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Ilya ran a hand over his cheek as he examined himself in the mirror. It felt weird being so clean-shaven, but he thought it would look sloppy to have stubble on his face. He wanted to look perfect; it was his wedding day after all.
“Sheesh,” said a voice behind him.
Ilya turned and saw David standing in the door of Ilya's bedroom.
“I was going to offer to help you with your tie or something, but you clearly don't need my assistance.”
“Shane doesn't need help?” Ilya said as he waved David into the room.
“Yuna's got him,” David said, which they both understood meant Shane had all the help he needed.
Ilya smiled at him, then pulled his cufflinks out of his sleeves. He held out the round gold and mother-of-pearl studs to Shane's father. “You can help me put these in.”
David chuckled as he stepped forward and took the cufflinks, “I appreciate you trying to make me feel useful. Actually…speaking of cufflinks,” David said nervously, “I have something for you. You don’t have to wear them if they don’t go with your suit. These, “David said gesturing with the hand holding the cufflinks, “are very nice, but…”
A surge of jumbled emotions rose in Ilya as he watched David fish a little box out of his pocket.
Ilya reached out and gently took the cufflinks back and placed them on the bed before turning expectantly back to David. There was no way Ilya's father would have been there, even if he had still been alive, and Ilya wouldn't have wanted him to be. But having David here, offering to help him get ready, was nice. More than nice. And with a gift… Ilya didn’t know what to say.
David shuffled his feet, looking down at the box in his hands. “We could only have one child,” David said quietly. “We thought about adopting. But we decided in the end to just focus on making Shane the best person we could. I think we did an okay job of it.”
Ilya smiled at the understatement.
“We couldn't be prouder of the man he's become,” David continued. “I don't have any Stanley Cup rings, but I have Shane.”
Ilya swallowed, “I'll take care of him.”
David smiled up at him, “I know. What I'm trying to say, and Yuna has always been the better speaker, is I've always felt so lucky to have a son that's as wonderful as Shane that I never expected to be blessed with a second one.”
David’s hands and the box turned blurry. Ilya blinked rapidly, refusing to cry before the wedding even started.
“I hope you know, and I know I speak for Yuna as well, you have been a part of this family since the day Shane brought you to our cottage all those years ago. It may have been a bit of a shocking entrance..."
Both men laughed at the understatement.
"But, I knew that day, watching you two sit across the table from us, you were it for each other, that you were the missing piece of our family puzzle…" David paused to catch Ilya's eye, "Especially when I found out you read The New Yorker.”
Ilya chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, thankful for the joke to ease the pressure building behind his eyes. He cleared his throat, “Well, when the only thing you know about your long-time-not-yet-boyfriend’s dad is that he reads the New Yorker, you pick up a copy for the plane ride.”
David nodded sagely with mock seriousness, “Yes, that was wise.”
Ilya laughed, thinking about how his relationship with David Hollander had started. Shane had gone outside to talk to Yuna, leaving Ilya and David alone. Ilya had been at a loss for what to say. The only thing that floated to the surface of his swirling thoughts was “The New Yorker” he had picked up at the airport that was now stashed in his backpack at Shane’s cottage. So, he had asked Shane’s dad if he had read that week’s issue.
David had seemed surprised but cautiously intrigued by the proffered topic, as if he wasn't sure whether Ilya was trying to tell a joke or be serious. But after some initial jilted and awkward back and forth, in which Ilya had proven he had indeed read and digested not one but several New Yorker articles, David’s shoulders had eased. His eyes had brightened in the same way Shane’s do when he unexpectedly realizes he has a willing audience to discuss a subject he is really excited about that other people usually call boring. Once Shane and David knew they were not going to be made fun of, the floodgates of joy and words would come pouring out.
David had jumped out of his chair, run into the living room, and come back with several copies of The New Yorker, because, of course, Shane’s father would keep hard copies in the house. Coming back to the table, while keeping up a rather animated one-sided conversation about this article or that, David started carefully tearing out a handful of articles that were clearly already dog-eared.
Ilya had taken them reverently, promising to read them.
As they heard Shane and his mother come back into the house, David slyly hid the magazines out of sight.
Following suit, Ilya stuffed the articles carefully into his pocket.
They shared a conspiratorial smile before turning around to greet their partners.
Several weeks later, when Ilya flew back to Boston, he had gotten an online New Yorker subscription while he waited at his gate. He figured that it was easier to go digital with the amount of traveling he did.
So started Ilya’s habit of reading The New Yorker on planes. He didn’t read every article, but he read most.
As his long-distance relationship with Shane and his parents grew over the year he remained in Boston, if Ilya read something he thought David would like, he would call him to hear his thoughts. If David saw something Ilya would find interesting, he would call Ilya.
When visiting Ilya in Boston that year over a long weekend, Shane had walked into Ilya’s kitchen after a run, a little dumbfounded, to find Ilya prepping dinner while having a rather loud, animated conversation on speaker phone with his father, debating something they had both read that week.
When Ilya had moved to Ottawa and was a regular fixture at the Hollander dinner table, those conversations continued in person. Yuna would roll her eyes fondly and drink her glass of wine while the two men bantered back and forth over heaping plates of chicken parmesan.
Shane used to tease Ilya that he was becoming more boring with each article he read. Ilya would fake hurt, but secretly he reveled in having something that was just for David and him. It had become their "thing". Ilya had never had a “thing” with his father, not unless you counted being lifelong disappointments to each other. Their New Yorker conversations were something Ilya had cherished in the years since Shane had come out to his parents. Besides, his English vocabulary had expanded exponentially through his new reading habit.
David smiled fondly up at Ilya, clearly guessing where his thoughts had been. He handed Ilya the box, “again you don’t have to wear them today if you don’t want, but I wanted you to have something to commemorate the day.”
It was a simple velvet box, with no wrapping or bow.
Ilya smiled back as he snapped open the lid. Sitting inside the box were two gold-rimmed cuff links. In the middle of each was a simple, half-gold, half-red design. The two designs were similar but slightly different. Ilya brought the box up closer to look. It looked like the middle was paper behind some sort of resin or glass. Pulling one out of the box and turning it over in his hand, he noticed a date engraved in blue script on the back: July 10th & 17th, 2017. He looked up at David, a little confused.
“Look at the back of the other one,” David said shyly.
Ilya put the cufflink he was holding back in the box and picked up the other. In the same blue script, it read: December 15th, 2008.
Ilya looked back up at David again, still looking for an explanation.
“I don’t know if they have the same tradition in Russia, and here I think it is usually for the bride, but I wanted you to have something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue for your wedding.”
Ilya had watched enough movies to know the tradition. His throat tightened a bit as he just stared down at the cufflinks.
David continued, “I found this woman on Etsy who makes personalized cufflinks, and she can put any type of paper or fabric you want in them. So, I sent her two copies of The New Yorker.”
Ilya was speechless.
Grabbing the 2017 cufflink from the box, David turned it over so Ilya could see the red-and-gold design. David smiled down at the cufflink, “This one is from the cover of the July 2017 double issue. The one…”
“The one with the dogs on the front,” Ilya gasped.
“Yes,” David said, visibly pleased that Ilya remembered. “The one we discussed at the dinner table while Shane was outside with his mother.”
David gently took the other cufflink out of Ilya’s hand. If he noticed it was trembling, he was kind enough not to say anything.
“This one was a little harder to track down; it is from the December 2008 cover. If I have my timeline right, that is the month you met Shane.”
Ilya nodded in confirmation.
“Two beginnings,” David said, “one when you met Shane and one when you joined our family.”
David paused for a moment before continuing, “It's not fair that you don't have your family here on your wedding day,” David said. “And I'm not trying to overstep but…”
That was all Ilya let him get out before he engulfed David in a tight hug.
“My family is here”, he said, simply and with surprising steadiness.
It seemed impossible that anything in Ilya's life was real, that he was about to marry Shane Hollander in front of people, that they would be teammates next season, that Ilya was about to officially become a part of Shane's family, and that he and Shane might start their own someday. It was too staggering to think about, so instead he hugged Shane's father, failing to keep his tears at bay.
After a long moment, they let go of each other, and David took a step back.
David shuffled a bit awkwardly, probably unused to wearing his emotions so plainly, and glanced out the window.
Ilya held out his left wrist, “I want to wear them,” Ilya said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Nothing would make me happier than to wear these on my wedding day. Thank you, David, I love them.”
David reached out and took the proffered wrist carefully in one hand.
Ilya wiped hastily at his eyes with the other wrist.
As David carefully threaded the cufflinks through the crisp, white material of Ilya's dress shirt, he continued his explanation, “So the cuff links are new, the New Yorker covers are your something old, and the engraving,” David said, tapping the back, “is your something blue.”
With the cufflinks secured, David took a slight step back, giving Ilya a once-over. “You look good,” David said, and firmly brushed the shoulders of Ilya’s suit with a finishing flourish, “I think you are ready.”
“Thank you for helping me with my shirt, for these cufflinks, and for…um...” Ilya couldn't possibly put into words how grateful he was for Yuna and David's support and the easy love they had for their son, and seemingly also for him. For raising Shane to be the man that he was, and for believing Ilya was good enough for him. He finished by saying, “…Everything.”
David nodded. “Thank you for making Shane so happy. You're good for each other.”
Ilya smiled. Yes, it is time for the world to see how good.
As David turned to leave, something struck Ilya, “Wait! What is my something borrowed? Because if you think I’m ever giving these back to you, you are mistaken,” Ilya said with a chuckle, holding his wrists to his chest possessively.
“Oh! I almost forgot!” David exclaimed as he pulled a folded-up piece of glossy paper from his suit jacket pocket, “This is from this week’s edition. I read this article. I thought you would like it. I annotated it with some thoughts.” With joking sternness, David tapped the folded article against Ilya’s chest, “I want this back once you read it, you hear?”
Ilya took the article and tucked it securely in his jacket’s inner breast pocket. He patted it, realizing with a watery smile that it rested right over his heart.
Meeting David’s similarly watery eyes, Ilya promised, “I shall return it with notes.”