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vladi

C leaning up vomit in my hotel room while my lisichka is lying in bed, taking sips of the bottled water I gave her, wearing nothing but her bra and panties was not on my agenda for the week.

While she was kind enough to miss projectile vomiting on me, she somehow managed to get it all over her dress.

I don’t want the hotel staff here with her in this compromised state.

So, here I am, one of the top goalies in the league, cleaning up a giant mess of vomit in paradise.

I would not do this for anyone else. But I will do it for her .

Once I’m done, I quickly rinse off in the shower before heading back to her.

As I climb into bed, I see the still-standing wall of pillows she has built between us.

I suck in a sharp breath knowing they’re only there because of me.

Fuck that . I start throwing the damn things off the bed, not caring where they land.

“What are you doing?” she mumbles, stirring where I still can’t see her.

How many of these fuckers did she put between us ?

“You are sick. I need to be able to see you in case you need help. Is that okay?”

She nods her head. “Yeah.”

I grab the last remaining pillow and place it across my lap. “Come. Lay your head here.”

She does as I ask and curls up next to my hip. Good. I need my hands on her. My lisichka. She reaches up, tracing the outline of the tattoo on my chest. I’m taking care of her, but her touch filtering across my skin is taking care of me too.

“What does this mean? The moon with the star on it?”

My heart squeezes, panic building in my chest, but I take a deep breath, knowing I need to try. For her, only her, I will try.

I place my hand over hers, pulling it closer to my chest. “I got that for my mother. She always used to say she was the moon and I was her little star.”

“What happened to her?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, my breaths shallow.

Fuck. Can I do this? Can I tell her my darkest pain?

She’s lying here in my lap, so fragile and trusting.

She is always so strong, so confident, so feisty.

But seeing her like this? I feel a spark of courage rising up within me.

I swallow hard, my pulse races, as my hands shake, but… I want to try.

“When I was little, my mom would take me to this park not far from where we lived. We would walk there on nice days.” Despite the pain lancing through me, a small smile lifts my lips as I recall those warm, idyllic days.

“She would let me run around for hours while she sat on a bench and read a book. I remember there were all these structures you could climb, hang from, or jump off of, which she always told me not to do. She always said I was going to be an athlete because she couldn’t keep up with me half the time. ”

“Clearly that prediction turned out right,” She lets out a soft laugh, cracking through the ice threatening to lock me in place. “Did you play hockey back then?”

“I did. But I was only seven, a young boy who could barely skate. I didn’t really turn to hockey until…later.” I shake the cobwebs out of my head, trying to focus on the words, on the story at hand, before the courage I’ve found fades away.

“One afternoon, when she said it was time to go home, I didn’t want to leave.

I threw a fit. A big one. Begged her to stay just a little while longer.

” Guilt and shame war for dominance, both beating my flesh and coming back for more.

“I’ll never forget what she said: ‘ Just this once, my little star. When the moon comes out, the stars need to be inside or all their light will get squished out ’.

She used to smash her hands together like she was squishing a little bug.

It made no sense, but I loved when she said that—we always laughed about it.

” Tears burn my eyes, a sad smile twisting my lips.

“She smiled at me as she patted me on the head and sent me back to play for a few more minutes.

“When we finally left, it had started getting dark. Out of nowhere, a man started walking toward us. I didn’t know what was going on, but I remember my mother squeezed my hand a little tighter and walked slightly ahead of me, keeping me behind her.

She held her head high as we continued walking, acting like nothing was wrong.

The man pulled out a knife, demanding all her money.

As she got her purse to hand it over to him, she whispered to me, ‘To be her brave little star and run and hide’.

And I did. I ran around the side of the building and hid, just like she told me to.

No one could see me, but I could still hear.

I heard my mother scream for help. I heard the footsteps as he ran away.

Strangers crying out for someone to help her.

I heard someone telling her ‘I don’t know where your son is.

’ I peeked around the corner to see her lying on the ground.

I was frozen. I couldn’t move. I tried to run to her, but my legs wouldn’t budge.

One of the strangers trying to help her finally found me and tracked down my dad.

The paramedics tried to save her, but by the time they got there, she had lost too much blood. There was nothing they could do.”

“Vladi,” she breathes, her hand reaching up to touch my cheek, tears streaming down her face. “I’m…I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I knew your mom wasn’t around, but I…I never…I never imagined anything like this.”

I turn to place a kiss on her palm. “No one could have ever imagined this. Not me. Not my father. We were so lost without her. Our entire world shattered, ripped away from us because someone wanted money. And if I had just…” I grit my teeth, fighting the burning shame within me. “If we had left the park earlier…”

She gasps. “Vladi…you can’t?—”

I place my finger on her lips. I know what she’s going to say. What everyone has always said – It wasn’t your fault. I can’t go there tonight . I take a deep breath as I continue.

“My dad wanted a fresh start. It was too painful to live in our house, being so close to where she died. We moved to the US shortly after that. He was an engineer and there were a lot of job opportunities for him here. He worked a lot, though, and never really wanted to talk about her. He worked hard to pay for my hockey. I think in the back of his mind he knew it would be a good distraction for me, a way to channel my sadness into something good. And it was. But neither of us ever truly dealt with the grief of losing her.”

She moves her arm to settle around my waist. Squeezing my chest so tight, so close, a comforting warmth soothes the cold that’s surrounded my heart for so long. I don’t ever want her to let go.

“What was her name?” Maggie asks softly. “Your mom?”

Her name? It’s been so long since I’ve spoken it. Yet, it comes back to me in an instant, the familiarity of the name I’ve been speaking the last few days making it easier to say. So close to the goddess lying before me.

“Adelina.”

Silence sits between us, the heavy grief thick in the air. The tension between us lingers, but somehow it’s different. Lighter than before.

“Adelina,” she finally repeats the name, leaning back and shattering the quiet with her soft voice. “That’s very rhymey with Magdalina. I bet Dr. Seuss would have a field day with our names.”

We both let out a little laugh, breaking the heaviness between us. I notice her eyes narrowing, the tears welling up inside them once more.

“Is that why you can’t be with me? Because it’s too painful to remember her? Because our names rhyme?”

I give her a sad smile. If only that were the reason. “No, lisichka . It’s not painful to remember her.”

“Then why can’t you be with me, Vladi? Did you mean it when you said you wanted me more than anything in the world?” she mumbles, her words breaking out from behind her tears.

My heart sinks into my stomach. How do I tell her I’m scared of loving her, but even more scared of losing her?

“Yes. I did…I just…I…”

“Oh shit…,” she says, jolting up. “I think I need to throw up again.”

I scramble to help her puke in the trash can. I hate seeing my poor lisichka sick, but at the same time, relief washes over me. I have never been more grateful to have a conversation interrupted by a woman throwing up in my bed.