The Orchestra - Sinfónia Lifsins - 24. In Good Hands

Gunni and Jó were waiting for me at the airport. The flight from Akureyri had been a short one, but because I could not stop thinking about what would happen once I was finally in Reykjavík, my perception was that the trip had taken at least three times longer than it should. Even not counting the difficult upcoming battle against my strong-minded sister, my short stay in the capital would have its fair share of exciting events: I would see my son again after almost two months, I would be able to look at my nephew face to face following a ten-year long separation, and I would finally meet in person the wonderful man who had taken care of Eiri and Gunni when I could not be there for them.

Despite it being only a four-day trip, my suitcase had to be larger than usual because of all the Christmas gifts in it. It was not particularly heavy, but it was too big to avoid check-in. At least I was among the first to collect my luggage and head to the arrivals lobby. I saw my son as soon as the glass doors opened. Gunni was too shy to move towards me, but he waved and smiled.

“Mum, I missed you so much!” We hugged as soon as I was close enough. Jó approached us, but did not say anything. He smiled and observed our reunion, not intending to interrupt.

“Me too, Gunni, me too.” Holding Gunni again after such a long time made me realise he had already changed since we were last together. He was finally as tall as me, the freckles on his face had become more numerous, and there was an air of adult responsibility around him where before I only saw the carefree naïveté of a child. “You look great,” I told him, looking into his eyes. People always said Gunni had my eyes, but for me they resembled Hrafnkell’s more. It always puzzled me how my son had turned out to be so similar to his father in temperament despite having never spent time with him. In this last year in particular there had been plenty of occasions when, for a moment, I thought Hrafnkell was somehow speaking through our son.

“Thanks, mum, you look great too,” Gunni said. He hugged me tightly and we stayed in this position until the arrivals lobby had emptied and we were more or less coerced into leaving the place.

“Hello, Lilla,” Jó greeted me once we began our march towards the car park. Gunni and I were still hugging as we walked, feeling each other’s touch as much as we could to make up for the two months of separation. “Did you have a good trip?”

“Yes, I did. I could barely wait to get here.”

“No wonder. Gunni has been excited about your arrival since yesterday. I’m still not sure if he got any sleep last night.” As my nephew-in-law spoke, I felt the heat coming from Gunni’s face on my other side. I knew my boy was blushing by now, and thus I decided to not worsen his embarrassment by looking at him.

It was great that Jó and I were able to act like the close friends I considered us to be. Even though we had never met in person before, I knew him so well by now that this fact had become one negligible detail in our relationship.

Gunni and I sat in the backseat at Jó’s insistence. It did not take long for Gunni to lay his head on my shoulder, and once he did, my hands automatically moved to play with his hair. His messy bangs were getting longer; he would need a haircut soon unless he wanted to tie his hair in a ponytail.

“I’m so sorry about Margrét,” I said after a while in the car. We would be arriving soon at my sister’s house, and I did not want to go in there before I knew exactly what to expect from her. “How’s Eiri taking everything?”

“Not very well,” Jó answered grimly. “He’s angry because the things she says are not true and not fair and downright horrible, but he is also scared because she could just as easily say those things about him too if she knew.”

“Oh, poor Eiri.” I wanted to hug my nephew like I had done ten years ago. But Eiri was not here, so I hugged Gunni instead. “I will talk to Margrét; see if I can put some sense in her head. She’ll probably try to say those horrible things to me too, thanks for the warning.”

“You’re welcome. Please come see us when you can.” I told Jó it would take a while for this to happen. I knew my sister and I were in for a long night. I had had this experience before, almost twenty years ago, but the memory was still fresh in my mind. Margrét had never liked Hrafnkell, and now she was probably going to say something similar about Gunni too.

(...)

By the time I arrived at Margrét’s house it was almost dinner time. Eiri was already there, and although he greeted Gunni warmly when we arrived, he barely nodded towards Jó, and then pretended his partner did not exist until he was out of sight. I had heard Jó and Eiri saying how hard it was for them to do this all the time in front of almost everyone, but until then I had never seen it happen; I had never witnessed the hurt and sadness in Eiri’s eyes, or the agonising pain it caused Jó. I felt horrible for not being able to say anything.

“Ah, Lilla, I trust you had a good journey?” Margrét asked as we entered her house. “Eiri, please take your aunt’s suitcase to your old room,” she added without looking at her son.

“It’s fine, Margrét, I can do it. The suitcase is not heavy,” I told her, not wanting my dear nephew to become my personal butler.

“Don’t be silly, that’s what men are for.” My sister roller her eyes. “You have better things to do than tire your arms with such menial tasks.”

“No, Margrét, I insist.” I was not thrilled at starting an argument even before we had time to chat, but I had come into the house prepared to make my older sister listen to me, so I could not back down at the first challenge.

“Let’s do this together,” Eiri suggested, hoping to appease us. My nephew’s personality had not changed one bit over the last ten years, even if he had completely transformed his looks. “What do you think?”

And so it was that Eiri grabbed one end of my suitcase and I grabbed the other, and we made our way together up the stairs to his old bedroom. Margrét kept the place as if her son was still living there; most of Eiri’s teenage belongings remained exactly as he had left them.

“She doesn’t like it that you moved away, does she?”

“No. And it doesn’t help that when I moved out it was to live with Jó.” Eiri avoided looking at the room while we spoke, keeping his head low and his eyes fixed on the tip of his shoe. “She only gave up trying to stop me when we got a house on the same street.”

“I remember when you told me about it. You were really stressed.” I moved closer to Eiri, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“If it wasn’t for you I don’t think I would’ve gone through with it at all,” my nephew sighed. We hugged tightly until Margrét called for us. Eiri seemed glad to move away from his old room, but by the time we had arrived on the ground floor his face was bleak again.

“What took you so long? Did you build a nest under the suitcase?” Margrét asked when we entered the kitchen. Her face had already morphed into her usual scowl. “The food is served. Let’s eat and chat.”

As Margrét wanted, we chatted through the starter course of asparagus cream. She wanted to know about my work, my living standards, and my love life. “I’m not considering seeing anyone, Margrét.” I told her this every time she tried to bring up the seventeen years of ‘failure’ in finding myself a new partner. “I have other priorities in my life now.”

“It’s been seventeen years, Lilla! When Gunni was a toddler it was understandable that you were grieving the loss of your first husband, but after that… no wonder your son turned out to be a poof, he had no proper male role models to aspire to while growing up!”

And so our first real argument started. I glanced at Eiri and noticed he had lowered his head as soon as Margrét mentioned Gunni. He would probably keep pretending to eat his cream while the discussion went on, and I would have to pretend not to notice. Margrét would hopefully ignore her son while trying to convince me to give up the most precious person in my life.

“Gunni’s sexual orientation has nothing to do with the absence of a father. It has been proven over and over again that homosexuality is perfectly natural and nothing to worry about.”

“This is what they want you to believe. Gunni is but a whiny, effeminate child. What other reason could there be for him to turn out so wrong?”

‘Don’t you dare say such things about Gunni,’ I wanted to say, though I knew it would be counter-productive in the long run. “Please, Margrét, I know you are having problems coming to term with Gunni’s sexuality, but can’t you at least wait until the meal is over to start a discussion? Otherwise the food will get cold and it will be such a waste.”

“Yes, my dear, you are right. Let’s enjoy our food.” Margrét raised her glass of water and I did the same. Eiri joined us a couple of seconds later, once he realised what we were doing. If I did not think about the reasons we were cheering with water glasses rather than wine, I could almost be glad that our night was not going to be fuelled by alcohol. What Margrét’s ex-husband did to her and Eiri was terrible and unforgivable. He abandoned his family after years of doing nothing but drinking every day and hoping my sister would solve all his problems. Still, his departure meant that Margrét had to learn to be the single parent of a fifteen-year-old who had become (undoubtedly due to his family’s dynamics) socially awkward and reclusive. She thought she only had Eiri to rely on, and taught him that he could trust only her.

Somehow we managed to go through the whole meal without mentioning Gunni. It would have been a good thing if it did not mean that the conversation was steered instead towards the other ‘unmanly’ person Margrét knew. We did not talk openly about Jó, but every now and then my sister would make a stinging remark about all the things she disapproved about him. As much as I wanted to, I knew that trying to defend my nephew-in-law would only attract unwanted attention to his relationship with Eiri.

In fact, every time Margrét called Jó a ‘fruit’, ‘pillow-bitter’, ‘disgusting effeminate scum’, or ‘vile sodomite’, I remembered the effect these words had had on the then seventeen-year-old Eiri, the boy who had just realised he was all those things his mother spoke so ill about.

‘Please, Aunt Lilla, I don’t know who else to talk to,’ he had asked me that Christmas Eve. I had just put Gunni to bed after allowing him to play with his new toys way past his bedtime. Gunni had been anything but sleepy since he played Mozart’s Violin Concerto No 3 for us earlier that day, prompting my father to gift his grandson his precious violin. Eiri had followed me to the room I shared with my son and waited patiently until Gunni calmed down and agreed to sleep. Eiri was so obviously tense and distraught that I could not deny his request.

‘What is it, Eiri?’ We went downstairs to his room. It was the only bedroom on the ground floor, which granted us an extra level of privacy.

‘I’m scared,’ he confessed, locking the door and urging me to sit on the bed. He took a while to join me. ‘I don’t want to make mum suffer any more than she already has. She’s not even over dad yet, how could I…’

‘What are you talking about, Eiri?’ At this point I still had no clue what my nephew could be getting at, and I would never have guessed. He had become quite reserved over the last two years, retreating into his own little world and neglecting his younger cousin. Gunni used to love Eiri when he was little, but recently he seemed almost afraid of his older cousin.

‘I’m the last person she has. I don’t want to be another disappointment for her. I can’t break her heart like that…’

‘Eiri, please, tell me what this is all about. You don’t need to be afraid of me.’ I took my nephew’s hands between mine. They were stone-cold and sweaty.

‘Mum said the other day that poofs need to die. We saw two men kissing on the street and she told them to go to hell; she said that they were a disgusting disgrace to our country. The men kept kissing, and mum said they deserved to die a horrible death. She made me look away and kept ranting about it the whole day.’

‘This is horrible. Why did she do that?’ I was beginning to understand what Eiri was getting at. I knew my sister could be very vocal about her dislikes (she still sporadically ranted about Hrafnkell’s “effeminate behaviour” and “spinelessness” seven years after his death), and I knew this was not the first time Eiri had been exposed to her prejudices, but obviously this particular incident had affected him a lot more.

‘Because homosexuals are horrible people and she doesn’t want to be near one.’ It hurt to see Eiri’s dejected face. It was ridden with guilt and shame. ‘I’m a horrible person, Aunt Lilla. I’ve done all I could to get better, but nothing seems to work. I can’t stop it. It doesn’t want to go away. If mum finds out she’ll be so disappointed! I can’t do it to her!’

‘Eiri, calm down.’ I made my nephew look at me. I wanted him to see that I was there with him and for him. ‘Maybe this is not something you should stop.’

‘It is! Those are evil thoughts. I have to get rid of them for my own good. I just don’t know how…’

‘And you think I do?’

‘I think you’re the only person I can ask for help. I can’t tell mum, and we don’t have anyone else…’

‘I’m sorry, Eiri, but I won’t help you change who you are.’ This came as a great shock to my nephew. He tried to get away from me, make me leave the room, but I stayed. This could not be over yet. ‘I can help you realise it’s ok to be that way and learn to accept yourself.’

It took Eiri some time to accept my offer. Over the next couple of nights, after I put Gunni to bed, we talked for hours about his feelings and his attraction for other men, and how desperately he tried to erase those feeling by jumping into meaningless relationships with girls in his class. I did my best to overwrite years of Margrét’s hate speech with words of acceptance and compassion, but sadly I did not have enough time then.

My father died a couple of days later. We woke up on New Year’s day and realised his soul had left us at some point during the night. Hopefully he went peacefully. He had told us that after seeing Gunni’s talent he was reassured that music would still play an important role in our family, and so he was ready to let go. He was tired of fighting against an incurable cancer and of pretending to his grandchildren that everything was ok. Gunni never realised what was going on until he saw his beloved grandpa in the coffin, at which point he locked himself in our room and played his new violin for hours on end. Eiri seemed indifferent to his grandpa’s passing, but I knew it was because he was focusing all his energy on something else. As for Margrét and I, we buried our father at his beloved farm and sold the place to a distant relative. With him gone, there was no other reason for us to meet every year, so we went to our opposite corners of the country and did not cross paths for the next decade.

What Margrét (or Gunni, for that matter) did not realise was that Eiri and I did not break all contact. I wanted to make sure Eiri would be ok and learn to accept himself the way he was. I called him when Margrét was not home, or arranged to call a friend’s house when he visited them. We talked when Gunni was at school and could not hear any of it. Eiri had been clear that he wanted no one else to know about his sexual orientation, and this included his little cousin. I respected his wishes, and hoped that this way Gunni would be spared from Margrét’s intolerance. I hoped that by the time we saw each other again, she would have changed and my son would be forever unaware of his aunt’s brigotry.

Though obviously Margrét did not change, and my plan to protect Gunni backfired horribly.

“I will bring the dessert.” Margrét left us at the dinner table. Eiri signed that he was ok, but he looked definitely worse for the wear after an hour of his mother badmouthing the person he loved the most.

“It will be over soon,” I tried to reassure him. Margrét and I could most certainly carry on arguing until the next sunrise (which, considering we were in Iceland just a couple of days past winter solstice, meant definitely more than a couple of hours), but I was going to try to get Eiri home after the gift exchange. Before we could say anything else, my sister was back with the rice pudding.

“Lilla, I believe business talks are more productive during dessert. The sugar will improve our spirits.” Margrét served Eiri and I and sat back down at the table. She stared at me intensely until I began to eat, and spoke as soon as I took my first spoonful. “I don’t want Gunni living near my son. His debauched way of life is tainting Eiri’s home. The longer he stays, the worse the damage he causes.”

“You seem to be under the misconception that my son is somehow sick,” I answered her, counting mentally to ten in order to keep my voice in check. “Gunni is no threat to Eiri, and certainly no threat to you.”

“He is disgusting. His way of life is a bad influence on my son.”

“Please, stop speaking like Eiri is still a child. He is twenty-seven years old; he is very capable of deciding which people he wants in his home.” As we spoke, my nephew concentrated on his food. He had already found the lucky almond, though with the way things were going, he would never receive the gift that was supposed to come with it.

“No, he is not. He cannot see the danger in your son, and insists to let Gunni stay there with that other effeminate scum. I cannot allow this to continue.” Margrét had not even touched her dessert. For all her talk about sugar improving our spirits, she was the one who needed it the most. “In fact, I want you to stay away from him too. Let the bad apple fall far from the tree. Your son is a failure; it’s most likely your fault for not giving him a father, but now there’s little you can do.”

“I’m not staying away from Gunni. He is my son and I love him.” It took all my self-control to not look at Eiri, though after what Margrét said next, I had no other choice.

“It’s all good to love a child despite all his defects. They say that in theory, but quite frankly I would never be able to do that. This kind of unconditional love is for fools like you.” Eiri almost choked on his rice pudding. To disguise his reaction, I rushed to find some distraction.

“It looks like Eiri is done with his pudding. We should hurry up too if we want to get to the gifts tonight.” Eiri’s face was all red and his eyes had filled with water. “Eiri, can you go make sure the tree is ready?”

“It is. I took care of it earlier,” Margrét answered before her son could leave our sight.

“My gifts are still in my suitcase.” I tried to hold Margrét’s gaze, so she would not notice Eiri’s breakdown. “Eiri, you will find them easily, I’ve wrapped and labelled them.”

“Sure, Aunt Lilla.” Eiri hurried out of the room with his head down. I longed to be able to follow him, but Margrét posed a more immediate danger.

“I love Gunni more than anything in the world. Being gay is not a defect. I’m actually very proud of him. He’s a wonderful boy with a loving, caring heart.”

“We’ve had this conversation before. Only, it wasn’t about your son. I guess it runs in his family.” Margrét’s eyes shone with disgust. It had been seventeen years since I had last seen such intensity in her gaze. “It’s a shame he had to spoil our family. You deserved so much better.”

“I thought you wanted to talk about Gunni today, Margrét.” For Eiri’s sake, I had to keep this conversation from blowing up for the time being. Once my nephew was safely home with Jó and Gunni I would let Margrét know my real thoughts.

“Gunni, Hrafnkell, there isn’t much difference. But let’s do as you wish. My warnings in the past had no effect on you, but maybe now that I can prove my point you will finally listen.”

“How can you prove your point?” I asked her, though I had a fairly good guess about her answer.

“Oh, you said you didn’t want to talk about that wretched husband of yours, so I’ll leave the specifics for later. But in general terms, what I mean is now that we’re both clear on the horrible consequences of passing forward genes of effeminateness and cowardice, and of the general lack of male role models in a boy’s development, I can hopefully make you see sense by the end of tonight. Of course, Gunni lacked a male role model, but I guess even if his father was alive, the effect would be the same. I think we can both agree that Hrafnkell was not really a man…”

“I still don’t see any sense in your argument, Margrét,” I told her, cutting another series of insults towards my late husband. It had been ten years since I had last had to put up with them, but as soon as she started, my old habits of defending him returned as if I had never stopped needing them. “I will tell you once more and I hope you’ll understand it this time around: being gay is not a disease, is not a problem, and is not ‘contagious’. I’m a doctor, I know this better than you. Gunni is very similar to his father in many ways, and this means he is a great person, regardless of whether you can see it or not. I’m not leaving him. I love my son. I love you too, even with all these arguments we have.”

“Oh, please! Only fools believe you can love people who are so different. I don’t need to share your love with a sodomite.”

“You don’t believe I love you?”

“Only Eiri loves me the way I need it. And Eiri is the only person I love. We only have each other; anyone else is bound to betray us at some point, just like you’re doing right now.”

“Well, I…”

Margrét did not let me finish. “Eiri is taking ages. Let’s wait for him over by the Christmas tree.” I did as I was told, even though I had not finished my dessert. Margrét had not even touched hers. We sat under the tree and waited until Eiri showed up with my gifts. I had an inkling that my nephew was taking as much time as possible on purpose, so he would not have to hear us arguing about how his mother would definitely turn her back on him if she ever realised he was gay. When Eiri finally appeared, his mother snapped at him with her usual coldness. “What took you so long? You made us wait a long time here.”

“I’m sorry, mum. I was just trying to make sure I got the right presents,” Eiri answered without looking at his mother. He placed the two packs under the tree and sat between us. Margrét controlled the gift exchange and did not attempt to hide her discontent upon realising I had given her a set of table cloths as a gift.

“Is that all you can think of to give to your big sister after ten years not seeing each other?”

“Well, I had no idea what kind of stuff you liked anymore.” I had briefly considered giving her a book about homosexuality, but she would probably have found that too offensive. I could not make Margrét too angry, or she would refuse to talk to me, and thus I would have no chance of making her change her mind about Gunni.

“Whatever.” Margrét gave me a book about the sins of homosexuality. I should have guessed. Eiri got a new suit, which his mother instructed him to wear to parties and other opportunities where he could find a decent woman. She then ranted about his lack of a love life and warned him that he would end up like me. Eiri did not have the mental strength to reply to that, so he just nodded and lowered his head. He did not look his mother in the eyes for the rest of the night. Thankfully I did convince Margrét to let him go as soon as we were done with the gift exchange.

“I will visit your house tomorrow,” I told Eiri at the door, holding his hand as a form of moral support. Margrét sent me a dirty glare, like she wanted to tell me to stay clear of her son’s property. I ignored her.

“Sure, Aunt Lilla. I’ll be waiting. Good night.” Eiri left in a hurry, or at least as much in a hurry as he could without seeming suspicious to his mother.

“Good night.” I hoped Jó and Gunni would be able to cheer him up a little. Eiri definitely needed all the love and care they could give him.

As for Margrét and I, our arguments carried on for the next few hours. She tried to use my new book to prove to me why I was wrong about Gunni, and refused to believe any of my counter-arguments. Once she ran out of things to say, she returned to her old criticisms of Hrafnkell, more of the same things she had already been saying earlier that night. This time, however, I did not have the patience to divert the conversation, and boldly told her to back off.

“You have no right to talk like this about my husband. He was a good man, with a kind heart and much more goodness in him than you’ll ever have. I know you have issues because of what happened with your ex, but if you refuse to try doing anything about those issues, you can’t expect us to do the work for you.” This was more or less the end of our talk. She sent me to bed, sounding more like an angry mother than an older sister, and reminded me that she was the one who had taken care of me after our mother died. I told her I was no longer a child, but she ignored me. I guess I should not really be surprised about her attitude, after all she still thought of Eiri as a defenceless child too.

Margrét wanted to protect us all. She saw danger in everything, and thought anyone she had ever cared for was not capable of facing it on their own. She could not see that she was the biggest danger of all.

(...)

Compared to my first night in Reykjavík, my time with Gunni, Eiri, and Jó was much more pleasant. We had another Christmas celebration, this time with proper happy feelings and family unity, and Gunni celebrated his seventeenth birthday with all the family that cared for him. My son was really growing up; I could no longer think of him as a child. I was really proud of him.

On Wednesday, the 27^th of December, Gunni took us to his second birthday party, this one organised by his boyfriend and his housemates. According to my son, Dmitri was really keen to meet me. The oboist was also anxious about Eiri, and wanted to apologise for outing Gunni to Margrét. I had obviously been looking forward to meeting Dmitri every since he started dating my son, though I was also curious to see what Siggi was like. I wanted to understand why Gunni could be interested in someone who went to such great lengths not to be liked.

“Gunni! Happy birthday! I missed you!” Dmitri was there to greet us at his front door. He hugged Gunni and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to the rest of us. “Come inside, everyone, so we can get this party started!” He enthusiastically rushed us inside the house. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lilla. I’m honoured!” Dmitri was very charming. He was wearing a form-fitting red sweater and faux-leather trousers adorned by silvery chains. There was something about his attitude that made me want to smile instinctively.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dmitri. Gunni has told me a lot about you.”

“I’ve heard stories about you too. Let’s sit so we can chat properly.” Dmitri then proceeded to greet Eiri and Jó. Every other word he said to my nephew had some flirting overtones, but both Eiri and Jó laughed it off wholeheartedly, and Gunni did not seem to mind either. It was quite refreshing to watch Dmitri’s theatrical flirting; he was very good at it, and so our short walk to the living room was filled with laughter. “Now, where are our other dear housemates…?”

“Already trying to get our guests to bed? You started early…” A young woman spoke from just behind the living room door. She pretended to scold Dmitri and he pretended to be offended.

“Mum, this is Karen.” Gunni introduced her, blushing a little from her treatment of his boyfriend.

“Hi, there,” Karen greeted me. “I’m the one who keeps order in this house, and in my free time I also play flute in the ISO.”

“Oh, I see.” Karen and I exchanged knowing smiles. She was undoubtedly the head of the household, and she enjoyed that position. Karen was wearing a green and black long dress that exposed her arms and back and had some complicated lacing around her neck. She wore a black tiara with black lace on the side, but otherwise her hair was flowing freely. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. You and Gunni resemble each other a lot. Your son is adorable and very polite. Thanks for bringing him into the world.” Karen spoke like one of Gunni’s primary school teachers. My son dully blushed, but I smiled.

“I had help. Gunni may look like me, but he is the split personality of his father. I don’t really know how it happened…” Karen and I would probably keep talking about Gunni for a while longer if Gísli had not nudged Karen to call her attention.

“Oh, sorry, Lilla, I forgot to introduce Gísli!” Karen gestured towards her friend. “He plays timpani at the ISO and is my oldest childhood friend. Other than that, he is apparently shier than I thought…”

“I’m not being shy,” Gísli told his friend. His voice was considerably deeper than I expected. It spooked me a little. I noticed he was about the same height and physique as Gunni, which only contributed to the feeling that his voice had been misplaced. “I was just trying not to expose your lack of manners.”

“All right, whatever you say.” Karen rolled her eyes and Dmitri stifled a laugh. I noticed Gunni seemed unsure about how to react to this exchange, but thankfully he was saved from having to think of something because we took our seats in the living room soon after that. Gunni was given the middle spot in the three-seater couch, so that Dmitri and I could be by his side.

“How is Siggi?” my son asked as soon as everyone’s attention drifted back to him. He seemed really anxious to get news about the cellist, who was nowhere to be seen. It could mean Siggi was just trying to avoid Gunni as much as possible, or it could mean he was still not feeling well (or a combination of the two). Either way, my son would not be happy with the answer.

“He’s getting better. We finally got him to eat some soup and bread today,” Dmitri answered. He tried to make Gunni feel better by resting an arm over his shoulder, and I found myself nodding slightly to him. He and Gunni looked cute together. “He said he doesn’t want to be bothered, though.”

“Then we will leave him alone,” Gunni said, though it visibly pained him to do so. Knowing my son, he probably wanted to run to Siggi’s room and take care of him until he got better.

“What exactly is happening to him?” I asked, hoping to distract Gunni and satisfy my medical curiosity. I had read about cases of people with many combined food allergies before, but never as many as Siggi’s. And then there were other medical conditions on top of it.

“It’s his annual Christmas Sick,” Dmitri answered. He tried to sound dismissive, but he tightened his hug on Gunni and caressed his hair more frequently. “It starts as a normal flu, but his body can’t fight it properly, so it gets worse and worse until he ends up in the hospital, usually around Christmas Day. Hopefully he’ll recover for New Year’s, but it’s hard to tell.”

“Yes, it definitely sounds nasty. You should let him rest as much as possible,” I told him. Gunni looked like he was suffering, trying to imagine what it must be like to be in Siggi’s shoes.

“I don’t think he will want to join the party anyway, so there’s nothing to worry about,” Dmitri started saying, but he was interrupted by Siggi himself stumbling into the living room. He could barely hold himself upright, leaning on the door and walls for support. He was incredibly thin, like he had not had a decent meal for months (or maybe years), his eyes were surrounded by dark circles of exhaustion, and his hair was so greasy and dirty it reflected the light in the room. Still, if the marks of sickness were taken away, he probably looked quite handsome (even if a little too thin).

“I can’t sleep. My nose got suddenly blocked,” Siggi whispered. He probably could not speak any louder. Dmitri immediately let go of Gunni and jumped to his side, using his own body to support his friend. This did not make Siggi feel any better, though. “I blame you.”

“Of course you do.” Dmitri was not fazed by his friend’s rudeness. “I’ll get you some medicine, you go back to bed.” Siggi sneezed, and I realised what his problem might be.

“Is Siggi allergic to pets?” I asked, remembering the cute fur ball my nephew had at home. Considering how sensitive Siggi’s body seemed to be, it would not be surprising if it could sense cat’s skin cells from the floor above.

“Very. And I’m likely allergic to the replacement too.” Siggi’s gratuitous stab at Gunni made me angry, but my professional side had taken over, so I managed to keep a cordial tone. I would feel sorry for my son and his unlucky crush later.

“I am surprised by how sensitive your body is. Eiri and Jó have a pet cat at home. If you are feeling worse since we came, this is probably why. You should take some allergy medicine if you have any; it will help more than something that is just for your nose.”

“I haven’t been feeling well since I was born. And I have more allergy paraphernalia than underwear. I don’t need a stranger telling me what to take and when.” Somehow, I felt better being the target of his snarky remarks than when he was directing them to Gunni. I was used to dealing with uncooperative patients; Siggi could not hurt my feelings that way. But when I saw Gunni being hurt, it hurt me too.

“It’s ok, Siggi, we all know how grumpy you are. You can stop taking it out on Gunni’s mum now.” Dmitri tried to defend me, though he spoke in a weirdly childish tone. Siggi rolled his eyes, not bothering to reply. Hopefully it was because he did not want to, rather than because he was too exhausted to manage it. “Come on, let’s go back to your room so you can get some more rest.” Dmitri carried Siggi upstairs. The room was silent while we tried to listen to them going up the stairs to Siggi’s room. Once she was sure that Siggi was safely resting, Karen took over the task of entertaining the guests.

“So, Lilla, we have all been wondering about your job, and your life, and what Gunni was like when he was even younger and cuter…”

“Well, I work most days at the hospital in Akureyri, play some piano in my free time, and quite frankly, at the moment I don’t do much else. Gunni and I used to enjoy walking around the city, but I don’t feel like doing it on my own now.”

“Aw, you must miss him…”

“I do, but I can live with it. Gunni and I speak on the phone often, so it helps.”

“What is it like to be a doctor? Is it difficult?” Karen changed the topic of conversation somewhat abruptly, but I was thankful for it. I did not want to spend my last day with Gunni thinking about how much I missed him every day. It had been hard letting go of a child who had been my only companion for seventeen years, but there was nothing I could do about it. Gunni was growing up; it was about time he left his mother’s nest and lived his own life. And as far as I could tell from this short visit, he was doing just fine. It was all I could ask for.

“Sometimes it gets busy and stressful, but I like it. I like working with people and helping them.” Karen nodded. She seemed genuinely interested in my words. After a while the conversation switched from my work to my endeavours as an amateur pianist, and then to some embarrassing tales of Gunni’s childhood. I felt sorry for my son in some of them, but Gunni did not object to me telling the stories. He was blushing a violent shade of red by the time I was done, though.

Dmitri gave Gunni some a piano-shaped chocolate and jumper with musical-themed patterns on it. We had an enjoyable dinner and some more interesting conversation, and time flew incredibly fast. It was eleven o’clock when we finally realised how late it was.

“Well, we had a great time. Thank you for having us!” Jó spoke first when we got up from our comfy seats. Dmitri and Gunni were the last ones to stand. They were still hugging as we got to the door.

“You know, you could stay the night,” the oboist proposed, pulling Gunni just a bit closer to him. “I’m not saying we have to do anything in particular, I’m just saying that since it’s your birthday you could do something different.” Gunni’s face became the darkest shade of red so far, and he looked at his own shoes. It was easy for me to see that he was embarrassed and mortified by the proposal, he but did not want to disappoint his boyfriend. Thankfully, Dmitri got the message too. “Ah, well, it was worth a try. But I was telling the truth when I said I wasn’t expecting anything to happen. I just think you’re a cool guy and someone fun to spend time with.”

“I don’t know… I guess I can stay…” Gunni definitely did not want to disappoint his boyfriend. His father had been the same; when we first started dating he would do all sorts of little sacrifices to make me happy. After a while I realised what was going on and managed to convince him that I would be happy if he was happy too, and for the most part he stopped playing the love martyr. For the most part. Hopefully Gunni would learn to do the same in the future.

“Are you sure? You don’t sound very…” I smiled inwardly when I realised Dmitri was trying to make Gunni change his mind. I felt even more reassured that my son would be safe with his boyfriend. Dmitri was giving all the signals that he was a sensible and respectful partner. They had barely started their relationship, but he had already figured out what Gunni was trying to do. It had taken me a lot longer to get there with my husband.

“Yes, I am.” Gunni managed to sound a bit more convincing. Dmitri gave in this time, but he still managed to show that he was very aware of Gunni’s worries. He spoke directly to me.

“Ok, cool! I promise to keep Gunni safe for the night. I will protect him from Siggi’s arseholeness and from the evils of non-consensuality. Mark my words.”

“I believe you, Dmitri.” I laughed. The man was very good at demonstrating enthusiasm. “Though I think Gunni is a bit too old for you to have to assure his mother about a sleepover.”

“Well, you are here and you live in a faraway place. I might as well do it now.” We laughed together. Everyone joined in, apart from Gunni, who was back to his blushing self.

“Good night, then, Gunni. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hugged my son and kissed his cheek. Not that long ago I used to kiss him on the forehead, but now he was definitely too grown-up for that (and he was also the same height as me, so it would be a bit more complicated).

“See you tomorrow, mum. I’ll take you to the airport, so please wait for me.”

“Of course I will! Would Dmitri like to come with you?” I looked at the man in question, who did a comic salute and nodded.

“It would be a pleasure.”

“I’ll see you both tomorrow, then.” I nodded at the couple, and smiled when I noticed that Dmitri had already slipped a comforting arm around my son’s shoulders. Gunni instinctively leaned against him.

“Have a safe trip home, and I hope the patients at the hospital are nice to you when you go back!” Karen said. We hugged.

“Yeah, have a safe journey.” Gísli and I hugged as well, though the timpanist seemed a bit less keen to do it than his friends.

Eiri and Jó said their goodbyes too, and we made our way home. My nephew suggested I sleep in Gunni’s bed for the night instead of risking waking up my sister, so I stayed with them and enjoyed their company for a while longer.

(...)

“When will we see you again?” Eiri asked. We were in front of the departure gate and my flight had just been announced. I would soon be leaving my son behind to return to my life in Akureyri. My stay had been so short; I had barely had time to get used to having my son by my side again.

“Hopefully soon. I had a great time here, thank you for everything.”

“Thank you for coming. It was great to finally meet you!” Jó hugged me tightly, and I returned the gesture. In our goodbye we managed to do what I had been too busy to accomplish in my arrival. Back then I had wanted to hug him properly, but Gunni had been my priority, and I ended up glued to my son for as long as I could. Now, though, we were free to hug, kiss each other’s cheek, and even cry a little.

Once Jó let go of me, Dmitri came forward. “You’re a very cool parent. Gunni is lucky to have you.” He spread his arms, asking for a hug, and I obliged.

“I think I’m lucky to have Gunni as a son.” I told him.

“Can’t argue with that. Don’t worry, we’ll take very good care of him.” Dmitri patted my back affectionately and let go.

“I can’t argue with that either.” We smiled at each other. By that point my eyes were filled with water, so as soon as Gunni squeezed me in his own emotional goodbye, the tears began to fall freely. I hugged him as tightly as I could, and for a moment I felt like letting go would tear me apart. Gunni was my child, the boy I raised on my own, and I was about to leave him to his new life. It now felt more real and more meaningful to me than when we said our goodbyes in Akureyri before Gunni joined the ISO. Now I knew what his new life was like, what his friends and partner were like, and so my mind finally accepted that my son had this other life away from me. He did not need me any longer; in a sense I had accomplished the first part of my duty as his mother.

As the gates closed behind me, I told myself that Gunni was going to be all right. He was surrounded by people who loved him and would be there for him in times of need. He was in good hands.