"Twelve," I answer and I feel heat rushing to my face under all of the attention.
Gus is facing me, with his back to Gustov and Audrey. His eyebrows rise and then he grins and mouths, "Hell yeah," to me, showing his shock and approval all at once. Then he says, "See? She ran a goddamn half-marathon this morning. That shit would make anyone stinky."
I can't help but smile and accept the invitation. "Sure. I'll go to breakfast. Give me twenty minutes."
At the café over eggs and coffee, I learn the whole story. Gustov really was a sperm donor. Literally. Gustov moved to San Diego with his family from Ukraine when he was thirteen. He and Audrey attended the same music academy and quickly became friends. Their love of music was at the heart of it at first, Audrey played the piano and Gustov played the violin, but other interests are what solidified their friendship. When they graduated, Audrey went to San Diego State and got her marketing degree, leaving music behind. Gustov ended up at Julliard and went on to have a successful career playing with the Boston Philharmonic and more recently as a conductor. They remained the best of friends throughout their adult lives. When Audrey decided she wanted a child, Gustov was the person she turned to. Audrey is the type of woman who knows what she wants and didn't let the fact that she was single and career-minded get in her way. She and Gustov discussed it during one of his visits to San Diego, and he signed on without reservation to give his best friend the one thing she wanted most in life—a child. Before he left town, the arrangements had been made for him to return to make his "donation" and for the process to begin. It was all very clinical, in vitro fertilization.
Listening to the story and watching them tell it so matter-of-factly, with all of the humor that Gus interjects, is so strange. It's an unconventional story. Told by unconventional people.
And that's when it hits me. Maybe unconventional is okay. Maybe family doesn't have to be perfect to exist. Theirs certainly doesn't. And it works. It more than works. They only see each other once or twice a year. Audrey raised Gus on her own and has always been the single parent because that's how she wanted it, but that doesn't stop Gustov from loving Gus with his whole heart or from Gus loving him in return. It just works.
I've always felt defined by unconventional. Don't get me wrong, I was always grateful to my aunt and uncle who raised me, but I always felt different, like an oddball. Because I didn't have a mom and dad. Or even just a mom or a dad. And before that, when I was with my dad, I was so young that I barely remember having a sense of normalcy. Because it was never normal, really.
Spending time with these people today is like free therapy. It lends perspective, and though I've probably been presented with my fair share of perspective throughout the years, I've never had this type of epiphany. My family doesn't have to define me. I have a mom. I have a dad. I have an aunt and uncle. I've accepted them for who they are, and I don't resent their flaws. We all have flaws. I've just never been able to accept who we are together, as a family. Their parental role never felt right. I always wanted to fit into a neat, tidy description of the perfect family. But maybe there's no such thing.
I guess the biggest epiphany of all is that, sitting here, I realize how much I love my family, all of them. And even if they don't love me back the same way, or to the same degree, maybe that's not what's important. Maybe it's about my heart. Maybe it's about me feeling fulfilled and accepting that love is never perfect, and that, if it allows you to feel at peace, it's okay if it is a little one-sided. Maybe it's about opening up your definition of family to include friends, too. Because friends are the family you choose.
Monday, December 25
(Gus)
I'm up early. It's Christmas. I've always loved Christmas, though last year I pretty much skipped it because life was shit and I didn't feel like celebrating. Bright Side was dying. I'd just come home after a long tour. My mind was fatigued. My body was half-dead from the abuse I was putting it through on a daily basis. It was fucked up.
But today? Today is different. Today we celebrate. Gustov hasn't been with us for years during the holidays.
It's habit to go outside right after I wake up. Even though I don't have that morning cigarette, I still go through the motions and I chew gum instead. When I slide open the door, Gustov is sitting out on the deck in one of the lounge chairs, drinking a cup of coffee.
"Morning, maestro."
He turns toward me and smiles. I've always loved it when he smiles at me like that. That smile always made me feel like he was proud of me, proud that I was part of his life. Validation of so many things that I doubt about myself. "Gus. Good morning. And Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas." I nod to his coffee. "I see you already brewed some java."
He raises the cup and a roguish smile emerges. "I sure did. It's good. You should have a cup with me."
He always brings his own coffee with him when he visits. It's European, Turkish I think, and strong. Like so strong, I have to cut it with half a mug of milk and add a shit ton of sugar. I don't even like milk in my coffee, but it's the only way to make his coffee tolerable. "I'll pass, dude. I don't know how that shit doesn't eat out the inside of your plumbing."
He laughs at that, and then he falls quiet for a few minutes as we watch the sun rise. "Kate was the only one who liked my coffee."
That makes me smile. He's right. She was. "Liked? She loved it. You, my friend, were a bad influence on Bright Side."
He looks offended. "How so?"
"You introduced her to her two vices: coffee and the violin." They're two things I'll forever associate with her.
He smiles and nods thoughtfully. "I shall gladly take the blame for both of those." It's the smile he always reserved for Bright Side and Grace. Even though he wasn't around a lot while I was growing up, he always took the time when he visited to spend time with Kate and Gracie, to make them feel special. Their dad was never around, and Gustov had a soft spot for them both. "It's strange being here without them, isn't it?"