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Stef squeezes my hand, bringing me back to the moment. I look at his beautiful face, looking up at me, checking I’m okay, and my heart lifts a little.
Babushka sits next to Stef’s mom, talking about their dresses and the pain in the ass they had shopping at some department store the week before graduation. I can’t help but smile.
Dasha keeps looking up from her phone, which she’s probably messaging her friends on TikTok or something on, and smiling at mine and Stef’s hands.
These people around me, looking way too glamorous to be on the M train into Queens right now, have my back. They’ve accepted me, exactly as I am, and I need to hold onto that. Not the rejection of my parents. Their rejection doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Because these people see me, and they don’t think I’m wrong.
When we get to the restaurant, a bunch of people jump out and shout “surprise!”
There’sHappy Graduation Daybanners all over the place and when I look closer, anything that says Stef’s name says mine right next to it.
Stef’s grandfather gives us both a big hug and takes photographs of us on an old-fashioned digital camera. I introduce him to Dasha and Babushka and he and Babushka start talking about gentrification and end up engrossed in conversation at their own table.
We’re filled up with more food than I’d usually eat in a week and Stef’s dragged up to the makeshift stage to play something on his violin. I go and join Babushka and Dasha takes a perch on my knee when she sees all the chairs have been taken.
“What’s happening now?” Babushka asks in Russian.
“Stef’s gonna play violin for us.”
She raises her eyebrows like she’s impressed and a little glow emanates from inside me.
I love watching him play at the restaurant. And I’m actually glad I never saw him perform in the orchestra. The only way I’veever seen him play his instrument is with this calm joy about him that’s contagious. I couldn’t bear to see him stressed and anxious when he’s supposed to be doing the thing he loves.
He’s been going to CPT with a counselor at college, and I think he’s planning to continue the sessions when we move to Nashville. He seems so much calmer about everything, though he’s said he still doesn’t want to play in an orchestra.
When he’s finished playing, everyone claps. Dasha looks amazed and when I look at Babushka, she’s got a big smile on her face as she applauds for him.
His eyes meet mine across the restaurant, the smile on his face so bright and genuine, and I know everything’s gonna be okay.
EPILOGUE
STEFANOS
2 years later…
“Okay, let’s try it from the top,” Bob says.
Larry counts us in and we go from the top.
We have a gig tonight at the bar and my parents will be in town, so I’m even more excited about performing than usual.
When we’re finishing up, the doors open and Alexei walks in wearing sweats and a t-shirt.
When he’s not working at the office, he volunteers for a junior hockey team as an assistant coach. Every time I see him after one of their practice sessions, he always seems brighter and happier. Not that he doesn’t enjoy working for the Predators – he also gets good hockey seats, which means he gets to enjoy NHL games whenever he wants, which makes him VERY popular around here. But there’s something about being on the ice with those kids and a hockey stick in his hand that fills him up the way an office job can’t.
He flashes me a big smile as I jump down from the stage.
“Hey baby, I’m not interrupting am I?”
“No, we were just finishing up rehearsals for the day. How was practice?”
“Good.” He beams. “I’m just gonna run home and take a quick shower before I pick your parents up from the airport now, I wanted to come see if everything was still on tonight?”
“Yep, I just have to work a quick shift and then I get off at six, so I’ll come and take them off your hands before the gig.”
“I told you, you can stay here and watch everybody else play, you know I love your parents, I don’t mind hanging out with them.”
“You’re the best.” I put my hands on his face and give him a kiss.