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I don’t want to look at you right now. I don’t want to talk to you. Go home.
The words replayed again and again in Shane’s mind as he kept his eyes straight on the road he had travelled countless times over the past two years, often with tears prickling his eyes because this was the road that took him away from Ilya. This time though, tears were flowing freely and his vision soon got blurry. And the road was so dark. The darkness of a Canadian December that engulfs you at four pm and makes you feel like it will never be daylight again.
I don’t want to talk to you. Go home.
Technically, that’s where he was heading to: home. Brossard. A house standing a stone’s throw away from the practice rink; from the ice and the changing room, from hockey sticks and game plans—all things Shane understood well. But home wasn’t a place anymore; it hadn’t been a place for a long time. Home was Ilya. And Shane was driving away from him. Because Ilya had told him to leave.
I don’t want to look at you right now. Go home.
He could feel his hands shake on the steering wheel, and perhaps he would have ignored it had it not been for the loud honk that shook him out of his mind’s hell. He had swerved too close to the middle lane. Driving back to his empty house was no longer an option. Shane couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so lost, so hollow. Or maybe he could.
When you overheard JJ say that Rozanov didn’t travel to Nashville with the rest of his team; that’s the last time you felt so lost. Back when Ilya still played for Boston. Back when he was still the captain of a winning team that was a habitual contender for the Cup. Before he left all of it to be closer to you.
Shane took the next exit and stopped on the side of the road he could no longer see through his tears. He took a deep breath, then another, then another. His hands were still trembling and his heart was lodged firmly in his throat. He kept breathing, counting each inhale and exhale, desperately trying to slow down the beating of his heart. He was still within the city limits and could have found his way to his parents’ house with his eyes closed. He didn’t want his parents to know about the fight; about how horrible and selfish he’d been. But he couldn’t drive two hours in this state. Logic took over, even if all he wanted was to drive back to Ilya.
***
David was sitting at the table, working on the new puzzle Ilya had gifted him the day before. It was a custom-made puzzle, created from a picture David had taken at his cottage the previous summer. A view of the lake at sunset with Shane, Ilya and Yuna sitting on Adirondack chairs on the left side of the shot. He was smiling, sipping a tea when he heard the commotion. He shot out of his chair, thinking the worst. Even as a child, Shane had always made a quiet entrance. This was alarming.
The scene in the living room was heartbreaking. Shane sat on the floor, curved around himself, his back shaking with sobs. Yuna was kneeling next to him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, trying to console him.
“What happened? Is anyone hurt?”
Shane was rocking back and forth, unable to speak. Yuna looked up, “Shane and Ilya had a fight.”
“He hates me,” Shane said with a broken voice between two sobs.
“Oh, honey, no, he doesn’t. He loves you. So much,” Yuna said.
“I don’t deserve him.”
“Shane, no. You know that’s not true.” Shane shook his head and started crying even harder.
“Where is Ilya now?” David asked. No answer.
“Is Ilya home, Shane?” Yuna tried. Shane took a deep breath and nodded. Yuna and David’s eyes met for one of those wordless conversations that became second nature after years of loving and trusting one another.
David walked over to them and put a hand on Shane’s shoulder. “I love you, son.”
A moment passed before Shane stopped rocking and managed to answer. “I love you, too”, he said in a small voice.
“Would it be OK with you if I go check on Ilya?”
Shane looked up then. “You would do that?”
“Of course,” David said, and then let a beat passed before adding, “If he feels as bad as you do right now, he shouldn’t be alone."
***
The drive took mere minutes but now parked in the driveway, David felt a little out of his depth. The house was dark with only a faint light visible from two windows upstairs he knew to be Ilya’s bedroom. The truth was he had not been inside Ilya’s house all that much. Most of their gatherings as a family took place at the Hollanders’ house or cottage. He had been here the day Ilya moved in to help him settle in but Ilya had hired professionals to fix whatever needed fixing before moving day, leaving no typical dad chores for David to tackle.
That thought gave him pause. In that moment, he realised fully that he already thought of Ilya as his second son.
It had taken Yuna a little longer to shake off the image of Ilya the playboy, to stop worrying about the big Russian man who could break her son’s heart. But from that first meeting, from that moment he had seen Ilya talking Shane off the ledge, David had felt in his heart that Ilya was now his as well. He had seen beyond the tough exterior to the little boy inside who was now an orphan. He had accepted Ilya as his own, and now that son needed him.
He tried phoning but his call automatically went to voicemail. Ilya had probably turned off his phone. He got out of the car and walked to the front door where he hesitated. Would Ilya even come to the door if he rang the bell? The key was right there in his pocket. Ilya had made copies before even moving in: one for Shane, one for Yuna, and one for David. And if this wasn’t an urgent reason to use his key, what was?
David let himself in. He scanned the first floor quickly, already sure that Ilya was upstairs. So, he walked up. Ilya’s bedroom door was open. The bed was not visible from the hallway—only the faint light of a bedside lamp.
David knocked on the open door and called out “Ilya?” in a soft voice.
“David?”
“Yes, it’s me. I tried calling but I got your voicemail. I’m sorry for letting myself in but I was worried. Can I come in?”
David heard the rustle of sheets, and then Ilya was standing in front of him, his bloodshot eyes filled with anguish. “Is Shane OK?”
“Yes. He was smart enough to drive over to our place. He was really upset but he’s physically OK. He’s with Yuna.”
Ilya averted his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “I… I should not have turned him away.”
His voice was the smallest David had ever heard. It drove home just how lonely Ilya had been. David was sorry he had not noticed it before. “You were upset. You needed space. Nothing wrong with that.”
Ilya’s shoulders slumped further down. “I don’t ever want Shane to think that…” His voice broke but David could probably guess the rest. What a horrid situation these boys were forced to endure. Not for the first time, he wished he could fly down to the NHL’s headquarters and have a word or two with those idiots in charge.
David took a step forward and put a hand on Ilya’s shoulder. As soon as he made contact, he felt it tremble under his palm. Ilya was obviously crying now but keeping his face away from David. Nothing was going to deter David in that moment, however. He moved closer, taking a step aside to stand face to face with Ilya. Ilya kept his head down but managed to make eye contact with David.
David stood still, solid, then held out his arms. “May I?”
No sooner were the words out his mouth when Ilya collapsed in David’s arms, holding him in a tight grip and openly sobbing. David didn’t say a word; he just held Ilya and let him cry. Every time Ilya said “Sorry,” David held him a little closer or rubbed his back in a smooth circle, the way he used to when Shane would crash out and Yuna wasn’t the first one to get to him. It was never a competition though; mostly a matter of proximity.
Eventually, David felt the torrent subside and Ilya broke their embrace. He looked slightly ashamed, like he had done something wrong. David let that be for now. “Why don’t we go downstairs and grab something to drink? Crying is thirsty work,” he said with a little smile.
Ilya nodded. “I will be down in a minute. I just…”
He just needs to put himself back together.
“OK. Take your time. I’ll be in the kitchen.” He squeezed Ilya’s shoulder and turned on his heels.
***
Ilya splashed his face and stared down his reflection in the mirror. He looked like hell. His eyes were puffy, his cheeks were red, and he felt a deep sense of shame. Crying on his own was lonely and made him feel hollow. Crying in his therapist’s office almost felt like a rite of passage. But crying in your boyfriend’s father’s arms was embarrassing, shameful.
Is Shane still your boyfriend?
Ilya shook his arms, once, twice, thrice. Of course Shane was still his boyfriend. He patted his face and eyes with a clean cloth, changed into a new t-shirt, took a deep breath, and stepped out of his room.
***
David had made a sandwich and put some pickles out in a bowl. Ilya realised he was famished. David waved him over to a stool as if he had taken control over the kitchen, and maybe he had. It was nice to see the older man there, fussing around. For Ilya.
“Thank you,” Ilya said before taking a bite.
“What would you like to drink? Coke? Water?... Vodka?” David asked with a bit of a twinkle in his eyes, making Ilya smile shyly.
“I think maybe I should stick to Coke.”
“On the rocks or straight up?” David winked.
“Straight up is fine… for Coke.” Both men chuckled.
“I guess making dad jokes is part of my job,” David said with a little wink.
Ilya gazed at David in amazement. He had gotten to know Shane’s dad better over the last couple years but Yuna often took the lead in conversation. David seemed happy with the arrangement. Any time spent alone with David was usually silent, although never an uncomfortable one. Working on puzzles, yes; but also sitting on the dock while Yuna and Shane were busy strategizing over something in the house. Until that moment, Ilya had never realised how David’s silent presence was a comfort. How it felt like quiet acceptance.
David pushed a can of Coke towards Ilya on the counter then sat diagonally opposite to him with a glass of water.
“How are you feeling now?”
Ilya took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”
“A little empty, maybe?” David guessed.
“Yes… and, I don’t know, sad?”
“Of course.” He let a beat pass. “Ashamed?”
Ilya took a sip of Coke, trying to swallow back the lump in his throat. “Yes, probably.”
David nodded with a pensive expression on his face, clearly trying to properly phrase what he wanted to say next. “You and I come from very different cultural backgrounds, obviously. And I can’t even imagine how hard it must have been to grow up in Moscow, feeling different, and losing perhaps the only person who saw the real you?”
Ilya nodded, eyes averted, but David felt that he had his full attention.
“Marrying Yuna was a bit of a culture shock for me. Her parents were welcoming but guarded. I had to learn how to read them, how to understand things that were not explicitly said.”
Ilya nodded again.
“Shane coming along eased out a lot of awkwardness because I guess we bonded over the overwhelming love we all felt for him.”
Ilya felt his heart squeeze. He could certainly relate to that.
“It also helped me to understand that love can be expressed in so many different ways; you just have to pay attention, you know? But we also know when we’re not loved or not loved properly.”
Ilya swallowed painfully, his eyes stinging again.
“When you came along, Yuna was worried, of course. You had your reputation and she feels very protective of Shane. She still thinks of him as a little boy sometimes.”
“I… I also feel very protective about Shane.”
David smiled. “I know that. I saw it right away,” he said before taking a sip of water, as if he was buying himself time. “It’s not really my place to talk about what happened between you and Shane earlier today. I wasn’t here anyway. But I know you boys will figure it out. Shane processes things in his own way, just like you have your own process. But he loves you so much. And I know how much you love him. And if there’s one thing I am sure of is that you two are meant to be together.”
Ilya looked at him then, a little shock by the absolute certainty in David’s tone.
“You are both under so much pressure, and yet you still make this work. I honestly don’t know how you do it. And I hate that you both feel shame for something that is absolutely not shameful.”
Ilya almost felt like he was back in therapy, except David was the one doing all the talking. He had never heard David talk this much until now.
“There’s still so much bullshit in how boys are raised. You were taught to feel ashamed for feelings that are perfectly fine and legitimate. And I hate that you feel like that. There’s no shame in loving. There’s no shame in hurting.”
“I am not…ashamed of loving Shane.”
“No, I know that. But maybe you are a little ashamed of how much?”
That question hit Ilya like a brick. Was he ashamed of how fucking gone he was for Shane? He certainly could hear his father’s voice in his head, calling him weak. But his love for Shane did not make him weak; it made him stronger. It gave his life purpose. It gave him a new family: Shane, Yuna, and David.
David turned slightly on his stool to face Ilya completely. “I came here today to check on you because I need you to understand something: I am not going anywhere,” he said, placing a hand over his own heart. “I will always be here for you, no matter what. I know Yuna and I cannot replace your family; I know that. But it’s really important for me that you know that just like I am always here for Shane, I am always here for you.”
Ilya was not even trying to hold back the tears anymore. David reached out to squeeze his shoulder.
“You’re a good man, Ilya, and I care about you. I am here for you because you deserve that, OK?”
Ilya nodded. “OK.”
David smiled. “Good. Now finish your sandwich.”
Ilya smiled, probably a little goofily. “Yes, sir.”