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Ilya 2033
Today was the day. The day of the 'Eleventh Annual Hollander-Rozanov Start of Summer Barbecue Blowout!’ as Ilya had been calling it.
The yearly event started innocently enough eleven years ago when the Ottawa Centaurs’ unofficial social director, Zane Boodrom, wanted to host one of his own legendary barbecues to celebrate the end of a Stanley Cup-winning season. However, his wife Cassie had just given birth to their second child, and she told him sternly, “If you bring a bunch of drunk hockey players to my house whilst I am freshly postpartum, I will fucking kill you and live off the insurance money.”
Thus, Shane and Ilya’s house became the hosts of that year’s Summer Soirée, and it was such a success they decided to host it again the next year and the year after that and the year after that and so on.
It used to be a small get-together just for the team, a few staff members, and their guests, but somewhere over the years things had started to get out of hand. First, it was the neighbours. Then David Hollander’s work colleagues were randomly invited one year. Then players from the Almonte Centaurs, Ottawa’s AHL affiliate team, and Ottawa Charge, the local PWHL team, got wind of it, and well, it was all downhill from there, and now they were expecting maybe over 100 people to descend on their home.
Maybe they should’ve stopped this years ago. It stressed Shane out for weeks before the event, and they didn’t even play for the Centaurs anymore. They’d both been retired from hockey for two years, although Shane was still an assistant coach there.
The thing was, despite all the drama of hosting the damn thing, they loved it. They loved seeing everyone together. They loved that they could be out and proud in front of everyone. They loved showing off the life they had built. They loved waking up in the morning still with the buzz of dancing all night. Once it was over, all the stress of preparation was forgotten about until the next year.
They were a few hours out from when the first set of guests would arrive, and the Hollander-Rozanovs were making final preparations. Ilya was sitting with their four-year-old twins, Niko and Eliza, making decorations, while Shane was making his 4th pitcher of punch.
“Oh man,” Shane whined with his head in the fridge.
“What’s wrong?” Ilya asked as he painted his decorative paper swan a pale pink colour.
“Forgot the ginger ale,” Shane said, sounding like a puppy whose tail had been stepped on.
“Oh no, sweetheart,” Ilya said with full sincerity. He knew this would genuinely put a dampener on Shane’s day. “Go to the store and get some more.”
“No, it’s okay,” Shane agonized. “It’s probably only me that drinks it anyway, and I’ve got too much to do here.”
“We’ll order some.” Ilya tried to reason, digging in his pocket for his phone. He didn’t care if Shane was the only one in the world that drank it. It was his comfort drink. Something he could rely on when it all got a bit too much. Goddamnit, one way or another he was going to have his ginger ale.
Shane looked awkward, and Ilya looked at him with a face that said 'spill.'
“It’s just I don’t trust them to bring the right ones.” Ilya didn’t mean to, but he broke out into a full-face grin.
Oh, his sweet Shane, he knew exactly why he’d prefer having no ginger ale at all than risk getting a case of the ‘wrong’ cans. It was because Shane wouldn’t have the heart to throw them away. He’d suffer and drink the ones he knew he didn’t like until they were done before allowing himself to go back to his normal ones as if the ginger ales were somehow sentient and would be offended if Shane didn’t drink them.
“Okay, well, I’ll go to the store. Hand me the car keys?” Ilya got up and reached out his hand for the keys.
Shane bounced on the balls of his feet and gave Ilya a guilty look before moving the keys away from him.
Ilya was confused at first, then it dawned on him. “Oh my god, you don’t trust me to get the right ones."
“It’s just that last time you got the ones infused with lemon.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Ilya said under his breath. “That was two years ago. I promise I will check this time.”
Shane didn’t look convinced. “No, it’s fine.” He shook his head.
“Hollander, you do not make this easy,” Ilya groaned. “What do you need to do here?”
Shane shrugged.
“Tell me,” Ilya said forcefully.
“Just a couple of more pitchers of punch.”
“Okay, you go to the store and get the right ginger ales. I will make punch." Ilya waved his husband away.
"But—" Shane tried to protest.
“I know how to make punch, Shane. Now go.”
Finally, Shane agreed to a solution to his problem and headed to the store.
Ilya rubbed his hands together. “Now, punch,” he said to the children and Anya, who, as usual, chose to ignore him.
Ilya 1996
Ilya woke up naturally and blearily looked around his room, trying to figure out what day it was.
“Let’s see,” he said his thoughts aloud to his stuffed toy dolphin, Delfy. “Papa took me to play hockey yesterday, which must mean today he’s taking Alexei to football practice.” He looked over to Alexei's side of the room. Sure enough, his bed was empty. “That must mean today is…Sunday!”
Ilya loved Sundays. Sundays were the best days while Papa and Alexei were out. He got to spend the whole day with Mama.
Sometimes she’d take him to the park or the beach or the market. She’d even taken him to the aquarium one time; that’s where he’d got Delfy.
Some days they’d stay inside, and she’d just watch Ilya play with his train, and they’d eat ice cream together. He didn’t mind. He just loved Sundays. Sunday was Mama and Ilya day.
He ran into her room. “Mama, it’s Sunday,” he shouted as he jumped on the bed.
She stirred beneath his excited bounces. “Ilyusha,” she croaked, “not today, huh? Mama is not feeling very well.”
Ilya stopped his jumping. “You’re sick?” he asked.
“Something like that.” She rubbed his foot as he stood on the pillow next her.
He then jumped off the bed and stood next to his mama. He stroked the hair out of her face like she would do to him. “Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll make you feel better,” he told her.
“Thank you, Malysh,” she whispered as her eyelids closed to go back to sleep.
Ilya 2033
'See, Shane, punch is easy. I’ve got this,' Ilya thought to himself as he garnished the pitcher with some orange slices.
He was admiring his work when he was distracted by the sound of the doorbell. He questioned who it was until both children got up, running to the door, shouting, "Bouncy castle!”
Ah yes, the bouncy castle. This started as a thing a couple of years ago and was supposed to be a one-off, but the children, both their own and other people’s, had come to expect it after that, so of course they had to have one every year now.
Ilya greeted the guy from the hire company at the door whilst trying to keep two peeping children and a dog determined to run away at bay. He directed him through the back gate and met him in the yard. The twins and Anya followed behind him excitedly.
They stood and watched as ‘The Bouncy Castle Man,' as the children called him, got to work. They loved this part, watching the flat plastic come to life into a whole structure ready for them to jump and play on. Even Anya’s tail wagged happily as she watched the little show.
The red and orange castle was nearly fully up when Ilya heard a loud crash come from inside the house. Anya barked furiously and ran back inside to inspect.
Ilya wondered what the hell it could be. Shane was still at the store, and the twins and Anya were standing right next to him. ‘Wait,’ he thought as he looked to the left. Twin. There was one twin next to him. ‘Where is the other one?’ “Niko,” he shouted, running back into the house.
Ilya 1996
"Mama is sick. How can I help her?” Ilya asked Delfy.
Unfortunately, the stuffed dolphin didn’t seem to have many ideas, but Ilya thought back to the last time he was sick. He had a very bad sore throat and had to take medicine that was not very nice. Mama had given him some orange juice.
Orange Juice! That was it. Orange juice made him feel loads better. It was nice and cold on his throat and tasted so yummy. It took away that horrible taste from the medicine. “I bet orange juice will help Mama,” he told Delfy.
He ran to the kitchen with one goal in mind: Get Mama some orange juice.
Ilya pulled the door to the fridge open. It was heavy, but he was a big strong boy now. His hockey coach told him just yesterday.
There he could see in a little glass bottle tucked inside of the door what he was looking for: some bright, delicious orange juice. Now he just had to reach it. He wasn’t quite big enough to just grab it yet, but he wasn’t ready to give up.
He looked around the kitchen for something to help him reach, and then his eyes landed on the dining chairs. “Good thinking Delfy,” he said as he placed her safely on the table to supervise.
He pushed the chair right up to the fridge and with ease climbed himself up. As he stood on the chair, he could easily take the bottle out of the door. Now he just had to manoeuvre himself down. He slowly crouched down and from there managed to get himself in a sitting position on the chair while still clutching the bottle, and then it was just a small jump off.
The next challenge was the cup. Luckily Mama had left some on the drying rack next to the sink. They were mugs Mama and Papa usually drank tea out of, but it would do.
Ilya set the orange juice on the floor carefully and pushed the chair to the sink, then repeated the same steps as he did to get the juice down. Now he could sit on the floor and carefully pour the juice from the bottle into the cup. He made a bit of a mess, but it was okay. He’d clean that up later. For now, he was happy he successfully had a full cup of orange juice ready to make Mama all better.
With the cup clasped in both his hands, Ilya began to make his way back to his mama’s bedroom when the sound of the front door opening made him jump, and the cup slipped out of his grasp. With a crash the cup hit the floor, and juice and broken mug surrounded him.
Niko 2033
Niko was so excited for the party. There was going to be a bouncy castle and dancing and food and lots of friends and dogs, and he was big enough to help now. He got to sit with Papa and Eliza making decorations. It was going to be the best party ever.
The Bouncy Castle Man came, and he watched him blow the castle up. It was exciting, but he realized something as the castle did its thing. He was thirsty. Very thirsty. He should’ve probably told a grown-up, but Daddy was at the store, and Papa looked very busy watching The Bouncy Castle Man.
Then he remembered the juice Papa was making in the kitchen. It was bright red with actual fruit inside. It looked so yummy. He was a big boy now. He could help himself to his own juice. Right? So, whilst Papa, Eliza, and Anya watched on, Niko slipped away back into the kitchen.
He could see the juice sat on the edge of the counter in a pitcher. Niko was sure he could just about reach it. He stood on his tippy toes and pulled at the handle. He had it! He pulled it closer, but just as he was lifting it off the counter, his hand slipped. The pitcher crashed to the ground, sending juice and glass everywhere.
The shock made Niko jump, and he felt his socks get all wet, and then he thought about how Papa was going to be sad that his hard work was now gone. He didn’t feel like a big boy anymore. He just wanted his Papa and his Daddy, so he did all he could think to do: stand there and cry.
Ilya 2033
Ilya ran into the kitchen to find his son bawling his eyes out and Anya barking, alerting him to danger. “Malysh, are you okay?” He asked as he tried to reach Niko, careful of the broken glass surrounding him.
“I’m sorry, Papa,” he cried.
A memory, or a 'flashback,' as his therapist would label it suddenly hit him.
Ilya 1996
“What are you doing?” Papa shouted as he walked through the door to find Ilya crying with a broken mug and juice on the floor.
“I’m sorry, Papa,” Ilya cried.
“You are a bad boy, very bad,” Papa raged.
Ilya just kept crying and repeating, “Sorry, Papa, I’m so sorry.”
His father moved to him and dragged him up by his arm.
“I was trying to make Mama juice. She is sick.” Ilya tried to explain.
“Your mother is very weak,” Papa shouted. “Just like you crying like a little girl because you have been caught being bad.”
Then he felt the heat of his father’s hand hit the back of his legs. Ilya cried and screamed some more even though he knew it’d make Papa angrier.
He ran to his mother’s room and into her arms. He wasn’t sure she knew what happened, but she pulled him closer to her anyway. “Everything will be alright. I love you,” she repeated over and over, stroking his curls, until his sobs subsided.
Ilya 2033
Ilya looked at his crying little boy and felt no rage or anger. He felt worry and sorrow but, most of all, love. In that moment, he realized he was not his father. He’d done it. He’d broken generational curses.
Broken glass be damned; he leaped over the mess on the floor and lifted his son off the ground. He hugged him and kissed his cheek as he cried.
“It’s okay, Nikolai, Papa is here.” Still, Niko cried in his arms. “Everything will be alright. I love you.” He whispered to him in Russian repeatedly, just like Mama used to.
When Niko had calmed, he saw Eliza watching the situation with one hand, patting Anya’s head. He carried Niko over the broken glass to get to them, and Eliza immediately hugged Ilya’s leg.
Anya, clearly feeling left out, began to paw at Ilya’s other leg, and Niko was able to stop his sniffles to laugh. Then all three of them were laughing as Anya continued to beg for attention. “Is okay, Anyuta,” Ilya told her. "I love you too." That made the children laugh harder.
Shane got home with the right ginger ale in hand and surveyed the scene. “What on earth happened in here?” He asked, bemused but not angry.
Niko 2033
When Daddy got home, both he and Papa checked Niko over to make sure he wasn’t hurt. He continued to say, “I’m sorry.” But Daddy assured him it was okay.
“We just want you to be safe. Next time you’re thirsty, tell a grown-up so you don’t get hurt,” he told him softly as he gave him a cup of ginger ale.
“Malysh, we love you, okay? We will never be mad,” Papa confirmed.
He then watched as Papa and Daddy cleaned up the mess and together made another batch of juice, this time in a plastic bowl. They both smiled at each other as they made it. They were so silly sometimes.
Later at the party (which was awesome, by the way), he overheard Daddy tell Papa, “You did really well today. I’m so proud of you.”
“Was hard having flashback,” Papa responded, “but I’m happy I’m not my father.”
Daddy smiled at him. “Told you, you had nothing to worry about when we put in the adoption papers.”
“Yes, yes, Shane Hollander; always right.” Papa laughed.
Niko wasn’t sure what any of this meant, but he was happy Papa was happy, and next time he was thirsty, he’d tell a grown-up!