“Where is Gil?” I ask, hoping that there’s not another guy in this place.
He shrugs. “Somewhere around the world, digging while making a documentary,” he states. “It’s funny how before when I traveled with my parents, I practically saw him every day. Now that I’m in one place, his house of all places, I haven’t seen him in two years. Unlike my parents, he continues working. His life is his work.”
I look around, trying to find something that says this apartment belongs to Gil. It seems more like a cool museum where everything is out on display and available to the touch. Finally, when I get to what I assume is some sort of office, I find several pictures. There are a few of them with him and a boy. When Eros enters, I show him one of them and ask, “Is this his son?”
“No, that’s me,” he answers.
He scans the pictures and shows me another one of Gil with two girls that look a lot alike. They are about five or maybe six.
“These two monsters are my sisters,” he explains.
“Nyx and Persy,” I assume.
He nods. “Gil is part of our family. He is Dad’s best friend. When I got accepted to Columbia, he offered to pay my tuition and to use his apartment. Unlike him, my parents don’t have much. I accepted subleasing this place. My parents would be offended if he paid for my college, but they’re fine if I live in his house for almost nothing.”
This Gil guy looks so happy in all the pictures. I point at a man who looks a lot like Eros but a few years older. He’s with Gil and Eros. “Your Dad?”
“Yep. Octavio Brassard.”
“Does Gil have a family?”
“His parents died when he was in college,” Eros explains. “He’s relied on his friends all his life. We’re his family.”
“No wife, boyfriend… he’s just alone?”
“Why do you sound so baffled about his relationship status?”
I shrug. “He sounds like an interesting person. I feel like he should have someone to be there for him. A person that will pack her things and travel with him to the end of the world.”
“It feels weird that you’re romanticizing his life,” he states.
“Maybe it comes from living with a mother who keeps kissing toads in hopes of finding her temporary prince. She’s not a fan of the soul mate theory,” I explain. “A part of me wishes she’d find just one guy and settle in with him. Like Dad did.”
“Why did your parents divorce?”
“Dad was in love with someone else,” I answer the short version.
“People shouldn’t marry just because it is logical. They should do it because it feels right,” I say out loud. “You should be with the person you can’t live without because they complete you in a way that no one else does.”
“You sound pretty passionate about it,” he states. “Why don’t we go to the kitchen while you tell me more about this love theory? I’m starving.”
“I could use some food.”
The kitchen is not much different from the apartment. It’s spacious, modern with earth tone tiles, state-of-the-art appliances, and dishes that could be dated to pre-colonial times.
Eros opens the stainless steel refrigerator. “Do you want anything to drink?”
“Water is fine,” I say. “How can I help?”
“What would you like to eat?”
“I’d love a grilled cheese sandwich and chicken noodle soup,” I say, hopeful.
He opens the door next to the stove, opens it, and pulls out a can. “Is this okay?”
“Perfect.”
I’m grateful that he has all the ingredients to make my favorite comfort food. I take over the kitchen and start cooking. Once I’m done, I plate the sandwiches, serve the soup in a couple of bowls, and set the small kitchen table.
“This looks delicious,” he says, setting a couple of water glasses next to our food. “Are grilled sandwiches your specialty,” Eros asks.
I cock an eyebrow, wondering what he means. “You seemed so excited about preparing them.”
The memory of learning how to make them draws a big smile on my face. “Dan taught me how to cook simple things when I was young. I guess it was a way to bond.”
I take a bite of my sandwich.
“Who is Dan?”
After I chew and swallow my food, I answer, “Dad’s husband.”
“The reason why your parents divorced?”
“I’m the reason why Dad and Dan broke up and my parents had to get married,” I clarify. “My parents were in a loveless marriage because they were trying to do the right thing.”
“It was their love for you,” he states. “I assume they are happy now.”
“I’m not sure about Mom, but Dad has been happy since he got back together with Dan,” I respond, taking a spoonful of soup.
“So, I guess Dan has been trying to find ways to include himself in your life since he’s not really your parent and you only visit them on holidays,” he states.
That’s a great theory, but it’s not close to the truth.
“No. I lived with Dad every other year,” I clarify. “But I guess you’re right. Dan tried to be like the fun parent. He’s always playing the reasonable one against Dad’s strict rules—or Mom’s nonsense.”
I tell him how it was growing up with my family. It’s hard for people to understand how I survived moving from one country to another—adjusting to different schools and systems. It wasn’t that hard. When I was in San Francisco, Dan homeschooled me. He’s a journalist, an author, and a freelance writer. Working from home allowed him to follow the curriculum that the Canadian schools followed.
The actual problem was Mom. She moved from one town to another when I was in San Francisco. I never knew where I’d be living once I headed back with her. For some reason, she always needs to switch her landscape and find new friends.
Mom and Dad are complete opposites. She’s a nomad. Dad is pretty sedentary. When I look at my parents, I wonder if I’m going to end up like Mom, in love with love. Or like Dad, finding the love of my life and settling in.
“Is this why you’re obsessed with soulmates? You want your children to have a more normal life?”
“Wow, that’s deep. I’ve never thought about it. I have two loving parents.” I stand up and take my empty dishes to the sink, then turn around and lean against the counter. “Three if you count Dan. I like to see people happy. If they’re single, I want to know why they are alone. Are they chasing love, or avoiding it?”
Dan says I’m too mature for my age. He can’t understand how I can be reckless and introspective all at the same time.
Eros studies my face and smiles.
“Are you chasing love or avoiding it?” he asks.
“Neither,” I respond automatically. “I’m too young to entertain the idea. If some guy declares his undying love for me, I might run the other way.”
“So, there’s an age to finding your soulmate?”
“It’s hard to know when you’ll meet the person you’re meant to be with. I’m open to the possibilities, but in the meantime, I like to have a taste of life.”