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The media was speculating wildly about why the Raiders had traded Ilya. All the parties had kept their mouths shut. By the first preseason game with Buffalo, the journalists were rabid.
Shane couldn’t believe he got to be at an Ottawa game in the family box with his parents. The Jumbotron zoomed in on them. His mom and dad were both wearing Centaurs’ Rozanov jerseys. Shane was not wearing another team’s gear, but he waved and smiled. Ilya was on the ice, stretching, and the Jumbotron cut to him so he could wave back with a massive grin.
Ilya had been whipping up the team; he was watching tons of tape, working on unity and coming up with a plan with the coach. They didn’t win the game. But, they didn’t lose as embarrassingly as the Cents often did. It was a fun game to watch, and Ilya got two goals. It was nice to watch him from the stands and cheer him on. Each time he scored, Ilya blew a kiss to the family box.
At the presser, Ilya was finally unable to keep dodging the question. He said, “Look, it’s not crazy conspiracy. I’m very good leader; Raiders drafted me to help get back on track when they were in rough patch. I got them on track. We got Cup. I want to show it wasn’t fluke; it wasn’t me trying extra hard after Olympics. I am good at this. The Centaurs are in a rebuilding phase, let’s do this, let’s rebuild. Let’s go; let’s get the Cup. It will take a few years. That’s okay.”
When asked why the Raiders had been willing to trade him, he said, “I asked very politely. The Raiders boys always made fun of me for having a girl in Montreal who I text back immediately. I know I am known for being,” he shrugged, “I have fun time with people. But there is this one person who is perfect. And last season, Miss Montreal and I have what Cliff Marleau called, ‘crap of get off the pot’ moment where we said, ‘Hey, what are we doing? We’re not teenagers anymore.’ Moving to Ottawa means I’m three and a half hours closer, and there’s no immigration. The Raiders management was very sympathetic. They’ve seen me staring at my phone since rookie year, and they were kind.”
Someone asked why, if she lived in Montreal, he was traded to Ottawa and not the Metros. Ilya rolled his eyes, “I said management was sympathetic, not suicidal. You don’t put Shane and me on a team and expect anyone else to win. I have taught the Raiders my methods. They know me. They know they can beat Ottawa this season with me. They can’t beat Metros if the Metros have me and Shane on the same team. A two-hour drive for me and Miss Montreal is nothing. We’ve been doing five and a half hours with passports for years. Being on the Centaurs as the focal point of their rebuild, living so close to my partner, ten minutes down the road from Yuna and David Hollander is dream come true. David is a Cents fan, so he’s pleased to have his ‘bonus son’ as new captain. It’s nice to have family in the stands. I’ve never had that as a professional. I blew a kiss to my family after scoring. I could never do that before. I am having lovely time, and we will have great season.”
Shane loved watching him show off, and at home, his dad made his usual post-game pasta, and his mother presented a huge platter of sweet potato brownies. Taking a bite of one, Shane sighed, “God, I miss home. Ilya, I can’t believe you get my Mom’s baking.”
“These are good,” agreed Ilya, “I thought I would have to fake liking it.”
“No, I don’t make the recipes that you can only enjoy if you’re on the diet,” said his mom, “because there’s always the possibility that Shane is cutting weight and he’ll say he’s only allowed one serving and then David and I are left with something we hate.”
“I’m not cutting,” Shane said through a mouthful of brownie.
“I’ll send you some with some,” she said with a smile.
Ilya started out strong, instituting his team-building activities and his belief that you could only be as strong as your weakest player, that it all depended on teamwork, that it was all about helping your defense make sure no one ever got near your goalie, and that your offense always had control of the puck. He was good at team unity.
On the phone, after a game, he said, “They have got the relationships down, but the moving as one is not clicking. I’m just like… guys, the power of friendship doesn’t win games, you also have to fucking score. We went out for a drink to talk, but I’m not celebrating when we can’t get it together.”
“I’m sorry,” said Shane.
“It’s worth it to be so close to you,” said Ilya.
“You want to switch to camera?” asked Shane.
“No,” then the doorbell rang, “just open the door.”
Shane laughed and rushed to the door. Ilya knew the door code, but ringing the bell was cute. Opening it, he smiled, “I love having you two hours away.”
“You have a morning practice, mine’s not until three,” said Ilya, hugging Shane close.
“I’m sorry you lost; it’s a rebuild. The Raiders didn’t win when you joined them at first either.”
“I know,” said Ilya. “I just forgot it… the word that means wears like water on a stone but emotional sounds like you are bad person.”
“Demoralizing?” suggested Shane.
“Da, demoralizing,” agreed Ilya.
Shane switched to Russian. His Russian wasn’t great, but he knew that being tired made English harder for Ilya. He asked if he was tired, and Ilya nodded. Shane asked if he wanted water or a Coke, and Ilya shook his head. He asked if Ilya wanted to go to bed and do dirty things to each other.
Ilya laughed, “You just offered to do muddy things for me.” Then he corrected Shane in Russian. Shane repeated after him. Smiling, Ilya said, “I want to do muddy things.” He started to herd Shane toward the stairs and the bedroom. “I love having boy who learns Russian for me.”
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” said Shane, kissing him and heading to the bedroom.
“Ya vlyubilsya v tebya s pervogo vzglyada,” said Ilya, and Shane preened under the affection as Ilya kissed his neck.
The season picked up; the Cents were improving but not shining. Shane watched Ilya stress out even as he got to count his wins. He pointed out the wins to the media. The media pointed out how far off he was from where he was from where he had been the season before. He smiled but said, “We are not talking about last year’s Ilya. We’re not talking about the Raiders’ Ilya. The Centaurs are coming from another place. So, let’s talk about where we are this season. Let’s talk about this year’s progress. Last year is done. Different team, different country.”
It broke Shane’s heart watching the interview, knowing how hard Ilya was working. He forwarded the video to his mom with a note saying, “He’s trying. Please take care of him for me.”
She replied, “Don’t worry, we’re aware. He’s doing a puzzle with Dad right now.”
Shane thought everything was on track. At least Ilya’s sponsorships were picking up speed. When he watched ESPN or the MLH Channel, every fourth ad was either his or Ilya’s. The hottest one was his Diesel ad, where he was just lazily stretching in different tank tops. The Omega ad made him smile because Ilya loved all three of his Omega watches and kept showing them off. While most of his ads were thirty seconds long, he had one that was a whole minute long, just him in unbranded athleisure, sitting on a bed. He talked about his struggles with mental health and how he used to spend eight to ten days a year languishing in bed, how the only way he could get out of bed was if someone literally dragged him out of bed. He talked about his team doctors asking him five million questions and telling him he had type one bipolar disorder. He talked about his medication. There were two versions of the ad, one for Canada and one for the U.S., as it had a different name.
He shrugged, “Most celebrity ads, we’re selling things that anyone would like. This is not like that. You can’t just go, ‘Oh, I like Ilya, I want drug.’ But if what I’m saying is familiar, if you think, ‘Oh, I have that too,’ then you should talk to your doctor and find out if it can help you get out of bed and have a better day.” He finished by getting out of bed and stretching, “Let’s face new day together.”
There was an ad on buses of Ilya shirtless, wearing a Gucci necklace, layered bracelets and a ring along with his cross. He was everywhere Shane looked. And Shane loved it.
But Ilya got a call from Russia that left him shaken. Shane was in Ottawa, sprawled out on Ilya’s couch, and could only hear one half of the conversation. Ilya had been lying with his head in Shane’s lap. Now he was stressed, having a conversation with his brother. Ilya was talking fast, so Shane had a hard time following it. He gathered that Ilya’s dad had gone outside without his shoes. Shane knew there was a couple of feet of snow on the ground in Moscow. He recognized the words for hospital and doctor, but there were words he didn’t know. He heard the words for work and game schedule.
After he hung up, Shane let them sit silently for a few moments, and then he said, “Has he been hospitalized?”
“It’s pneumonia,” said Ilya. “The doctors don’t think it looks good. He has fostbite on his feet.”
“If you talk to your coaches-”
“If he’s aware enough to know I’m there, he’d just get angry that I’m shirking commitment to team.” Ilya teared up, and Shane pulled him close, rocking him gently. “I’m never going to see him again.” Shane rocked him gently and held him close as Ilya cried. But he gathered himself and said, “I have to wire Alexei money. You have to bribe doctors to get treatment. I need to make sure Alexei has everything Papa needs.”
“Of course, whatever you think is best,” agreed Shane. “You know what needs to happen and how to help from here.”
Ilya tapped through his phone and said, “That’s all I can do.”
Shane hated that there wasn’t anything he could do. But maybe he just didn’t know what he could do. “Can I help?” he asked.
“You can get naked and sit on my face,” said Ilya, wiping away his tears.
“I’m serious,” said Shane.
“So am I. Take off your clothes and let me eat you out so I don’t have to think about the fact that my father is dying. I want to feel your hole clenching around my tongue, and I want to listen to your little moans so I don’t have to focus on how useless I am. I can make a pretty boy come; I can’t save my papa.”
Shane nodded, already hating that he had to go to Montreal in the morning.
It was only four days later, just after both of them had played separate games, that Ilya sent him a text saying, “Papa died. I just booked my flight home in a few hours. Yuna is helping me pack. Don’t call because I hardly keeping it together and I won’t keep it together if I talk to you”
That broke Shane’s heart. He sat down heavily on the bench and texted back, “I’m sorry you couldn’t be there, and you didn’t see him. I know Russia is dangerous. I know they tap phones. If you want me, call me or text me any time, night or day. I’m thinking of you. I’m always here for you. But I’m going to leave that up to you because you know best. Is Svetlana going? Do you have backup?”
Shane hadn’t met her. He knew that Ilya had slept with her. But, he also knew that Ilya considered her to be like a sister. That was weird to Shane. But Ilya’s whole family was weird. He believed Ilya when he said he only wanted Shane. He had moved to Canada, to a shitty team, to be with Shane. So, Shane could trust him that He wasn’t going to fuck Svetlana.
“Yes, she’s going home and will stay at my apartment with me. Her father will come to the service. I’m not all by myself. Videocalls are the least likely to be tapped. I don’t know when I can call but I will when I need to breathe”
Shane replied, “I love you, I believe in you”
“Capitaine, you okay?” asked JJ.
“Yeah, Ilya’s dad died. He’s heading back to Russia.”
“Oh,” said Hayden. He seemed to search for something to say, “Was it expected?”
“His dad was in his eighties, and they call pneumonia the old man’s friend because of how quickly it kills old people,” said Shane.
“In his eighties?” repeated Hayden.
“His parents had a huge age gap and he’s the youngest,” Shane shrugged.
Out in the family hall, his dad looked grim. His dad had come to his game while his mom had been at Ilya’s. It hadn’t made sense as his dad loved the Cents and his mom loved the Metros. But he thought maybe they just wanted to show that they cared about Shane and Ilya equally. His dad said, “You heard?”
“He texted. Mom’s with him?”
“Yeah, I’m glad she’s with him because the flight he booked was way too soon for my taste, but she can help him pack fast and drive like a maniac to get him to the airport in plenty of time. I’m not a fast enough driver. Let’s go out to Max’s and get salmon bowls? And fruit salad with grainless-granola?”
“I’d love that,” said Shane. Then softly he said, “JJ was a little off tonight.”
“Let’s invite him,” said his dad.
“You sure?”
“Of course, you’re his captain.”
As JJ passed, his dad said, “JJ, we’re going to Max’s, you’re coming.”
JJ looked surprised but said, “Okay, Mr. Hollander.”
“We’ll bring you back to your car,” he said, “I’m driving, boys.”
He was parked in the family lot, not as good as the players, but still closer than the fans. They switched to Quebecois. It was Shane’s dad’s first language. His grandparents did speak English, but not as well as they spoke Quebecois. It’s what his dad had spoken at home, and Shane had learned it as a child, as his grandparents had babysat him a lot. They talked about the game, about JJ’s goal and assist, about LA’s hustle but lack of follow-through.
At Max’s, his dad ordered a burger without his mom there to remind him about his red meat intake. Shane and JJ both ordered a double portion of the salmon bowl. They had to switch momentarily to English to order and then went back to Canadian French for their conversation.
His dad smiled and said, “You boys were on fire tonight. But, JJ, I haven’t spoken to you in forever, how are you, kid?”
A story of a pretty brutal breakup came out over the course of the dinner. JJ was being accused of cheating because he was too smiley around women. It apparently wasn’t the first time he’d been accused of cheating despite never cheating. He asked if he came off as a cheater. It all seemed to be centered around his love of dancing and his friendly nature.
Listening, Shane said, “I think you need to date a higher caliber of person. You pick up girls in bars. They like drama; they hardly know you. They’re dating the Metro star, not you. Talk to Hayden. He’s desperate to set people up. Jacki has so many friends. You can give him a list of characteristics, and he will find you a girlfriend.”
“Why don’t you let him set you up?” asked JJ.
“I’ve got Lily,” said Shane, shrugging.
“That’s still going on?” asked JJ. “You haven’t snuck away in Boston all season.”
“She moved for work; we’re better than ever,” said Shane.
“I’ve met her,” said his dad, “Yuna and I love her.”
“You’ve met Boston Lily?” asked JJ.
“She’s not in Boston,” said his dad.
“Why haven’t we met her?” asked JJ.
“Because we’re all too high profile, and Lily has no interest in being a WAG and I have no interest in that scrutiny,” said Shane. “We’re good. We’re happy.”
“They’re adorable, and private,” said his dad. “I mean, they’ve been together since they were seventeen.”
“Seventeen?” JJ almost screamed. People turned to look at them.
“The team doesn’t know that, Dad,” said Shane.
“Sorry,” said his dad with a grimace.
“Seventeen,” repeated JJ more softly.
“We weren’t serious until recently,” said Shane.
“Sorry, Shane,” said his dad.
“It’s okay, Dad,” said Shane. “I don’t need Jacki to set me up, JJ. But you should let her help you. You deserve someone who doesn’t think you’re cheating just because you’re friendly. You’re a friendly person.”
They got alerts on their phones saying Ilya had skipped the presser, and the media was freaking out. The Centaurs weren’t making a statement. They talked about the season and how the Raiders were shaping up without Ilya and how the Cents were doing better than they had in years, but still not good.
Shane admitted that his dream was to play a Cup race against Ilya, so he needed the Cents to get better.
“That’s your dream?” asked JJ.
“Yeah… I mean, my deep, secret dream… you won’t laugh?” JJ nodded his head. “I want seven Cup wins.” JJ let out a bark of laughter and then covered his mouth. “You promised, bro.”
“Sorry, sorry, Gretzky had four,” said JJ.
“And Henri Richard had eleven,” said Shane. “I feel I’m being realistic.” JJ started to laugh again and quickly covered his mouth again. “Shut up.”
JJ shook his head, “If you do that, forget about the Metros retiring your number, the League will retire twenty-four.”
“That’s my goal,” said Shane.
It was a nice meal, and his dad brought them back to the stadium to pick up their cars. He asked his dad if he wanted to stay over, but his dad said, “Mom had to help Ilya pack and get to the airport, I’m sure she’s stressed out. If you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, go home to Mom,” said Shane.
His dad hugged them both, thanking JJ for coming out with them. As Shane and JJ walked to their cars, JJ said, “Your dad is so nice.”
“Yeah, he’s the best,” agreed Shane. At their cars, he said, “Talk to Hayden; get a girlfriend instead of a girl from a bar.”
“Aye, Capitaine,” agreed JJ. “See you at practice.”
“See you at practice,” agreed Shane.
It took two days for Ilya to call. Shane was reading in bed when he picked up, saying, “Privet.” He started to take off his glasses, but Ilya made a protesting noise, and Shane left them on. Staying in Russian, he asked how Ilya was doing.
“He speaks Russian?” asked a woman’s voice.
“Privet, Svetlana,” he said. Then he added that he didn’t speak it very well, but that he did Rosetta, Duolingo and Pimsleur every day.
Ilya told her that Shane was modest and was much better than he claimed to be. Ilya asked what the media was saying, and Shane told him that the media was confused and the Centaurs were saying nothing. Ilya nodded and breathed out slowly. Then Ilya said that they had done something that day, and Polina was angry.
Shane shook his head and repeated the activity, not sure what he had said, and Ilya switched to English, “A thing with the lawyers where they say who gets his stuff.”
“Oh, a will reading. Sorry,” said Shane.
Switching back to Russian, Ilya said he wasn’t surprised that Duolingo didn’t teach a person will reading. Polina was pissed because, apparently, Ilya’s dad had written it in a lucid period. He’d left his military and police memorabilia to Alexei. He said everything else had been bought by Ilya and should be returned to Ilya. He apparently listed off all of Polina’s jewelry individually, calling out each piece as belonging to Ilya. He said that you can’t gold dig a man’s son and then cheat for your entire marriage. He left her a singular book of Russian architecture. The lawyer apparently forced her to hand over everything. She left angrily afterward with her book. Ilya shrugged, saying he wasn’t sure if she was going to come to the service or meal.
He sighed and said he spoke to the lawyer alone, transferring the house and most of its contents, plus the cars, to his brother, the jewelry to his sister-in-law and started the process of selling his apartment. He said Svetlana had been helping him pack his personal possessions and what he wanted from his dad’s house. He said the money from his apartment would be put into a trust for his niece when she turned eighteen. “Alexei and his family gets about six million dollars, and he never contacts me or talks about me in the media ever again.”
He talked about planning the funeral, getting the tomb next to his grandparents.
“What about your mom?” asked Shane, switching, without thinking about it, to English.
Ilya shook his head and said that in Russia, people were often buried with a parent rather than a spouse. It all sounded exhausting, and Ilya looked worn. Shane asked if there was anything he could do.
“Get naked,” said Ilya.
“Sure, not when you’re in the same room as your best friend,” he said.
Ilya said, “She went into the library.”
“Go into your bedroom and shut the door,” said Shane.
“Sveta, I’m going to have phone sex,” Ilya called, making Shane laugh. Shane started to pull off his shirt, and Ilya said, “Prop me somewhere, I need to watch you fold that shirt.” Shane laughed but did as he was told and folded his shirt, putting it down next to him. “I love everything about you.”
Shane wished he could be there for him, that phone sex wasn’t the only thing he could provide.
It was only a few days later, just before bed, in a hotel, that he got a text asking if he was alone. He looked up at Hayden and said, “Ilya is calling from Russia. He just buried his father. I know you don’t like the guy, but-”
“I can go read in the lobby for an hour,” said Hayden, getting up.
“Thank you,” said Shane. He texted back, “Hayden is leaving now. Give him a minute and I will have the room”
Just as Hayden left, his phone started to buzz, and Shane answered, “Privet.” Ilya was dressed up and looking hot, but Shane didn’t say it, knowing he was probably coming from a funereal practice. He was outdoors.
“English for a minute, I need a break from the Russians,” there were tears in Ilya’s eyes.
“That bad?”
“I just want to scream,” said Ilya.
“Where are you?”
“I had to get out. I’m just walking. I fucking hate that I quit smoking for you because I want a reason to be out here other than not wanting to be in there. Now I’m just in the cold, like Papa, not smoking.”
“Svetlana probably has one you could bum.”
“No, I’m quit for good this time,” said Ilya.
Shane nodded, “How long until you can come home?”
“I’m going to the shipping office in the morning to send my stuff, then I’ll visit my mother’s tomb, then I’ll be on the red eye.”
“Okay, okay, I can pick you up from the airport, just send me your flight details.”
“Really?” asked Ilya.
“Yeah, of course,” said Shane, “it’s terrible?”
“I don’t have words in English,” said Ilya.
“You want to tell me in Russian? Or do you want to talk about something else?”
Ilya switched to Russian, saying he wanted to leave and never come back, how he hated everyone he was related to, how they hated him, how he paid for everything — the food, the clothes, their lives — and none of it was ever enough. They just wanted more and more, and he felt empty and drained by leeches of people who didn’t like him as a person but as a bank. He talked about missing a dad he always hated and loving a brother he never liked. And he talked about how Svetlana was the only person there for him, and how he had thought that would be enough before he knew Shane. Now all he wanted was to come home.
Some words didn’t make sense to Shane. He didn’t ask for clarification. He just listened and nodded as Ilya spoke. When Ilya ran out of steam, Shane said, “Ya tebya lyublyu.” Then he said, “Feel any better now that you said it out loud?” Ilya nodded. “It’s less than forty-eight hours.”
“He died because he went outside without his shoes… I know that Ottawa is buried in snow and freezing but I want to be with you in my hot tub.”
“There’s a large difference between two adults in a hot tub in the snow and one confused, lost old man going out underdressed,” Shane assured him. “We can make out in the hot tub without it being weird. I will stop by your house and crank it up before I pick you up at the airport.”
“I can do it from phone when I land,” Ilya assured him.
“Okay,” Shane nodded.
“I should go,” said Ilya.
“Okay, send me your flight details?”
Ilya nodded, “Poka-poka.”
“Do skorogo,” said Shane. They hung up, and he pulled on his shoes. Grabbing his keycard, he followed Hayden down to the lobby. Hayden was reading something on his phone. Shane said, “Hey.”
“How is he?” asked Hayden, standing.
“His family are… nightmare human beings who all treat each other with brutal levels of unkindness. Ilya is hanging on by his fingernails as people fight over the will.” Shane stopped at the vending machine he bought a Canada Dry as they headed to the elevator. “He’s got traces of a black eyes and… he’s an MLH-level brawler and I know he could take his brother out with one really good hit, but he won’t do it because if he sinks to their level there wouldn’t be a funeral. He’s the only functional human in that family. He’s taking the redeye to Ottawa tomorrow night.”
Knowing that the game would be over and they would be back in Montreal, Hayden said, “You going to meet him?”
“Yeah, I’m going to pick him up at the airport. We have a three day break after this. Then he has a three-day break after our game so he can stay in Montreal.”
“Shit, is Montreal going to be his first game back?” asked Hayden as they entered their room.
“Yeah, so the Cents are either going to pull it together for their captain or it will be even more of a shit show than usual as Ilya’s been in Russia for nine days.” Thinking, he said, “Look, I know you aren’t friends.” Hayden raised his eyebrows. “not friends” was an understatement. Shane ignored it. “He’s not going to have enough of a break to go visit Marleau and his kids. He can’t go be Uncle Ilya to his American family. Jade and Ruby love a new audience.” Hayden looked horrified. There was no one around, they were alone in the room, but Shane still dropped his voice as he added, “Do you want Cliff Marleau to be a better friend than you? I’ve been to his house for dinner and met his kids. Shouldn’t Ilya meet yours?”
“No, you’re nice. He’s a nightmare.”
Shane rolled his eyes, “On the ice, add ‘on the ice’ to that statement. He’s a nightmare on the ice. Do you think I’d have been giving him my time for my entire adult life if he was a nightmare? Do you think Marleau’s kids would see him as their adored uncle if he was a nightmare? His dad just died and he can’t go to his family in the U.S. Have us over for dinner and tell the girls they have a new guest for a tea party. I’m sure Jacki would love to meet him.”
Hayden groaned, and Shane felt queasy. Thinking about it, thinking about how many times Hayden had said he needed to speak up in the past, he said, “How would you feel if Jacki made a bad impression and every time you talked about her, I gagged? I get it, you don’t like him. It doesn’t feel good to be reminded again and again. The man who would be my father-in-law if Russia wouldn’t throw us into prison just died. You could have some empathy.”
“I just think you can do better,” said Hayden, not backing down, “I want the best for my best friend.”
“Hayden, I picked Ilya when I was seventeen. He was mine before I met you. If you think you’re going to convince me to dump him, you’re insane. He moved to Canada for me. He signed to a shitty team for me. He became best friends with my parents for me. And I learned Russian for him. At the end of the day, you and I just know each other from work.”
Regretting the words after they came out of his mouth, but being too pissed to apologize, he silently brushed his teeth and got ready for bed. In bed, Shane turned to his phone. He pulled up Jacki’s contact. And typed, “I had a fight with Hayd. Ilya’s dad died. I asked Hayd to invite us over so he could meet him socially and Ilya could get cheered up by fun kids (Ilya loves kids). Hayd is still talking about setting me up and me doing better than the boy I’ve been with since I was 17. I called Hayd just a guy I know from work. That’s really fucked up. We’re sharing a room. I should apologize. But he should apologize too. But I’m the captain so I should probably apologize more. But I’m exhausted. So, I’m going to sleep. I’m really sorry Jacki”
She replied, “No, honey. Don’t worry. You are fine. I want to meet Ilya and he should meet your god kids. Hayd’s being a brat. I’m going to deal with it”
He replied, “I don’t want to make things worse”
“You won’t. Don’t you worry,” she texted. “Go to sleep. It will all be fine in the morning. Love you”
“Love you too,” he replied. He plugged in his phone, turned off his bedside lamp and rolled over.
He heard Hayden’s phone buzz, and Hayden murmured, “Oh fuck.”
Shane let himself drift and, when he woke up the next morning, Hayden started the day by saying, “I’m sorry. I was a jerk. I think in some ways I’m jealous. Jacki’s a girl. You are a guy. So, the fact that she’s my partner and my favorite person doesn’t stop you from being my best friend and other favorite person because girls and guys are different; they offer different stuff. He’s a guy. If he’s your partner and your favorite person, there is nothing I can offer you extra. He’s a dude. He’s got hockey and videogames and other sports down. He thinks like a guy, and you aren’t looking to hang out with any girls. So, I offer you nothing that he doesn’t already. And then I just get,” he stopped.
“Insecure,” offered Shane.
“Yeah,” agreed Hayden.
“We did spend a lot of the time at the cottage playing this year’s MLH game and playing on the jet skis,” admitted Shane.
“See: I’m fucked,” said Hayden.
“We spent more time cooking together, cuddling, him convincing me to dance with him and having sex.”
“You dance? You never dance,” Hayden’s eyebrows shot up.
“Well, he loves dancing and he stopped dancing in clubs with girls once we became exclusive,” Shane shrugged. “So, yeah, I dance with him.” Thinking, Shane said, “You know, it really doesn’t matter that you’re both guys. You love your sister. You think your sister is kickass. You ditch the team when she’s in town. She and Jackie are both women. But she and Jackie aren’t competing for you. You always wanted to know what was going on with Lily. You always wanted to couple me off. The only thing that has changed is that you know about my love life now and Boston Lily moved to Ottawa. You aren’t competing with Ilya.”
Hayden nodded, “I’m sorry. You should bring him over to dinner when he’s here after the game. The kids would love to meet him. And, y’know, there’s gotta be something there if you’ve been with him for this long.”
Shane nodded, “Are we good?”
“Of course we are, Shane, you’re my favorite person. We’re great. I promise.”
“Okay, good, I don’t want to be in a fight.”
“We’re not in a fight,” Hayden assured him, “we’re all good. So his family’s a mess?”
“Apparently his dad’s will called out his stepmother for being a gold-digger and said as Ilya’s money had bought all her jewelry it all had to be returned to Ilya. He left her a single book. Ilya’s brother some cop and military memorabilia and everything else to Ilya as he paid for it all. Ilya’s not sure she’s going to turn up to bury her husband.”
“Oh my God,” said Hayden. “How much older than his brother is Ilya?”
“No, Alexei is older and a total dick, all he ever does is cocaine and call Ilya demanding money. Ilya was paying him to look after their dad but… He was outside at night without his shoes in the snow. That’s how he got sick. He was married and had a son paid to care for him, but he still was alone outside at night. Ilya feels like if he lived there… who knows.”
“Oh God, he couldn’t have saved him. Why was he outside without his shoes? Was he already sick?”
“He’s had dementia for a long time, called Ilya confused and scared at weird times of day. A lot of times he’s called to shout at Ilya for losing games that he lost years ago. He ends up apologizing to his dad for losing the second Prospect Cup about once a month. He was scared or angry a lot of the time. I think… I don’t know. I wouldn’t want my dad to be living like that. But… saying that doesn’t make it better for Ilya.”
“God, that sucks, living so far away with incompetent family must have been really hard.”
“And he didn’t go home last summer because he was moving here to be with me because… the plan was already in motion that once his dad died he’s never going to Russia again. He’s going to get Canadian citizenship. The plan is to get old together. But he was supposed to get another summer with his dad.”
“Shit… is he close with your dad? I mean, I know your parents have said they’re close with him but is that true or just BS to cover up from Hunter’s BS?”
“Well, they had never met him before Hunter was a prick. They didn’t know before Hunter outed me. But they’ve definitely gotten closer. My parents have made sure to be there as he doesn’t know anyone in Ottawa. My dad is thrilled that the Cents are going in the right direction. Dad’s thrilled to get to wear Cents’ merch. He got used to Metros stuff but he’s so excited to be back in Cents’ gear.”
“I’m glad they are taking care of him,” said Hayden.
By the time the game happened, he and Hayden were fine, and the game itself flew by in easy plays. Tampa wasn’t their hardest competitor. They were flying back right after the game, and Shane held onto his phone, holding it like a lifeline. He got a text that said, “The lawyer put the apartment in my niece’s trust, so I don’t have to worry about the sale. I’m all done here,” Shane hearted the message.
They landed, and Shane drove straight to Ilya’s house. He knew his parents had cleaned out the fridge. But he also knew it was nicer to come home to a place that felt lived in and warm than one that had been left empty for a week. He sent his parents a text, just in case Ilya’s alarm system told them there was someone in the house. When he got there, he took a shower and climbed into bed, ensuring that the sheets would smell of him when Ilya needed a jetlag nap.
When he woke up, he worked out in Ilya’s gym, turned on the heat in the hot tub and then went to the supermarket to refill the fridge with all of Ilya’s staples and stuff Shane could cook for the next few days. He texted his dad, asking for instructions for how to make chicken parm because he knew Ilya loved it. It broke all the rules of Shane’s diet, but he would do it for Ilya. His dad texted him a picture of a cookbook recipe. He grabbed what he needed and went back to the house. He put everything away and headed to the airport, where he paid for the good parking so they could leave faster.
He greeted Ilya with a hug and said, “Hey, welcome home.” He couldn’t bring himself to do the bro hug they usually did in public. Ilya was planning on announcing his father’s death, and Shane hoped that if people saw them, they would accept that it was a grief hug.
“I’m exhausted,” said Ilya.
“Did you sleep on the flight?” asked Shane.
“Some, but the layover in Germany took forever and a kid at the airport in Hamberg was a baby fan and wanted to talk stats and I didn’t want to be a dick.”
“Let’s get you home,” said Shane, taking his bag.
“Shane, I can carry my own bag,” Ilya protested.
“You look half unconscious, I’ve got this,” he replied.
Ilya dozed on the way back to the house and, at home, he pulled Shane into bed, saying, “Twenty minutes, or I’ll never sleep tonight.”
Shane set an alarm for them and stroked Ilya’s hair while he slept. When he woke up, he opened Twitter and posted a picture of him and his father from the Draft, writing, “With a heavy heart, I must announce the death of my father, Grigori Rozanov. My papa was a great man who led my family with honor and pushed me to be the best version of myself. I would like to thank the Centaurs for giving me the time I needed to go back to Russia, say goodbye and bury my father properly. I will be back on the ice as we face Montreal. He would have hated for me to miss a fight with Shane. I think he was more invested in my rivalry with Shane than anyone on Earth.” He hit post, and then he started to cry. Shane gathered him in his arms and just held him. “I was never enough. Never not a disappointment. No matter what I tried. And now… he’s just gone and he has been for years. But he’s never going to lecture me again. He’s never going to stay on the phone for an hour giving me a play by play of my own game, knowing it better than me. He’s never going to try to make me better, to help me achieve. That’s gone.”
Shane stroked his hair, knowing Ilya didn’t want his condolences. Instead, he said, “Y’wanna have sex in the hot tub?”
“Yes, badly, just let me send a note to management. Your mom helped me write it. It’s my request that they sponsor my citizenship. Yuna already filled out all the paperwork for them. It’s um… the thing the WAGs say Mercury is when shit goes wrong but for time.”
Shane thought about it, “Retroactive, it’s retroactive.”
“Yeah, so it will count my living here from when I first got here for my contract,” Ilya clicked through his phone as he pulled himself together. He sent the email, making his request. Then he said, “One step closer to just being us.”