Chapter 14 #2
There’s so much anger in his voice, red-hot and ice-cold at the same time, like Kirill’s parents could drop dead tomorrow and he wouldn’t shed a single tear.
Even without knowing the details, Danny wants to give him a hug; Sasha might squirm and pretend to complain at first, but it sounds like he needs one.
Before he can say anything, though, Sasha collects himself.
“This is why… this is why I can’t talk. On phone. Because Kirill is always here. Or my mother. If they see me leave, they ask where I go, and Kirill wants to go, too, and I have to lie.”
There’s a part of Danny that’s reluctant to push, since Sasha’s already stressed out—but if he doesn’t say something now, when’s he going to get another chance?
October? Or will Sasha keep declining his calls as long as Kirill’s in the same zip code?
There’s only so many times he can read the words sorry or busy before he starts to wonder if Sasha even wants to talk to him.
“Okay. I mean, I appreciate hearing that, cause, like, obviously you need to be careful, and I don’t want you, like, getting caught or anything, but…
” He scuffs at the treadmill belt with the toe of his sneaker, embarrassed that he’s saying this, that he’s always the one asking for more.
“I just kind of wish that you would, like, try a little harder? Like, not that you’re not trying, but… ”
It still stings, how quickly Sasha had shaken him off last week, like an annoying insect buzzing in his ear instead of a boyfriend.
And even now, Sasha’s only calling back because he’d heard about the doctor—if he hadn’t, how long would it have been before he reached out?
Would he really have been fine waiting until his next camp at Round Lake?
“I just… I don’t want to go back to, like, only talking to you once every other week or even just, like, once a week.
Cause, like, I really miss you, and I don’t get to see you, I don’t get to hug you…
” Fuck, why is he almost crying right now?
“So if Kirill’s gonna be staying with you guys for a while, then we need to figure this out, okay? ”
He doesn’t know how long he stands there on that treadmill, waiting for something, an “I miss you, too,” anything—but it seems as if he could have started and finished an entire floor routine, maybe even walked off the podium and gotten his score, by the time Sasha says:
“Okay.”
Danny blinks. He wasn’t expecting Sasha to give a speech, but… Jesus Christ, he really hopes that wasn’t it.
“Do you have…” Sasha stalls out on a word, starting and stopping with a couple of nyets. “Schedule? For tour?”
So that’s a pass on the “I miss you, too,” then. Danny swallows, disappointment sticking in his throat—which doesn’t help with the weird, totally-not-gonna-cry feeling he’s been trying to ignore. “Yeah, I think I sent it to you? Like with the dates and everything?”
“Yes. No,” Sasha says, correcting himself. “I have dates, not time. Time for show, time for bus, hotel—do you have this?”
“Oh. Um, yeah, we get the itineraries, like, every week. I can forward them to you?”
“Yes. I think…” Sasha trails off, and Danny tries not to get his hopes up. “Better if I call you. In morning, when Kirill is sleeping. If this is okay for you?”
“I mean…” Danny has to admit, he wouldn’t mind Sasha doing the calling, since nine times out of ten it’s the other way around. “Yeah, that’d be… I guess, like, how often would you be able to call?”
After a short pause, Sasha asks, “How often do you want that I call?”
If the next five minutes feel weirdly like contract negotiations—not that Danny would know, since he just signs whatever paperwork USA Gymnastics puts in front of him—what’s even weirder is that it actually kind of works.
Sasha balks at first when Danny suggests twice a week, but once he sees the itinerary, he starts running through their options, muttering to himself in distracted English (“Thursday… da, yes, Kirill has interview… Sunday, no, church”).
Not only does he pick two times for them to talk, but he also asks if they can compare calendars again next week, too—which is when Danny realizes he’s been looking at this all wrong, that he’d completely underestimated how important it was for Sasha to be able to prepare for their calls.
Because it’s so obvious, listening to him now, that the more of a plan they have, the more relaxed he sounds.
Danny’s never been in a relationship where he’s had to schedule every phone call in advance, yet he’s also never been in a relationship with this many time zones, or with someone who had so much to lose.
No, it’s not perfect, and yes, he wishes Sasha could have returned his call sooner, but Sasha’s been dealing with his own problems—and he’s here now, trying to make this work.
“Danny?” Sasha asks when they’re done.
“Yeah?”
There’s a brief, almost furtive silence, like Sasha’s glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one’s around.
“I miss you, too.”