Gus (21 page)

The boy turns to face the camera. "What the hell, Ma? Whose side are you on?" He's still laughing when he says it. Hearing him say that and seeing his face, I realize this is Gustov. He looks like he's thirteen or fourteen years old.

The camera person, who I now realize is Audrey, laughs again, but says, "Gus, language." She's scolding him, but she's
not
scolding him at the same time. It's obvious Gus has had his mom wrapped around his little finger his entire life.

The second little girl smiles up at him apologetically. "Sorry, Gus." Her voice is young and innocent. Then she looks at Audrey, into the camera, and her face lights up. It's the first time I've noticed she has Down syndrome. "It was fun though," she says mischievously.

Just then the other girl, the one with the wild hair, races back in and fires three water balloons. One hits him in the side of the head, and two smack him in the back. "Damn right, Gracie. It is fun." She shrieks when Gustov turns on her and chases her down the deck stairs to the beach sand below. This video must've been shot right here in back of their house. I recognize those stairs, that beach.

She's quick and out runs him for a while, but his long legs cover more ground than hers. When he catches her, he tackles her down to the sand. She's squirming beneath him and putting up an impressive fight. When he stands, she's in his arms. She's laughing, but she's pounding her fists against his chest. "Put me down, Gus! So help me God, if you don't put me down you're going to be sorry. I know where you live, I'll take you down in your sleep, dude."

He laughs. "I dare you, Bright Side. I. Dare. You," he says, before walking out in the water and dunking her under. He releases her quickly and struts out of the water like he's proud of himself.
 

She surfaces and sprints out behind him. He's not expecting it when she jumps on his back and takes him down to the sand. Though I'm trying to watch undetected, I laugh. I can't help myself. I want to cheer for her. Serves him right. I like this girl.

Audrey and Gustov both turn at my laughter. Audrey pauses the DVD player with a remote and smiles at me.
 

"I'm sorry," I apologize, suddenly feeling like I'm intruding on a very private moment.

"Nonsense," Audrey replies. She pats the sofa between them. "Come sit down."

I've watched TV with Audrey before, but never while Gustov is in the room. I shake my head. "I don't want to intrude."

Gustov tosses a throw pillow into the empty space between him and Audrey. "Too late, dude," he says. I would take offense, except the way he's just said it is teasing. He sounds like he did in the video. Or the way he does with Franco.

And for some unknown reason, I find myself taking a seat on the sofa and hugging the pillow to my chest. I'm nervous, but I also feel lighter. Maybe it's the fact that Audrey and Gustov are both smiling, that they're both happy watching these old home videos.

Audrey hits play again. The dark screen remains for a few seconds.
 

The next image is the girl they called Gracie sitting at Audrey's dining room table in front of a platter of cupcakes. The frosting is pink. There's a candle in each cupcake. She looks older. I count the cupcakes and candles. Seventeen. It sounds like three or four people are singing "Happy Birthday" to her. She's singing along with them. When the song finishes, she claps her hands.
 

The blond girl walks up behind her, the one Gustov called Bright Side, although Gracie called her Kate. She's older too, and while she was cute before, she's stunning now. Her hair is still long and unruly, but it's one of the things that makes her beautiful. She looks free. She looks happy. She looks like nothing could ever hold her down. She puts her hands on Gracie's shoulders and bends over until her mouth is at Gracie's ear. "Make a wish, Gracie," she tells her.

Gracie pinches her eyes shut tight. Her lips are pursed. There's a lot of concentration and focus going into this wish.

When her face relaxes slightly, the girl called Kate asks, "Did you make a good one?"

"I made a good one. I wished that—"

A deep male voice cuts her off. "Don't tell your wish, Gracie. It won't come true if you tell us." I'd bet money that was Gustov.

Gracie pulls her lips in between her teeth, like she's physically restraining her secret wish, holding it inside so it doesn't force its way out.

"You ready to blow out the candles, Gracie?" It's Kate.

Gracie nods excitedly. She's bouncing in her chair.
 

Kate laughs. She has a great laugh. It comes from deep in her belly. It's genuine. "You've got this. One blow, and all the candles will be history. Okay?"

Gracie nods again. The look of concentration has taken over her face again. She's focused and her eyebrows pull in toward the center. She closes her eyes as Kate starts the count.

"On the count of three, Gracie. One. Two. Three!"

Gracie leans forward, eyes still closed, and blows on the candles. Two flicker out, but before she can open her eyes, Kate and another blond head that pops into the screen blow the rest of the candles out.
 

Gracie leans back and opens her eyes, astonished that all of the candles are extinguished. "I did it!" she cheers.
 

"You did it!" Kate and Gustov cheer together.

Gracie turns in her seat and looks at Kate with hope in her eyes. "I get my wish?" she asks.

Kate wraps her arms around Gracie's neck and hugs her. "Always. I'll make sure of it."
 

And just as I'm enjoying myself and getting sucked into the innocence, the screen goes dark again.

"Goddamn, Gracie loved birthdays, didn't she, Ma?" Gustov asks from beside me. He sounds like he's reminiscing.

Audrey nods. "She did. I don't know what she liked more: the cupcakes, or the candles, or the wishes."

The screen lights up again. It looks like a stage in an auditorium, maybe at a school or rec center.

A voice announces, "I'd like to introduce Kate Sedgwick."
 

Loud cheering and whistling comes from the audience.

Kate walks onto the stage holding a violin. She looks to be about eighteen, carrying the same grace and beauty as before. Her eyes are downcast, as if she's trying to ignore the crowd in front of her.

"That's my girl!" A guy's voice yells from the audience. It sounds like Gustov.

A smile creeps across her mouth as she looks up. She shakes her head, but she's smiling. Her smile seems to say,
Stop, you're embarrassing me
and
Thank you
at the same time.

 
She tucks the violin under her chin, and for the next ten minutes I can't take my eyes off the screen. I'm riveted. She's amazingly talented. I've gone to the symphony in New York. She's
that
kind of good.

When her violin falls silent, I can't help but say, "Wow." It's a whisper only for me, but I can't help myself.

Gustov looks at me, his eyes brimming with pride. "Damn right," he says.

Audrey sniffles beside me as the screen fades to black again. She pauses it. "She could tell a story with a song. That was beautiful. I need a tissue."

When Audrey returns and starts the video again, we watch Rook play a song down in the basement of this house, their faces bright with youth. Franco doesn't have as many tattoos. After some coaxing, albeit crude, Franco persuades Kate to sing with them. I'm stunned by her voice. Even though the sound quality of the video isn't great, her voice is massive, especially for such a small woman. She's as good as Gustov and I have to admit he has a great voice. They sing well together.
 

After the fade to black, a song starts playing. It's a single violin. And then a photo slideshow begins. It's three minutes of a heartbreaking song, which has to be Rook and Kate, accompanied by dozens of photos of Gustov, Gracie, Kate, and Audrey. The photos must span twenty years. The kids are toddlers in some but others look more recent. I don't know if it's the song fueling my emotional swings, but as I watch it I feel elated one second and sick to my stomach the next.

By the end, I feel spent. I don't know who Kate and Gracie are, but I have a very bad feeling. These girls were obviously as close as family their entire lives, and I haven't heard about or seen either of them in the months I've been around the Hawthornes.

Gustov pushes off the sofa. "Thanks for that, Ma. I'm going outside."

He needs a cigarette. Or he's escaping. Probably both, the way his voice just sounded. He doesn't hide his emotions. Even when he doesn't talk his mannerisms speak loud and clear.

I should let him go out alone. I know that. They've just let me in on something very private; I should take that gift graciously and keep my damn mouth shut. But I can't. I feel like this is the key to something; that this is the reason there are parts of Gustov that I don't get. Because watching the Gustov in those videos—he was so free and happy.
 

He's in one of the lounge chairs on the deck facing the water when I step outside. He doesn't look at me when I approach, he just lights his cigarette. His first pull is long and focused.

I feel like I need to ask, to make peace before I barge into his life completely. "Can I sit down?"

He doesn't take his eyes off the horizon, but his answer is gentle, "Sure. It's showtime." It's not what I was expecting, but I can't believe how relieved I am at the acceptance.

I take a seat in the chair next to him. "Showtime?" I ask.

Pointing to the water, cigarette held firmly between his fingers, he looks at me as if I should understand. After he takes in my puzzled look, he elaborates. "The sunset. It's showtime."

And the realization sinks in. "Oh," I answer lamely. I settle back into my chair and for the next ten minutes Gustov and I watch the water swallow the glowing orange orb. Piercing the darkness with words is startling given the solitude, so I speak quietly. "I don't think I've ever watched the sunset." Because I honestly don't think I have. I grew up in New York, surrounded by buildings and hustle and bustle. I was aware that the sun did set every day, but I never took the time to actually watch it happen. I feel a little cheated now, because this was breathtaking.

His eyes narrow infinitesimally. "Are you shitting me?"

I shake my head. "No. Never." The admission has we wondering how many other important things in life I've glossed over.

"How does a person grow to be twenty-something years old and never watch a sunset? Were you raised in a cave, or underground? It's one of the finer spectacles mother nature has to offer, and it happens every night." He widens his teasing eyes for effect. "
Every damn night
."

I want to laugh, but I sigh instead and it still sounds like I'm amused because I can't hide it. "I know. I grew up in New York—"

He interrupts me with a smirk, "Ah, I was right, a cave. That also explains the accent."
 

I just stare at him.
 

He stares back.

And then we both laugh. It feels good, so I go with it.

"I love New York, but yeah, not a lot of opportunity for things like sunsets. Lots of tall buildings and not a lot of horizon."

He nods. "Do you miss it?"

"Sometimes. Usually not."

"Do you like it here? San Diego, I mean?" The way he's looking at me would be unnerving if he wasn't listening so intently. He wants to hear the answer. Most people I've dealt with in life talk but they don't listen. Even those closest to me. People have their own issues that keep them from devoting their full attention to me when we're together. That's fine. I understand. It's what I do, too. I listen with half my brain and focus on everything else that's going on with the other half. It's how I multi-task. How I take everything in. Gustov doesn't. He gives whatever he's doing his full attention.

 
I can't look away when I answer him. "I do. The people are different. No one's in a hurry. People talk a lot more. It's kind of hard to get used to, but I like it."

"That's because San Diego's the real deal." He winks at me before he lights another cigarette. After that first long drag, he looks at it thoughtfully. "How come you never complain about my smoking? I mean, you don't smoke and you take really good care of yourself. I know you probably don't like it."

I shrug. "It's not my place. I used to smoke. I know how hard it is to quit." It's as simple as that.

He's still looking at the cigarette in his hand, regarding it like it's a burden. "I need to quit." His voice lowers. "I know I do. But I can't. I've tried so many times." He looks at me like he needs me to console him or tell him it's okay.

"You'll figure it out. When the time's right it'll happen. You have to want it though. No one can do it for you."

He nods solemnly and silence settles between us.

I take that as my chance to ask, "Who are Gracie and Kate?"

He smiles again. It's small and loving. The same smile he wore inside. The same smile I wish he wore all the time now that I've seen it, because it transforms him. "My best friends," he answers.

It makes me smile. "Looks like you've known them your whole life."

He nods, but he's still smiling.

"Where are they?" I ask hesitantly, and that eerie feeling creeps back in.

His gaze drifts upward, toward the sky. "Heaven, I suppose. Gracie went first and I sure as hell know Bright Side would've beat down the goddamn door to get in if she knew her sister was inside. They're together, I have no doubt."

A chill runs through me. "I'm sorry."

He looks at me and though the smile is still in place the joy has drained from his eyes. "Yeah. It's fucked up. Today would've been Gracie's twenty-second birthday. Three days ago would've been Bright Side's twenty-first."

"They were so young," I say in disbelief.

He nods again. "Old souls. Young bodies. Gracie got sick and died almost a year and a half ago. It took us all by surprise. And cancer stole Bright Side from us in January." The smile has faded completely, replaced with glistening eyes.