Chapter Nine
CHAPTER NINE
On the day the Panthers are due to fly in, David wakes up feeling anxious. He knows he shouldn’t be. Knows the things he’s worried about are ridiculous, the sort of things Kiro would laugh at if he said them aloud. Like the idea that maybe Kiro and Robbie will dislike one another, demand David choose between them. He can dismiss that one fairly easily: they’re both likeable people who generally seem to like everyone else. Besides, Robbie hasn’t even made that sort of ultimatum about Georgie, whom he seems to genuinely loathe, so David can’t see him making one about Kiro.
Harder to dismiss is the idea that they’ll like one another. Not that David doesn’t want them to like each another, because he does, so maybe it’s the idea of them liking each other too much. That they’ll spend the whole evening talking about things David doesn’t understand, can’t relate to, that they’ll realise they have more in common with one another than they do with David, that it’s…easier when he’s not around.
David knows he isn’t easy.
When he was asking Robbie if he wanted to come for drinks, he had been more concerned about Robbie saying no, but now that he’s agreed, the apprehension sits heavy in him. He spends his morning telling himself he’s being stupid, but every time he pushes one thought down another surfaces, and then finally the worry, stark and impossible to dismiss, that a few of Kiro’s usual jokes might make obvious what Robbie already seems to suspect.
He calls Kiro, hoping he isn’t already en route. It’ll be hard to get ahold of him privately once he’s in Washington, at least before the game, and David doesn’t want to put any of this in writing.
“Davidson,” Kiro answers cheerfully. There’s a hum of conversation in the background. “You cannot even wait to see me?”
“Where are you?” David asks.
“Airport,” Kiro says.
“Could you—” David starts.
“Privacy?” Kiro asks.
“Yeah,” David says. “Please.”
“Sure,” Kiro says, and about ten seconds later “No one in hearing limit.”
“Earshot,” David tells him.
“That is a very stupid word,” Kiro says.
It kind of is, when David thinks about it. “About after the game—” David says.
“You are not allowed to cancel,” Kiro says.
“I’m not,” David says.
“I will judge Robbie poorly if he is canceling,” Kiro says.
“He’s not,” David says. “At least I don’t think so.”
“Good,” Kiro says.
“Can you just — not joke about gay things around him?” David asks.
Kiro’s quiet. “Of course,” he says.
“Because I think—” David starts, then, catching up, “Oh. Thank you.”
“I will behave with your boyfriend,” Kiro says.
“Kiro,” David says.
“That was last gay things joke,” Kiro says. “I promise.”
“Good,” David says, then, again, “Thank you.”
Kiro makes a dismissive noise. “No canceling,” he says.
“No canceling,” David says. “Promise.”
*
David was so distracted by the potential fallout of Kiro and Robbie meeting that he’s already stepping onto the ice before he thinks about Jake. He doesn’t think that’s ever happened before: even when he hated Jake, he still anticipated playing him — or maybe not anticipated, maybe that’s too positive a word — for at least an entire day. Playing the Panthers has never been routine.
But of course he’s thinking about it as soon as he sees Jake across the ice, unmistakable. There’s something in the way he holds himself on the ice, different than the way he holds himself off it, something in the way he skates that makes David recognise him instantly, something he probably couldn’t do with anyone else other than Oleg. With Oleg that’s a result of hundreds of hours on the ice together. With Jake it’s just — he’s unmistakable. David truly can’t think of another way to describe it.
A few feet away from Jake, a Panther waves at him, and there isn’t the same instantaneous recognition, but David can tell it’s Kiro from context. No one else on the Panthers is likely to be waving, and certainly no one else would wave so enthusiastically.
David waves back, and Jake raises his hand in response, apparently assuming David waved at him.
That’s always been a nightmare of David’s, waving to someone who isn’t waving at you. The mere idea of it is mortifying. David didn’t do it, so he doesn’t know why he’s the one flustered by it. Doesn’t know why he remains flustered by it, distracted during the pregame speech in the room, eyes flicking across the ice at Jake during the anthem, watching him shift his weight from foot to foot. David doesn’t have to look close to know he’s mouthing the words. He always does.
He doesn’t understand why Jake waved after over a year of radio silence. He supposes it might be because he thought David had, and it was polite. Jake’s always been polite in his own way. Perhaps he doesn’t care about the sort of etiquette that’s been drilled into David’s bones, but he’s always been considerate. Except the time he wasn’t, David supposes.
Oleg slaps his back before he moves to the faceoff dot. “Head in the game,” he says.
“Head in the game,” David agrees, and tries his best to follow through.
*
They lose. It isn’t the predicted result, considering their respective places in the standings, respective recent streaks, and it stings a little more because of that. David did get his head in the game, and it wasn’t his fault. Wasn’t anyone’s fault, really. It was one of those games where a team outplays their opponent and still loses because sometimes luck makes the difference. One bad bounce or hot goalie can seal things, and this game had both.
Kiro’s cheerful when he meets David and Robbie at the restaurant they agreed upon. Kiro’s always cheerful, but the lucky bounce was on his stick and then off a skate, giving him a point in the only goal of the game, so he’s particularly cheerful tonight.
He has plenty of reason to be happy about it, and David can’t blame him for that. Kiro doesn’t have many points on the season, and the Panthers’ California trip was not particularly successful. Still, it's hard to push down the sting of a loss when facing an opponent, no matter how…Kiro he is.
“I was supposed to drink in victory with the team, but I told them I had plans to make fun of Capitals, so they let me go,” Kiro says, sitting down. “So I am here to make fun!”
David glances over at Robbie, worried he’ll take that as an insult rather than just Kiro being Kiro, but he’s grinning.
“We tried to help out the little guy,” Robbie says. “Throw you a game.”
“Very generous,” Kiro says. “Thank you.”
“No prob,” Robbie says, then, “Robbie, nice to finally meet you.”
“You too,” Kiro says. “I have heard much about you.”
David narrows his eyes at Kiro, but Kiro’s looking at Robbie.
“I started following your Instagram like the third time you stuck your cat in Chaps’ jersey,” Robbie says.
“Orange likes David,” Kiro says. “I leave my jersey around the house for nice picture, and she avoids it. Always sleeps on Davidson’s”
He pouts at David, who’s caught between rolling his eyes and laughing.
Considering the time of year, it’s inevitable that the conversation rolls around to the break, as it has in the room for the past several days. David already knows Robbie’s plans, Kiro’s, but they obviously don’t know one another’s, so David supposes it’s natural to ask.
“Heading home to Boston,” Robbie says. “My niece is turning…holy shit, my niece is turning eleven Thursday. I’m old.”
“Boston for me too!” Kiro says, then bumps his fist against Robbie’s when he offers it. “Well,” Kiro revises. “Malden. Probably does not count.”
“Definitely counts,” Robbie says. “Totally counts.”
Kiro smirks. “You are not going to Boston either.”
“Greater Boston counts as Boston,” Robbie says.
“You have said that a lot, I think,” Kiro says.
“Shut up,” Robbie mutters, and David frowns, but Robbie just turns to him. “Where’re you going? Ottawa, right? Like Cap Q?”
David decides not to point out that Quincy isn’t actually from Ottawa but from the Capital Region – Robbie might take that one personally, considering. He shrugs. “I’m just staying in Washington.”
Kiro and Robbie look at one another, doing that silent conversation thing that David’s never been able to do. He thinks he knows what they’re saying, though. That’s new.
“Capitals are in Sunrise on your birthday, yes?” Kiro asks, apropos of nothing. “When I see you next?”
“How did you—” David starts.
“Internet,” Kiro says, waving his phone around. “Because you would not tell me.”
It isn’t like David wouldn’t tell him, he just didn’t think the date was relevant when he was wishing Kiro a happy birthday three months ago. Kiro had asked, but it’s not like he’d remember after that long, and David thought he was just being polite, so he didn’t reply to that text.
“I didn’t think you’d remember,” David says.
“Your birthday is Christmas Eve in Russia,” Kiro says. “Well, Christmas Day by the time we play.”
“I didn’t know that,” David says.
“Prepare for Olezhka being extra grumpy, away from his daughters,” Kiro says.
“Kurmazov,” David says to Robbie. “He doesn’t like being called that,” he adds, in case Robbie gets any ideas.
“He can get grumpier?” Robbie says, sounding awed.
“He’s not grumpy,” David says, and Kiro and Robbie both snort.
“So what I’m getting from this is that we’re partying in Sunrise,” Robbie says.
“No,” David says.
“Yes,” Kiro says.
“No,” David repeats. “We are not.”
“You have a day off next day, can sleep in,” Kiro says.
“Why do you know that?” David asks.
“I looked at schedule,” Kiro asks. “And asked Olezhka.”
“That doesn’t answer why,” David says.
“It’s your birthday,” Kiro says.
“And?” David asks.
Kiro shrugs. “It’s your birthday,” he repeats, like that’s an answer.
“Definitely partying,” Robbie says.
“No,” David repeats, but neither of them seem to be listening, and they make up increasingly ludicrous plans, snickering the entire time.
“See you both soon!” Kiro says, when he’s leaving.
“We’re not partying,” David says firmly, and ignores the face Kiro makes and the finger Robbie gives him.
*
“What are your plans Friday?” Oleg asks him after their last game before the break.
“Um,” David says. “I don’t have any.”
“Maria expects you to come for dinner,” Oleg says, in a tone that suggests David isn’t allowed to argue. David has an argument on the tip of his tongue anyway: it’s Christmas Friday, and Christmas is meant for family. But then, if Russian Orthodox Christmas is when Kiro says it is, Oleg will be in Florida during it, and Friday doesn’t mean anything more to him than one of those arbitrary provincial public holidays, implemented solely to abide by the national statutory holiday laws. David still isn’t entirely sure what ‘Family Day’ is meant to entail.
It still feels like intruding, going to the Kurmazovs, especially on Christmas. Oleg’s daughters must be old enough to understand it by now, between school and what David recalls being a constant barrage of Christmas based television. It’s not just an ordinary dinner.
“Well—”, David says.
“Maria will be annoyed if you say no,” Oleg says flatly.
“Do you need me to bring anything?” David asks.
“Cupcakes,” Oleg says.
“Cupcakes?” David asks. “That’s not really a—”
“The girls like cupcakes,” Oleg says firmly.
“Okay,” David says. “I’ll bring cupcakes.”
*
David’s never liked the Christmas break very much, as short as it is, but this year it isn’t so bad. On Christmas Eve, David goes out to a claustrophobically crowded grocery store to pick up cupcakes for Oleg’s daughters and receives a gift basket from Dave that includes some very nice wine. He puts a bottle aside to bring to the Kurmazovs, opens another, less expensive bottle that he drinks with his dinner and then when he moves to the couch, trying to avoid Christmas related programming. It’s ubiquitous, so in the end he turns on Netflix, looks up one of the series Robbie has recommended he watch, one eye on the TV and one eye on his phone, which keeps buzzing with notifications.
Emily’s parents have two dogs, and Kiro is clearly fond of them, judging from the amount of photos he’s been sending David: Kiro with the dogs, Kiro and Emily with the dogs, Emily with the dogs, the dogs unaccompanied and not doing anything particularly interesting.
Maybe you should get a dog. David sends.
Orange would never forgive me Kiro replies, then texts a picture of his lap, where one of the dogs has rested their head.
On Christmas morning Kiro sends a picture of the dogs wearing Santa hats. Merry Christmas! he sends a moment later, along with a picture of him and Emily in matching candy cane pyjamas.
David wonders why he’s mentioning it if it’s not Christmas for him, but then, you also wish someone a happy birthday or a happy anniversary, so it isn’t really required that the occasion be shared. And presumably Emily’s family celebrates it, if they’re dressing their dogs in Christmas paraphernalia, though David wouldn’t put it past Kiro to have brought those hats himself.
I’ll wish you a merry Christmas when I next see you. David replies, and gets a row of smileys in return.
Merry Christmas I hope you are less hungover than I am he receives from Robbie soon afterwards.
Seriously? David replies. Robbie says a lot of things that sound serious but are jokes, and David can’t imagine drinking to the point of hangover with family members.
Whoever thought kids were a good idea has never had a hangover. Giving up my uncle title until I don’t want to die. Robbie replies, which David guesses is confirmation.
David has a long stretch of day until he’s due at the Kurmazovs, and going to the gym on Christmas just seems — sad, so he loads up the show he’d been watching on Netflix, this time accompanied by tea rather than wine. He gets through the first season before it’s time to get ready, and by then it’s later than he thought, so he’s rushed and feeling stranded, staring at a closet full of clothing, none of which seems right for the occasion.
Oleg didn’t say to dress up, but Maria’s always dressed well, and even if it’s just dinner at the Kurmazovs, David doesn’t want to be underdressed. He’s dismissed the idea of a suit jacket as overdressing and is looking for an appropriate sweater when his phone rings, the Ottawa area code an indication of who exactly is calling.
“I’m about to go to a friend’s for dinner,” David says. “I can’t talk long.”
“I won’t bother you then,” his mother says. “I just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” David says absently.
He thinks the navy would go best with the slacks he’s decided on.
*
“Of course you got chocolate,” Oleg says with a scowl when he opens the door, then, taking them from David, “Hide these,” to Maria, but not before the girls see them.
“I’m sorry,” David says, after dinner and the cupcakes. It must be getting close to bedtime, but the girls are more energetic than they were when he arrived. Usually they’re very well behaved for children, but —
“Chocolate,” Oleg mutters.
“You did not know,” Maria says, and pats David’s hand when he apologises again.
When he’s getting ready to leave Tatiana pushes a piece of paper into his hand. “You and papa,” she says, pointing at two fairly identical figures. David’s not sure which one is him. “Scoring goals.”
“It’s very nice, Tatiana,” David says.
“Merry Christmas,” she says, and runs up the stairs before he can say it back.
“Should I—” David says, then offers it to Oleg.
“She made it for you,” Oleg says with a shrug. “You don’t have to keep it, but it is a gift.”
“I will keep it,” David says. “Thank you. Your daughters are—”
“I know,” Oleg says.
*
Boxing Day is Jake’s birthday. David doesn’t do anything with that information, but. He thinks about it.
Happy Boxing Day. he sends Robbie, which gets a somewhat expected quit making up holidays you incorrigible canadian in response.
No. he replies, and smirks as he pockets his phone again.
Boxing Day isn’t really much of a holiday. He thinks tomorrow, getting back to the season, will be better.