Balconial Conversations

17 // family

Gabriel lives in a charmingly skinny looking town house that's painted in a way that makes me inexplicably think of the Easter bunny and Mini Eggs.

"So this is where you grew up," I say to Cam.

"Eighteen whole years," he agrees.

His hair isn't combed in any stretch of the word, but more tousled than usual. He wears a nice shirt though, white linen, and a pair of gray plaid pants that would look ridiculous on anyone but him. He makes them work somehow, probably the way they hang off his hips in straight, clean lines.

He opens the door for me and we step into the foyer that's really just a landing at the bottom of a gray carpeted staircase. The coatrack is absolutely full, and he opens the door opposite the coats and tosses my jacket into the dark room beyond. He slips out of suede gray boat shoes and smirks at me.

"Ready?"

As soon as we start climbing the stairs I hear the voices and laughter. The top of the stairs opens out into a wide kitchen separated from the living and dining room with a marble topped breakfast bar. A bunch of women work by the stove and counters, talking amicably.

A handful of men and teenagers sit on the plushy couches watching a soccer match on the flat screen, along with numerous children who bear no resemblance to anyone in the room.

Two boys around seven to ten, with a dark brown positively glowing complexion, share a Lay-Z boy with grudging acceptance, and a young girl with cinnamon coloured skin and almond shaped eyes lounges sleepily on the lap of a man who could only be Cam's father.

"Darling!" A short, waiflike woman notices us first and hurries over. She smothers Cam in a hug and reaches on her tiptoes to pet his already mussed hair. "What happened to you face, are you all right? How is school? Who's your friend?"

He pulls away with an easy laugh and nudges me with his elbow. "This is Katherine. She lives in my building."

"Nice to meet you, Katherine." She smiles, genuinely, and takes my hands. "I'm so glad you could join us!"

"Kat!" Gabriel. He vaults over the back of a love seat and strides over. He stands as tall as his brother but is a little lankier somehow (younger, more boyish). A little looser, more open.

Cam ruffles his little brother's hair and Gabriel grimaces, side-hugging him back. "Hey wait, did you guys come together? Do you, like, know each other?"

He seems mildly concerned at this which thoroughly amused Cam. "Yeah, Kath and me go way back." He winks in my direction. "Balconies and elevators."

I roll my eyes. "Hi, Gabriel. Thanks for inviting me."

"No problem." He grins, wide and true. "Wanna watch Arsenal demolish Newcastle?"

They introduce me to their many adoptive siblings; Akari, Milo and Riel, all from the same village in Uganada that I can't pronounce; Vivienne, their sister from Beijing who immediately climbs into Cam's arms and refuses to let go; Alec, an adorable five year old boy their parents recently brought home from Moscow who doesn't know English yet.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, we sit around a pleasantly scruffy table with the other guests. It's an eclectic group, many writers and artists, laughing and gladly partaking in the wine. And kids, shrieking and fighting and giggling with palpable joy.

And love, that too. They all obviously love each other, even Cam the presumably emotionally-detached almost-twenty-year-old. They absolutely adore him.

He sits directly across from me and Gabriel sits to my right. He hasn't said a word after the hello and some soccer commentary and has mostly resorted to heavy glances. Long glances. Akari sits at my other side and tells me why apple pie is the best pie on the planet (it's the cinnamon, he says).

Someone knocks their sock foot against mine and I pull my legs beneath my chair. Cam grins down at his lasagne.

"So Cambriel, tell me," a brilliantly redheaded woman says from across the tabletop. "Any special ladies?"

"Ah, Eloise, there are just so many to choose from," he says with humorous tact and a lascivious wink. "They're really all special."

She snorts. "You're your father's child."

"Hey," the tall lithe man beside him objects, sharing his Caesar salad with his Alec and speaking to him softly in what sounds like fluent Russian (but how could I know?). His dad, Isaiah, bears a remarkable resemblance to his eldest sons; the same strong jaw, straight nose, bright flashing eyes. "That's my son you're comparing me to."

Cam grins sidelong at his father, then someone touches my foot again. I peep at Gabriel; his are resting on the rungs of his chair, and Akari's are crossed applesauce style.

I stare down as black smart wool socks caress my leg. Cam's socks.

I kick his shin and he smothers his laugh with a cough.
********

I've got this men's flannel plaid shirt that i love and i swear it hasn't been washed in over a week. It smells like both of my favourite perfumes, my friend's room spray, vaguely smoky (because i wore it visiting the neighbours 17 yr old kid and legit we were sitting in the kitchen not talking bc shy and he just lights up and im like well....how polite), and kind of like pine needles.

And I'm wearing it today hA.

Maybe I'll wash it tonight...