"Besame," she sang, "besame tanto."
And so he did. And he did, and he did, and he did.
Until circumstance, misunderstanding, deceit drove them apart.... Drove Chico into the treacherous arms of the past,
and drove Rita to another man's door,
Chico followed Rita to Nueva York. And, like magnets, Chico and Rita would find each other again, and again, and again.
From across the room, their gazes would meet. Such sweetness, to be near each other again; yet inevitably, it was the bitter sweetness of closeness across unbridgeable distance.
Frijoles--home--on their spoons, tucked away in a hotel kitchen, Rita finally asked Chico what he was so afraid of, what she was so afraid of-- what distance kept the two in limbo, in the dance of coming together only to draw apart.
And he said: “Of listening to [our] heart[s] for once. Of leaving [our] cage[s] and not finding [our] way back.”
And so Rita said, "Come with me."