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David and Yuna hadn’t expected their hasty travels to Montreal. One minute, they were watching the puck drop, chatting about the odds and season stats; ten seconds later, they were getting calls and texts from Shane’s coaches, medics, sponsors, and loved ones that were tuned in for the major hit he took.
The car ride from Ottawa to Montreal was tense. Yuna was in the passenger seat, bouncing between sending messages and getting on calls discussing Shane’s condition with parties that were invested in his health. They held hands over the gearshift in lieu of voicing their anxiety to each other.
David drove silently, thinking about the images he had seen of his son, laid out on the ice and curling up in pain. It broke his heart to see his son – his only child – hurt like that, with him being hours away. David idly wished that Shane had excelled in a non-contact sport, maybe tennis or something.
David liked watching tennis. And golf. Hockey was more Yuna and Shane’s thing.
Their first stop was the hospital, of course. They made it there much later than visiting hours permitted, and Shane was completely unconscious. Just seeing him, however, safe and warm, was enough to put David more at ease.
At around six in the morning, David volunteered to run over to Shane’s apartment to grab comfy clothes for whenever he gets discharged.
Unlocking Shane’s apartment with a heavy, gold key, David walked in and toed his shoes off onto the mat placed to the left of the door.
David looked around, noting the absence of any clutter. In fact, there was hardly any decoration to be seen, either. It was much like how he moved into it, not appearing any more lived-in than before. Sure, there were some pictures hung up, and throw pillows tucked carefully in the corners of the sofa, but Shane’s apartment was almost too clean for David’s liking. That’s another thing Shane got from his mother.
David walked over to the bedroom and grabbed Christmas-themed fuzzy socks and a sweat-set from Shane’s dresser. He didn’t linger long there, knowing that Yuna was off meeting with the Metros team and Hayden was back with his family, leaving Shane alone at the hospital.
After returning from Shane’s house, David first went to the cafeteria and grabbed a coffee and parfait for himself, before making his way to Shane’s room.
The door was ajar, and from his glance through the window, David could tell Shane was out cold. Shane was a terribly light sleeper. He made his footsteps as quiet as possible as he crossed over the threshold, watching for any signs of movement from his son. Shane didn’t move a muscle, and David was glad, but wanted to see with his own eyes that his son was okay.
He guessed he would just have to be patient.
About halfway into the room, a noise caught David’s attention: it sounded like a radio, or the television, maybe? It was a baritone voice, talking with little pause, in some foreign language. David looked around, trying to find the source, when he noticed Shane’s phone face up on his lap.
He peered over his son, cocking his head and looking at the phone. There was an active call going, reading at forty-five minutes long. Lily, the contact said. David was unconvinced that this person was named Lily, given the low, accented voice that was speaking… what sounded like Russian, or maybe Ukrainian, David guessed. Something Slavic.
David stared at his son for a minute in confusion, as well as the phone on his lap. All the while, Lily spoke as if he were in conversation with Shane, becoming animated one moment and more resigned the next.
Not sure what to do, David took a seat next to his son, picking up the Montreal Gazette he grabbed at the reception desk and slipping his readers on.
For the next ten minutes or so, David read over the paper, flipping through notable articles and stock information while eating spoonfuls of his parfait. When he wrapped up his reading, he decided he would try to get some answers: who was this guy speaking to Shane? And why did his voice sound vaguely familiar? He hadn’t stopped speaking at all since David entered the room.
He stood up and crossed the small distance to his son’s beside, grabbing his phone. David noted that it was only 11% charged now, no doubt because of this now fifty-minute call.
Taking the call off speaker-phone and pushing his glasses up on the crown of his head, David cleared his throat and asked, “Sorry, who is this?” with a furrowed brow and a hand on his hip.
It was silent between the two of them for almost a minute, but David could hear vague sounds of movement on the other side of the call.
“Um. I am a friend. Shane’s friend,” the other man answered with a thin tone, before asking, “Who are you?” He throws the word ‘you’ at David like an accusation.
David couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m Shane’s dad.”
He followed his answer up with, “I’ve been listening to you talk to my son in what sounds like Russian for the last ten minutes, uh…” David pulls back the phone to check the name again, just in case he had somehow misread the contact. Nope. He didn’t. “Lily?”
Lily paused for another moment. “That is me. Yes,” he confirmed. “Is nickname,” the man tacked on at the end, and while that cleared up some confusion for David, he still had so many questions.
“Ah.” He looked around the room, trying to find the right words to say. “Well, Shane’s been asleep for a while now, and… doesn’t understand Russian.” David froze, eyes darting over to his fast-asleep son, suddenly wondering if he was living some sort of double life. “Wait, does he understand Russian?”
“No, he does not,” the other answered immediately, but added, “I don’t think…” like it was an afterthought. “He called me. Out of it, didn’t want me to hang up on him,” he rambled with a thickening accent, sounding like a child trying to avoid punishment. “So, I didn’t hang up. I talked to him in Russian so he would sleep and not talk back…”
David couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of Shane, all doped-up, trying his best to stay awake. The other man’s timidity confused him greatly, still. “Smart thinking! Shane’s only been under anesthesia one other time, when he was 10,” he reminisced fondly, thinking of four-foot tall Shane with a missing front tooth and a broken arm needing to be reset.
“Yes, I could tell..”
David laughed again, for no reason except to fill the silence. “Well,” he began, “I’m going to hang up, son, let his phone charge up.” He looks to Shane again, sighing. “Thank you. This was really thoughtful. I know Shane appreciated it…” Trailing off, David smiled fondly, though his brows were pinched. “You must be pretty good friends, huh?”
The other man cleared throat before he replied, “Is no problem. I-I…” His voice cut out and David frowned in concern for him. He took a seat again, hand on his knee, listening intently to the other line. Just when David was going to ask if he was still there, the other’s small voice spoke up, saying, “I worried about him…”
David’s heart clenched and alarm bells were going off in his head. Whatever was between his son and this Russian man… It seemed serious.
Even though the Russian’s words were heavily accented and coarse over the phone, they were rich with emotion – emotion that David could almost see through the phone. “We were worried about him, too. But he’ll be alright,” he assured. “He’s a fighter.”
“Yes, he is.” His voice was shaky, catching on his consonants.
“You get some rest, too, now, alright?” David said in his most convincing dad voice; the one Shane respected and feared as an adolescent, but tended to roll his eyes at now. He wondered if this Russian man was anything like his son.
“Yes, Sir,” the Russian replied with a voice akin to a soldier reporting to their superior.
This shocked a laugh out of David. Yeah, maybe he’s not much like my son. “Please, call me David…” he encouraged him. Running a hand through his short, salt-and-pepper hair, David dared to say, “Hey, I’m not gonna ask any questions about this, but you should know that any… friend of Shane’s is a friend of ours. Okay?” He ended his assurance with a hopeful intonation.
David heard a brisk sniffle and then a choppy reply of, “Okay. Thank you. Bye-bye,” and then the line was disconnected with three beeps.
Still holding the phone to his ear for a belated moment before plugging it into the bedside outlet, David let out a deep sigh, eyes wide and stuck on his son. With every rise and fall of Shane’s chest, David questioned who this man who cared so deeply for Shane was, and why he was a secret.
David was hit with the realization that somewhere along the way, Shane had decided it was better to keep whatever was between him and this Lily a secret, as opposed to confiding in his parents. Did he not feel safe, or supported? When did that happen?
In the back of his mind, thought that Shane might be gay, or asexual, or something. Yuna had the same thoughts, too, since Shane was in high school, even. Shane never seemed too interested in women, is all. There was Rose Landry, of course, but Shane hadn’t talked about her or been seen with her for months.
So. Was this a… boyfriend? Partner? Lover?
And they were Russian?
He considered the Russians he knew that worked in the same field as Shane. Of course, the first name that came to him was Rozanov, Shane’s rival that played for Boston. What was his first name… Ilya? David huffed to himself at the idea of this mystery Lily being that guy, who Shane never had anything nice to say about.
David frowned.
Lily.
Ilya.
Ilya. Lily.
David pronounced the names together, sounding them out as if trying to test something.
Hm. That’s…
Surely, Shane wouldn’t choose such an obvious nickname for him.
David’s first instinct was to go into detective mode and confirm his suspicions of Ilya’s identity before anything else. Grabbing his own phone in a vice grip, David slowly typed Ilya Rozanov Interview into the YouTube search bar, clicking on the first video that was recommended to him. It was from a few weeks ago, after a home game defeat, only thirty-six seconds in duration. The thumbnail was a still of Ilya frowning, looking completely displeased and put out at even being spoken-to.
David clicked on it, tapping his foot as he waited out an advertisement. Then, he heard a softball question thrown at the Russian, who was standing outside of a locker room, looking annoyed. “Rozanov, do you think there was something missing in your team’s chemistry out on the ice tonight?”
Ilya sneered, but reined in the expression the best he could, it looked like, while glancing at something behind the camera. “Yes. Sure. Probably,” was the response he gave that reporter. David thought that it was a pretty redundant question, to be fair.
Another person spoke up, asking, “Mr. Rozanov, can you comment, as captain, on the odds of the Raiders taking home the Cup this season? Are you still feeling good about your team’s chances, considering this loss?”
His brow furrowed as he replied after a moment to think, “We are still feeling good. That is all the questions I have time for. Bye-bye.” He brushed off some other reporters shouting his name, giving the crowd a curt nod and before turning back to the locker room. The video ended there.
David shut the phone off, leaning back into his chair with a sound that was a mix of a groan and a sigh. While David was no expert on voice recognition, Lily's and Ilya’s voices were remarkably similar, not to mention the shared vocabulary between the two. David was almost certain they were the same person.
Well. That confirms that, I guess. Nice fake name choice, Shane.
Before David could spiral anymore, Shane shook awake, like he was startled from a dream. His eyes darted around the room before he closed them with a pouty sigh. He grumbled something unintelligible, though he seemed to not register making the noise.
David placed a hand on his son’s shoulder and quietly asked him, “Shane? You okay, kiddo?”
Shane gave a noncommittal hum, his eyes firmly closed.
“Just go back to sleep, okay? I’m here, your mom will be back soon. You’re just fine.”
One of Shane’s eyes popped open almost comically. “When’s Ilya coming back?” he slurred sleepily, obviously still in a haze of painkillers.
David couldn’t help the shocked look on his face. “Ilya?”
Shane nodded, squinting before letting his eyes all closed again.
“I… I think he had to leave, Shane. Boston’s playing down in Florida tomorrow.”
“Right,” Shane nodded again, but his face was contorted with a frown.
“Just rest for now, okay? You can talk to him later.”
Nodding one last time, Shane cast his head to the side letting himself fall unconscious.
David was not usually one to curse, but a stream of what the fucks were surging through his brain.
Shane’s primary doctor came in at that moment with a muffled knock and a wave through the thin, rectangle window on the door.
“Good morning, Mr. Hollander! Good to see you.”
David blinked. “Yes, good morning. Any updates on my son?”
The doctor smiled knowingly, looking over Shane’s vitals. “Yes, all of his scans and labs have come back within normal ranges, which is great news. His collarbone is set back into place, hence the strong dose of painkillers. We are comfortable sending him home to heal if nothing changes for the worse by tomorrow morning.”
“That’s great, thank you.”
The doctor smiled again. “Ring the bell if you need anything. I’ll be back to check on him in the afternoon.”
David nodded, responding, “Thanks again,” as the door clicked closed at the doctor’s departure. A wave of relief washed over David. Along with that, though, David had an urge to update Lily on Shane’s health. He knew if Yuna was hurt, he would want any information that was available.
Grabbing Shane’s phone from his bedside without letting himself think about it any harder, he pressed the home button to unlock it. He tried the PIN 0510, and smiled when it unlocked. Still using his birthday as his password, I see.
He swiped until he found the camera icon and clicked on it, bringing it up to take a photo of Shane in the hospital bed, bundled up in his hospital blankets. His head was still lolled to the side a bit, making it look like he was pouting. He snapped the picture, went to open his messaging app, and paused, wondering, What if I saw something I shouldn’t?
He shrugged off that idea, citing the fact that this was his son he was talking about. He would love him no matter what he read or saw.
David bit the bullet and clicked into the app, finding Lily’s name near the top of his recent messages. Others had messaged Shane too, inquiring about his health, wishing him well, offering their sympathy to him about missing playoffs. The usual.
David was hit with a wall of texts from Lily when he opened their chat, all from the last 24 hours.
[8:46PM] Lily: Are you okay?
[8:46PM] Lily: That was a bad hit
[8:47PM] Lily: You did not move
[8:47PM] Lily: Marlow is lucky I do not kill him
[8:48PM] Lily: He feels bad
[8:48PM] Lily: As he should
[8:48PM] Lily: He’s a fucking idiot 😡
[10:03PM] Lily: I hope you are okay
[10:03PM] Lily: I know you are sleeping probably but I worry
[10:04PM] Lily: And no one would tell me anything
[10:06PM] Lily: It was a bad hit
[10:10PM] Lily: Would you be mad if I come see you?
[10:11PM] Lily: I’ll be sneaky 😋
[10:13PM] Lily: And is normal for captain to check on captain
[10:16PM] Lily: Even if the other captain has weak backhand hahahaha
[11:23PM] Lily: I heard you are stable
[11:23PM] Lily: I want to see you
[11:26PM] Lily: Want to hear you talk about boring hockey history book you got
[11:30PM] Lily: Ignore the last text
[11:31PM] Lily: I am tired and sad ):
[12:02AM] Lily: I’ll be there in the morning
[5:35AM] Lily: I’m On My Way!
[5:35AM] Lily: On my way*
[5:37AM] Lily: Disguise is on, no one will know a thing 😉
Underneath the last message, there was a selfie of a man – clearly Rozanov, if you knew what his face even sort of looked like – wearing a black cap and sunglasses, giving the smallest of smiles and a thumbs up to the camera.
[5:53AM] Lily: Delete that when you are awake please.
David reread the messages several times, just in case he had been mistaken. Was this really Ilya Rozanov texting his son? He spoke with a deep sense of familiarity and concern that only further confirmed their secret relationship to each other.
David, on a whim, dared to scroll up a bit further in the text thread. He immediately regretted it.
All he caught were the words ‘glasses’, ‘face’, and ‘cum’ and the ‘💦’ emoji before he gasped and flicked his finger, scrolling back to the bottom again.
That was way more information about Shane’s sex life than David had ever needed to know – ever – not to mention Ilya Rozanov’s. He already heard enough about Rozanov’s playboy exploits in the limited tabloid sports news he consumed; this was an insult to injury.
Shaking the chills out of his tense body, he typed out a brief and explanatory message, emphasizing that Shane was going to be okay, and attached the photo of him passed out in the bed. He hit send and put the phone back on the bedside table with a soft thud.
It buzzed a minute later, but that wasn’t David’s business now. His only business was taking care of his son, whose flushed face was twitching in his sleep. David was reminded of sick days at home, watching over a feverish, primary school-age Shane with Yuna.
The sound of the hospital room door creaking open caused David to turn his head from Shane. His heart settled when he saw Yuna marching toward him, her prim heels clicking rhythmically on the tiled floor.
“Sorry, meeting with the Metros board took longer than expected.” Yuna pressed a kiss to David’s temple. “How’s our son doing? Any changes?”
Boy, were there ever.
David shook his head, pulling Yuna by her waist to sit across his lap. “He’s doing okay. He woke up briefly, mumbling about this or that. Doc said we can bring him home tomorrow. If he’s more conscious.”
Yuna nodded, her head rested on David’s shoulder. “I saw the doctor in the hallway, he filled me in.” They were quiet for a few minutes, just watching the rise and fall of Shane’s chest. “Do you remember bringing him home from the hospital? The first time…?”
David chuckled, closing his eyes to picture tiny, red-faced Shane in the back of their 1984 Jeep Cherokee. “Of course. He was so small. And even with all the reading and courses we did, we had no idea what we were getting into.”
Yuna nodded again, sniffling. “It was terrifying. It still is.”
“It is.” David ran his hand down Yuna’s side, gripping the dip of her waist. “But we’ll be okay. We’re a good team. We’ve made it this far, right?”
“Yes, we have. I love you two so much,” Yuna whispered, pressing another kiss to David’s temple.
“We love you, too, hon,” David replied, craning his neck to kiss the top of her head. “Why don’t you rest, okay? I’ll wake you up if anything changes.”
“Don’t let me sleep for too long. And wake me up if anything happens. Okay?”
David nodded fondly. “Yes, dear.”
With his wife wrapped around him and his son snoring a few feet away, David finally felt like he could breathe, fully and deeply. Earlier, he was going to mention the phone call with Lily to Yuna, but now, he was glad he wasn’t given the chance. That was Shane’s secret to tell, not David’s. David’s own earlier words echoed in his head.
We will be okay. We’ve made it this far.