The Orchestra - Sinfónia Lifsins - 23. Two Birthday Parties

For the next couple of days, Aunt Margrét called Eiri every day because she was ‘worried about his well-being’ and hoped he would ‘see sense’ and kick me out. According to my cousin, she was always very clear that this was what she would’ve done and that this was the only way to deal with ‘poofs’ like me. Every time he hung up the phone Eiri was on the verge of tears; he would go to Jó and they would disappear in their bedroom for a while. I would only see Eiri again at dinner, when we did our best to not mention Aunt Margrét.

Thankfully my mother arrived on Christmas Eve promising to help us deal with her sister. Jó and I picked her up at the airport. I was so happy to finally see her again that I could not let go of her until the arrivals lobby had been completely emptied. Jó watched our happy reunion with a smile on his face, and greeted mum like an old friend. Mum and I were still hugging as we walked to the car park.

“I’m so sorry about Margrét,” mum sighed. We had been on the car for about ten minutes. I was lying on her shoulders and she was playing with my hair like Jó and Dmitri usually did. “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 finds out.”

“Oh, poor Eiri.” Mum hugged me tightly, probably imagining it was my cousin who was in her arms. “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.”

“It will most likely be tomorrow. I can’t imagine any serious talk with my sister finishing before bedtime,” mum sighed. She turned to me then, though her mind seemed to be somewhere else. “Last time we had this kind of talk was when I announced I was marrying your father. We were in dad’s farm for the holidays and she went for hours on end about how bad it would be for me to marry someone who worked with dad, or who didn’t have a well-established career, or who seemed weaker and more sensitive than I… She called me for a ‘chat’ at two in the afternoon and only let me go at midnight because everyone else was complaining about the noise we were making!”

“Really? I had no idea!” I couldn’t help but smile at mum’s mention of my dad. She spoke of him so rarely that every extra bit of information about his life made me jumpy and excited, like I was being given a very special gift.

“I didn’t want to tell you about it before because I didn’t want you thinking bad things about your aunt,” she explained. Jó snorted. “Though I guess it’s too late for that now.” Jó nodded, and she sighed. She gently moved my body so that I could be facing her. “Margrét never liked Hrafnkell much, and she felt that as my big sister she had an obligation to take care of me and prevent me from making mistakes.”

“Like she’s doing with Eiri,” Jó added. Mum nodded.

“She’s very protective of the people she cares about. It’s just that she doesn’t realise we don’t need protection from the things she worries about.” Mum sighed again. She was doing that a lot more than usual. Her next words were for Jó. “Anyway, I will come by yours tomorrow as soon as I can. I miss my nephew so much!”

“Eiri misses you too! And in a way so do I, even though this is the first time I see you in person!” Jó beamed. I realised I had gotten so used to living with him and Eiri that I had completely forgotten we hadn’t actually seen my cousin at all for the past ten years, which obviously meant that there was no way mum and Jó could have met before. Because of how close I had gotten to my cousins, this thought struck me as quite surreal and somewhat sad; it seemed such a waste of time not getting to know each other sooner.

(...)

Mum and Eiri had their Christmas dinner at Aunt Margrét. Jó and I weren’t welcome for obvious reasons, so my cousin-in-law decided to ignore centuries of tradition and postpone our own Christmas dinner until the next day, when our family would be together again.

“Jesus wasn’t born in December anyway”, he told me, in case I felt outraged at his disregard for traditional religious celebrations. “Christmas is when it is because the church thought it would be easier to convert pagans if the only thing they had to do was change the name of Yule to Christmas. I think if we’re celebrating the date it’s more important to pay attention to the values it represents rather than randomly established dates. Christmas is a family celebration of love and good feelings; so let’s have it when our family is back and we can focus on the great feeling of being together.”

I agreed with Jó, and so we had a comparably modest dinner to the sound of Christmas carols. Eiri came back very late and made it clear he didn’t want to talk about his evening, so Jó and I did our best to make him feel better before heading off to bed.

The next day, mum arrived around lunch time. With Eiri safely out of earshot she told us that as predicted, Aunt Margrét had tried to warn her about my ‘poofness’ and was very surprised when she was told over and over again it was not a thing to be ‘warned about’. Eiri had mostly been ignored by the sisters, but it didn’t mean he was safe from listening to all of my aunt’s vile words. They kept talking about it even after my cousin came back home.

“We only stopped arguing because she started using you to insult your father,” mum explained. “Insulting people who can no longer defend themselves is too low for me. Today she barely greeted me before I left.”

Once we had been briefed of last night’s events, Eiri, mum and I cleaned the house and washed the bedsheets while Jó took care of the food. Mum asked for a Christmas recital before we sat down to eat, so I played a couple of songs for her and my cousins. She asked about the ISO, one thing let to another and I realised I hadn’t asked Dmitri if he wanted to come to the party Jó wanted to throw on my birthday. I immediately ran to the phone, ashamed at my forgetfulness. What kind of boyfriend doesn’t think of inviting his significant other to his own birthday?

“Hi, Gunni, Merry Christmas!” Dmitri beamed as a way of greeting, making me laugh at his cheerfulness. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m having my birthday party tomorrow at my house, and I was wondering if you would like to come. My mum is here and she would really like to meet you…” I said, still laughing a bit. But then there was silence on the other end of the line, and I realised something was not quite right.

“Hum… I would love to, but…” Dmitri’s voice became a lot more sombre, making me instantly worried.

“Did something happen? Are you ok?”

“I am. Siggi got really sick, though.” It was likely that Dmitri knew the effect his words would have on me, because he rushed to make me feel better immediately afterwards. “He got out of the hospital today. The worst is over, but we need to watch over him for the next couple of days in case it changes.”

“What happened to him?”

“He caught a nasty flu that evolved to something nastier because of his asthma and generally failing immune system. Now he’s just tired and kind of weak, but hopefully he’ll be feeling better for our New Year’s Concert.” I took a while to speak, too horrified by the mental image of Siggi in a hospital bed surrounded by scary machines and ominous beeping sounds. Why did everything have to go wrong with him? It was like he could never have a break.

“Mum is a doctor. Maybe she could help…”

“Heh, thanks. One of the hospital doctors is going to come to check on him every day, so you don’t need to worry. Though now you got me thinking…” Dmitri sounded like he was grinning. It helped to make me feel a bit better.

“What?”

“Do you wanna come over the day after tomorrow? You can bring your mum and that gorgeous cousin of yours too. We’ll give you a second birthday party, so we can all have fun while keeping an eye on Siggi! What do you think?” Before I could properly answer, my boyfriend spoke again. “Also, I can properly apologise to your cousin about the mess I made on Thursday.”

“No, it’s ok. I should’ve told you beforehand…” I tried to argue, but Dmitri didn’t let me finish.

“I was kind of assuming there was no way someone would be this prejudiced in a place like Iceland, so I didn’t even think I could be doing something bad,” he sighed. I felt like I should say something, but I kept my mouth shut because it seemed he wasn’t finished yet. “I mean, hiding this kind of thing was like second nature to me when I was in Russia, but I must have relaxed far too much in the last three years. And I find it so amazing that I can be so open about liking guys and having a boyfriend that, I don’t know, I feel like I have to fight for my right to keep saying it. I want to talk to your cousin properly about it, but just in case you wanted to know too.”

“Thanks.” It took me a while to absorb everything Dmitri had told me. Of course I knew homosexuality was a still a crime in many countries, and that homophobia was widespread worldwide, but until recently none of it had affected me personally. Yet, since moving to Reykjavík, this was the second time I heard someone very close to me saying they’d had to hide who they were in order to get on with their lives. I wanted to give my boyfriend the biggest bear-hug of all, like it would somehow compensate for the bad memories of his past. “I’ll tell mum and my cousins about your party. If it’s not too much trouble for you, I really appreciate it…”

“No worries, I got it covered. I should probably just warn you that Siggi might be grumpier than usual because that’s what happens when he’s sick, but he’ll probably want to stay in bed anyway, so he won’t bother us.”

“Ok. I don’t want to bother him either.”

“Overtime you can start coming over more frequently, until he kind of gets used to you,” Dmitri noted. He sounded like he was grinning again. “We can see how long it will take for him to warm up to you.”

“Yes, I guess.” It felt weird to be talking to my boyfriend about our plan to get my crush to not hate me. My brain still screamed that Dmitri was supposed to be jealous of Siggi, not trying to help me get to him.

“Cool, then I’ll see you Wednesday! You can come any time evening-ish, we’ll be ready for you; and obviously looking forward to meeting the fine lady who created such an awesome person like you.” My face immediately heated up with the unexpected compliment. “Send our greetings to everyone!”

“I will. Merry Christmas to you all, and I hope Siggi gets better soon.”

“I’ll tell him, even if he’s not interested.” Dmitri laughed a bit. “So, next time we talk, you’ll be seventeen! Goodbye, dear boyfriend!”

“Bye!”

(...)

At the dinner table Eiri and Jó sat facing mum and I. In front of us was a full traditional Christmas meal. Asparagus cream was the starter, followed by smoked pork roast glazed with sugar and decorated with pineapple. The rest of the table was filled with portions of sugar-coated potatoes, green beans and red cabbage.

“When did you find time to cook all of this?” Mum asked Jó, her eyes about twice their normal size as she took on the banquet awaiting us.

“I’m still to figure it out myself,” Eiri answered before Jó could speak. His husband grinned suspiciously and declined to answer any of our questions relating to the food. The most we could get out of him was that it was a ‘family secret’.

For dessert we barely managed to scoff some rice pudding. I was the lucky person who found an almond in my bowl, which entitled me to a little extra gift. It turned out to be a lavishly decorated music notebook.

“And now that we’ve started giving out presents, I suggest we carry on in this festive spirit and go check what we’ve got under the Christmas three!” Eiri beamed, jumping from his chair and making his way to the living room without waiting for us. By the time we arrived, my cousin was standing by the Christmas tree with Tjúlli on his arms.

“What’s he doing here? Didn’t we close off the living room so he wouldn’t destroy the decorations?” Jó asked his partners once his eyes landed on the cat. Tjúlli lay innocently in Eiri’s arms, as if he had not spent the last couple of weeks trying to attack the strange new furniture.

“It’s our Christmas Eve; I think the whole family deserves to be together,” Eiri answered, with an innocent expression that was eerie similar to the cat’s. “There are many presents under the tree, I think we can keep Tjúlli distracted with the paper wrappings long enough to avoid Armageddon.”

“If you say so; but I’m keeping an eye on him.” Once Tjúlli’s fate was decided, the four of us sat on the carpet around the tree. The cat moved to Jó’s lap, like he knew he should stay on my cousin’s good side for the night. Once we started opening the presents, though, he completely ignored us in favour of crumpled paper wrapping.

“So, the first present of the night goes to…” Eiri announced, taking the first box from the pile. “Gunni! And it’s from your mum!” My cousin handled the box to me and I unwrapped it carefully, aware that I had become the centre of attention in the room. Soon my hands were holding a pile of old violin study books and scores.

“What are those?” I asked mum, noticing that even though the books had obviously been used they remained in very good condition.

“I found them by accident when I was doing my Christmas cleaning,” mum told me, hugging me by the shoulders as she spoke. “I was worried that I had no time at all for Christmas shopping this year, but as soon as I saw them I thought you would like it.” When my confused expression didn’t change, mum explained a bit more. “Those are your grandfather’s books, or at least what is left of them. He used to have a huge library of music at the farm, but most of it got damaged when we had that leakage a couple years ago. Those are the better-preserved ones.”

I carefully laid the books on the floor in front of me. There were about ten in total and they all had different sizes and thicknesses. In every page of every book there was at least one note in pencil from grandpa; something about fingerings, dynamics, advice on how to play a passage and even comments about how he loved or hated certain parts of the music.

“Thank you, mum, I love it,” I whispered, still taken by the realisation that I was holding another portion of grandpa’s treasures; connecting with him in a way I thought was no longer possible. I wanted to read and play every page of every book; see if I could feel what grandpa must have felt when he made those notes. For a moment I even forgot that the gift exchange was just beginning.

“Aww, you’re so cute!” Jó commented, laying his head on Eiri’s shoulder. “Who’s next?”

“It’s you!” Eiri answered, handing Jó a heavy package. “It’s from Gunni.”

“When did you get me something this heavy? And how did you bring it home without me realising it?” Jó asked, suspiciously depositing his present on the ground to start taking the wrapping paper apart.

“On my way back from rehearsal. I knew I wouldn’t have much time for shopping, so I got all of you gifts from the Harpa’s shop,” I confessed, embarrassed because on the first Christmas when I had enough income to buy something for everyone I couldn’t go on a proper shopping spree. My cousins didn’t seem bothered, though.

“Ah, well, that’s very fitting, isn’t it?” Jó smiled, finishing off the wrapping paper like he had been in a bloody war with it. Tjúlli immediately jumped on his new toy. “And it is amazing! It’s beautiful! And useful! ” Jó showed Eiri and mum the box containing a complete set of fine china with music-themed decorations.

“I know you like to cook, so….”

“This is really great, Gunni! I’ll use them tomorrow for your birthday meal!” For the next couple of minutes my face gained an insistent reddish hue. It only disappeared when Eiri gave us his gifts.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to go shopping either. One of my colleagues makes those, so I asked them to give me some,” Eiri explained as the three of us opened our packages at the same time. They contained identical fluffy miniature cats who resembled Tjúlli, but with different fur colours. Mine was purple, mum’s was blue, and Jó’s was pink.

“Aww, they’re adorable!” Mum exclaimed. She had already seen her cat and heard Eiri’s explanation the night before at Aunt Margrét, but she had re-wrapped the gifts so we could open our presents all together.

“Yes, they are. Let’s just hope Tjúlli doesn’t think they’re company…” Jó looked pointedly at the real cat as he spoke, but Tjúlli was far too busy in the other side of the room trying to make a piece of paper jump at him to notice the fake cats.

By the end of the gift exchange, I had gotten a hand-crafted picture frame in the shape of a violin as well as the books and the fluffy cat. Mum got a wooden 3D puzzle in the shape of a piano from me and a picture frame from Jó decorated with a cute snowman. Eiri got a crime novel from mum, a music-themed tie from me and a heart-shaped picture frame from Jó. He told me he would wear the tie to work to impress his colleagues and have a reason to brag about his incredibly gifted cousin, which made my face heat up for at least five minutes. Jó got a romance novel from mum. Lastly, Eiri picked up Tjúlli and presented him with his own Christmas gift: a fluffy toy rat that ran around the house and made scary noises. Tjúlli nudged it for a minute or so before returning to his crumpled pieces of paper.

After the gifts, we read our Christmas cards. Jó and Eiri wrote truly touching messages for me, making me almost cry in front of everyone. They wrote that they considered me their child and would do everything they could to make sure I was happy.

“Merry Christmas, everyone!” Eiri cheered and kissed his partner. Mum hugged me and the warm feeling of a happy family having a good time together took over the room. At least until Tjúlli broke the first Christmas tree ornament.

(...)

The next morning I was awaken by the feeling of soft fur around my hands. When I opened my eyes, I saw that Tjúlli was sitting beside me, purring softly. Beside him lay my purple cat, though it had lost an eye and was ‘bleeding’ through its tummy. “Good morning, Tjúlli.” I said, still not entirely awake. The cat jumped on my lap at the sound of my voice and demanded to be petted. He forced me to pet him for the next ten minutes or so, biting and scratching my hand every time I tried to stop.

“Happy birthday, Gunni!” Mum, Eiri and Jó beamed when I entered the kitchen. They were sitting at the table, but they didn’t seem to have eaten yet.

“Your mum was just telling us that she usually gives you her birthday presents before breakfast, so we decided to do the same,” Jó explained, motioning for me to join them. The moment I sat down they pulled out three presents seemingly from thin air. “And she told me I should give you these, even though I feel like I’m just doing free propaganda.”

I wanted to ask what Jó meant, but he told me to open his present instead. It turned out to be a collection of three books: a gay romance novel, a collection of newspaper chronicles, and a compilation of short stories. “Those are…?”

“My books. Lilla told me to tell you to read them because you might like it, but you don’t really need to…”

“Of course I’ll read them!” I interrupted Jó. I was amazed that someone I knew had written proper books. In a way I considered professional authors the same way I used to regard professional musicians: very talented and very busy, and therefore unapproachable for someone like me. My acceptance into the ISO had crumbled my assumption about musicians; and it seemed that the one about authors would not last much longer.

“Please let me know what you think, even if you don’t like them,” Jó asked. I nodded and put his books to the side in order to receive Eiri’s gift.

“I had to ask your mum what to get you, and she recommended these. I hope I got the right kind.” My cousin handed me a small, light package. It turned out to be some of the most expensive and best quality violin strings. Two sets of them.

“Wow, Eiri… You didn’t need to…”

“I guess it means I got the right kind.” My cousin smirked and winked to mum. “From what I’ve heard you’ll need a lot of those with your new job. I thought I should give you a hand. And I don’t want to hear anything about their price. It’s your birthday, you deserve it.”

“Thank you, Eiri,” I said, just as my cheeks began to irradiate a familiar overwhelming heat.

“No problem,” Eiri smiled. “Now for the main attraction of the morning!” He motioned for mum to give me her gift. I felt he and Jó staring intently at us, like they knew what I was about to get.

“I thought this would be a fitting present to celebrate your new career. I hope you like it,” mum explained as she passed me her heavy package. It was shaped like a book, so at first I thought it would be something similar to my Christmas present, but as the wrapping came off I realised it was something much better.

It was a photo album. The front cover was decorated with violins and cellos, and at the very first page was a picture cut from a magazine with grandpa’s string quartet. He and the other violin player were standing in the middle of the picture holding their instruments and smiling confidently. The violist stood to the side looking aloof and mysterious. And then, on grandpa’s other side, sat the cellist. He hugged his cello like it was an intimate friend. His hair was light brown, almost blond; and long enough to go past his shoulders. He looked much younger than the other three, and maybe because of that he seemed a bit shy, but his gaze was warm and friendly. His eyes were a vivid shade of green, and freckles marred almost every spot of his face. I looked at him for what seemed like forever. Maybe if I stared long enough he would materialise in front of me and wish me happy birthday. I could definitely imagine it, even if I had never heard his voice. Or maybe I had, at some point in those nine months of existence when all he would have seen of me was mum’s belly growing. Maybe I still remembered it from back then. Maybe he spoke to me every day, waiting to meet me face to face; that magic moment when he would get to hold me for the first time and live the happy family life he dreamed about.

My eyes filled with water, but the tears didn’t fall. I leaned towards mum, resting my head on her shoulders, and turned the page. The rest of the album had more pictures from my father and grandfather playing either with the string quartet, or as soloists. Mum and I looked through it without saying a word. The last picture was of her and dad playing a cello-piano duet. She was already pregnant. When I looked up to her, I realised she was crying silently.

“He left for Denmark the week after this photo was taken,” she told me, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s the last one we have of him.” There wasn’t anything I could say to that. I let mum hug me until she felt better. Like me, she had probably been imagining what our life would’ve been like if my father had been around, but unlike me she had once shared those plans with him; they had talked about it and planned their future together, only for it to be wrecked along with the car he had been travelling to his next concert in Danish soil. Eiri and Jó were hugging too, watching us with concern and sympathy. “I’m sorry, today was supposed to be a happy day…”

“It’s fine, mum. Thanks for letting me have these pictures.” I knew how much they meant to her. When I was younger she had tried many times to let me know as much as I could about my father; she believed I had a right to know. But she always got so sad after the first few minutes that I never had the courage to keep asking questions. I didn’t want to see her sad. The memories of the past and the plans that never came true still hurt, even after more than seventeen years.

“It’s your dad after all; you should have something of him.”

“But what about you?”

“I have five years worth of memories. And I have you. You and Hrafnkell are very similar in many ways.”

“Thank you.”

It took us a while longer to move towards breakfast, but the rest of the day was considerably more cheerful. Upon mum’s request I played Mozart’s Violin Concerto No. 3, and then we went for a walk in the city centre. The Christmas lights gave the place a festive atmosphere, and we had great fun building a foot-tall snowman and having a snowball fight in the park.

(...)

The next day Jó made sure we all arrived at Dmitri’s house at the arranged time, even though all my boyfriend had told me was to ‘come any time evening-ish’. Apparently, for my cousin this was in fact a very precise indication that we should be there by six o’clock.

“Gunni! Happy birthday! I missed you!” Dmitri greeted me when we knocked on his door. His two-floor house had a very interesting exterior, making it clear what kind of people lived there: the walls were painted bright red and each of the five windows was in one of the colours of the rainbow: red, orange, and yellow in the top floor, and light blue and purple on the ground floor. The door was dark blue. I later learned that this pattern repeated in each of the house’s four sides. The gate to the garden was painted bright pink. “Come inside, everyone, so we can get that party started!”

Dmitri guided us to his living room and made us spread around the tree-seat couch and armchairs. He then called Karen and Gísli, and I took care of the introductions.

“How is Siggi?” I asked as soon as everyone had settled down. I was in the middle of the tree-seat couch, with mum and Dmitri beside me. Eiri and Jó had taken the armchairs, and Karen and Gísli sat at the dining table to my right. They had a huge television on the wall in front of me, and a rustic-looking shelf housing many strange objects on the wall to the left. Overall the room had a nice feel to it, even though it was currently somewhat cramped with the extra visitors.

“He’s getting better. We finally got him to eat some soup and bread today,” my boyfriend answered. His arm was resting over my shoulders, making me lay slightly against him. “He said he doesn’t want to be bothered, though.”

“Then we will leave him alone,” I said, despite my urge to do something to help him feel better. My brain began to form a picture of me helping Siggi to eat some soup, but it was thankfully interrupted by mum asking more details about Siggi’s condition.

“Yes, it definitely sounds nasty. You should let him rest as much as possible,” mum told Dmitri once she knew exactly what had been going on with Siggi. Out of everything that Dmitri had just told us, the thing that hit me the hardest was the fact that the same thing had happened to Siggi for at least three years in a role. It seemed that bad things always found their way to him.

“I don’t think he will want to join the party anyway, so there’s nothing to worry about.” As soon as Dmitri spoke, though, the door to the living room opened, revealing a visibly sick and frail Siggi. He was barely holding himself upright, and when he spoke I could barely hear what he said.

“I can’t sleep. My nose got suddenly blocked.” He sneezed. Dmitri jumped to his side, going under his arm to help him stand. “I blame you.”

“Of course you do.” Siggi sneezed again. Dmitri began to move him away from the room. “I’ll get you some medicine, you go back to bed.” Another sneeze. Before the duo could get too far, mum asked them a question.

“Is Siggi allergic to pets?” There was a kind of ‘eureka’ moment in the room where Eiri and Jó’s face went from surprised to guilty and they looked down at their jumpers.

“Very,” Siggi answered, looking at mum like he had just realised she was there. His eyes then fell on me, and his rising anger became visible even though he didn’t have the strength to move the muscles on his face. “And I’m likely allergic to the replacement too.”

“I am surprised by how sensitive your body is,” mum commented, adopting a professional tone. “Eiri and Jó have a pet cat at home. If you are not feeling well since we came, this is probably why. You should take some allergy tablet if you have one, 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.”

“It’s ok, Siggi, we all know how grumpy you are. You can stop taking it out on Gunni’s mum now,” Dmitri said in a childish tone. I thought Siggi was going to get even more irritated by the comment, but he just rolled his eyes. Maybe he was too tired and too sick to carry on complaining.

Just thinking about it gave me bad feelings.

Dmitri took Siggi back upstairs while Karen took over the task of hosting the party. She talked mostly to mum, asking her things about her job and her life in Akureyri without me. Eiri, Jó and Gísli seemed happy to just hear them talking, so it was only after Dmitri came back that they joined the conversations.

“Gunni, I got you a little birthday present. It’s technically from all of us, but I say it’s mine because I’m your boyfriend and I’ll give it to you!” Dmitri announced after a while. We had just been talking about what Eiri and Jó did for a living when he suddenly changed subject and ran upstairs again to get the gift.

“Be prepared, Gunni, he wants to make a dirty joke,” Gísli warned me as soon as my boyfriend was gone.

He was right. The first thing Dmitri told me when he handed me my last birthday gift was “this is all I could think to get you. The stuff I usually give to people on those occasions would make you way too embarrassed. And anyway, your mum’s here.” He winked at her, and mum laughed, along with the rest of the room. I felt my cheeks burn, trying my best not to imagine what kind of gifts he usually gave his friends. My resistance proved useless, though, and soon I was once again imagining Dmitri as a porn start playing with all the weird stuff I had seen in Fríða’s videos.

“Aww, it fits you well, Gunni!” Jó exclaimed once he saw my present: a purple wool jumper with music-themed patterns.

“Yeah, he’ll look cute in it!” Karen chirped in. She and my cousin had the same kind of smile on their faces.

“Thanks, Dmitri,” I told my boyfriend, still struggling to get my mind free of Dmitri’s porn counterpart.

“And we have more stuff!” Karen announced. She nodded to Gísli and he left the room, only to return a minute later with three boxes of mini piano-shaped chocolates. “We can eat them now or after dinner, or you can take them home and enjoy at your leisure. What do you think?”

“We shouldn’t eat sweets before dinner,” Jó noted, sounding vaguely like an intimidating father. Eiri laughed, though, which indicated he wasn’t been completely serious. Despite that, in the end we decided to wait until after dinner to eat the little treats.

The rest of the party was very enjoyable. Siggi didn’t show up anymore, which hopefully meant he managed to get the rest he needed. Every now and then Dmitri would openly flirt with Eiri, provoking scandalous fake reactions from Jó. Everyone laughed when it happened, but I was puzzled at how naturally Jó took everything. It was almost as if he was expecting people to flirt with his husband all the time, or at least as if he didn’t care that people did so.

In between all the flirting and laughing, my colleagues had decided that my mum’s presence was the excuse they needed to ask about my childhood and our life in Akureyri. Mum told them many stories about me, most of them embarrassing, and Eiri surprised me by telling his own stories about the time he spent with me. I was too young to remember most of it, but it was still a kind of mind-blow to realise that the cousin I used to remember as the cold, distant and slightly scary relative had actually cared for me before we spent ten years apart.

Other than that, we learned that Karen and Gísli had known each other since Primary School, and that at the age of fourteen they had made a pact of playing for the same orchestra or go into completely different fields.

“What would you do if you didn’t work for the ISO, then?” Eiri asked Gísli. The timpanist smirked and tapped the table.

“I would join a heavy metal band. And then I would never look at classical music again.”

“Yeah, because we all know it would be painful for him to live without me,” Karen added, winking to the percussionist. Dmitri raised an eyebrow, but Gísli smiled back.

“True. It’s you or nothing.”

The room was silent for a while after that. The visitors had a feeling that something important was going on, but we didn’t have the background knowledge to understand what, so we said nothing. Dmitri’s eyebrows kept stationed as far from his eye-sockets as possible, and Karen and Gísli stared at each other without blinking. At last Karen broke the silence.

“Well, be glad you got me, then.”

“I am.”

(...)

It was past eleven at night when we realised we should be heading back. After dinner we lost track of time because of all the amusing story-telling. When we were heading out of the living room, Dmitri pulled me closer to him.

“You know, you could stay the night.” Five pairs of eyes stared at him in surprise, while I sank against his body and looked pointedly at my shoes. “I’m not saying we have to do anything, I’m just saying that since it’s your birthday you could do something different.”

“Er…” My entire face and neck heat up. I didn’t dare look up to mum or Dmitri. I’d had lots of fun so far, despite the embarrassing childhood tales; Dmitri and his housemates were cool to be around. I was actually feeling a bit sad that the party was over. Sensing my hesitation, Dmitri let go of me.

“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.” He didn’t sound offended, but I still didn’t have the courage to look at him. I didn’t want to let him down, he was being so nice and I had no reason not to trust him. What if he thought I didn’t believe him? I didn’t want him to think that.

“I don’t know… I guess I can stay…” I had to show Dmitri that I trusted him. This was probably the easiest way.

“Are you sure? You don’t sound very…”

“Yes, I am.” I finally looked at him. I was probably still blushing, but at least I managed to sound more confident than I really felt. My boyfriend raised his eyebrows in surprise, but soon he was smiling widely and hugging me again.

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

“I believe you, Dmitri,” mum laughed. “Though I think Gunni is a bit too old for you to have to assure his mother about a sleep-over.”

“Well, you are here and you live in a far away place. I might as well use the chance.”

Everyone laughed and mum, Eiri and Jó left in good spirits. Dmitri and I returned to the living room couch while Karen and Gísli went upstairs. Gísli mentioned something about moving Siggi to his room. Hopefully I wasn’t causing too much trouble for them.

For the next couple of hours, Dmitri and I did nothing but cuddle and share lazy kisses on the couch. We talked a bit, but most of the time we stayed like we usually did in the rehearsal room; comforted by each other’s touch while thinking about our own lives. It was so nice I almost forgot we were supposed to go to bed.

As we climbed the stairs together and entered his empty room I felt more nervous than I though I should. As he began to strip without a pyjama in sight, something inside me panicked.