The Cast
De-facto
My de-facto husband would be a good husband. He is, effectively, just like a husband. Except we’re not married. It’s not because we’re opposed to it; we just haven’t gotten around to it. When people ask me why we’re not married, I should say it’s none of their business. But I’m usually too polite, so I tell them we’re just waiting for the kids to get old enough to pay for our wedding reception.
Short-pants
My oldest daughter is 10-years old, and uses a string of middle names, adopted like an indian brave, to reflect the talents and traits she’s acquired and exhibited over her amazing little life. She can recite her full name by heart, and it includes (so far): Mussolini, Malone, Miracle, Movie-Star, Mushroom-cutter, Zucchini-cutter, Butter-cutter, Lumberjack, and Barfly. She adds and subtracts names at will. Miracle is probably the most apt of all her names, but that’s pretty heavy to carry. So instead we call her Short-pants.
Buddy-roo
My youngest is eight. In an attempt to differentiate herself from her big sister, she refuses to assume a list of middle names. Her impressive memory is musical; she knows by heart the melody and lyrics to number of songs, ranging in genre from The Cars, My Best Friend’s Girlfriend to the theme of Bernstein‘s On the Town. Because she was conceived in Mexico, I wanted to name her Agave, but De-facto wouldn’t have it. She will also answer to Little-Pea, Peanut or Miss Turnstile.
Ricky and Lucy
The Ricardos lived on the ground floor of our building, they were like our family in Paris. We shared spare keys. They’d visit on a Sunday afternoon and end up staying for dinner. They’d cover gaps when our schedule didn’t meet evenly with the babysitter’s. Unfortunately – I think for us most of all – they’ve broken up. She’s still got sass and style. He’s still jetting around the world. They’re just not doing it together in the little studio off our courtyard anymore. We’re sad and we miss hanging out with them as a couple, but it’s also a relief: if Ricky and Lucy are no longer the caricature Latino couple in I love Lucy, then De-facto and I don’t have to consider ourselves as Fred and Ethel.
Mother-in-love
I knew her first, before De-facto. We were friends for several years before she made the sort-of-subtle suggestion that I ought to meet her son. (For this I both appreciate and curse her.) I’m privileged to have a relationship of my own with her; she is as much my friend as the mother of my man. But the thing to witness is her grandmothering. She is expertly inventive in this role – no surprise, as a former actress and a published poet, she is naturally talented at all things requiring imagination. The girls adore her, and so do I.
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