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“Honey.” A groan.
“Yuna, your phone.”
Another groan left Yuna, her husband's voice breaking through the deep darkness of sleep. Somewhere behind his voice in her ear, the shrill sound of her own ringtone.
It stopped for a few seconds, before picking back up. Loud and unrelenting. Yuna forced her eyes open, glancing at the alarm clock whilst picking up the offending piece of technology. She would never forgive her job for forcing her to buy a cellphone, no matter how practical they were.
Four thirty. Whoever was calling better have the best damn reason in the whole world, because she was supposed to spend two more hours in blissful unconsciousness.
“Hello?”
For a second, nothing happened. Then, a sound that sounded achingly like a sob. Yuna pushed herself up properly against the headboard, phone clutched to her ear.
“Ilya, honey? Is that you?” She recognized the sniffles. Besides her, David turned on the bedside lamp.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Yuna tried, as the ten-year-old on the other side battled through another sob.
“Mama,” Ilya finally managed to say, his voice raw and strangled. “Mama, she will not wake up. She is on the floor.”
Yuna was up, and out of the bed in a second. David looked at her, his blue eyes wide, clearly waiting for her to give him instructions on what was happening. On the phone, Yuna heard Ilya rustling with fabric.
“Mama, you need to get up,” he said, his voice breaking. He had moved the phone away, no longer talking to Yuna.
“David, call 911, ambulance to the Rozanov’s. Ilya, honey. You need to tell me what happened. I’m on my way. So is the ambulance.”
Heavy sniffles filled the line as Ilya picked the phone back up.
“I went to bathroom. But mama’s lights were on. She was not in bedroom,” Ilya took a deep breath, as Yuna grabbed the first pair of jeans she could find. “I went to kitchen, and she is on the floor. And she will not wake up. Yuna, I am scared.”
Yuna had a sweater over her head, and was out the bedroom door in a second. Down the stairs, looking for the car keys.
“It’s alright sweetie. I’m on my way. Is mama breathing? Look at her chest.”
David appeared behind her, house phone in one hand, car keys in the other. Yuna made a grab for them, but David held back for a second.
“What’s happening?” He whispered.
“It’s Irina. Ilya says she’s collapsed in the kitchen.”
David looked stricken, his face taking on an ashen colour at her words. Without another word, he handed her the keys. Yuna put her feet into a pair of flats, glad it was still August so easy shoes were an option.
Ilya was saying something in her ear. He couldn’t tell if his mama was breathing. Didn’t know how.
Just as Yuna opened the door, she turned to see Shane standing on the top of the stairs. His hair was sticking up, his eyes bleary from having been abruptly woken up. In one hand, he was clutching the centaurs plushy Ilya had gifted him for his eight birthday to his chest.
He only held it like this when he felt uncertain. Yuna wanted to wrap him up in a blanket, and hide him away from anything bad. But tonight there was another child who needed her more.
With a nod and small smile from David, Yuna hurried out the door, letting it shut hard behind her. Ilya was still crying, telling her he still couldn’t see if she was breathing. Yuna wanted to- well, she wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted.
“Ilya, where is Andrei?”
“At -” a hiccup broke his sentence, “At the stupid field trip.”
Right. Of course. She knew that. Overnight field trip to some nature reserve.
It took Yuna only five minutes to arrive at the Rozanov’s apartment, the hour making the roads blissfully empty. She definitely broke some speed limits despite it. Just as she carelessly put the car into park, an ambulance pulled up to her left.
Yuna got out, and ran over to the paramedics as they pulled out their equipment.
“My friend has collapsed. Her son called me. Apartment 4C.”
She lead the paramedics up all the flights of stairs, and wrung her hands nervously as they waited for Ilya to open the door. The Hollanders had the spare key to Irina’s apartment, but in her haste, Yuna had forgotten to bring it.
It felt like years, but was probably only a minute before a red faced, bed haired Ilya got the latch on the door open, and peered out at them.
At the sight of her, Ilya broke into a new wave of tears, and Yuna fell to her knees just inside the apartment, taking the boy into her arms and holding on as tight as she could. His tears were already soaking into her sweater, but that didn’t matter. Ilya needed her.
She could hear the paramedics working in the kitchen, just out of sight.
God, she found herself thinking, if you are even real, please let her be okay.
She could barely remember the last time she had prayed. Almost a decade ago. Shane had been a few months old, and gotten a bad case of influenza. He had been so little, and so sick. He hadn’t even cried, just stared blankly into the distance, eyes hazy. Nothing had ever scared Yuna more.
That night, as the ER nurses wheeled her little baby away from her, Yuna had sent off a little prayer, despite never actually being religious. She wasn’t even sure which version of God she was praying to. Perhaps it didn't matter. It had worked then. Perhaps it would work again.
All the thoughts were flying through Yuna’s head, when one of the paramedics came back, and stopped a few feet away from where Yuna was supporting Ilya’s limp body, now only shaken by small bursts of tears. His energy was gone.
“She’s breathing, but we need to take her to the hospital. You are welcome to follow us.”
----
Yuna’s foot was asleep, and she had a strange pain going between her shoulder blades. Still, she didn’t dare to move. They had arrived at the hospital without anyone being able to tell them any news of Irina’s condition.
As they had settled down in the waiting room, Ilya had climbed into Yuna’s lap, despite being way too big, and fallen asleep. His little snores against her chin made Yuna want to cry. He had been so brave. Such a good boy for his mama.
Exhaustion had claimed Ilya, and Yuna could feel it hammering behind her own eyes. The monotonous sound of the water cooler buzzing to her left didn’t help. Had she been home, she would have been getting Shane up for school now. Yuna blinked slowly, her eyelids heavy.
David was taking care of it.
He would make Shane his cereal, pack his lunch, drive him to school, and discreetly take the teacher aside, and explain why Ilya wouldn’t make it to class that day. Then he would call Andrei’s teacher. Yuna never had to worry, David just knew what needed to be done, and in his own quiet way, got it done.
She loved that about him.
“Excuse me, are you here for Irina Rozanova?”
Yuna forced her tired eyes open, and was met with a young, kind-faced doctor. He smiled a little, showing off some slightly crooked teeth.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry, I can’t get up,” Yuna said tiredly, feeling bad for not being able to greet the doctor properly.
“No problem, ma’am. I’m doctor Gryer, Mrs. Rozanova’s physician. I would like to speak to you.”
Yuna had to rouse Ilya to get up, the boy simply too big for her to carry, no matter how much she wished she could. She hated the confused look in his eyes as he gazed up at her, not yet able to tell where he was or why.
If Yuna had her way, she would whisk him back home immediately, and put her into her bed with Shane, never letting either of them out of sight ever. But this was real life, and so instead, she had to witness the pieces fall back in place for Ilya when he spotted the doctor, and his lower lip trembled.
“Mama?” He whispered, clutching onto Yuna’s hand as they followed the doctor down the hall.
Yuna moved, so she had an arm around his little shoulders, and kissed the top of his golden curls whilst they walked.
“The nice doctor is going to tell us about mama soon.”
----
She had fainted.
Triggered by a combination of exhaustion, hunger and some unknown stressful event, but nothing worse than that. It seemed too simple for that to be the reason for Irina to be in the hospital.
She had hit her head on a counter when she went down, and they were suspecting a concussion. The doctor droned on about more tests and such things, but Yuna only half listened. She thought about how damn lucky they were that she was Irina’s emergency contact.
She had been the one insisting Irina put her down as emergency contact, never actually believing there would be any need for it. Just for safety. But now it was reality. Had she spoken the event into existence by insisting?
Ilya sat in a plastic chair outside the office, his head hung low as she talked with the doctor. The door was open, so she could see him, and Yuna had no way of knowing how much he was picking up.
His English had gotten better over the last three years, but he still had an accent, and the doctor was saying a lot of words he had probably never heard. If it wasn’t for the swinging of his legs, Yuna might have thought him asleep.
It felt like a fist was closing around Yuna’s heart, her motherly instincts to protect this boy from everything taking over. He wanted to see his mama. Needed to know she was alright. Yuna didn’t even care that she was interrupting the doctor mid sentence when she looked back at him.
“Can we see her now?”
----
They were led down the hall, to a private room. Above them, the artificial lighting flickered slightly, as nurses and doctors rushed towards their respective patients and tasks. It was organized chaos, something Yuna usually thrived with. She loved the feeling of control when the world was raging around her. But not today. Today everything hurt. The only plan she had managed to form was that she would be bringing Ilya and Irina home with her later.
Yuna had always thought Irina looked a little frail, too pale with too big eyes. But now, sunken into the middle of the hospital bed, she looked like she was drowning.
The bags under her eyes were a deep purple, and her lips chapped and pale. Her normally bouncy golden curls looked limp and dark. It was the ghost of the woman Yuna normally knew.
“Mama!” Ilya shouted when he spotted her, his hand leaving Yuna’s as he launched himself into Irina’s bed, throwing his thin arms around her neck. He was crying again, shaking like a leaf with the force of his sobs.
“Malysh,” Irina whispered, running her fingers through Ilya’s hair again and again. She was crying too, her big eyes brimming over with tears. Yuna felt like an imposter, sneaking in on a private moment between mother and son.
She took a step back, but before she could go out the door, Irina’s eyes locked with hers.
“Oh, Yuna!” Irina almost shouted, her arms stilling whilst holding Ilya tightly against her. “Thank you. Thank you.” She said something more in Russian that Yuna didn’t understand.
Quickly rushing forward, Yuna grabbed onto one of Irina’s hands, and squeezed. Hoping she could communicate everything she needed through the simple touch. She didn’t know what words would be the right ones for Irina to hear.
They sat in silence for a while, as Ilya’s breathing evened out, and he fell asleep again. His head was cradled in his mother’s lap, long eyelashes fanning out across his cheeks. Not for the first time, Yuna realized how beautiful Ilya was.
He differed so much from Shane in looks. Where Shane was pretty, and calm, Ilya was a beautiful menace. Perfectly made for each other, both filling out what the other lacked. How best friends were supposed to be. Soulmates.
Yuna loved that for them. In her heart, she knew they would always have each other. Always. Yuna wondered if Irina thought the same. She was running her free hand through his hair, down his cheeks that were still round with childhood, ghosting over his shoulders, then back up to his hair.
There was something haunted in the faraway look Irina held in her eyes. Yuna couldn’t quite place it. But there was something more here.
She knew Irina’s seizure had been triggered by hunger and exhaustion. Why had she even been awake so late? Why wasn’t she eating? Yuna had so many questions, and no real way she could ask them. Carefully biting her lip, she resorted to keeping her quiet.
----
David called about an hour later, when Irina was dozing off, pain meds taking away her already little energy. They looked like angels, mother and son in the white bed in the white room. It was almost disturbing.
Stepping out of the room, Yuna explained everything to her husband. She did it how she always did when big emotions were involved. By turning off. Getting clinical in her story telling, not letting emotions take over.
David had once accused her of turning mechanical, early in their relationship. Said she became stoic and hard whenever he tried to connect deeper. It had taken some years to work through how she could process her emotions without becoming a robot. She was better at it, but days like today, it was easier to just shut down.
David understood, she knew he did.
“I called you in sick for your work today,” He explained calmly. “And Shane is at school, though he was very worried when I said Ilya wouldn’t be there.”
Of course he was, her kind, sweet, sensitive boy. Of course he was.
----
Yuna carefully opened the door to Irina’s room, and froze. Her friend was sitting up, looking down at her son. Tears were getting lost in Ilya’s curls, as Irina bit her own wrist, clearly trying to hold herself back from letting out a loud sob.
A noise in the hallway alerted Irina to her presence, and Yuna’s dark eyes met the liquid blue of her friend’s.
“Yuna.” A broken sob left the blonde, no longer able to keep it inside.
In a flash, Yuna was across the room, gathering up Irina in her arms. Gently rocking her back and forth, careful to not jostle Ilya in her lap. Yuna could do nothing but whisper soft nothings into Irina’s hair.
Irina’s tears were soaking into Yuna’s sweater, in just the same spot as her son’s tears had done. The green material turning almost brown in the wet spots. Yuna didn’t care. It was just clothes.
“You are okay,” she whispered, letting her hand rest on the back of Irina’s head. She felt more than saw the slight shake of her head.
“No.” The muffled sound against her shoulder was hard to hear. “No, I am not.”
Slowly, Irina pulled back, her red eyes not meeting Yuna’s. She swallowed hard, like she needed to push back another sob before she could speak. Irina’s gaze wandered out into the room, her eyes empty, as if her mind was miles away.
“It is some days, not always. Everything is fine. Then next day, I can not get out of bed. Stuck. I feel so tired, but I try sleep and it does not work. I cannot even smile for my boys.”
Yuna held her hand so hard they were both turning white, as Irina continued. Her voice was low, wrecked and raw from crying. Her blue eyes had settled on the wall next to the window.
“I forget food. Last week, Ilya tried to make dinner, because I could not leave bed. He burned his arm. Always, I feel like I am failure. Maybe, I think, my boys will be better without me.”
A cold feeling ran down Yuna’s back at the words. Nothing could have prepared her for this. She knew Irina sometimes struggled with thoughts about her ex-husband, but never had there been signs it had gotten this bad.
“No. Irina, do not say that!” Yuna intended the words to be loud, but somehow they got stuck, and came out as a whisper instead. “There is no version of their lives where your boys would be better without you.”
Sunlight reflected off the dust flying around the room, making it look slightly other worldly. Like a fairy world for the fragile fae in the hospital bed.
“But Andrei is very angry. All the time,” Irina whispered. “And Ilya tries to help. He is too good. Too sweet for me. And he thinks I am sad. But it is not so much that. I am not sad. I am numb to world. Just, alone in my head.”
Yuna could feel her practical side flare up in meeting with all the big emotions. The part of her that needed a plan and a course to function. “Irina, have you told a doctor this?”
The blonde blinked a few times, then shrugged.
“No. Why should I? He can not help.”
Yuna closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. She was shaking a little, the unfamiliar smells and sounds of the hospital clouding her brain and confusing her. Her friend was suffering, and Yuna’s brain had gone into a loading mode.
“Irina-” She began, unsure how to do this without ripping off the bandaid too hard. But perhaps that was for the best. “You sound depressed, Irina. The doctors can help.”
“I don’t think anyone can help.”
The words were delivered with a clarity and hardness that almost scared Yuna. How could she say that?
“Of course they can. There are professionals.”
Irina was looking away again, at the sun shining in through the window. It was the beginning of a beautiful day in Ottawa. Yuna knew that for the people in this room, it would not be a good day.
They sat in silence for a while. Words were running laps around Yuna’s head, but she couldn’t figure out how she would get them out. What could she say? How did you tell someone that the world was a better place because they were in it?
She had no idea.
----
In the end, Yuna brought Ilya back to her house. Irina had not spoken any more than a few words the last hour they were there. She also needed to stay overnight at the hospital, and her eyes were empty when Yuna half dragged, half carried the hysterical Ilya out of the room. He didn’t want to leave his mama.
On the way out, Yuna had caught the arm of the young doctor. Whispering things to him about suspected depression felt like a betrayal, but what else could she do?
Irina needed help.
Ilya finally calmed down when they reached the car, slumping in his seat, pressing his forehead against the window as they drove through the city.
It scared Yuna, leaving Irina behind like that. She trusted the hospital, knew she was in a safe place. But safety was relative when the real sickness was somewhere inside Irina’s mind.
There weren't any antibiotics for depression. No way to burn it out of her body forever. She would have to fight it, and the way it was now, Yuna wasn’t entirely convinced Irina had it in her. Not even for her boys.
Ilya unbuckled himself without a word, and followed Yuna up the drive to the front door. They had barely gotten their shoes off in the entry, when Shane came barreling down the stairs, freezing when he spotted them.
Yuna could see how Ilya looked, still in pyjamas, his hair matted and greasy from all the fingers and tears that had been run through it. He had circles under his eyes, and red irritations in his face from crying. It physically hurt to look at him.
Yuna wasn’t convinced she looked much better herself.
Shane regarded them for a second, like an animal unsure about whether to approach or not, before stepping forward, and holding out his hand to Ilya.
“My dad said your mama is in the hospital.”
Ilya tilted his head at Shane, giving Yuna a sudden flashback to how Ilya had looked three years ago when Shane had first met him. Small, a little uncertain. Young.
For a second, she wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. He’d had a long day. She wouldn’t be surprised if Ilya decided to run away and hide. But then he carefully clasped Shane’s hand in his own.
“Yes,” he choked out, and let Shane pull him into a hug so tight Yuna wondered about his breathing. But for the first time since she got the call that morning, Yuna could see how Ilya’s little body actually relaxed. How he melted into Shane, his head against Shane’s neck like he wanted to bury it there and disappear.
For a few minutes, no one moved. As if time had become frozen in this one moment. Tears welled into Yuna’s eyes, and she almost felt irritated. Hadn’t she cried enough today?
Ilya pulled away from Shane as Yuna brushed a tear of her own cheek. With a quick glance her way, Shane pulled Ilya up the stairs, and into his room, the door closing with a soft click behind them.
Yuna sighed, as more tears fell again. She needed her husband.
----
Two hours later, after Yuna had cried out her last tears on David’s shoulder, and filled him in on the details, she moved quietly up the stairs, to call the boys for dinner. David had made chicken parm, which he knew was Ilya’s favourite.
“Sweethearts? It’s dinner.” She knocked carefully before opening the door. If Yuna’s heart had been hit, shot and punched today already, this was the final blow to make it properly break.
Or perhaps begin gluing itself back together.
Shane and Ilya were both on Shane’s bed, Ilya in a clean set of Shane’s pyjamas. Their heads were resting on Shane’s pillow, faces only a few inches apart. In the small space between their bodies, Ilya was holding onto Shane’s hand, so hard it was white, even in sleep.
They looked calm. Quiet, like nothing in the world could hurt them, if they just stayed here forever. Yuna wished she could keep them like this. Maybe not for alway, but for a little while.
These perfect little boys.
Yuna spent a minute looking at them, drinking in the sight of their relaxed little faces. Ilya’s curls were touching Shane’s forehead.
Behind her, Yuna felt the steady pressure of David, as he joined her in the door.
“I wish we could protect them forever,” Yuna whispered, leaving against her husband.
David pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head.
“I know, my love. Come on. Let’s go down, and leave them here a little bit. It might not be forever, but it is enough for now.”