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It's a quiet morning in the Hollander-Rozanov house. Shane stares at the ceiling, his eyes following the light that shines through the gap in the curtains. He knows he should get up, should start the day. Breakfast needs to be prepared. Anya surely wants to be fed and walked. Nadya needs to get ready for school…
Reaching over to the other side of the bed and finding it empty and cold, reality catches up with Shane. The harsh reality that he wishes is just a nightmare. Nobody in the house is hungry for breakfast and they are keeping Nadya home from school until the end of the week, until after the funeral…
Sighing, Shane fights the heaviness in his limbs to finally get up. As much as he wants to stay in bed for the rest of the day, life needs to go on. Somehow he manages to get up, showering and putting on clothes, happens through pure muscle memory.
As he makes his way downstairs, he realizes how quiet the house is. It has never been that quiet before. It simply feels wrong. Something quintessential is missing.
Stepping into the kitchen, he finds Nadya sitting at the counter, Anya lying by her dangling feet. Their daughter is staring at the bowl of uneaten cereal in front of her. Shane's heart breaks at the sight. He walks over to her before giving her a soft kiss on the head. “Good morning, kotenok. Sorry, I got up late…”
“It's okay, Dad,” the defeated sound of her young voice breaks Shane's heart all over again, “I let Anya into the garden and gave her breakfast already. Didn't walk her, I know I'm not supposed to walk her on my own.”
A small smile finds its way to Shane's face. His little girl is growing up too fast.
“Thank you, don't know what we're supposed to do without you…”
His choice of words hits them both at the same time. Nadya lets her head hang low, fighting back a sob. Shane gathers her in his arms, holding her tight. She seems so much younger than she actually is as she buries her face into his neck.
For a long moment he simply holds his daughter in his arms. At their feet, Anya whines, sensing the heaviness of the situation.
Usually Shane would suggest driving to the rink for some skating to cheer everybody up, but he knows that it would have the opposite effect right now.
“Kotenok, why don't you go and get some pillows and blankets and we move this to the seating area in the garden? I’ll go get Papa and some snacks and we'll just be together for a bit?”
Nadya thinks about it for a while; Shane can see the thoughts running through her little head.
“You think Papa will really join us?” Nadya asks, looking at him with doubt in her eyes.
“I hope so…”
Shane wipes away the traces of her tears before setting her down again, ushering her towards the living room, Anya immediately following her.
Sighing heavily, Shane turns back towards the stairs and makes his way up. He knows exactly where to find Ilya.
The door to Irina’s room is slightly open and Shane can hear low humming from inside. It's an old Russian lullaby. He carefully pushes the door wide open.
There, on the small bed with the bright pink bedding, sits Ilya, his knees drawn close, hugging a grey stuffed bunny. It's obvious that he hasn't slept, yet again, last night, the dark circles under his eyes standing in stark contrast to his pale skin.
At first, it seems as if Ilya doesn't even realize that Shane is in the room with him, but then his husband looks up at him. His eyes have lost all life to them.
“Leave me alone, Shane,” Ilya croaks, his voice almost gone from crying and pleading.
“No.”
Instead of leaving, Shane sits down next to him, letting his hand run over the soft duvet. He waits. He expects rage or sobbing. This time it's quiet tears.
He wants to reach out and wipe them away, but he's not sure if Ilya would let him. Instead, he just lets his hand rest on his husband's back.
“I should have done more…” Ilya mumbles into the fur of the bunny.
“Baby-”
“I should have done more! I should have paid more attention, should have caught it earlier! If I had only…” Ilya didn't finish the sentence, his mind probably reliving the worst day of their lives.
“Ilya, baby… You know what they said… There was no way for us to know… And you tried to bring her back. I am so sorry that I wasn't there at that moment…” Shane finally pulls Ilya into his arms, laying his head on his shoulder.
His eyes find the framed picture on the nightstand. It was taken only a few months ago on the terrace of the cottage. Shane, Ilya, Nadya - with Irina in the middle. Despite none of them being blood related - both their daughters adopted from Russia - Nadya has Ilya’s hair and smile. Irina on the other hand, with her dark hair, toothy smile and Asian-like eyes, is just like Shane. It doesn't matter that she was born with Down’s. She is their little angel… She was their little angel on earth.
Closing his eyes, Shane fights the memories coming up in his mind.
Kissing Irina on the head as he laid her down for her nap…
Hockey training with Nadya…
Coming home to a house surrounded by an ambulance and police…
Ilya coming down the stairs, tears running down his face, Irina's body in his arms, wrapped in a pink fluffy blanket…
Shane shakes his head to get rid of those horrible images. He pulls Ilya close for a moment before laying his hand on his cheek, turning his husband's head towards him.
“Come on, I promised Nadya that we’d meet her in the garden,” Ilya wants to turn away at the prospect of leaving Irina's room, but Shane doesn't let him, “Don't… We didn't just lose a daughter, Nadya lost her sister as well. Don't let her lose her papa on top of that…”
Ilya looks at him for a long, agonizing moment before he finally nods. They get up together, Ilya still holding Irina's bunny. He gives it a kiss on its soft head and places it back on the bed.
After a short detour to the kitchen to grab some drinks and suschki, they make their way into the garden and over to the seating area by the fire pit. Anya lets out a happy bark, running up to Ilya to demand some pets. Nadya, however, barely looks up as her parents sit down, one on each side of her. When Ilya bends down to kiss her forehead, he sees the silent tears running down her cheeks.
“Moy kotenok… What is it?” Ilya asks, wiping away her tears with his thumb. Yet, Nadya still doesn't look up. One glance at his husband tells Ilya that Shane doesn't know either what is going through their daughter's mind. It's only when Anya lays her head on Nadya’s knee that she speaks, her voice so low they can barely hear it.
“If… if we hadn't been to hockey training… maybe… Irina would still…,” she can't finish and starts sobbing, “Daddy, Papa… I’m so sorry…”
Shane and Ilya feel their hearts being ripped out at Nadya’s words. Without hesitating, Ilya reaches for his daughter, settling her in his lap and pulling her close. Despite the situation, there's a feeling of ease spreading inside of him when Nadya wraps her small arms around him.
“What are you talking about, moy kotenok?” Ilya asked, kissing her softly on her forehead.
“If it wasn't for me… and stupid hockey practice… Daddy would have been home with you… You would have had more time with her… Would have noticed sooner… She would still be here… Why her? Why not me? I'm always trouble…”
Ilya sees his own devastation at his daughter's words reflected in Shane's face. She's sobbing even harder now, her small hands desperately holding onto his shirt. Gently cooing at her in Russian, Ilya sways her lightly in her arms until she finally calms down. While Shane is slowly rubbing her back, his husband makes sure she's looking at him before answering.
“Kotenok… my baby… you are so, so wrong,” Ilya says, carefully tugging a lose curl behind her ear, “Daddy and I love you so much. Don't ever think that! You're our big girl… and we're so happy that you love hockey… Babygirl, Irina was very sick… We just didn't realize how sick. It was just too much for her little heart… And I know how hard this is, God… It's me who’s sorry… sorry for not being there in the last few days…”
Ilya hasn't realized that he started crying as well as Nadya reaches for his face, clumsily trying to dry his tears.
“Papa?
“Yeah, babygirl?”
“Do you think Irina is scared… wherever she's now?”
Ilya looks past her down their lush green garden. In his mind he sees their little sunshine running after a butterfly, laughing, while, dressed in a flowing golden gown, his mother watches over her.
“No, moy kotenok, I think she is fine and one day, we’ll see her again.”