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Shane looked out the windows of the kitchen to the driveway where he caught the sight of the tail end of a delivery truck rumbling down his driveway. He couldn’t remember ordering anything though? Ilya must have ordered something. Weird. He always mentions to him when he’s ordered something.
He finished washing his cup, dried his hands on the dishtowel, hung it on the oven door and walked to the front door. On the top step was a huge delivery box. He opened the door and bent to pick the box up. He assumed it was going to be heavy because the box was so large, so he lifted with a little more strength than was needed and was surprised that it felt like there was nothing in there. He shook it a little to make sure the box wasn’t actually empty. It sounded like something plastic.
He brought the box into the kitchen and set it on the floor and read the label on the side. Addressed to Ilya Rozanov. He looked out the back windows of the cottage to see Ilya playing in the backyard with Anya. He had just bought her an obnoxiously large loon plush that he was tossing for her. He’d throw it, she’d fetch it, run back to him, shaking her head viciously the whole way like she was mimicking killing it. He would clap his hands, tell her she was a good girl, take it from her and throw it again.
Shane opened the back door to Ilya yelling to Anya, “Anya! Bring that bad bird here!”
Ilya noticed Shane at the door and yelled to him, “Did you see our good girl? Killing that bad wolf bird?”
Shane smiled. A loon spooked him one time and he still wasn’t over it. Something about how anything that has red devil eyes and can make a sound that sounds like another animal cannot be trusted, Shane.
“Hey, did you order something? You just got a huge box dropped off,” Shane asked.
Ilya smiled. “Ah, it’s here?” he asked.
“Yeah, something really light. In a huge box,” Shane answered, “What is it?”
Ilya called Anya to come and he walked past Shane into the house. Shane trailed after him, so curious, and nervous, about what was in that box.
Ilya picked up the box and put it on the counter. He opened the drawer where they kept what Shane called the ‘multipurpose scissors’ and cut the tape on the top of the box. He opened the flaps of the box and stopped.
“You can not be mad,” Ilya said to him.
Shane frowned a little, “Why would I be…”
Ilya put his hand inside the box and pulled out a large, white, plastic goose by the neck.
“...mad?” Shane finished.
Ilya set his goose on the floor. He smiled at Shane, “Isn’t she great?”
Shane shook his head. Not to say no, but in the, I can’t fucking believe this way.
“Ilya,” he said, “Why.”
Anya walked into the kitchen. She stared down the goose for a moment and flattened her ears against her head. She let out a low bark that came out sounding like a borf. Ilya immediately squatted down and patted her head.
“It’s ok, girl! It’s our new porch goose!”
Shane bristled at the phrase. Porch goose. They weren’t porch goose people. Well, he wasn’t anyway. Where were they even going to put this thing?
Shane stared at Ilya petting his dog and holding the goose by the neck so that Anya could see that it wasn’t going to hurt her. This is his life now. He chose this.
“Ilya. Where did you see this? Why do we own a porch goose now?”
“When I went to the store the other day, I saw it on Marianne’s porch when I was driving by. She had a little rain hat and raincoat on it. She was in her garden when I came back and I stopped to ask her how she got it. She gave me website name and I ordered it,” he said with a shrug.
Shane nodded. Of course. Marianne was their elderly neighbor who adored Ilya. He adored her too, he would always stop by and say hello to her if she was outside when he drove by. She gives him small, “Since you’re here…” tasks, like reaching the porch light to replace the burnt light bulb or pulling a deep weed she couldn’t get leverage on. She loved that he was willing to do those little tasks for her and he loved doing them for her. It was actually kind of adorable to watch. She was like his little Canadian grandma who filled a spot in his heart that he didn’t realize needed filling until they met.
“Where are we putting this porch goose?” Shane asked, nervous for the answer. He was praying he wasn’t going to say on the front steps. They weren’t that wide to begin with and putting this monstrosity on them was going to make for a tight walk into and out of the house.
“I know you will hate it on front steps,” Ilya said, thinking out loud, “So I think maybe we will put it on the deck in the back, next to the doors.”
Shane released the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He could live with that compromise. Ilya could have his silly little grandma porch goose and Shane wasn’t going to have to explain to people upon entering his home that this was his husband’s goose, not their goose.
“Okay,” he nodded. “You want to put it out now or…”
Ilya frowned at him, “No. We can’t put her out now. She doesn’t have clothes. They are coming tomorrow. Separate shipment,” he said, like it was the most rational, reasonable answer in the world.
It wasn’t just one shipment of clothes. One day a raincoat and rain hat showed up, a collection of tiny summer sun dresses for the summer months, a flannel jacket and a turkey costume for October, a tiny Santa hat for December. He made sure Janet (that’s her name) had an outfit for all the occasions and holidays. Dressing up his goose became one of Ilya’s favorite hobbies and their friends and family thought it was hilarious too. David and Yuna would come by, sometimes even when nobody was home, to take pictures with Janet and drop them in the group chat. The Pike kids would tear through the house from the front door out the back to see if Janet had changed her outfit since the last time they were there.
Ilya always made sure it was different.
As much as Shane scoffed or rolled his eyes about her, he did find it incredibly endearing how much Ilya loved this goose. It was actually kind of cute to watch him light up when he changed her outfit for a season or an occasion. Or when he got a new package of her clothes in the mail.
For Christmas that year, Shane commissioned Marianne to sew something special for Janet. He found an old jersey of Ilya’s that she could cut apart to make a smaller jersey the perfect size for Janet. She sewed a small 81 on the back and instead of Rozanov across the shoulders, Shane asked her to make it say HONKANOV.
He handed it to him on Christmas morning in a little box. Ilya opened it and jumped off the couch.
“You are kidding me,” he said, the box and tissue paper falling to the floor as he held it up, going over all the little details that Marianne had carefully sewn onto the jersey.
Shane was smiling so hard, “I’m glad you like it. Marianne made it.”
Ilya clutched it to his chest, “I will stop and see her tomorrow. Thank you, moya lyubov,” he said, planting a kiss on the top of Shane’s head.
“Do you want to also know why we have Janet and she stays on the back deck?” he asked.
Shane raised his eyebrows in question, “There’s another reason other than you are secretly an 80 year old lady trapped in a hockey player’s body?”
“Geese and loons are natural enemies. Janet keeps the loons away,” he said proudly, walking to the back door to put Janet’s new jersey on her.