“Good,” Nikolai said. The one word landed like a stone in the middle of the table, and he looked from side to side, having no idea what to say next.
But then Pavel asked, “Were you good at math when you was in school, Uncle?”
“’Were in school’, Pavel,” corrected Samantha from the other side of the table.
“Were you good at math when you were in school, Uncle?” Pavel repeated dutifully.
Nikolai answered with a slight shrug. “When I was your age I was already on hockey team. Maybe it did not matter so much how good I am with numbers.”
Pavel gaped at him. “You and my dad was-,” he darted a guilty look at Samantha, “I mean, you and my dad were already playing hockey when you were my age? Like professionally?”
“No, not as professional, but maybe, how you say, potential to become professional. Our coaches put us on path to become star hockey players. Math was not so important.”
Pavel thought about that. Then he asked Sam, “Mama, since I’m going to be a professional hockey player, too, can I stop doing my math homework?”
“No,” he and his wife answered at the same time.
Nikolai added, “You like your dream, like telling everyone you will be hockey player like me,” he told the boy with a sniff. “But you cannot think yourself into becoming professional hockey player. You do not have what it takes to make this happen.”
Pavel’s eyebrows squished together, his mouth turning downward into a sad frown, and Nikolai could feel his wife’s eyes on him, harsh and judging.
“But Papa told me I was going to be a great hockey player cuz it was in my blood,” Pavel said with a voice that was half tremble, half whimper, as if Nikolai had just dashed the biggest dream he’d ever had. “And he wasn’t lying about you, so I thought for sure he wasn’t lying about this.”
“Fedya did not lie, but he did not tell you truth either,” Nikolai informed his nephew. “You should not want to be like Fedya. Talent but no discipline. You should want better for yourself, but you want easy dream.”
Pavel didn’t answer, but his eyes were bright with unchecked anger even as his bottom lip quivered. Nikolai could tell the boy was working hard not to cry… or punch his uncle.
“Pavel,” his wife said quietly. “Breathe. Breathe slowly, until your ready to look at what your feeling right now. It’s just a feeling in your body. One you can just observe without acting on it.”
Nikolai had no idea what that meant, but apparently Pavel did. The little boy took several deep breaths. And then his eyes shuttered, as if he’d come to some sort of conclusion.
“Uncle doesn’t think I’ll be a hockey star like him,” he said to Samantha with a quiver in his voice. “He doesn’t think I’m good enough because I’m not a Rustanov like him. Because Papa was an addict.”
Before his wife could chime in with one of her nonsensical suggestions, Nikolai slammed his hand on the table, forcing the boy’s attention back to him.
“Do not put false words in my mouth, Pavel. You are child. Your job right now is to listen to adults, not say we say what we don’t say.”
Now Pavel shook his head. “But I don’t understand. You said—”
“I said you do not have what it takes. Yet. Pavel, have you ever played hockey?”
“You mean on ice?” Pavel asked.
“Da.”
“No, just in the living room with Papa,” Pavel admitted with a frown, as if just now considering that having never actually learned how to properly play or skate might be an impediment to the bright future his father had promised him. “So that means I can’t be a good hockey player like you?”
Nikolai glanced at his wife. Her hands were clenched tight around her silverware, her body slightly leaned forward as if she was primed to physically jump between him and Pavel if Nikolai said the wrong thing.
“No, I’m saying you are not good hockey player yet,” Nikolai answered his nephew. Then he heard himself say, “I must teach you, and then you will be great hockey player like your papa.”
Pavel’s eyes lit up like Nikolai had just given him the best Christmas gift ever. “Seriously? You, Mount Nik, are going to teach me to play hockey?”
“Da,” Nikolai answered, his voice gruff. He looked across the island at Samantha and said, “Starting tomorrow, Dirk will bring him to me after school. I will make him work hard, so he can have his dream and not lose it.”
“But what about homework?” his wife asked. “His math…”
“We can do it after dinner!” Pavel all but yelled. “I promise I’ll do my homework after dinner every day, no complaining, if you let me play with Mount Nik. Please, Mama, please!”
Pavel actually had his hands clasped together, and he shook them like a supplicant at the feet of a Mary statue. “It’d be me practicing with Mount Nik! Mount. Nik.”
Sam’s nose wrinkled and Nikolai could tell she didn’t quite understand why this was so important to Pavel, but eventually she caved with, “Okay, but if you ever don’t do your homework, I reserve the right to cancel your next practice.”
“If he doesn’t do homework, I will cancel all of his practices for week, so lesson is learned,” Nikolai assured her.
Pavel came out of his seat as if he hadn’t heard either of their caveats.
“This is the best day of my life!” he yelled, throwing his arms in the air. “Thank you, Uncle. Thank you!”
Back Up loped over, licking at Nikolai’s shoes as if to say she approved of this arrangement.
Nikolai answered Pavel’s enthusiastic thank you with a stiff, “You’re welcome, Pavel.” Then he picked up his fork to finish his dinner. Maybe, he thought to himself, maybe this wasn’t the worst idea in the world.
He’d been afraid to spend too much time with the boy before. He looked too much like Fedya, and it still caused an uneasy sensation inside of him when he let himself look at Pavel too long.
But perhaps this would be a good thing. Maybe spending more time with the boy would… help with the other things he didn’t like to think about too much. The things that made it feel like the ice rink inside his chest was cracking apart when he thought too much about the demons that had led his brother down the path of addiction.
But maybe this would help with that—inoculate him, so he could look at the boy without thinking of his doomed brother. He eyed Pavel, still waving his skinny arms in the air as he informed Samantha that he was going to be the best hockey player ever because Mount Nik would be his coach. In any case, practicing would put some muscle on the boy, Nikolai thought to himself. He’d need those if he truly wanted to make his NHL dreams come true.