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Ilya was tired. It had been a long fucking week, and all he wanted to do was get back to Boston and get on the ice or maybe barge into Shane Hollander’s boring Montreal apartment and finally see it in person. But he’d much rather not think about that at the moment.
Having Shane during these trying times was... a relief. Someone he can talk to about the conflicting feelings his father’s death had brought up, his guilt about the relief he felt when he thought about being able to finally leave his home country, along with Andrei and Polina behind.
He could not describe the way he felt when Shane first called him. He didn’t even let the call ring twice. Between Andrei’s constant jab of asking why he was even here and Polina’s sudden interest in him and his career (or more specifically, in how much he makes), he was desperate for an escape. If he was being honest, he would have welcomed the call from literally anyone at that moment, but he was nevertheless relieved that it was Shane who had called. And more relieved to hear the concern in Shane’s voice. After everything he had been through, he thinks he deserves at least one person to care about him.
Shane had been relentless after the call. Always checking up on him and sending him stupid articles on how to deal with grief.
Jane: I’m not sure what exactly you need right now, to be honest, but maybe this can help?
Jane: “How to deal with the grief of losing an estranged family.”
Jane: You can let me know if you want me to put it through a translator website. I know English is hard right now.
Jane: Sorry, I know it is stupid, but I thought it might help to read out your thoughts and understand that it is not wrong to feel conflicted about it.
Jane: I worry.
Ilya had smiled at the messages, eyes stinging, seeing how much Shane actually cared. He had replied with ‘Boring’ but if Shane was there with him at the moment, he would’ve kissed him so hard, pouring everything he couldn’t say out loud into the kiss.
Later that day, Shane had sent him another article on how to deal with leaving your home country, as if Ilya had not been a stranger to his own home for years now. But the article had made a difference somehow, helping him navigate his final goodbyes, albeit not many. He just had one more thing he had to do before leaving Russia for good: say goodbye to his mother and apologise for leaving her behind.
It was another cold day in Moscow, and the path to the graveyard was quiet. He decided to walk there even though it was quite far, hoping that the time would help him gather his thoughts. The last time he visited his mom, he had told her about his father’s Alzheimer’s, how he was dissolving into this frail old man, unable to complete even the smallest of tasks by himself. He had laid out his confession to his mom, then, that he found him more bearable when he was like this, fraying at the edges of his life. He knew his mother would understand. Who else would?
Ilya placed the bouquet down on her grave; her favourites- roses and lilies. There was a strange peacefulness to Irina’s grave compared to others, something that made it stand out- kind, inviting you to sit down and pour your heart out. Ilya was sure he was just imagining it, but this was the only place he didn’t feel the need to pretend, to hide, to be the unbothered and charming guy everyone expected him to be, and just be what he was, a young boy tired at heart, craving love and warmth, but afraid to admit it.
He gently sat down in front of her.
“Hi, Mama.” he started.
“Been a while, right? The last few days have been really hard. So much has changed, Mama. I don’t really understand anything anymore. And I am not even sure if I can put everything into words.”
He imagined a young Irina sitting in front of little Ilya, urging him to open up and let it out. He managed a smile, thinking of her kind face and warm hands, holding Ilya close.
“Father has passed away. I got the call from Andrei when I was in Boston. I wanted to fly back the moment I heard it, but I also felt numb and heavy, and not wanting to do anything. Everything has been a blur since then.”
Ilya thought about how the previous days had panned out, and his return to Russia, this time not associated with the usual dread, but something akin to sadness. He felt angry at himself. Grigori Rozanov didn’t deserve his sadness. His father had never shown him kindness, always treating him as the black sheep. He wasn’t alien to the understanding that it was because Ilya reminded him of his mother.
“I guess I was angry at myself for letting myself feel for him. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t stop it, Mama. I couldn’t stop myself from mourning him.” He had felt stupid back then. Why was he mourning the loss of a man who never even saw him for who he was?
But despite everything, he knew that he was still a boy trying to win his father’s attention. He remembered the day his father first noticed his talent in hockey. That was the first time Ilya saw his father even slightly interested in Ilya. Even though hockey turned out to be much bigger than it was back then, he would be lying if he didn’t admit that his father’s interest wasn’t one of the catalysts.
“I have paid for everything. But Andrei dared to ask why I was here.” Ilya scoffed.
“In my mind, I know I don’t owe him anything, but I think I had to do this. Tie off the loose ends, say my eulogies, once and for all. Do you think I did well, Mama?”
Ilya braced himself for the next part. He knew it was stupid, and his mother would understand that she would always be with him, right next to his heart, but he still felt terrible.
“I don’t think I will be coming back, Mama. I am sorry if I am being a terrible son. But I hope you realise that I am not leaving you behind, and I will always carry you, safe, in my heart. Here.” He grabbed the cross that dangled from his neck, holding onto it as it would somehow help him not break down in the middle of a public cemetery.
“I think this is what’s best for me. There is nothing here left for me to come back to, isn’t it?” Despite his conviction, he felt a tear roll down his cheek.
“The article Shane had sent tells me that it is right to feel all weird about this. That this is how grief works,” he laughed wetly, surprising himself. But if the past days have shown him anything, it is that a single thought of Shane Hollander is enough for him to stand up to anything life throws at him.
“You remember Shane, right. The annoying Canadian player that won’t leave my mind.” Ilya chuckled, “Yeah, that annoying Canadian is the only one who is now keeping me afloat. Surprising, right?”
But Ilya knew that his mother would not be surprised by this confession. She would look at him in the way she always did when Ilya got into trouble, even after she had warned him. She never scolded him, just held his eyes with that mischievous glint that said, “I told you so”, until Ilya gave in and told her she was right. If she were with him now, Ilya was certain that she would’ve already made him realise that this thing with Shane wasn’t casual. That it was anything but.
“You would love him, Mama. You will adore him. I know I taunt him a lot by calling him boring”, Ilya laughed, “but he is the only one who understands, Mama. Only one who has ever tried to, after you. I guess I had forgotten that feeling, of being cared for, I had forgotten how good it felt.”
His eyes have turned solemn now, and he was hit with an intense feeling of missing Shane, which he felt was crazy. He had talked to him just yesterday. But Ilya wished Shane was here with him, that Shane had been here holding his hand, when he said the final goodbyes to his mom’s grave.
“I love him, Mama. I love him so much that it hurts me”, the admission spilled out of him before he could stop himself. He didn’t want to lie to his mother, and maybe not to himself anymore. He dropped his head to the ground, picking at his nails, “But I don’t think I can ever let him know that. It will be very selfish of me. Shane loves hockey so fiercely. And us together is not something that can happen. Ever. I can’t ask that of him.”
“But I can’t stop myself from wishing for it either. Selfishly, I don’t want to stop myself from wishing for it”, he confesses, “Maybe the stars will align if I wish for it desperately, like you used to say?”
He looked up from the ground to his mom’s headstone. The sun was starting to set, and he realised he had lost track of the time. His legs were feeling numb now, but he felt infinitely lighter than before. Shane’s boring article was right again; talking about your feelings aloud helped a lot.
He felt his phone buzz in his pocket right then, but he didn’t even need to take it out to see who it was. He had turned all his notifications off these past few days, not wanting to deal with anyone or anything at the moment. Now that the news was out, everyone wanted to know how he felt about his father’s sudden death. He was fucking sad, and confused, and angry. That’s what he was. But he didn’t need anyone else to know any of that. Well, anyone except one person.
Jane: Hey. I just woke up. How’s it going there?
Ilya smiled at the messages.
Jane: I was trying to make my smoothie, but then I remembered I forgot to buy kale yesterday in my grocery run.
Jane: Yes, before you say anything, I know adding kale to a smoothie is considered a crime by some people. But I don’t. So shut up, okay.
Jane: Anyway, I have to go to the grocery shop again before I leave for practice, which is annoying.
Jane: Speaking of hockey
Ilya snorted.
Jane: Yesterday, a male reporter tried to flirt with Hayden!!
Jane: Can you believe that??
Jane: To be honest, it was nothing really. He just casually laid his arms on Hayden when he was asking a question. But the guy was hot. So, I think Hayden got flustered by it?
Jane: I don’t know. It was both weird and funny to watch.
Jane: The guys had a field day in the locker room later, though.
Jane: Later, he came up to me and asked me not to mention it to Jackie??
Jane: Which was again, WEIRD
Jane: Anyway, what are you up to?
Ilya knew what Shane was trying to do. He was checking up on Ilya without coming off too strong. He was trying to give Ilya space, but Ilya knew that Shane was worried about him and that he was itching to ask Ilya how he was doing every waking moment. So instead, Shane was now texting him in strings. Useless updates that were masked as casual conversations, where he sprinkled in several ‘how are you’s as noncommittally as he could. Shame must have really run out of things to text if he was telling him stories about Hayden fucking Pike.
Ilya laughed. He suddenly felt the need to be as close as possible to Shane, as soon as possible, his chest growing both warm and heavy with the feeling. He pocketed his phone and stood up, his face holding a sappy smile that he couldn’t help himself with.
“I truly am gone, aren’t I, Mama?”
He looked at his mother’s grave once more, taking in the calmness of being near her. He touched the stone once, feeling the cold seep through his veins. At that moment, he felt oddly content. He was sad that he won’t be coming back here anymore, that no one will be leaving roses and lilies on his mother’s grave from now on. But he knew his mother understood that this was what he wanted. And no matter how far Ilya goes, he would never be far enough to be away from her.
“Goodbye, Mama.” he drawled out, feeling choked.
“I hope you are happy too, wherever you are.” He wiped down the single streak of tears that managed to fall from his eyes and made his way back to his last night at the condo.
His phone started ringing in his pocket then. Ilya took it out.
‘Jane’, the caller ID read. Ilya smiled.
“Hey”, Shane’s voice came out. He sounded surprised, like he didn’t expect Ilya to pick up.
“Hi.”
“Hi, um, you okay?”, he sounded embarrassed now, like he didn’t know what he was calling for.
“Ah, you were reading my messages but weren’t replying. So, I guess I got a bit worried. But you probably were busy with other stuff. Sorry, I shouldn’t have called.”
“Hey Shane.” Ilya interrupted Shane’s nervous rambling.
“Yeah?” Shane said breathlessly.
“I am glad you are calling. I am okay. As okay as I can be right now.”
Ilya heard the breath of relief Shane was holding and chuckled.
“Now tell me about this supposed gay panic moment Hayden had.”