There was a gentle shake at Ilya’s shoulder, pulling him from slumber. He tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, but a quiet, “Papa,” had him opening his eyes immediately.
His 13-year-old daughter, Mila, was standing by his bedside. In the dim light provided by the hall through the open door, Ilya could just make out her very concerned face.
“Mila? What is it, moya zviozdochka?” he whispered. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed Shane was sound asleep.
“I just…” Mila sighed, crossing her arms. “Can you come to my room, please?”
Ilya was immediately concerned. “Are you okay?”
“I need your help with something, but please don’t wake Dad.”
Ilya hated keeping things from Shane, but if it was truly concerning, he’d tell him in the morning and then swear him to secrecy. The last thing he wanted was to break his daughter’s trust, especially as she headed into the depths of her teenage years and was becoming much more independent.
“Okay, yes. I’ll meet you there,” he said with a smile. Once Mila left the room, he quickly threw on an old Raiders T-shirt and a pair of sweats, he headed down the hall toward her room.
Mila was standing outside the closed door, looking really, really uncomfortable. “Um,” she whispered, “this is really embarrassing but, I had an accident.”
Ilya’s brows furrowed. “An accident?”
“Yeah, just, don’t freak out.” She opened the door and led him inside.
Everything looked perfectly normal… except for the sheets ripped back from the bed to reveal a bloodstain in the middle, about the size of his fist, along with a discarded pair of pajama bottoms that were also bloodied. Ilya’s heart jumped for just a moment before he realized. “Oh, Mila—“
“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed. She sounded close to tears. “Grandma and Tetya Svetlana taught me how to use the tracking apps, and it wasn’t supposed to come for another few days, and—“
Ilya calmly shushed his daughter, opening his arms to offer a hug. She didn’t hesitate to rush into them. “Is okay, moya zviozdochka. I see why you woke me instead of Dad.”
“He hates messes,” Mila huffed. “This is so embarrassing.”
“Is not embarrassing,” Ilya said. He pulled away from the embrace, placing his hands gently on Mila’s shoulders and looking her in the eyes. “Is just part of being a woman. Is this first time tracking has been wrong?” He’d taken time to read about menstruation cycles in the years before and after Mila got her period. He knew irregular cycles could be a sign that something was wrong.
Mila nodded. “First time since those first few months, at least.”
“You will tell me if you keep having irregular periods, yes? I know is weird to talk to your dads about it, but is important for us to know,” Ilya said.
She nodded again. “Yeah, I’ll tell you.”
Ilya smiled. “Good, and don’t worry about the sheet. Is just a sheet. As long as you are okay, that is what matters to me.”
Mila grinned. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Even better. Now let’s clean up. Is 3am and your papa wants to go back to bed, and I’m sure you do too.” Mila laughed and nodded.
Together, they stripped the bedsheets. Ilya immediately noticed the stain had gone through to her mattress protector, but after removing that, he breathed a sigh of relief that it didn’t soak through to the mattress. That probably would have devastated her. He carried the sheets down to the laundry room while she followed behind holding her soiled clothes.
In the laundry room, he handed her a pair of plastic gloves, putting some on himself, and taught her how to treat the stain, first rinsing in cold water then applying a generous amount of stain remover. He did the sheets, and she did her clothes, insisting that he turn away. Then, they started the wash cycle
Back in the kitchen, Ilya turned to Mila. “Okay I know is like, 3:30 in the morning but do you want anything? Warm milk? Tampon?”
“Papa!” she exclaimed quietly, giving him a light shove. “Milk would be great.”
Ilya smiled and worked on whipping it up, pulling out two mugs (a Centaurs one for him, a Walt Disney World one for her). While he waited for the milk to heat up, he heard Mila clear her throat.
“Um, thank you, Papa, for helping me tonight,” she said. He turned to face her. “I know I’m like, 13, and should be able to figure these things out on my own but I didn’t know what to do and—“
“Hey, hey, hey,” Ilya interrupted, noticing the tears in her eyes. She gazed at him, eyes full of embarrassment but with a hint of gratitude. “You may be 13, big old teenager and all that, but you will always be my little girl, okay? I will always be there to take care of you and help you, no matter what.”
Mila just smiled, wiping at her eyes. “I know.”
And Ilya couldn’t just stand there. Of course he walked around the counter to where she was sitting and gave her another bear hug. She hugged him back, incredibly tight, and he kissed the top of her dark hair.
“Uh, Papa,” she started, “the milk—“
“Yebat!” Ilya raced over to the stove where the milk was threatening to bubble over, turning off the burner and removing the pot immediately. He turned toward Mila. “Don’t tell Dad I said that word in front of you.”
“My lips are sealed, Papa,” Mila said with a laugh.
They sat at the kitchen island a few minutes later, warm milk and honey in hand, and talked while the washer ran. Mila updated him on some drama between some of the other U14 figure skating competitors, and Ilya told her all about the new Centaurs players, who he would be coaching in the fall alongside Coach Wiebe. Shane, of course, was still playing and would be until his body gave out (of that, Ilya was certain).
They’d just finished their milk when the washer timer beeped. Ilya and Mila walked into the laundry room together, and Ilya said, “Would you like to do the honors?”
Mila nodded. She reached for the washer, hesitated for a moment, then threw it open, reaching for the pajama bottoms inside. After a very thorough investigation, she turned to him with a smile. “It’s completely gone!”
“See, your papa is expert stain remover,” Ilya laughed. Mila checked the rest of the load and, satisfied that there were no more stains, tossed them all in the dryer. Once she started the load, Ilya said, “Okay, is time for bed now.”
Ilya followed Mila back to her room and helped her put a fresh set of sheets on her bed. While she fluffed her pillows and climbed into bed, he offered to get her a fresh glass of water. By the time he made it back upstairs, water in hand, she was already sound asleep.
He couldn’t help but smile, feeling pure, unadulterated awe that this was his life. Helping his daughter in the middle of the night while his husband and other two children slept soundly throughout the house. Despite being a millionaire, he’d never felt richer than he did in that moment.
Ilya set the glass down on her bedside table. Gently, he brushed a small piece of dark hair from her eyes, then leaned down to press a kiss on her forehead.
“Goodnight, moya zviozdochka.”
Moya zviozdochka: My little star 🌟
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