Oil and Water: G, Romance
I can feel the tension at times; sometimes even see it. A sharp glance here, an acidic comment there, and even the occasional silent treatment of one by the other. Sergei becomes cool and distantly icy, his eyes reflecting the personal level on which he has been affected. In contrast, Nikolai turns fiery and sharp, a self-contained roil of ideals with the kind of hotheadedness only one who has never been directly involved in conflict can have.
Usually it’s a headline that sets it off; a loud announcement printed in bold Cyrillic on the front of the local Russian newspaper, or a flatly detached update in the national news.
“Russia Rejects Ukraine’s Call for International Mediation in Azov Sea Border Dispute.”
“Ukraine Seeks Recognition for Anti-Soviet Veterans.”
“Talks Ongoing in Russia-Ukraine Gas Crisis; Yushchenko and Putin to Meet.”
Of course, it’s not like they allow their countries’ leaders’ decisions to overshadow their judgment-they’re not that foolish or petty. But they both grew up with hardships that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully understand, and some of that old Soviet mentality was ingrained into them: a mindset cold and calculating and utterly in control, always with the motherland as the priority. Beneath the layers of love and care, Nik can’t help but feel his heritage weighing down on him; the inferiority of the economically-unstable Ukraine to the more established Russia, and the years of accumulated mistrust of Russia by his fellow Ukrainians. He even had Russia’s dominance shoved in his face-not a native-born Russian, he still had to go to arbitration when they accused him of running away from military service. He loves Sergei and would give his life for him, but damned if he doesn’t hate some of the things Sergei can represent.
In of himself, Sergei has been through things me and Nik can only have nightmares about. He came on his own to the US, defecting from the Soviet Union during a time when that sort of thing was still punishable by having you turn up conveniently missing. In his early years in the NHL Russia was in a state of continual uproar, from the attempted coup and eventual seizing of power by Boris Yeltsin to the Chechen Wars that had Russia temporarily closing its borders, sealing Sergei’s family inside while he could only watch helplessly from thousands of miles away. He put his all into becoming the best so he could have a means to support the people he loves, and provide for them in any way possible. It’s probably one of the reasons why his brother Fedor is such a spoiled ass, but Sergei has never once lacked in generosity or compassion, even though the economic situation in which he grew up has made him a little more tightfisted and cautious about money than you would expect someone making millions of dollars to be.
When Nikolai and Sergei clash it’s not an explosion of opposing forces; rather, a touch-and-go battle of facts and buried enmities, similar to when water and oil are poured in the same jar. They mingle, and to the naked eye they merge-but really those little oil molecules and water molecules never fully meet, just sliding along around each other until everything settles back to normal again and they can continue being separate. That’s sort of how Nik and Sergei are when the subject of their homelands comes up. Everything will be fine and normal until something happens, someone shakes that jar, and all their ideals and learned emotions and built up worries come together in a bitter collision that can last from seconds to hours to days.
It’s never avoidable, either, because like the oil and water stuck in the jar, Ukraine and Russia are so tightly entwined it’s impossible for one to make a move without somehow affecting the other. The newspaper will arrive, and Sergei might be relieved that Russia has come out on top in a deal with Ukraine because that means his extended family will have greater security, while Nik will be pissed because Ukraine has gotten the butt of the agreement and his extended family will now have more troubles. Nik may be pleased Ukraine made a move that defied Russian control; Sergei will be concerned because now Russia is that much more unstable. The quarrel might last for a few seconds, maybe in the form of an unthinking comment and an irritated glare across the cereal boxes, or it could go on for days of cold shoulders and curt replies.
On average, it’s not that much of an issue-something will come up, they’ll talk and/or argue about it, and then that’ll be that. But with bigger issues, like when Russia was calling for the Crimea territory to be taken from Ukraine and given to Russia (and possibly starting another Crimean War), it lasts longer. Then they both are worried about their relatives, worried about things that may or may not happen. That time it went on for three days until I’d finally had enough of the frigidness in the house, and had told them I was going to stay with Rusty until they resolved their differences. They’d picked me up the following morning, guilty and apologetic, and everything went back to normal again.
I suppose I’m making it sound like it’s a big part of our lives-really, it’s not. It’s just how they work. With centuries of history between their two countries, of course they’re going to be aware of current issues, and aware of certain prejudices and stereotypes that Russians and Ukrainians apply to each other. Nik told me once of when he had mentioned to his junior RSL teammates that he was Ukrainian, not Russian; a few of the boys, once close friends, had instantly turned on him. Sergei and Nikolai are well aware of social stigmas still present in their countries, and they don’t give a damn. They’ll clash over issues, but it never really affects how they feel about each other. Ours isn’t the kind of relationship that can be broken over old social tensions. Hell, if we all paid attention to our countries’ hockey pasts, they’d both be plotting to take me out every night instead of sleeping in the same bed with me. Canada and Russia/the USSR aren’t exactly known for their happy hockey history together.
But pasts, and nationalities, and ideals didn’t matter when it really came down to it. At night when we staggered into bed (usually Nik first, followed by me and then by Sergei), limbs tangled with limbs, whether they be Canadian, Russian or Ukrainian. Sometimes I would end up curled around Nik, Sergei on his other side. And sometimes it would be Sergei in the middle, or me. But more often than not our tired bodies would be nearly indistinguishable in the darkness. And when lips pressed against the back of my neck or against my collarbone, one sleepy voice would whisper, “Spokoinoi nochi,” while the other would murmur, “Dobranich,” and the devotion and affection shared between us was no longer affected by the outside world. It instead melted back into its purest state in the warmth of arms wrapped around you and the gentle sound of the breathing of the people you love lulling you to sleep.
Usually it’s a headline that sets it off; a loud announcement printed in bold Cyrillic on the front of the local Russian newspaper, or a flatly detached update in the national news.
“Russia Rejects Ukraine’s Call for International Mediation in Azov Sea Border Dispute.”
“Ukraine Seeks Recognition for Anti-Soviet Veterans.”
“Talks Ongoing in Russia-Ukraine Gas Crisis; Yushchenko and Putin to Meet.”
Of course, it’s not like they allow their countries’ leaders’ decisions to overshadow their judgment-they’re not that foolish or petty. But they both grew up with hardships that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully understand, and some of that old Soviet mentality was ingrained into them: a mindset cold and calculating and utterly in control, always with the motherland as the priority. Beneath the layers of love and care, Nik can’t help but feel his heritage weighing down on him; the inferiority of the economically-unstable Ukraine to the more established Russia, and the years of accumulated mistrust of Russia by his fellow Ukrainians. He even had Russia’s dominance shoved in his face-not a native-born Russian, he still had to go to arbitration when they accused him of running away from military service. He loves Sergei and would give his life for him, but damned if he doesn’t hate some of the things Sergei can represent.
In of himself, Sergei has been through things me and Nik can only have nightmares about. He came on his own to the US, defecting from the Soviet Union during a time when that sort of thing was still punishable by having you turn up conveniently missing. In his early years in the NHL Russia was in a state of continual uproar, from the attempted coup and eventual seizing of power by Boris Yeltsin to the Chechen Wars that had Russia temporarily closing its borders, sealing Sergei’s family inside while he could only watch helplessly from thousands of miles away. He put his all into becoming the best so he could have a means to support the people he loves, and provide for them in any way possible. It’s probably one of the reasons why his brother Fedor is such a spoiled ass, but Sergei has never once lacked in generosity or compassion, even though the economic situation in which he grew up has made him a little more tightfisted and cautious about money than you would expect someone making millions of dollars to be.
When Nikolai and Sergei clash it’s not an explosion of opposing forces; rather, a touch-and-go battle of facts and buried enmities, similar to when water and oil are poured in the same jar. They mingle, and to the naked eye they merge-but really those little oil molecules and water molecules never fully meet, just sliding along around each other until everything settles back to normal again and they can continue being separate. That’s sort of how Nik and Sergei are when the subject of their homelands comes up. Everything will be fine and normal until something happens, someone shakes that jar, and all their ideals and learned emotions and built up worries come together in a bitter collision that can last from seconds to hours to days.
It’s never avoidable, either, because like the oil and water stuck in the jar, Ukraine and Russia are so tightly entwined it’s impossible for one to make a move without somehow affecting the other. The newspaper will arrive, and Sergei might be relieved that Russia has come out on top in a deal with Ukraine because that means his extended family will have greater security, while Nik will be pissed because Ukraine has gotten the butt of the agreement and his extended family will now have more troubles. Nik may be pleased Ukraine made a move that defied Russian control; Sergei will be concerned because now Russia is that much more unstable. The quarrel might last for a few seconds, maybe in the form of an unthinking comment and an irritated glare across the cereal boxes, or it could go on for days of cold shoulders and curt replies.
On average, it’s not that much of an issue-something will come up, they’ll talk and/or argue about it, and then that’ll be that. But with bigger issues, like when Russia was calling for the Crimea territory to be taken from Ukraine and given to Russia (and possibly starting another Crimean War), it lasts longer. Then they both are worried about their relatives, worried about things that may or may not happen. That time it went on for three days until I’d finally had enough of the frigidness in the house, and had told them I was going to stay with Rusty until they resolved their differences. They’d picked me up the following morning, guilty and apologetic, and everything went back to normal again.
I suppose I’m making it sound like it’s a big part of our lives-really, it’s not. It’s just how they work. With centuries of history between their two countries, of course they’re going to be aware of current issues, and aware of certain prejudices and stereotypes that Russians and Ukrainians apply to each other. Nik told me once of when he had mentioned to his junior RSL teammates that he was Ukrainian, not Russian; a few of the boys, once close friends, had instantly turned on him. Sergei and Nikolai are well aware of social stigmas still present in their countries, and they don’t give a damn. They’ll clash over issues, but it never really affects how they feel about each other. Ours isn’t the kind of relationship that can be broken over old social tensions. Hell, if we all paid attention to our countries’ hockey pasts, they’d both be plotting to take me out every night instead of sleeping in the same bed with me. Canada and Russia/the USSR aren’t exactly known for their happy hockey history together.
But pasts, and nationalities, and ideals didn’t matter when it really came down to it. At night when we staggered into bed (usually Nik first, followed by me and then by Sergei), limbs tangled with limbs, whether they be Canadian, Russian or Ukrainian. Sometimes I would end up curled around Nik, Sergei on his other side. And sometimes it would be Sergei in the middle, or me. But more often than not our tired bodies would be nearly indistinguishable in the darkness. And when lips pressed against the back of my neck or against my collarbone, one sleepy voice would whisper, “Spokoinoi nochi,” while the other would murmur, “Dobranich,” and the devotion and affection shared between us was no longer affected by the outside world. It instead melted back into its purest state in the warmth of arms wrapped around you and the gentle sound of the breathing of the people you love lulling you to sleep.