Chapter Text
“Shane Hollander is looking sluggish tonight! Maybe it is time to retire.”
Those were the words that had sent Shane into a spiral. The worst part was that during the game, he felt great. His skating felt strong and effortless. He was beginning to click with the Centaurs as a team. So much had happened in the last year but there was so to be thankful for. Ilya was his husband and his captain now. While that could be awkward, it was mostly wonderful. He was finally able to do his favorite – well, second favorite – thing with his favorite person. Hockey and Ilya Rozanov. He finally had the two most important parts of his life in one place.
But then he reviewed footage of the game. The sports commentator had said those words. Sluggish. Retire. The Centaurs had won. It was a tight 2:1 game against the Pittsburgh Penguins. There were no dramatic last second goals or flashy trick shots, but it was a solid win after a hard-fought game. Shane had been proud but reviewing the plays, he agreed with the commentator. That pass could have been faster. He saw himself moving efficiently but he could no longer see the natural flight across the ice that he had known in his youth.
He tried to push the thoughts out of his head. He was Shane FUCKING Hollander. Ilya had made sure he knew that. He was a winner. He had a room full of trophies after all. He reminded himself that he had chosen this life. He had chosen Ilya over a life in the closet. He had chosen a dangerous truth over a comfortable lie. He had chosen to feel free over feeling in control.
“We won the game,” Ilya said, while Shane restarted the footage on his iPad for the tenth time.
“We won but I could have been better,” Shane said without looking up.
Ilya gently removed the iPad from Shane’s hands and placed it face down on the inn table beside the couch.
“I can think of a much better use of our time,” Ilya said, grinning.
He kissed Shane and ran his fingers through his husband’s long hair. At first, Shane seemed hesitant, distracted, but soon, he kissed Ilya back. He was hungry for him. Shane was hungry for everything lately.
Shane had recalled his strict diet while playing for Montreal. Hadn’t he played better then? He had been younger and leaner. But he was also more scared and frustrated. Now he was a veteran star player. Shane and Ilya had been married a little over a year. They played on the same team. They shared Ilya’s beautiful home in Ottawa. He saw his parents at least once a week. Life was good. Shane reminded himself of this repeatedly. They had Anya. They had plans for the summer. They had wonderful friends who supported them. Life was good. So why didn’t it feel that way right now?
It was Ilya who had first suggested Shane try therapy. This was when they were on their honeymoon. Shane didn’t seem to be enjoying himself. Initially, Ilya presented it as a joke. That was just how Ilya dealt with tough issues.
“We are on our honeymoon and you are still afraid of carbs?” Ilya had teased as they walked the streets of Naples, Italy.
“Don’t be a dick,” Shane had fired back. “I’m not afraid of carbs. I just wish there was something to eat that didn’t include bread or pizza or pasta,”
“Gelato?” Ilya pointed as they passed a swanky gelateria with a line that was wrapped around the block.
“I can’t have gelato either,” Shane said. He seemed genuinely disappointed to say it out loud.
“I want you to be able to relax,” Ilya told him. He placed his hands gently on Shane’s shoulders. Shane shrugged him off.
“The season starts in a month,” Shane said quietly without making eye contact.
“You are terrified of putting delicious things in your mouth?” Ilya raised his eyebrows. “No, no! This will not work. I will set up appointment with Galina. She is great. Or maybe Galina can recommend someone boring for you.”
Shane was conflicted. He was thankful that Ilya was finally onboard with therapy. He was so proud of Ilya but he didn’t need that… Right? He had created meal plans with board certified dieticians. He had worked with sports scientists to operate at the most elite level. If they were ok with him never eating a carb again, why couldn’t Ilya just accept that?
Ilya is the one with the baggage, Shane thought bitterly. He felt guilty as soon as the thought came to mind. Ilya didn’t deserve that. So much of what Ilya struggled with was not his fault. Besides, Ilya had made the effort. He saw Galina. He had talked to the team doctor. He started medication. He had been brave when confronting some very scary. Shane was proud of him.
Shane had also relented here and there after they were outed. He greedily ate a snickers bar. He had ice cream. He nearly cried while eating a plate of chicken parmesan. He was with Ilya, at his parent’s home. They were all sitting at the table and as he took a bite, a flood of emotions hit him. It tasted so good. This place was safe. He hadn’t eaten chicken parmesan in over ten years. The love of his life was there. He no longer had this huge secret to keep.
He recalled how his mother, Yuna had been startled while watching him eat. The feelings were overwhelming and the food was so tasty that before he knew it, he had devoured the entire plate. Everyone else was still about half-way through their meals. He found himself reaching for another piece of garlic bread. He could see his hand grab the bread from the basket, but he didn’t feel like he was making that decision. It was like… It was like… It was like watching footage of a bad play. A foregone conclusion. No control in the matter. No way to go back and fix anything.
He felt sick to his stomach after overeating, but Ilya and Yuna had gently praised him for finally letting himself eat a non-diet meal. His father, David, had watched him with careful consideration. David had smiled but Shane could tell he was thinking of something sad.
The next morning, Shane had awoken feeling bloated and defeated. He started his diet back immediately. Black coffee, steamed kale, and two boiled eggs for him while Ilya enjoyed a homemade latte with a bagel and cream cheese. Ilya had noticed Shane’s plate but tried not to comment on it.
So when Ilya suggested therapy, Shane tried to brush it off.
Ilya had tried to avoid mentioning it at all. Even though they were married now, time alone together was always rare and precious. Ilya didn’t want to ruin their quality time by pushing the matter. Yet, three days into their trip to Italy, Ilya had to say something. Shane had refused to eat because local restaurants could not accommodate his strict preferences.
Eventually, they found a trattoria that offered grilled fish and vegetables. Shane had inhaled his food without so much as looking up at his husband. Shane felt embarrassed and ashamed as he finally glimpsed Ilya’s concerned face. Ilya placed his hand over Shane’s. He had squeezed it for reassurance.
Back at the hotel, as they packed for their return to Ottawa, Shane quietly said:
“Maybe I should talk to someone,”
Ilya wrapped him in a hug while Shane sobbed.
Galina had suggested Dr. Valerie Hyunh. Shane knew he could have found his own therapist, but Ilya had trusted Galina so Shane decided to try Valerie.
Valerie was advertised as an eating disorder specialist, but Shane soon realized that Galina may have recommended her for other reasons. Valerie was mixed race, Asian Canadian like Shane. Though, based on her surname, he had gathered that her family was Vietnamese, not Japanese like his mother’s. However, like Shane, Valerie had a light spray of freckles across her cheeks. And Valerie was young and kind of pretty. She was older than Shane by a few years but as he sat down in her office, he couldn’t help but wonder if Ilya would find her attractive.
It was strange to feel jealous of someone who was supposed to help you, Shane reasoned. He tried to focus on positives. Maybe she would understand him better.
The first session with Valerie was fine. She asked generic questions about what he wanted from therapy. Shane had initially felt guarded, but he tried to answer Valerie’s questions honestly. The second session was more intense.
“Which foods do you really enjoy eating?” She had asked.
“I don’t know,” Shane had said while idly playing with the hem of his shirt. The uncertainty was real. He did not know what he enjoyed eating.
“You don’t know? Which food would you eat all the time if there were no consequences?”
No consequences. Shane had asked himself a similar question once upon a time. Who would you love if there were no consequences? Ilya. Always Ilya.
“I like a lot of healthy stuff. I like vegetables. I like grilled fish. I eat a lot of steamed veggies,” Shane felt like he was lying again.
“Do you enjoy healthy foods?” Valerie asked. Shane thought this was a stupid question.
“I enjoy feeling healthy. You know, a lot of people don’t eat enough vegetables. The western diet is terrible,” Shane said this more combatively than he had intended.
“Do any foods scare you?”
“Scare me?”
“Maybe I will say it another way? Which foods do you crave but think are not ‘healthy’?” Valerie had gestured finger quotes when saying the word ‘healthy’.
He thought of meals he had shared with Ilya. Pasta at his parent’s house. Tuna melts. Burgers cooked at the cottage. Chicken parmesan. Ilya’s favorite but one of his as well. A snickers bar. Ice cream. He began to also think of other meals. He recalled a time before he thought so much about food.
“How about you just name three?” Valerie bargained. “We don’t have to talk through all of those foods.”
Seemingly out of nowhere, Shane could feel hot tears in his eyes. He was trying to pin down just three foods. Just three scary, not healthy foods. He was still reminiscing about a time before food had become scary though. Hot chocolate after a youth hockey game. Popsicles during the summertime. Poutine on a school field trip.
Valerie wordlessly passed Shane a box of tissues. He took a couple and wiped his face. The tears kept flowing. He remembered his grandma, Yuna’s mother, making quick curry udon for him when he was little. She baked his favorite sugar cookies every Christmas. He remembered that the cookies were soft and buttery.
It was like a dam had burst. Everything rushed in all at once. All the foods he couldn’t have, whether he liked them or not. Sweet buns from the Korean bakery near his high school. Maple candy for school holiday parties. Full sugar ginger ale. Steaks. Shrimp tempura. Sushi with rice- not just sashimi. French fries. Ketchup crisps. Ketchup. He couldn’t even have ketchup on the diet.
He was getting a headache. He took a deep breath in, then cleared his throat.
“I don’t really think I am afraid of any food,” Shane lied. He knew Valerie knew he was lying.
“Ok,” Valerie looked him in the eye. Shane turned his gaze downward. “Why don’t we just pick three foods that are ‘unhealthy’ and try to incorporate those foods into your current diet?”
“Why?” Shane couldn’t understand how unhealthy eating was supposed to make him get better.
“Many of us moralize food. Something is good. Something else is bad. Healthy. Unhealthy. But the truth is, there is room for all the foods we want to eat.”
Valerie had used “us” and Shane was unsure which commonality she was referring to. He knew she was trying. He knew she was a professional. She was supposed to be very good at this. But he was beginning to resent her. How could she have idea what this was like? Or maybe she did? Shane couldn’t tell which was worse. If she didn’t understand his issues, then she couldn’t help him. But what if she understood too well? What if he was so obvious to her.
When their session was over, Shane left the office, walked to his car, and then called reception to cancel his following appointments with Valerie.