monochrome candor

.....

In the spring of 1990 the flowers are blooming to life and Yuna's belly is starting to look rounder. David looks around the empty bedroom in their Ottawa house and thinks green might be nice, something that works for a boy or a girl, a nice cheerful shade. Next week he'll buy the paint.

The call from the hospital comes before he gets the chance. When he looks at the doctor's scrubs he thinks green is the ugliest colour on earth.

.....

They don't talk about it. Not when the leaves are changing colour and the nurse offers them congratulations. Not at Christmas or New Year's as they turn the calendar over to 1991. It's Valentines Day before David gets the courage to touch the rounded swell of his wife's body and he cries when whoever is inside touches him back. It doesn't matter that they don't have a name or a face yet, he loves them so much it hurts.

.....

On a Friday morning in May, David holds his son for the first time. His face is scrunched and blotchy red and angry. He's the most perfect thing anyone has ever laid eyes on.

He watches Yuna sing and rock him near the nursery window at home, her face glowing. He thinks the yellow paint was definitely the right choice for their sunshine, their only sunshine.

.....

Shane is a chubby baby (they laugh themselves sick when the baby shoes don't even fit on his fat little biscuit feet) but by the time he turns two he has leaned out into a little boy, they think maybe they are ready to try again. David imagines a girl this time, introducing Shane to his baby sister. Melissa sounds pretty. The baby name book had said it meant honeybee and doesn't that just fit perfectly amidst sunshine and flowers and springtime?

.....

It never happens.

Shane is an only child at four and five and six and he's becoming something special on the ice, all the coaches say so. David thinks that they have no idea what they're talking about when they say that because Shane Hollander has always been special from the time he kicked and rolled inside his mother, before he ever knew what cold was.

If he's all they get, they will make sure he knows he is everything.

.....

Sometimes David wants to take Shane by the shoulders and apologize to him for making him think he has to be everything. You don't have to try so hard to be perfect for us, he wants to say. You're perfect to us because you're you, you're ours, don't you know how we prayed and hoped and waited just for you to exist, don't you know that's enough?

Much, much later as he waves to him (to them) in late evening sunshine, he sees Shane relax behind the windshield with a loving hand on the back of his neck. David feels something inside of him loosen.

.....

On Shane’s wedding day, David embraces both his sons and dances with his wife and my god, if this is all he ever gets in life, no man has ever been so lucky.

.....

"Are you ready?" Shane is smiling and his eyes are shiny. Ilya looks much the same.

David is dizzy. But he nods and holds his hands out. Shane places the baby in his arms and oh, she's so tiny. He forgot how tiny they start out.

Her little knit hat is yellow.

Shane steps aside, head still reeling. Once Brian is inside, leaning against the kitchen counter, he asks again, "What happened?"

"I, uh, kinda got into it with this drunk homophobe," Brian says, smiling wryly. "I wouldn't have engaged but I was kinda drunk too, so. I'm just lucky my friends were there and he was alone because it could've ended really badly."

Cold fear pools in Shane's stomach at the thought. He knows the kind of violence gay people face, has seen what even perceived queerness gets met with in locker rooms across every level, but this feels different, the stark, ugly reality of it staring at him in the face.

"That's awful," he says. "Are you okay?"

Brian shrugs one shoulder. "I'm fine. It probably looks worse than it feels. Anyway, it's not why I'm here."

"Oh." Shane shifts on his feet. "Right. Uh..."

"I really fucked up, coming to Vegas."

Shane blinks. Brian is looking at him, brows drawn, and Shane doesn't know what to do with the contriteness he sees on his face. This isn't how he expected this conversation to go, and it hasn't even really started yet.

"It was so inconsiderate of me," Brian continues. "I just knew that I really wanted to be there, even if we couldn't see each other. I didn't think about how much it would stress you out, and I should have because I know what's at stake for you."

"That's, uh - " Shane doesn't know what to say. Even if we couldn't see each other. Would Brian really have been fine with that, if Shane had just asked instead of making an argument out of it right away? "I guess I overreacted a little."

"Babe, no. You were right, I shouldn't have been there." Brian laughs, running a hand through his hair. "Truthfully, I feel like I've been going a little crazy over you lately."

"...You have?"

"I've been really jealous," Brian admits. "I think... maybe opening the relationship was a bad idea."

Shane has no idea how they got here. He feels ten steps behind, his planned speech up in smokes. These are all things he never in a million years would have thought he'd hear Brian say.

"It seemed to make sense at the time. But now," Brian waves a dismissive hand, "I feel like an idiot for suggesting it in the first place. For not closing it again when you asked for it, last May."

Shane doesn't remember asking for that. He remembers telling Brian that not seeing Ilya anymore would amount to the same thing on his side, but that hadn't been the point. He'd wanted to be able to keep seeing Ilya because he liked him - not that he'd realized this about himself at the time.

Right. He needs to get this conversation back on track.

"It wasn't a great idea," he agrees. "But it happened and it - it changed things for me."

Something sharpens in Brian's gaze and Shane looks away, feeling oddly ashamed.

"This is about Rozanov," Brian says. It isn't a question.

Shane nods at the floor. "I, uh. I like him. He likes me, too."

"And now you want to leave me for him."

It sounds so unbelievably cruel, phrased like that. Shane can't bring himself to look up and he startles when Brian's hand cups his cheek, nudging his chin up.

"And then what?" Brian asks, voice gentle. "It would be a hundred times more complicated being with him, wouldn't it? You don't even live in the same country. And what happens when he loses interest?"

Shane's stomach twists at that. It feels wrong, to think of Ilya as being so fickle, but it's been nagging at him all the same.

Brian's thumb brushes softly across his cheek. "This is my fault. I know I haven't been a good boyfriend lately, but I can make it up to you. I just need the chance."

It's so difficult, remembering how awful Brian made him feel before when right now, he's being so gentle. Saying all the right things, actually admitting to fault in a way Shane has never heard him do before.

"I love you so much, Shane. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

Shane swallows. He can't even say it back, the words getting caught in his throat as he thinks them. They wouldn't be true; he doesn't love Brian anymore. When did that happen?

"I - I don't-"

"One chance," Brian pleads. He kisses Shane and Shane lets him. "This is just a stumbling block, I promise. We can go back to how we were."

Shane isn't sure he can believe that. He doesn't even know that he wants it to be true. But denying Brian the chance to even try feels wrong. Like quitting mid-game.

"Okay," Shane says. "One chance."