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Ilya wasn't used to this. Family dinners. Time spent together where people all just shared about their day. And, everyone listening actually cared. His childhood dinners consisted of silence on the of best days and yelling on the worst of days. If he could, he avoided family dinners like the plague. Mistakes were fleshed out at the dinner table. It was the opportune time for Ilya's father to air his grievances and for his sons to just grin and bare it all.
So, when he realized that the Hollanders liked to eat together semi-regularly, he was nervous. He knew Yuna and David. Understood that Shane's goodness was a direct result of their goodness. Yet, he couldn't help but feel a knot in the pit of his stomach, as if any wrong thing will be his undoing.
Dinner started easily. David had cooked. Yuna has assembled the salad. Shane poured another refill of Ilya's wine. Ilya was in the middle of telling an animated story about some rookie defenseman from Philadelphia who stupidly thought they could go against the one and only Ilya Rozanov. His arm extended, knocking the newly poured glass of wine.
And for a moment, the world froze. Ilya was transported back to 4 years old, 8 years old, 12, years old, and forward and backwards as far as he could remember. He dropped a fork and his father screaming his name. He forgot to set the table and his dad's arm raised in anger. He slumped at the dinner table after a long day of practice and a plate thrown across the room.
But, then Ilya wasn't in Moscow after all. He was sitting in Ottawa at the Hollanders and before his brain could reorient itself, the moment passed. Shane held a dishcloth in his hand and threw one gently to Ilya. He wiped along the table, making sure none landed on Ilya's lap. David got up and grabbed the wine bottle to refill his glass. Yuna happily chirped about whatever disgrace of a team that didn't meet her standards. Nothing was broken that night. Not a dish, not a fist, not a spirit.
Shane reached across the table and held Ilya's hand for three brief squeezes--I love you, unspoken but obvious. Ilya had never felt safer in his life.