Dad; I was really happy to come. This has been a wonderful trip — something that I would have never thought of doing by myself.”

“Well, honestly, I’d already paid for the vacation for two and I would have only gotten a fraction of the money refunded — so it was either by myself, or, to my great pleasure, you were able to come and keep me company.”

Amy smiled and agreed, but was thinking something entirely different to herself, “I’m so glad that I could come with Dad to keep him from being too sad and depressed after what Mom did to him.”

Brad was thinking a variation of the same thought. “Damn her. She always said that she wanted to see South America; it would be a great adventure to go ‘to the ends of the earth’. So, stupid me, I arranged for her fantasy trip. Well that didn’t quite work out, did it?”

Brad had married Monica five years out of college. He was working, even then, in the entertainment industry, mainly on the financial side. Now Brad was the CEO of his own company; a company that formed limited partnerships to fund and distribute entertainment products. It was, putting it mildly, a risky business. On average, only about one-in-five Hollywood film projects even paid for themselves, and the Hollywood “Blockbuster” that everyone aspired to was really VERY rare.

Actually, Brad’s company had a much better than average return with almost all of the products that they funded or acquired breaking even, and about one-in-three having a ‘reasonable’, if not astronomical, return to the partners. His ability to separate the wheat from the chaff was half or the story of his success; his ability to find the right markets to place the product in was the other half.

There was a line of investors waiting to get into his limited partnership, but he kept the number of partners and the capitalization limited to an amount that he could personally oversee. New partners were only allowed in as old partners cashed out. He believed that if he expanded too much and had to bring in too many employees to engage in the two critical aspects of his business, that the success rates and the returns would actually decline.

Monica was one of the thousands of women, either beauty pageant winners, or small college drama department ‘too good to fail’ ingénues who come to Hollywood to get their big break, but instead end up working at some real job while they played at being ‘actresses.’

Monica was a tall, beautiful, blue-eyed Nordic looking babe, whose hair and skin tone were close enough to Brad’s that sometimes they were teased that they must be brother and sister.

By the time Brad met Monica, she was working for an insurance company evaluating claims, sort of a ‘triage’ thing deciding whether the company should just pay or whether someone ought to look a little deeper into the claim for possible fraud.

In truth, Monica was in better shape than most of the Hollywood wannabes. Her parents were fairly well off, they were willing to help her out with living expenses and eventually she would inherit a fair chunk of money. Hence her father presenting Brad with a pre-nuptial agreement to sign before the wedding.

Brad took the agreement to his attorney and with a few modifications, they agreed to it. At that time the only asset that Brad owned was his fledgling business and a home in the Hollywood Hills that he was buying. And the house was mortgaged to the hilt to provide cash for the business!

They married, and as far as Brad knew, they had been happy for twenty years together. While Brad would have liked to have several children, after they had Amy, Monica put a stop to thoughts of any more. Outside of that, though, they had a good marriage. He thought.

It was nine months before, the night when Brad came home from work and instead of finding Monica, his wife of twenty years, his one and only, his soul mate, he discovered a harridan, a termagant, an evil witch who had taken possession of his wife’s body and soul.

“Brad, I’m divorcing you. I ‘love you’, but I haven’t been ‘in love’ with you for years. I’ve found another man and I’m leaving you. Amy is old enough that she doesn’t need either of us anymore, so I’m not chained to you any longer.

“The terms are in line with the pre-nup agreement that Daddy had us sign. So there is nothing for you to complain about. You get to keep your house and your damned business.

“The papers are in this envelope. You are getting a better deal than you could possible hope for the courts to give you. I hope you can find it in yourself not to try and interfere with my life any more. Just sign the papers and be done with it and we’ll go our separate ways!”

How charming! Then she walked out the door. Her luggage (or baggage, as Brad thought of it now) was already gone.

Brad collapsed into his favorite recliner, completely taken by surprise.

“For god’s sake,” he thought, “we made love just last night!” Then he thought about it. “I guess that what I thought was ‘making love’, for her was just a goodbye fuck. Well, fuck her then!”

He remembered an old Hollywood hand who he had known before he got married, someone on his own third wife, who warned him about marrying a would-be actress.

“If they don’t get the high life by becoming a ‘star’, then they want the dough or the prestige. And they’re always looking to trade up. That was how it was with my first wife. Or maybe that was my second — not that it matters. They were both the same.”

At the time, Brad thought that was rather cynical. The real answer was to find a woman who you would be with for the rest of your life. And he thought that he had.

Rather than staying at home weeping and feeling sorry for himself, he decided to move forward.

He needed to eat, so he went out to his favorite steakhouse and had a great dinner. He didn’t see any point to getting drunk — it wouldn’t make anything better, and might make things worse — so while he had a single-malt Scotch at dinner, he came home sober.

Once he had overcome the initial shock, he logged in to his banking site to see what damage his scheming wife had wroth. To his surprise, she’d taken half of the checking and savings, but nothing more. He made a few changes — they had both used the same ID and password — so he changed that to lock her out in case she reconsidered her position.

Going on to the credit card sites, there were no unusual activities, but nevertheless, Brad called up the companies and had new cards issued solely to him and shut down the old ones. He would pay off what was on the cards, but no new purchases or cash withdrawals could be made on the old cards.

He thought about what else he should do, but those were the main things to do and the other small stuff — medical insurance, yada, yada, was going to have to wait until the next day anyway.

He looked around the house and it honestly didn’t look like Monica had taken anything with her. She took a few of her more expensive outfits and favorite pairs of shoes, as well as her family jewelry that was inherited from her grandmother or given to her by her mother. She didn’t even take any of the jewelry that Brad had given her over the years — a number of very nice and not inexpensive pieces included! Well all the better for their daughter Amy who would inherit some nice stuff early.

Her wedding dress was still hanging, sealed in a plastic bag in her closet. Brad considered throwing it out or burning it; but on second thought, maybe Amy would want to wear that someday for her own wedding. It was a beautiful and expensive dress.

None of the wedding photos were touched (not that Brad had expected that.) So far as he could see, she only took a handful of photos that they had taken of her with Amy over the years.

“What a bitch,” Brad mused for the thousandth time.

When he and his attorney reviewed the divorce papers his wife had left him, the only thing the lawyer could say was, “Sign there as quickly as you can and lock it down. She is taking virtually nothing more than the money she already took from the bank and no alimony. She’s not trying to break the pre-nup. She’s not asking for half of your business. No IRA, no 401(k) — nothing, nada! All she wants is to be out of the marriage. The guy she’s run off with must be loaded!

Let me get my secretary in here; she’s a notary as well. Sign it, and we will register it with the court and have it couriered to her lawyer today!”

And with that, for all practical purposes his marriage was over.

Now the trick for Brad was looking forward to a new future. He wasn’t going to waste time crying over the past, and Monica was now the past. Basically an optimistic person, he couldn’t help but believe that ultimately his future would be bright.

That didn’t mean that Monica’s departure didn’t leave a bitter taste in his mouth and that he didn’t have moments of despair and depression. He was disgusted by the way that she had acted, and suspected that in addition to betraying him by having an affair (that he had no clue about; the typical ‘last to know’) that she must have lost respect for him at some point.

And he lost respect for her as well as a consequence. He had always thought that she was bright, intelligent and insightful. But his honest feeling, at this point, was that she while could get another ‘guy’ easily — she would never get a real ‘man’— the kind of man who would walk with her, support her ambitions, and be with her as they grew old together.

It didn’t help when ‘friends’ would make sure that he was aware of photos of his ex with her new, mega rich, much older, sugar daddy in the society section of newspapers, magazines, and now on social media. No talk of marriage; just another trophy woman on the old fart’s arm.

He had a new interior designer redo his house to his taste and got rid of most of what Monica had jettisoned when she left. The house definitely reflected more masculine aesthetics now.

Amy got his attention and returned him to the present. Amy, now 18 years old, looked incredibly like her mother — that was the only downside of bringing her; she was a constant reminder of the Monica twenty years prior. Only nicer, kinder and not a bitch. Brad smiled at the thought.

“Are you ready, Dad? They are meeting us down in the lobby in five minutes.”

Brad looked at himself in the mirror. He’d changed into the nice pair of slacks he’d brought and his last clean and ironed polo shirt — he’d taken a couple of minutes to shave (something he’d skipped that morning) and brush his teeth again — so he felt ready to meet these new people, their lunch hosts who were inviting them into the houses deserved that their guests be presentable as well.

Each of the four groups that they had been separated into, were placed into passenger vans to take them to their hosts residences. They were given the first names of their hosts. Amy and Brad were going to ‘Josefina’s’ home for lunch.

As they stopped in front of what Brad thought was probably a five-story building, he looked around at the neighborhood. Honestly, it looked rather posh. Wide sidewalks that looked as if they were cleaned every day, none of the endemic graffiti on the walls, modern looking facades — it could be an apartment building in the expensive West Side of Los Angeles.

“Nice looking place,” he said in passing to the driver.

“Very nice,” the driver whispered to him, “We are in one of the more exclusive neighborhoods in the city!” The driver was actually surprised that their host lived here.

Brad and Amy, along with the other couple they were with, walked up to the door where a young doorman smiled and directed them.

“Take the elevator to the fifth floor. Señora Josefina is waiting there for you!”

When the elevator doors opened on the fifth floor, there was a marble tiled waiting area, but only a single, wide, open door. Standing in the door was a beautiful dark haired young woman with large brown eyes and a welcoming smile. She looked to be around eighteen years old — about Amy’s age. She could have been a young woman in any U.S. city — wearing blue jeans (tight and form fitting!) a pair of low-heeled shoes, and a pull over sweater.

“Hello! I’m Juanita and my mother told me to greet you and welcome you to our home! Please, come in,” she said as she turned and led the way.

They entered into a large living room in an apartment with an open floor plan. They could see into the dining room with its table set for six, and off to the side, the kitchen. There were windows behind the dining area that looked out on the city. But the windows wrapped around the living room area as well and there was a sliding glass door that opened onto a large balcony area — full of flowering plants and small trees! A small private garden five stories above the streets. There was even a fountain in the center of the garden with a bench for sitting and contemplation.

The living room was elegant. Marble tiled floors that matched those in the outer entryway, but with oriental-style carpets tastefully distributed around the room. To Brad’s eye, they didn’t look like any cheap stuff, either. Monica had insisted on buying similar carpets for their wooden floors at home, and while they didn’t buy truly hand-made carpets, they had purchased wool and silk, high-quality factory made carpets. These in the living room looked like the same quality.

But something that really caught Brad’s attention was off to one side at the far end of the room. There was a full sized grand piano, shining in its deep black lacquered finish with a carved wooden music stand just off to the side. Brad thought the piano had the look of a Steinway to it. And he had always LOVED to play Steinways!

Juanita was showing the four people around, opening the door and leading them into the garden first and after they had a chance to look around (and over the side from the balcony) they returned into what was clearly the penthouse apartment.

Juanita — a generous host — had served each of them a Pisco Sour from the pitcher she had made and then they sat down in the living room; the other couple, Joe and Francis, on a sofa and Brad and Amy in a pair of tasteful overstuffed chairs.

Juanita apologized, “I don’t know what is taking mother so long — but I’m sure she will be out in a very short while.”

Just then, Josefina entered from the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

She was gorgeous! Like an older, mature version of Juanita, Brad was instantly taken with her. Her dark-hair was held back in a simple ponytail; she had deep expressive brown eyes and a perfect complexion. Her smile seemed to brighten the room as she entered.

She was also dressed for lunch, in a light blue flower-print summer frock that left her knees and her arms uncovered. She was wearing low heels — but high enough to show the shape of her legs and to emphasize her tight round butt. She had just a little make-up on, lipstick and mascara, but Brad found himself unable to avert his eyes from her face.

Josefina first introduced herself with a smile to Joe and Francis, reaching out and shaking their hands, “Hello, its so good to meet you! I am Josefina Unamuno y Lopez and this is my daughter, Juanita!”

“It’s good to meet you too! I’m Joe Andrews and this is my wife, Francis.”

“And where are you from?” Josefina inquired.

“We’re from Philly ... oh, excuse me. We are from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.”

Then Josefina turned to Brad and Amy. She smiled and took in Brad. She saw a tall man, close to 1.9 meters, with a full head of sandy blond hair and striking deep blue eyes. She put her hand out and Brad took it. They stood there looking into each other’s eyes for several seconds, neither of them able to speak.

Then Brad’s brain finally kicked in.

“Señora Josefina: mucho gusto. Me llamo Brad Taylor, y este señorita esta mi hija, Amy. Vivamos en Los Angeles, California. (Glad to meet you. I am Brad Taylor and the young lady with me is my daughter, Amy. We live in Los Angeles, California.)

“Espero que no le moleste lo que le voy a decir, pero estoy muy impresianado con su casa! Esta muy comfortable y elegante tambien (I hope you don’t mind my saying, but I’m very impressed with your house! It is very comfortable and elegant!)

Josefina’s smile grew even larger as Brad spoke!

“Pues! Señor Brad, muchas gracias. Y, estoy muy impresianada con su Espanol! (Well! Thank you so much. And I’m very impressed with your Spanish!)

“But you are being a naught boy!” she said with a laugh. “I host these lunches periodically to have the opportunity to practice MY English!”

They both noticed that they were still holding hands the entire time during their short conversation and they both released the other with a certain regret.

“And,” Brad admitted with a smile, “It would be rude to Joe and Francis. Amy can speak and understand Spanish very well herself.”

Joe then interjected, “I’ll tell ya though — it’s been really handy at time to have Brad there to translate. I don’t even know enough Spanish to ask for separate checks when we’re at a restaurant!” Everyone laughed at his confession.

Josefina and Juanita insisted on serving lunch on their own to their guests even though everyone offered to help. It was an easy, light lunch — sliced roast beef and other cold cuts, fruit, salad, some delicious Scottish smoked salmon, croissant roles, all accompanied by their choice of either a light Sauvignon Blanc wine, or a red Shiraz. Both Argentine wines, of course!

They were seated with Josefina on one end of the table, her daughter on the other end, with Brad sitting next to Josefina, Amy between him and Juanita, and Joe and Francis on the other side.

They had a pleasant conversation around the table — well, except for Amy and Juanita who had their phones out and their heads together, talking and laughing over their separate conversation.

Josefina was a widow whose husband had died four years before.

“I’m so sorry to hear that. It must be very difficult for you, even now,” Brad said.

“Thank you for your sympathy Brad. All I can say is that things do get better. Time goes by and life goes on. But I still suffer from his loss,” Josefina replied.

They discussed how difficult it is for Argentines to deal with the inflation that has been a long time hallmark of their country. The exchange rates were controlled by the central bank, and because of the gross long-term overspending by the government; rates are periodically adjusted for inflation, much to the detriment of Argentines holding pesos.

“So what do people do?” asked Francis, who had been generally been silent while they ate.

“Well, the first thing you do is buy as many U.S. dollars as you can, as soon as you can, and keep your savings in dollars. And if you are really rich, then you don’t keep your money in Argentina at all,” Josefina explained.

When Joe asked Josefina what she did for a living, she turned to Brad.

“Brad, what is the word in English for ‘un medico’? It’s completely escaped me for the moment.”

“A ‘physician’ or we somewhat over generalize and call them ‘doctors’ — even though we also call PhD’s ‘doctors’ as well,” he answered.

“Yes, that’s the word. Joe, I’m a physician and surgeon; I teach at the Medical Faculty at the University of Buenos Aires. But when I’m not teaching, I specialize in removing gall bladders using arthroscopic surgery.”

With a sudden grin she continued, “I am the Gall Bladder Queen of Buenos Aires!” That got a laugh from all of them. “But right now I’m between semesters for several weeks, which is why I had the time to host this lunch and have a chance to speak English with all of you. Speaking of which, Brad, how is my English?”

Brad had to give her a big smile back, “I think that you are fishing for compliments, because your English is todo perfecto! Completely perfect! Your very slight accent is absolutely charming — so never lose it.” Everyone else at the table agreed.

“Well, thank you. Now tell me Brad — how is it that your Spanish is so good? You have a very good accent as well.”

“Honestly, in Los Angeles, we get plenty of opportunity to speak Spanish. Now as far as my accent...”

Suddenly Amy spoke up, “Dad’s a really good musician and has an ear for languages.”

Josefina perked up.

“You are a musician, Brad? What do you play?”

“When I was in school, I went on mostly music scholarships although I wasn’t a music major. I played most of the woodwind instruments, but most often I played bassoon. There was always someone who would pay you to play bassoon,” he said with a laugh remembering his days as a poor university student. “But these days I almost exclusively play piano.”

At that point Josefina and Juanita served a dolce de leche crème brule — similar to a caramel flan, but softer and creamier.

After lunch was over and the dishes taken to the counter, Josefina turned back to Brad.

“Brad, you must play for me! Did you notice the piano in the corner of the room?”

“Oh yes, indeed. It looks like a Steinway.”

“Yes, it is. It is only a little over 4-years old. My in-laws bought it for my husband to play not long before he the accident. He loved classical piano. And coincidentally, I had it tuned earlier this week. So now you must play for us!”

When Brad seemed to hesitate, Amy put her oar in again.

“Come on Dad! Josefina, he’s really good, you know.”

Brad knew that further resistance was futile, but he was secretly delighted to have the chance to tickle the keys of such a fine instrument.

“OK, so long as you don’t mind if I warm up a little.”

He sat down in front of the piano and lifted the cover from the keys. The first thing he did was to start in the bass, and played a scale, first up two octaves together, then two octaves, each hand moving in the opposite direction and back, then two more octaves up, and then back down to where he started. Everything was in tune, and all of the keys responded well. Brad was very impressed with the instrument.

Without speaking, he started playing a Chopin Waltz Op. 70 #2 in F-Minor — music that Brad had played for so many years that he considered it a good ‘warm up’ piece. By the time he had finished the Chopin, he was in a sort of Zen state, only of aware of the music he was playing and the sound of the piano. He followed the Chopin with Beethoven’s famous ‘Andante Cantabile’, the second movement of the ‘Pathetique’ Sonata. When he had concluded that, he paused for a short time and began playing Gabriel Faure’s Claire de Lune before finishing with Debussy’s Arabesque #1. Before he realized it, he’d played for close to 20 minutes, without a break. He was suddenly embarrassed, and he stopped and stood up be the piano.

That was when his small audience actually began applauding!

Joe came up and patted his back, “Wow, Brad! You’re a man of many talents. You play really well.”

Joe’s wife Francis was even more lavish with her praise, “You should have been a concert pianist; you’re so good!”

Even Amy joined in. “Daddy! I’m so proud of you! You’ve still got it!” she exclaimed while giving him a big ‘thumbs up.’

Josefina’s reaction was a different thing all together. She revealed her Latin temperament and enthusiasm when she took three steps to close the distance to Brad and threw herself into his chest, wrapping her arms around him, tears showing in her eyes.

“Oh my god, Brad! That was beautiful! Forgive me for being so emotional, but no one has played my piano like that since my husband, Ernesto, died.”