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November 2021
To put it frankly, until January, the Ottawa Centaurs had been categorically shit. Cliff had always seen away games in Ottawa as one of the worse parts of professional hockey; a boring, mediocre experience that had to be tolerated to allow him to experience the more exciting parts. Much like the city of Ottawa itself. So when Roz had sat Cliff down and announced his transfer in the same tone you’d tell your child their parents wouldn’t be living together anymore, Cliff’s one consolation was that at least games against Ottawa would get a bit more exciting. That had not ended up happening.
An outcome of Roz’s trade that Cliff had not anticipated was sitting on a couch, opposite Roz, as Shane Motherfucking Hollander™ replied to emails in the kitchen they shared. There were various factors contributing to the awkward silence hanging between the two of them, not least that Cliff had nearly killed Hollander four years ago. The fact that Cliff was also far too tall for this couch, meaning his knees were in line with his nipples, was not helping matters.
“So…” Cliff began, hoping that Roz would help to melt the ice that had settled over their friendship.
Roz did not.
“Your dog’s cute.”
“Yes.”
“Does she have a name?”
“Anya.”
“Cute.”
“Yes.”
Despite the monosyllabic answers, Cliff could tell that Roz wasn’t angry. Cliff knew Roz. They’d played together for years, and you don’t get into fights for someone for seven years without rapport. Especially not for someone who starts as many fights as Ilya Rozanov does.
“The Cens are doing well so far. Never thought I’d see you playing wing.”
A soft, bashful smile came over Roz’s face. “Yes, well, when you sign best player in MLH you must let him play centre.” Roz looked down at his lap, where his thumbs played with the fabric of his jeans.
“I never thought you’d admit Hollander was better than you.”
Roz’s head snapped up, and the lovestruck expression fell off Roz’s face in an instant, replaced by complete shock and offence. “Admit? You thought this the whole time? Marly, this is knife in my back. We were best friends, Marly, and whole time you thought Hollander was better player than me? Bozhe moy.” He dramatically clutched his heart and fell against the back of the sofa.
“In my defence, I also didn’t know you were friends with him.”
“Not friends.”
“No?”
“Lovers.” Roz’s dopey, lovesick grin is back, as if he’s a tween talking about his new crush.
Cliff’s jaw dropped a little at that. “Oh! Cool. Cool cool cool. How long?”
“On and off since summer before our rookie season. We met in hotel rooms before and after games. Was tricky, but we made it work.”
“Wow, rookie season, okay.”
“We did not become boyfriends until 2017, but I was in love for long time before that.”
“Oh yeah? When did you fall?” Cliff’s sisters had raised him to have a healthy love of gossip, and he respected women too much to disagree with them.
“Who can say? Before 2014, I think. He was so good to me at Olympics, even when I was not good back.”
2014 was seven years ago. In the time between 2014 and this conversation, someone could grow a whole child. Hayden Pike probably had, though maybe not by himself. “Wow, that’s a long time, dude. Good on you, man. I’m glad he’s made an honest man of you.”
Roz clearly didn’t know the phrase, but it was almost sweeter that he smiled and said, “Yes, my Shane has made me better in many ways.”
As if on cue, Hollander walked into the living room, holding three cans. After placing one on the coffee table, he handed Ilya a Coke, and offered another to Cliff. “Sorry, I didn’t know what you’d drink. Ilya wasn’t very helpful: I only got something about ‘only going out to clubs’ and ‘not drinking ginger ale all the time because you’re not boring’.”
Cliff’s glance over to Roz confirmed the shit-eating grin that was spread across his face. Hollander tucked himself into Roz’s side as though it was the only place in the world that made sense to be.
“Coke’s great, thank you.”
Ginger ale. Years ago, Cliff had found a 12-pack of ginger ale at the back of Roz’s pantry. But that couldn’t have been for Hollander, if they were meeting at hotels. Shit. It must have been for Jane.
“I was telling Marly that we were lovers for long time.”
“Ew, Ilya, I’ve told you to stop saying that.”
Ilya. It made sense, of course, that Hollander called Roz by his first name. There was something different about how Hollander said it, though. Two syllables, with the stress on the second. The way Roz said it. It was the kind of subtle difference that comes with years of wanting to know someone. The kind of difference that doesn’t come when you’re aware that the person you want to know is also dating someone else.
Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit. Shitting fuck. “Yeah, what is it, eleven years now?” Did his voice sound even? Did he let on that he knew? Was he about to end a marriage? Oh God, what would the fans say if their beloved Hollanov got divorced? Would Cliff get suspended? Executed? Would he have to release a statement to confirm that he didn't have a vendetta against Shane Hollander?
Apparently completely oblivious to Cliff’s inner turmoil, Hollander smiled and replied, “Yeah, something like that.” He wasn’t even looking at Cliff (thank fuck), but rather at Roz, with the same dazed, happy look that Roz himself had shown earlier. “Officially, we were casual, but I think I realised fairly early on that he was the only man for me. It took a bit longer to realise that there wasn’t going to be a woman for me.”
Roz sneered in a way that seemed almost comical. “Yes, Hollander, we know that you left me for Rose Landry.”
“Ilya, you’ve met her. She was at our wedding. You don’t need to call her by her full name.”
Left me, he says, as if he hadn’t been fucking Jane the entire time. Left me, as if he wasn’t grinning like an idiot every time Jane messaged him when he was supposedly in love with Hollander.
Maybe Cliff had never really known Roz at all. He had known Roz slept around–everyone knew that. But he had never seen Roz leading anyone on. To Roz, sex was just sex, and he wouldn’t let anyone get any ideas. He definitely hadn’t seemed like the type to be inviting Jane over to his house at the same time that he had been falling in love with Hollander. God, Cliff had thought Roz would end up marrying Jane, from the way he had spoken about her. Maybe there was never any cheating. Maybe the timelines all worked out perfectly. Hollander and Roz were on and off. Maybe Jane slotted neatly into the off.
The happy couple were still cheerfully bickering about Rose Landry, and somehow Roz’s friend Sveta had been added to the mix. Despite the playful glint in Hollander’s eyes as he gazed adoringly at his husband, all Cliff could see was the heartbreak those eyes would hold if he found out.
If he found out. Did he have to? Did Cliff have an obligation to tell him? He had no previous relationship with Hollander, and had been surprised when he was even invited to the wedding. If anywhere, his loyalties lay with Roz: Cliff had considered himself lucky to even know about Jane. Jane was sacred. Untouchable, unmentionable. To even speak her name had felt like sacrilege. Why should that change, just because Hollander had beaten her to Roz’s heart?
Cliff knew why it should change. He knew he couldn’t let this slide. His sisters would never forgive him.
“Roz, could you show me where the bathroom is?”
“Yes. Come.”
As soon as they were out of the living room, Cliff pushed Roz up against the wall. “Are you fucking kidding me, Roz? I thought you were better than this!” he hissed.
“Marly, I do not understand.” Roz, in his defence, looked genuinely confused.
“Fucking Jane, dude!” Cliff backed off a little bit, but ran his hands through his hair in an attempt to calm down. “I want the fucking timelines. Everything. Now. Or I tell him.”
“Tell him about what, Marly? I do not understand.”
“That he thinks you were in love with him at the same time as you were in a fucking long-distance relationship with a girl in Montreal called Jane! Fucking obviously!”
Somehow, Roz seemed almost relieved by that. “Oh, Marly, you do not need to worry about this.” he said, smiling and shaking his head.
“I think I do, man. I thought you were a good guy. I thought you were moving to Ottawa to be near her. I thought you were going to marry her! And now I find out you were in love with Hollander the entire time?”
“Marly, I promise you, this is not a problem.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Rozanov, does your husband know you were kicking your feet and giggling every time she texted?”
Roz seemed to weigh that up for a moment. “I do not think he does, no.”
“I have to tell him.”
“Marly, you do not have to tell him about this. I promise.” Roz’s voice had been getting gradually more assertive, but he wasn’t Cliff’s captain anymore, and Cliff knew right from wrong.
“Fuck this.” he said, storming back into the living room.
Maybe he should have collected himself a little, because Hollander looked like a spooked horse when Cliff burst back through the door.
“Difficult shit?”
Cliff hadn’t ever heard Hollander swear, so briefly forgot what he was going to say. “Uh- no. Not bowel related. Um-” He heard Roz enter the room behind him, but knew he'd lose his nerve if he looked him in the eye.
Hollander looked worried. God, Hollander was a good guy. “Everything okay?”
“Roz was cheating on you.”
Hollander raised his eyebrows, seemingly more in disbelief than surprise. “What?”
“Or- I don’t know, you might have been the other woman- shit, other man, sorry. I don’t know. There was a girl, when Roz was at Boston.”
Hollander’s eyes flicked over to Rozanov, a look which somehow contained both exasperation and amusement crossing his face. Cliff turned to see pure unmediated glee on Roz’s face. This was not the reaction Cliff had anticipated.
“She was called Jane. She and Roz were dating long-distance for years. There was definitely overlap between the two of you. I didn’t know, I promise I didn’t know; I would’ve told you.”
Hollander seems surprised, but not upset. Cliff didn’t know how people usually responded to finding out that they had been cheated on, but suspected that it wasn’t like this. Hollander’s looked at Roz before asking, “How serious do you think it was, between them?”
“I hate to say it, but pretty fucking serious, man. He’d get all antsy whenever there was a Montreal game coming up. He never went out with the team after the games, he’d refuse to tell us anything about her for years. I always thought she was his person. I thought I’d be the best man at their fucking wedding, dude.”
Hollander didn’t even bat an eye. “Oh, wow. Well, Cliff, thank you for letting me know.”
“Yeah, of course, dude.” Cliff was still standing in the middle of the room, and felt a little awkward now that the adrenaline was wearing off.
Roz looked like a child in the principal’s office under the intense look Hollander was shooting him. “Moy lyubov, I try to tell him, but he would not listen.”
Hollander waves him off. “No, no. We’re all good here.”
None of this conversation had gone as Cliff had anticipated. He had never been the fastest puck on the ice, but he had thought he understood people, at least. Hollander stood up and walked towards him, holding out a hand.
“Well, I guess I should introduce myself. Nice to meet you, Cliff. I'm Jane.”
Oh. That made a bit more sense.