Gus (32 page)

"Nah, this is just Gus. I am shopping the hell out of some groceries at the moment though. That's as legendary as it gets in my world these days." I'm in the middle of the grocery store pushing my cart down the cereal aisle and trying to decide between Fruity Peebles and Captain Crunch.

He laughs. "I won't keep you long. I know Rook is big shit now and you've outgrown my bar, but the band that was supposed to play New Year's Eve just backed out on me. I was wondering if you guys would like to slum it and play a set? Should I be talking to your management or something? Like I said, I know you're big time now and you can tell me to go fuck myself, but I miss having you guys in here."

Anxiety initially grips me, but without thinking I'm asking, "So, next week?"

"Yeah, I know it's short notice. Sorry, brother."

And then I'm confirming, "We'll be there." Where the hell did that come from? Playing in my bedroom is one thing. I don't know if I'm ready for the crowds again.
 

"Really?" He sounds shocked.

"Let me call the guys, but yeah, I think we can make it happen. I'll call you back."

"Right on. Call me."

"Will do. Gimme five."

I send out a text to Franco, Robbie, and Jamie. They all respond immediately, which means that they're hyped. And now, so am I.

I call Joe back. "We're on, dude. What time do you want us there?"

"You can go on at eleven o'clock."

"Sounds like a plan. See you Saturday." And just like that, excitement takes over. I hope it's the real deal.

Saturday, December 23

(Gus)

My phone rings in my pocket. When I see the name on the screen, I smile.

"Well, if it isn't the stud from the frozen north."
 

Keller laughs on the other end before he says anything. "Nah man, not the stud. How about the dad? And greetings from cold and snowy Grant, Minnesota."

I never think much about the weather here because it's always fairly consistent year round, but I've always been fascinated by the extreme changes most of the rest of the country experiences. Not that I'd ever want to live through it, but it's fascinating. "Cold up there, huh?"

"Yeah, it's a little chilly today. I don't think we're going to break zero for a high. It got down to twenty below last night."

"You may as well just live in the Arctic Circle, dude."

"The only downer about it getting this cold is that Stella can't go outside and play. She's a snowman building machine lately. She pretends she's an ice princess from one of her movies. She'll sing the entire soundtrack before she's done."

"Ah, Miss Stella's a singer. She's a natural performer." She is. She's got more personality and charisma than most adults I've met.

"She says she wants to sing like Katie. That's fine by me, but I swear I need to buy her another movie, because I hear those songs in my dreams. They haunt me. I can't get away from them." He chuckles, and I smile. He'd probably listen to those songs every day for the rest of his life if it made his little girl happy. That's one of the things I like most about Keller; he always puts others ahead of himself.
 

"What else is Stella up to?"

"Just getting ready for Christmas. Stella's really into construction paper, glitter, and glue at the moment, so every available flat surface in our apartment is adorned with sparkly paper reindeer, bells, mistletoe, trees, ornaments, etcetera, etcetera. Stella swore she didn't, but it's very suspicious that even Miss Higgins is sporting a glittery shell this holiday season. Stella's blaming the new bling on Santa's elves who apparently visit at night while we're sleeping. And I'm choosing to believe her story because she wants so badly for it to be true."

Now I'm laughing. "Stella bedazzled her turtle?"

"She did. There's probably some kind of animal rights violation involved there, so don't tell anyone."

"My lips are sealed. I don't want Stella spending Christmas in the gray rock motel wearing an orange jumpsuit. So, are you going to Chicago for Christmas?"

"No. My father's actually coming here tomorrow and spending a few days with us. We're all going to Shel's parents' house on Christmas day. Dunc's finally going to propose to her. He's had it planned for months now. I can't wait to see the look on her face." He sounds happy.

"That's great, dude. They're good people."

"They are," he says sincerely. That's another thing I really like about Keller. He genuinely wants the best for others. "How about you? What are you doing for Christmas?"

"We'll hang out here at the hacienda with Pax and Scout. Introduce them to early morning cinnamon rolls on the beach."

"You know, Stella asked if I would make cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning. She remembers Katie making them for us last year."

"You gonna do it?"

"Of course. I'm no baker though. I bought a tube of them at the grocery store last night. They're the pre-made kind you just throw in a pan and bake. They won't taste like homemade, but they'll taste a helluva lot better than my attempt at homemade."

"You're a great dad, dude."

"I try, man. Well, Stella's ballet lesson is just about done. I'd better let you go. I just wanted to call and wish you a Merry Christmas. Tell Audrey, too, if you don't mind."

"Will do. And Merry Christmas to you and your little ice princess."

"Thanks. Bye, Gus."

"Later, Keller."

And just like that, my Christmas is made. That one unexpected conversation helped reinforce what I already knew; that life is all about people.

And before I do anything else I log onto Amazon and I buy Stella every Disney movie that Gracie used to watch and loved to sing along to. I don't know how many are in the cart by the time I checkout, but there are at least ten. I also throw in a few more current Disney movie soundtracks on CD and a little purple CD player for Keller. And I pay the extra shipping fee to get them to Grant by tomorrow.

Sunday, December 24

(Scout)

Audrey mentioned yesterday that she had company traveling in today from out of town, so I'm not surprised to see a cab in the driveway of her house as I'm returning from my morning run.

The driver is pulling a suitcase out of the trunk as a tall, distinguished looking middle-aged man pulls a few bills from his pocket. They say their pleasantries and the visitor starts walking toward the front door with his suitcase rolling behind him.
 

When he reaches the front door and raises his hand to knock, I call to him. "No need to knock. You must be Audrey's friend." I'm sweaty and out of breath, so I keep my distance.

He turns at my words and addresses me quite formally. "I am indeed, miss." He has an accent that sounds foreign, maybe Eastern European.

I approach him and extend my hand, and he reaches out with his. Slender, extremely long fingers wrap around mine and shake firmly. It's the act of someone who does this frequently, professional, yet friendly. His warmth eases my nerves. I'm always nervous when I meet someone new. I clear my throat. "Hi. My name's Scout MacKenzie. I'm Audrey's assistant."

His resting face brightens into a smile and wrinkles form at the corners of his eyes. "Ah, Scout, of course. I've heard so much about you." My nerves must show, because he adds quickly, "All good, my dear. All good."

I can't help but smile at his words, I don't know if it's his accent or if he's just so charming that the compliment is working double time on me. "Well, come in ... "

He fills in the blank for me when I pause at his name. "Gustov."

Gustov? That is not a common name. Is this a coincidence?

He chuckles at my confusion. "I'm Gus's father."

All of a sudden the names, and people attached to those names, flip in my mind—this is Gustov and Gus is Gus. I nod, "It's nice to meet you, Gustov," while at the same time taking in everything about him. I always thought Gustov—I mean, Gus— resembled Audrey. They're both tall, with the same blond hair, same nose and lips, and same commanding presence tempered by a kindness that's unmatched. But looking at this Gustov, I see Gus's same intense dark brown eyes, same bone structure in his face, same tall, broad frame, and same warmth. An uncanny ability to put anyone at ease.
 

When I open the door, he follows me inside. I wait while he removes his tweed blazer and drapes it over his suitcase that he's parked up against the wall. Just as I'm about to tell him I'm going to go find Audrey, she walks around the corner.
 

"Gustov!" she exclaims. "It's so good to see you." She's beaming.
 

"My Audrey. Come here." He's wearing a smile that exudes such warmth, such affection, that it must be reserved only for those closest to him. Those he cherishes.

And when they hug, it hits me: if this is Gus's father, this must be Audrey's ex—boyfriend or husband, I don't know. This officially just got weird. Until it only gets weirder when Gus walks in the room and says, "The sperm donor returns. How goes it, maestro? How was the journey from bean town?" And now he's smiling, too.

Three people.

Family.

All trading hugs and smiles.

I feel like I should leave the room because I know I'm staring. My family is certainly anything but traditional, and has plenty of skeletons in the closet, but Audrey and Gus seem so normal. Exceptionally perfect, despite the lack of a father in the picture. I've just always thought of them as not needing another man in the house, like they were so complete together, just the two of them, that Gus must've been the product of an immaculate conception.

As I start to remove myself from the embarrassing-only-to-me situation, Gus stops me. "Wanna grab some breakfast with us? Pax is coming, too."

"Um, I need to shower."

"I'm glad I didn't have to be the one to point that out." He winks.

"Gus," Gustov scolds, but he's smiling and shaking his head.

Gus turns to him. "I'm just keepin' it real, dude. She's a wicked runner. Fierce output of energy produces fierce production from the sweat glands." He turns to me. "How many miles did you run this morning, Impatient?"

"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.