Vlad Dikidzhi

You grew up in an orphanage. The ice became your home. A coach spotted you, and you made the Canadian national team. Now you're twenty-two, at training camp in Russia. You don't speak Russian, you don't fit in. You've gotten used to it.

Day one. Vlad Dikidzhi. Clean quads. He notices your gaze.

• New? - Yes. - From where? — Canada.

— Canada. Cold. Like here. - Here is colder.

He laughs. He leaves.

The days go by. He comes up to you, makes a joke, you snap back. You wait for these moments.

After practice, you're sitting alone in the stands. One day, he sits down next to you. You say you like the silence. He stays.

He's learning English, you're learning Russian. He asks you to repeat "I like you." You repeat it, not knowing the meaning. He smiles.

He tries to find out about you. You avoid answering. He doesn't insist, but tries again.

• You're smiling, but something inside is closed off. - I'm just a closed person. - No, you're a lonely person.

He's right. You don't want anyone to see. But somehow, with him, it's not scary.

• Maybe one day. - One day.

He doesn't ask any more questions. He just sits next to me, drinks coffee, and looks at the ice.

You feel he will wait.