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Papa looks at mine and Stef’s hands and gives me this hurt look, like I just insulted him.

“Come here,” he says. I let go of Stef’s hand and follow him to where he’s stepped away from everyone. He puts his hand on my shoulder and asks me in Russian what’s going on.

“Nothing’s going on, we’re going to Stef’s parents’ restaurant for a meal, like I said.”

“Why are you holding hands with him?”

I cock my head, giving him a pleading look. “Come on Papa, you know.”

“No, I don’t know, what’s going on? That’s why I’m asking. If I knew, why would I be asking?”

“He’s my boyfriend Papa. I’m gay.”

He sighs and turns away, running a hand over his freshly-shaved face. He made an effort. He bought a new suit and shaved to come to my graduation, and for a minute, I even feel guilty for springing this on him.

I can hear Babushka talking to Stef’s parents behind me. They’re talking about how proud they are of us graduating college, how handsome we look.

Maria’s talking to Dasha, asking her what she’s studying at school. It’s only Papa that’s making this hard.

“This is why I didn’t want you living with that guy. You grow up here, you see all these people, you get confused.”

“No, it’s not like that.”

“If things weren’t messy at home, I’d send you back to Siberia to spend some time with your cousins, then you wouldn’t be confused by all this gayrope shit. It was a mistake not to make you do military service.”

I’ve seen people from Eastern Europe describe Europe as gayrope before, but never the U.S. I didn’t even know my dad knew that term. It kills me to hear him say it right to my face.

Dasha comes over and tugs on my hand.

“What’s wrong? Are we going to the restaurant now?”

“No Dash. I think Papa wants to go home.”

Stef’s parents have been giving us some space, but they read the situation and step forward.

Tolis speaks up in his big, warm voice and introduces himself to my dad. He holds his hand out and Papa looks at it like he’s going to refuse for a second before taking it.

“I have the best table in the house all reserved for our boys and I’d love it if you came and celebrated with us. I know your son would love it too.”

Papa looks Tolis over, like he’s wondering if this guy is just a ‘normal’ guy, or if he’s a part of this ‘gayrope conspiracy shit.’

“I appreciate that,” he says. “But I think we should go home now. Come Dasha.”

I can feel tears start to sting the back of my eyes, but I know if I cry, it’ll only make things worse.

“Can I go, please Papa? Babulya?” Dasha says.

“No.”

“But I want to celebrate my brother’s graduation.”

My eyes are full of tears, I can’t hold it back anymore.

Stef steps around his dad and puts his hand on my back.

“Mr. Simakov, I’m sorry you feel the way you feel, but Alexei’s happy and you should be really proud of the man he’s turned into.

I love him, and we’re gonna have a really good, happy life, and if you can’t accept that, then it’s your loss.

” He takes my hand. “Come on Alexei, let's go and celebrate. "

As he’s leading me away, my eyes meet Babushka’s and she holds her hand out to Dasha. “Come on Dasha, let’s go, Papa can go home and sulk alone if he wants.”

As we all walk away, I see Tolis trying to reason with Papa, but I know it won’t do any good.

Stef pulls me away from everyone, which isn’t easy as the lawns surrounding every campus building are full of graduates with their families, taking pictures, laughing, crying happy tears.

“Give us a second, we’ll catch you guys up.” He says.

He knows me so well. He knows I want to cry, but I’m scared to do it in front of my family.

He pulls me under the shade of a big oak tree and puts his arms around me while I let it out.

“I knew this was gonna happen, I’m so stupid. Why did I think this would work?”

“You’re not stupid.” he says, rubbing my back. “And hey, your grandma and your sister are coming.”

I nod against his shoulder before pulling away and wiping my face. Brushing his shoulder where I’ve soaked it with my tears. “I’m gonna ruin your suit.”

“It’ll dry, don’t worry. Are you okay?”

I nod. “At least I haven’t lost everyone.”

“Alexei, you haven’t lost anyone. If your dad keeps being like this, then he’s lost you, okay?”

I nod, my eyes filling back up with tears. I take a step closer, but this time, instead of crying on his shoulder, I take his face in my hands and kiss him.

“I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Everyone in your life is lucky to have you too.”

When we find our families, Tolis has rejoined them, alone. He’s wearing this apologetic, sad look on his face when he looks at me. He puts his hand on the back of my neck – his protective dad thing he always does to Stef.

“He’ll come around.” He says.

I give him a sad smile. “Thank you for trying.”

“You’re family now, and you’ll always have us, no matter what, okay?”

I nod, choking back fresh tears. Though these ones aren’t sad tears. I can’t believe these people are being so nice to me. So automatically welcoming. I think about that first day at the restaurant. How Tolis said a friend of Stef’s is a friend of ours.

“Unless you hurt Stef, then I’ll have to kill you.”

I laugh. “Impossible, I’d rather die than hurt him.”

“Good.” Tolis gives my neck a little tap. “Let’s go eat, I’m starving!”

A heavy feeling sits on my chest as we take the subway into Queens. I think about Papa’s face. How he’d used that term, even though we don’t live in fucking Europe. It’s all the same to some people. The Western world. With it’s supposedly broken morals and lack of ethics.

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’s Happy Graduation Day banners 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’ve ever 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.