Chapter 30
“Looks like you’re going to have great weather today.”
The unexpected comment pulls Sasha out of the newspaper article he’s reading, and he glances up to see Danny’s father watching him from the other side of the kitchen table.
“Uh…” Sasha hesitates; he hasn’t finished his coffee yet, and the English part of his brain is still sluggish. “Yes?”
“For the boat ride,” Andy clarifies, and Sasha makes a small noise of comprehension.
He and Danny are taking the Hartmans’ boat out on the ocean this morning; they’ll be heading to the marina as soon as Danny’s up.
The plan was hashed out over dinner last night, Andy reminding Danny several times to make sure they have enough fuel in the tank, Diane suggesting a trip to the nearby Catalina Island.
“Catalina’s kinda crowded,” Danny had replied, glancing at Sasha. “I think we’re just gonna stay on the water, it’ll be quieter.”
(After yesterday’s disappointment, Sasha’s told himself not to imagine having sex with Danny on the high seas, but… yeah, he’s imagined it.)
“Well, that’ll be nice,” Andy remarks. “And I heard Danny say something about tacos for lunch?”
Sasha nods. He’s had more tacos in the past week than he’s had in his entire life, and to be honest, he’s starting to get a little sick of them…
but Danny had sounded so excited about Carmen’s, the place Diane’s friend had recommended in Glendale.
“Sasha, look at them,” he’d whispered, practically drooling over the review photos, and Sasha somehow heard himself agree that yes, they should drive two hours to check out a taco shack.
He’s about to return to the newspaper when Andy clears his throat. “How do you like it here so far?”
Sasha looks up again, surprised. They don’t usually chat this much before Danny and Diane come downstairs; Andy might offer him a section of the paper, or Sasha might ask for the definition of a word he doesn’t recognize, but that’s about it.
If they’re going to have an actual conversation now… he definitely needs more coffee.
“Yes, I like it here,” he answers, reaching for his mug (which has a cartoon picture of a dog and the words Don’t stop retrievin’). “It is very… warm. And sunny.”
There are other things he likes more about Newport Beach—that Danny’s here, that Sasha can kiss him almost whenever he wants, that he gets to fall asleep every night listening to Danny’s voice down the hall—but those are exactly the things he can’t say to Danny’s father.
“Good.” Andy’s polite enough to overlook the fact that Sasha just used “warm” and “sunny” to describe a city in southern California. “Well, Diane and I have both enjoyed having you here. And we’re happy to have you back any time you’d like to visit again.”
Sasha flushes, surprised and touched by Andy’s words. The Hartmans have been so generous—taking him in for two weeks, folding him into their lives like he’s always been a part of the family—and he wishes he could express even half of his gratitude in English.
“Thank you,” he tries anyway. “I am very happy I am here. You and Danny are… very nice family.”
He wants to cringe at his precaffeinated vocabulary, but at least Andy seems to understand. “Of course. Anyone Danny likes is always welcome in our home.”
As Sasha thanks him again, there’s a commotion of shoes and paws on the stairs. Diane sweeps into the kitchen a few seconds later, Buddy and Luna racing ahead of her.
“Danny’s on his way down,” Diane informs Sasha after she lets out the dogs.
“You boys picked the perfect day to go boating, it’s so beautiful out…
” She chatters on until the dogs return and chow through their breakfast, at which point she says, “Luna, Buddy, come here,” and marches them off to the laundry room like she’s on a mission.
A moment later, Danny walks into the kitchen, looking confused by how quiet it is.
“Hey, guys. Where’s—aw, Buddy!”
Buddy comes running out of the laundry room, heading straight to Danny as if they’ve been separated for years instead of minutes. Danny bends over to pet him, then pauses, tilting his head.
“What’s with the pride bandana?”
That’s when Sasha notices the rainbow-colored kerchief tied around Buddy’s neck. He’s almost certain it wasn’t there before, and he’s trying to remember when Diane and Luna return to the kitchen, Luna now sporting the exact same kerchief as Buddy.
“Hi, honey,” Diane says, seeing Danny. “Do you have any snacks for the boat? There’s a watermelon in the fridge, why don’t I chop some up for you.”
“Oh, uh—yeah, sure, thanks. Um… what’s with the…” Danny gestures at Buddy and Luna.
“Aren’t they great?” Diane starts puttering around the kitchen, pulling out the watermelon, a knife, and a cutting board.
“Well, you remember, I got them for Brian. That’s Danny’s cousin,” she explains to Sasha.
“He came out last year—he’s gay—and we’re so happy for him.
He has the nicest boyfriend, Mark, who he met at MIT, and they’re such a cute couple. Right, Andy?”
“I don’t know if I’d use the word ‘cute’ to describe two adult men,” Andy says wryly, “but yes, we like Mark.”
“So I saw the bandanas at the pet store,” Diane continues, waving off Andy’s comment with her knife, “and I thought they were perfect, and I meant to use them more, but, you know, Pride Month’s in June, and then it’s the Fourth of July, and the dogs have different bandanas for that.
But still”—she hacks into the watermelon, her cheeks turning red from the effort—“I think it’s important to be allies all year round, not just in June.
And not just for Brian, either, of course, but also for anyone else in the family who isn’t ready to come out yet. ”
“Diane.”
If Andy says anything after that, Sasha doesn’t register it, because Danny’s staring at him from across the kitchen. Eyes wide and hopeful, like maybe now that Sasha’s heard about how much his parents love gay people, he’ll suddenly reconsider keeping their relationship a secret.
As if a couple of bandanas are enough to make a difference. To make it safe.
They fucking aren’t.
Sasha knows the Hartmans are accepting, since Danny had told him before how they’d reacted when Brian came out, though their own son might be a different story.
He likes to think they’d be okay with it, at least so he doesn’t have to think about how crushed Danny would be if they weren’t.
But even if Diane bought an entire rainbow wardrobe for Buddy and Luna, that wouldn’t change Sasha’s situation.
In fact, it might actually make it worse.
“Danny has the nicest boyfriend,” he can already hear her telling relatives and friends, neighbors and coworkers, Buddy and Luna’s groomer. “His name’s Sasha—he’s from Russia, they met at the Olympics—and they’re such a cute couple…”
All it would take was one person who paid attention to gymnastics, one person curious enough to google him and online enough to post about it.
Sasha doubts the average American gym fan has any idea who he is, but every last one of them could tell you exactly who Danny is, and rumors like that don’t go away.
They gain traction, and then they get translated.
Maybe he’s being paranoid. Maybe the Hartmans wouldn’t let anything slip.
But Sasha knows Danny, which is why he understands that if he gives in now, if he allows Danny to confide in his parents, it still won’t be enough.
Because once Danny’s told his family, then he’ll want to tell his friends, too.
And friends means teammates, which means people who won’t have to google Sasha.
People he’ll face at competitions. People who might rotate with his teammates, sitting next to Kirill on the sidelines and saying things they shouldn’t.
Sasha can’t think about what would happen after that, but it definitely wouldn’t involve rainbow bandanas.
He ducks his head, avoiding Danny’s gaze, and stares down at the newspaper without taking in a single word.
*
“I’m sorry, Buddy—we’ll bring you next time, okay? I know. I know you love the boat, but you don’t like car rides, and we’re going on a really long one. But I promise you’ll get a nice walk before dinner, okay? No, no, you can’t come—”
Sasha’s in the car, but Danny’s stuck at the door, trying to stop Buddy from following him into the garage. He kneels down, one more goodbye for his good boy, with plenty of scritches and a whole lot of feelings about that bandana. Sure, his mom picked it out, but still. Buddy’s the best ally.
Eventually, he convinces Buddy to stay inside (okay, he has to bribe him with a treat), and Sasha smirks at him as he slips into the car.
They make a pit stop for breakfast sandwiches at a place near Danny’s house, and then they’re on the highway, the sun slanting through the windows, with just enough time—and tourist traffic—to talk.
Because Danny’s been waiting for the right moment to have this conversation, and if his mom breaking out the pride bandanas wasn’t a sign, then he’s not sure what is.
“Hey,” he says, and Sasha’s shoulders tense, like he already knows where this is going. “You know my parents would be cool with us, right? Like, if we told them—”
“No.”
Danny breathes in and out, reminding himself that he wasn’t expecting this to be easy. “No like you don’t think they’d be cool with us, or no like you don’t want to tell them?”
“No.”
Sasha’s eyes flash, his fingers clenched into fists, and it takes everything Danny has not to retreat, like a snail popping into its shell at the first sign of danger.
They’ve been here before; he knows Sasha can’t come out publicly, and he knows Sasha doesn’t even want to tell Alina or Kirill. But he’s not asking for any of that.
He’s asking for Sasha to trust his parents, the two most important people in his life.
He’s asking for something that really matters to him, and every time, no matter how carefully he brings it up, Sasha shuts the discussion down.
Danny wants to give him the benefit of the doubt—maybe he can’t find the right words in English—but it bothers him a little, that he keeps trying to talk about this and Sasha won’t even meet him halfway.
“They’re not gonna tell anyone, if that’s what you’re—”
“Danny.” Sasha’s knuckles are white, his cheeks red. “You promised.”
Danny remembers sitting on a campus bench, Sasha’s voice ringing in his ears, feeling like he didn’t have a choice.
But that was over a year ago, before they went to Rio, and he’s not sure he’s that same person anymore.
How long had Sasha meant for that promise to last?
He’d thought—he’d hoped—Sasha just needed more time.
“Yeah, but—”
“But you ask again until I say yes?”
Danny winces. When Sasha puts it like that… yeah, it sounds shitty. He doesn’t want to be the guy who can’t respect a no, but he also doesn’t want to keep their relationship a secret for the rest of his life, either. Was that really what Sasha had wanted? Forever?
“Look,” he says, wondering if this is how it feels for the girls on the balance beam, walking on tiptoes down a narrow wooden line, “I just thought that, like… maybe you’d be more comfortable with it after, like, being here with my family and getting to know them?
Like, my mom literally just gave a speech about supporting gay people… ”
Sasha’s glaring so hard at the windshield, Danny’s surprised it hasn’t shattered. He has to fight the urge to reach out, to hold Sasha’s hand like he does when they’re driving home from gymnastics; he knows instinctively that he’d only be making things worse.
“They really like you,” he tries again. “And it would really mean a lot to me if I could tell them about us, cause, like, I’ve always told them about my girlfriends, and it seriously sucks not being able to do that for you.
Like, it just feels like I’m lying to them all the time and I just, like… I fucking hate it.”
He’s breathless when he finishes, Sasha’s silence unnerving him.
He hadn’t meant to say that last part; hate is one of those words he tries not to throw around like it’s nothing (a lesson he’d learned as a little kid, telling his mom he hated her for some seven-year-old reason and then feeling awful when she started to cry).
But he doesn’t think it’s far off from the truth, either.
“If you want, you tell them you are… bisexual,” Sasha finally replies, still not looking at Danny. “But you can’t for me.”
“Sash, if I tell them I’m bi, they’re gonna know we’re together,” Danny points out. “Like, I talk about you all the time, and we’re always texting or calling… there’s no way they’re not gonna figure it out. So if you’re in the closet, then I have to stay there, too.”
He watches Sasha process this, watches his forehead wrinkle as he seems to realize—maybe for the first time—what he’s asking of Danny.
And he braces himself, because knowing what’s coming next isn’t going to make it any easier.
“I am sorry,” Sasha says; he almost looks it. “But I can’t.”
Danny exhales, staring at the cars ahead without seeing any of them. He shouldn’t be disappointed; he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up in the first place.
“Is that ever going to change?” he asks quietly.
“No.”
The worst part isn’t the refusal. It’s the fact that there’s no hesitation, like Sasha won’t even consider the possibility of them being out together. Not now, and not in the future, either.
Danny doesn’t have a crystal ball or anything, but he’s always pictured himself coaching after retirement, saving up enough money to open his own gym someday.
Lately, he’s been imagining Sasha there, too—the two of them coaching a team together, bickering over the remote, never having to say goodbye—and wondering if there’s a snowball’s chance in hell he could convince Sasha to move to the US.
But how’s that going to work if Sasha won’t come out?
Is Danny going to be lying to his parents about his “friend” for the next five, ten, fifteen years?
And obviously he’s not ready for marriage or kids right now, but…
well… you can’t do stuff like that in secret.
Or at least, Danny can’t. So where does that leave them?
Looking at Sasha and hearing nothing but no, he can’t help worrying that Sasha doesn’t see a future for them at all.