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When David Hollander walked into his son’s cottage, he knew something was off. There were Nike sneakers in the shoe rack, for one thing. He knew Shane sometimes chafed under his mother’s management, but he was conscientious to a fault and certainly wouldn’t wear shoes from a direct competitor. And the Nikes in question were too big to be those of a lady friend - unless he’s dating a trans woman - but he shook the thought off. Simple answers were usually the most accurate.
Shane has a friend over. Why did he make up a story about silent retreat?
Did a neighbor drop by? David didn’t think Shane was particularly friendly with any of the other families on this side of the lake, but stranger things had happened. And that wouldn’t explain why someone dropping by to talk Cottagers Association would leave their shoes at the door.
By the time David got to the kitchen, he was even more curious.
Two glasses by the sink.
A jar of Nutella on an open shelf.
Two Coke bottles in the recycling.
More damning, a phone charger for a different model than the one Shane used.
David ducked under the sink to grab the dishwasher tabs he and Yuna had forgotten at the store and shook some into a zip top bag. He’d expected Shane to meet him at the door but Shane hadn’t responded to any of his text messages or the phone call on his way over here. He’d thought Shane was taking his meditation retreat seriously but the accumulation of two’s made him wonder.
Placing the box back under the sink, David straightened up and listened for voices somewhere in the home but the place was entirely silent. He thought he saw movement through the trees but it was so fleeting he couldn’t be sure if he’d seen Shane, wildlife, or imagined it completely.
“Shane?” Nothing. “Shane! It’s your dad. I tried texting earlier - “
He broke off as he spotted something startling in the living room - a Boston Raiders hoodie that looked larger than what Shane usually wore. David picked it up carefully. Why would Shane have Boston team gear? We hate Boston! He laid the garment back where he’d found it and looked around again.
Nikes.
Two water glasses.
Dishes for two in the drainer.
Nutella, Cokes - more startling, the bag clipped closed next to the Nutella. Kirieshki - a snack brand he recognized because a teammate at McGill ate them - usually garlic flavor, if he remembered correctly. The picture on this bag looked like . . . ham and cheese? Cheese and something, anyway. Next to that, a chocolate bar, a girl in a headscarf on the label, and another bag labeled in Cyrillic, but looked like some sort of ginger cookie. Why does Shane have Russian import snacks here? He was tempted to text Yuna and suggest she prod at Shane’s mental health state. The silent retreat plus a constellation of unlikely food items painted a worrying picture and - David opened the freezer out of sheer curiosity and blinked. Tucked neatly between the other frozen goods, a very good bottle of vodka. He remembered the label from that one collegiate exchange series he’d played in St. Petersburg.
What on earth is Shane doing?
His son rarely drank at all and, as far as David could remember, didn’t touch hard liquor at all.
[David] I got here a few minutes ago. Can I persuade you to come down and say hi to your dad?
No response. No indication it had been read.
Weird.
On an impulse, David walked through the hall that ran down the lake side of the cottage, towards Shane’s bedroom. There were two game controllers sitting on the couch in the TV room. At this point, that didn’t surprise him at all. The bedroom though. The bedroom looked remarkably more lived-in than Shane usually left the space. More Nike gear, a suitcase in the corner, lube and foil packets on the side table, and suddenly, David felt like he was seeing something he had no business looking at, and hastily returned to the kitchen.
Where is Shane?
He turned slowly, trying to put it all together and had just come to face the lake once more when he definitely saw movement on the path up from the dock.
Shane is laughing.
David tried to remember the last time he’d truly seen Shane laugh. It had been too long, years, he was sure. And this was full bodied face splitting laughter as he scrambled up the path pursued by -
My son is in love with a man. And that man is in love with Shane.
That was the only explanation for the sheer joy on both men’s faces. David watched them stop on the deck and lean into a kiss. He knew he should turn away, indicate his presence in some way, leave but the sight was too startling, too unexpected to immediately turn away from.
Shane loves a man. He’ll have to tell his mother. Yuna needs to know -
And just as David wondered if he should break the news or wait on Shane to bring it up, the man kissing Shane lifted his head and for a moment, their eyes met.
Oh shit.
David grabbed the dishwasher tabs he’d come for and left the cottage as quickly as he could.
*****
“Can you give me some idea of what’s going on?” Yuna demanded.
“I . . . saw something I shouldn’t have,” David said. That makes it sound like you walked in on him watching porn. He could tell his wife wasn’t really buying it, but he’d seen - in the rearview mirror - Shane’s front door fly open, so he assumed Shane was probably no more than fifteen or twenty minutes behind him. It had already been ten minutes since he’d walked into his cottage - the one where Shane had spent summer growing up. Never had such a familiar place felt so uncomfortable to David. He straightened throw pillows and refolded lap blankets while Yuna watched him with concern from the couch.
“You. Saw. Something.” Yuna articulated slowly. “He knew you were coming over, right?”
“I . . . don’t think he did. I saw him grab his phone on the way up from the lake.” He was sure Shane hadn’t noticed the message notifications, though.
“Ok.” Yuna frowned. “He was on the dock?”
“Swimming, I think? They had towels on their shoulders.” David frowned, trying to remember. Too late he realized what he’d said.
“They? But he told us a silent - “
David smiled privately. He suspected, based on the evidence, that Shane’s “retreat” was anything but silent. At least, he hoped so. Most of Shane’s hockey friends have been married for years already. Jackie and Hayden were about to celebrate five years. He’s been alone too long. He should have someone important. He refused to think about the implications of who Shane was apparently in love with. They could cross that bridge once Shane told them, in his own words.
“Honey. Is Rose there with him? Are they back together? She was such a good girlfriend for him. I thought a joint campaign with Joe Fresh would have been perfect for them - he turned it down. Shane never turns down opportunities like that!”
“There was the Rolex Wimbledon campaign, Yuna.”
“Rolex isn’t Canadian. And that was years ago.”
Movement caught David’s eye and looked across the living room to see Shane coming up the walk with - the man who is in love with Shane David reminded himself. That’s the important part here. Hockey doesn’t matter. Rivalry doesn’t matter. They love each other. That’s what matters.
“They’re here. Try not to be too . . . you.” David said as he turned to the door. He hoped Shane wouldn’t pretend he was a visitor, that he’d just walk in like he normally did.
“You want me to not be me.” Yuna said flatly.
“You know. Just - just be his mother, Yuna. Come on.” She looked at him bewildered as he offered a hand and helped her to her feet as the door opened.
“Hello? It’s me. It’s...Shane.”
“In here, son,” David said.
The sound of two sets of feet walking through the hall, and then suddenly, both young men were standing in the entrance to the living room. I’m glad they came together. Shane shouldn’t have to do this alone.
“Shane?” Yuna said.
David thought it sounded like she was addressing a stranger.
“Mom. Dad. I . . . I think we should talk.”
Shane had never sounded so uncertain in his entire life. Even as a child, when he’d been soft spoken and shy, he’d still always known his mind. It’s called pride for a reason, son. Hayden is proud of Jackie. You’re allowed to be proud of him. Straighten your shoulders. Look your mother in the eye. She’ll listen to you. Just show her confidence. “We forgot to buy dishwasher tabs. I just wanted to get a few from you, until we go to the store next week. I didn’t know you had . . . company. And you didn’t answer your phone so - “ David trailed off, aware he was rambling.
“Dad, it’s ok. I’m sorry. You . . . shouldn’t have found out that way. I’m sorry.”
“Found out what, exactly?”
David grimaced. Yuna was thoroughly in manager mode, her eyes locked on the man standing just behind Shane, looking exactly like he’d just been caught out.
“Well, I . . . I’m gay. Which I was going to tell you. Soon,” Shane said in a rush. “I just . . . sorry. I wish I’d told you.”
“Remember, Yuna? Mom, not manager,” David whispered
“I’m trying! Yuna hissed. “But it’s - “
“Um, and this is . . . Ilya. Rozanov. You probably know that.”
How long? There’s no chance this is something new. How long have you been hiding from everyone? David’s heart ached, even as he knew exactly why Shane was keeping this secret. He’d been in the same locker rooms. If anything, the locker rooms his son was in were better than the ones from his college years but that didn’t mean a gay boy could be gay.
“Hi,” Ilya said.
“And he’s been . . . visiting. He’s . . . we’re, um . . . “
David wanted nothing more than to cross the space and engulf his son in a hug but knowing Shane, he’d practiced this on the drive over. It would go better if they let Shane say everything first. He shifted his attention to Rozanov. Stripped of his gear and locker room bravado, Rozanov seemed surprisingly . . . normal. Just a nice young man coming home with Shane to meet his parents. Quiet. Attentive. Curious. He likes ham and cheese flavored crisps and sugary chocolate. Flavors children like, his mind supplied involuntarily.
“Lovers,” Rozanov supplied, finishing Shane’s sentence.
He nearly laughed out loud at the expression on Shane’s face. Shane probably gives him shit for his favorite snacks.
“Don’t, Ilya. That’s gross,” Shane muttered.
“But . . . you hate him,” Yuna said.
“No, I . . . I don’t. I mean. Sometimes, I do, kinda. But mostly I . . . love him. Actually.”
David wished he’d been able to tell Yuna how they’d looked, coming up from the lake. The joy and love shared between them. Maybe after they go back to Shane’s. He wished he had a photo of that moment.
“You . . . what?” Yuna grabbed at his arm, as if suddenly feeling off balance. David put a hand over hers and patted it gently.
“Can we just . . . sit, maybe? I’m sorry. I know this is a lot at once. I didn’t want this to be how I told you. At all.”
David nodded and gestured towards the dining table off to the side. It felt less isolated than their living room furniture. Shane and Ilya took one side, Yuna took her usual chair facing Shane, which left David looking across the small space of the table at Ilya. Didn’t he have a family death this season? He tried to remember the details. He’d gotten the impression that Rozanov was without much family at all. Nobody would ever think to call Ilya Rozanov a small man but he didn’t have the larger than life presence at their little table that he carried about himself on the ice.
Yuna glanced at their awkward faces and pushed her chair back. “I’ll make us some tea. You drink tea, don’t you, Rozanov?”
“I do. Yes.” Rozanov cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
“With lemon, yes?” David asked. He vaguely remembered Ivan complaining about Canadians not serving tea correctly.
Rozanov cracked the smallest smile. “Yes. If you have lemon, Mrs. Hollander. Otherwise sugar is fine.”
Yuna smiled tightly and crossed to the kitchen.
“So. Um - “ Shane shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“I should apologize to both of you,” David blurted.
“No, dad. I - “
“I looked around a little bit. I’m sorry, Shane. It’s your home and I shouldn’t have done that.”
Shane looked completely dumbfounded for a moment. Rozanov smirked.
“You went in bedroom, yes?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I invaded your silent retreat.”
“Oh yes,” Rozanov nudged Shane in the ribs. “We have been very silent, yes, Shane?”
“Shut up.”
Except that Shane was smiling at Rozanov and blushing and if the situation were just a little less awkward, David got the distinct impression they’d probably be more physically attentive to each other.
Yuna returned to the table with mugs, and then made a second trip for sugar and lemon slices. They were quiet for a minute fixing their tea.
“Shane,” Yuna said, breaking the silence, “I think we both . . . suspected . . . that you might be . . . gay.”
Yes, when you were so relieved that he was dating Rose, and upset when they broke up.
“You did?” Shane sounded surprised, not surprising. If he or Yuna had any thoughts about Shane’s interests, they’d kept it thoroughly to themselves.
“Yes, well. I didn’t know for certain, obviously. We just wondered if it might turn out that way. Girls never stuck around very long. Even Rose.”
“Wow. I had no idea you thought that.”
David watched Shane and Ilya exchange a look, something like relief.
“We know you pretty well, Shane,” Yuna said. She smiled, small, but not reserved.
“What we did not expect,” David added, was that you were . . . friendly . . . with Mr. Rozanov here.” They’d always delivered such a convincing demonstration of dislike and rivalry.
“Ilya,” Rozanov said.
David smiled. “Ilya, then.”
*****
“I need some air,” Yuna said. She left through the sliding doors to the patio, the three men watching her.
“Give her a minute and then go out there,” David told Shane. They’d talked about how the men had met, if Shane and Ilya had ever colluded (he didn’t believe that was possible, not the young man he knew), Ilya’s history, where they stood with Scott Hunter and possible adjustments to brand deals. Shane had made a face at Ilya’s mention of going to Scott’s club night in Vegas and Ilya had laughed about his scrunched angry kitten expression. It was a good description, David thought. And now, Yuna trying not to look like she was hurrying to get some space. She’d be fine, he knew. She just needed to breathe.
David watched Shane track Yuna. Then he went and picked up her favorite cardigan and left the cottage himself, brushing his hand across Ilya’s shoulders as he did. Ilya smiled and nodded, and then Shane was outside and sliding the door firmly closed.
“We should make some food,” David declared.
Ilya seemed confused for a moment, but he got up and followed David into the kitchen.
Shane usually stuck pretty closely to his performance diet even in the off season, but David suspected even he would want comfort food today. He pulled the big pot out - the one they used to use when Yuna would host Shane’s team for summer camp out weekends - and filled it. Ilya opened one cupboard - pasta - and then another - salt - and then started chuckling.
“What’s that?”
“Shane.” Ilya shook his head, still laughing. “His kitchen is same. Like mother, like son, yes?”
“I don’t think I ever noticed. Really?”
“Oh yes. Plates here?” Ilya gestured to a cupboard. “And silverware there?” The drawer closest to the end of the counter.
“Uh, yes.” David chuckled. “I guess I never thought about it.”
“Three Hollanders share one brain.” Ilya shook his head. “We make sauce, or use jar?”
Shane and Yuna will be in soon. Through the kitchen window, he saw them hugging. “Jar, but we’ll improve it. Chop some garlic and onions for me?”
“Da. Of course.” And because Shane’s kitchen was apparently set up exactly like this one, Ilya had a knife and chopping board on the counter a moment later.
They worked quietly for a few minutes and then, when the onions and garlic were sauteing in a pan, David pulled a bottle of vodka off a shelf, along with two small glasses. “I try to get the good stuff. It’s probably not as good as your imports though.” He handed one glass to Ilya and lifted his own. “You will always be welcome here, Ilya. If you are Shane’s family, then you are part of ours.”
“Spasibo.” Ilya downed his in a single swallow. “Thank you. You are good man, David Hollander. Good father. Like Shane will be.”
“And your father - ?”
“Not good. Very . . . hard? That is a good word. Very strict. I was allowed to feel angry. Other feelings, not so much . . . he used to beat me . . . until I got too good at hockey. Then he could not, because coaches knew difference between hockey injuries and . . . other kinds.”
He knew plenty of men much like Ilya described his father. The behavior wasn’t unique to Russia, David knew that much. Even some of the boys who Shane grew up playing with had fathers who were like that. Still, David didn’t like knowing that this man’s father had treated the boy in his care in such a fashion. Such a talented man. David remembered hearing a rumor that Ilya father - Gregorie? - had tried to have Ilya excluded from the draft. Had wanted him to only play in the Russian league. A waste of talent in David’s opinion. Somehow, they’d gotten Ilya into the NHL draft and for that, David was grateful. The sport was better for him playing here, and his own family was better for Shane meeting him.
“Your mother couldn’t - “
Ilya swallowed hard. He poured them each another glass, and downed his before responding. “My mother died when I was twelve. Suicide. My coaches could protect me physically by then, but he was cruel in other ways.”
I can imagine. And you still eat the snacks she filled your pockets with on the way to school.
“Was she beautiful?”
“The best.” Ilya stared off into the distance. She loved music and dancing, she was so sad, but sometimes she was happy, and I would dance with her.”
“I wish she could see you now.”
“Me too. But Shane has idea. It would be her, in a way.”
“The two of you should tell us, over dinner.”
“Yes. Is very good idea. Will allow us to be . . . friends. That hockey knows about.”
“Friends.” David laughed. He added a jar of sauce to the saute pan and reached for seasonings from the cupboard.
“Yes. Is funny.” Ilya joined the laughter. “Will be hard to pretend we are not - “ he shrugged - “but better than pretending we hate each other.”
“You never really have, have you.”
“No. He was problem from the first time we met.”
“In Regina?! He said you were a dick to him.”
Ilya smirked. “I was. But I could not forget his freckles. Very big problem for me.”
David added pasta to the water as it finally came to a boil. He’d forgotten how long it took this much water to boil. They both turned at the sound of the patio door opening. Shane and Yuna stepped in, both looking much lighter and more relaxed.
“Dad, I don’t - “ Shane started.
“Ilya went around to counter to him. “Is a strange day, Shane. On strange days you can cheat a little.” He kissed Shane’s cheek, held him softly around the back of his neck and at his waist. Yuna spotted the vodka and poured herself a glass.
“What did you boys talk about?” She asked, after swallowing hers.
“His family, mostly. It . . . it wasn’t good for him, growing up.”
“Do you remember meeting his father at the draft?”
“A little. We met so many people that day.”
“I’ve forgotten most of those boys’ parents too. But I’ve always remembered Gregorie. He called Ilya lazy and undisciplined, if you can believe that.”
He couldn’t. If the rumors were true - and David had every reason to believe they were - Ilya Rozanov was one of the hardest working, most disciplined men in the league. Neck in neck with Shane’s own reputation for the same.
“Pasta smells good, dad,” Shane called. “Is there Parmesan?”
Yuna smiled. “You two relax. I’ll help your dad finish this.”
David watched Shane shyly take Ilya’s hand and lead him to the couch. They settled, carefully, a little stiffly, and then, realizing nobody was going to say anything, leaned into each other, talking quietly.
“They want to start a foundation, David,” Yuna said.
“Doing what?” So many hockey players started nonsense charities. Ego trips to make themselves feel better off the ice. David didn’t think these two were like that, but then, people were surprising.
“Supporting mental health initiatives, mostly. Funded with hockey camps and private donations. They want to name it for Ilya’s mother.”
“Ilya told me she died of suicide.”
Yuna clamped a hand over her mouth, glanced over at their son. “Oh, David.”
“I know.” He wrapped his arms around her. “However we can support them, right.”
“I’ll talk to him about management. I’m sure he has a decent agent, but his branding is minimal. He needs to think about how he can live well outside of Russia after hockey. If he’ll let us help - “
“Save that for tomorrow. Tonight, just be Shane’s mom, who loves them both very much.”
“When Shane’s ready to tell my parents - “ Yuna mused.
David laughed. “Your dad is going to be so proud. His daughter, with two star hockey players for sons.”
“Make sure you hit record before that conversation. We’ll play it at their wedding.”
“Ilya said Shane would make a good dad, some day.”
“They both will.” Yuna picked up their vodka glasses to add to the dishwasher and screwed the top back on the vodka while David drained the pasta. “Family dinner today. Help them put together a plan tomorrow.”
“And then we leave them alone for the rest of their break,” David added, probably more firmly than he meant.
Yuna frowned. “What did you see over there?”
David shook his head. “I went looking for Shane. There were things in his room he wouldn’t want his parents to see. And before they saw me, kissing on the back deck.” He added the pasta to the sauce. “I don’t know if they’ve ever had freedom like this before. They - we - “
Yuna pulled down plates. “We’ll call before we go over, and make sure one of them answers before we show up.”
“You have the best ideas, my dear.”
FIN