Chapter 25: The Winds of Change

March, 1985, Chicago, Illinois

I was getting a bit antsy about Callie's lawsuit. I hadn't heard anything from my attorney, and decided to call his office on Monday at lunch. Mr. Klein wasn't in, but his secretary said that he would be in court on Tuesday morning for a hearing on the motion to dismiss.

"Is that something I could attend?" I asked.

"You could, but trust me, it's likely to be the most boring thirty minutes of your entire life. Both sides submitted written briefs. The judge will probably ask a few questions, and then say that he'll issue an order in a few days."

I thanked her and went to the table I was sharing with Kara at The Bog to eat my lunch. I thought about calling the attorney's office back and finding out where the courtroom was, but in the end, decided that the secretary was probably right. As interested as I was in how the system worked, it would take an entire day away from work and probably would indeed be as boring as the secretary had predicted.

On Tuesday afternoon at work, I called the attorney's office to find out how the hearing had gone. He wasn't in, but his secretary promised to have him call me before the end of the day. He called about 4:30pm.

"It went as expected," Mr. Klein said. "A few questions to me, quite a few for Mr. Littleton. Based on the questions, I'm confident we'll win. The judge promised a ruling no later than Thursday. Is it OK to call you at this number on Thursday afternoon?"

"Yes. Absolutely. Thanks, Mr. Klein."

"You're welcome."

Thursday couldn't come quick enough and when it did, the actual day dragged. Finally, around 4:15pm, Lynn, the receptionist, put a call through to my desk.

"Steve, this is Robert Klein."

"Good afternoon. I hope you have good news."

"Indeed, I do. The case was dismissed with prejudice based on the fact that you three were giving compelled testimony, which, had you failed to do, would have risked action against you by the university. Mr. Littleton promised to file a notice of appeal by tomorrow. We'll have to brief that as well, but I'm reasonably confident it will be ruled on the briefs alone."

"How long will that take?"

"Months, maybe even a year. But honestly, I'll need a few hours to write a reply brief and that should be it. Then it's just a matter of waiting for the State Appeals Court to rule."

"What about the case with the university?" I asked.

"They'll have to subpoena you to testify at trial. They'll also serve me because I'm representing you, so I'll know when that happens. There's quite a bit of preliminary actions remaining that they have to get out of the way before there's an actual trial. Don't worry about it; all that can happen is you having to spend a few hours in the witness chair."

"Thanks! I'll call Charlie and Bert when I get home and let them know. I really appreciate it."

"You'll get a copy of the dismissal order in a few days. I'll let you know when I get the notice of appeal."

"Thanks, Mr. Klein," I said.

We hung up, and I went to tell Scott about the dismissal. Later, on the way home, I filled Dave in, and when I arrived home, I called Charlie and Bert. They were both ecstatic, though Charlie was worried about the appeal. I reassured her that Mr. Klein was confident and pointed out that he'd been correct about the dismissal. Our only real issue at this point was having to testify in Callie's lawsuit against IIT.

I had another relaxing weekend that was spent doing homework, hanging out with my friends, and writing in my journal. Wen and I worked together, but she didn't ask to check out my Macintosh, her code for wanting to fool around. I talked to Stephanie, Karin, Bethany, and Jennifer. My call with Jennifer was similar to the previous one. She was still pretty much in the same place emotionally, but she was doing well in school, so I wasn't overly concerned. That told me that she wasn't drinking or smoking pot, either of which would have caused me to immediately fly to California to help her.

Early on Monday morning, the 11th of March, the phone in my study rang. I was eating breakfast and quickly got up to answer it.

"Stepa, have you heard the news?" Tatyana said as soon as I'd said 'hello'.

"Which news?" I asked.

"Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev is the General Secretary of the Communist Party. Comrade Chernenko died last evening. The vote was unanimous."

"If that's the case, it's good for your father, isn't it? If the vote was unanimous, the factions are in agreement."

She laughed, "It does not always work that way. If one side knows that they will lose, they vote for the one who will win to try to protect their position."

"I suppose I don't know the intricacies of Soviet politics. What does your father have to say about this?"

"He does not think it will affect anything with his appointment. The head of «Госплан», Nikolai Baibakov, is a personal friend."

"Gosplan?" I queried.

"«Gosudarstvenny komitet po planirovaniyu Государственный комитет по планированию» — The State Planning Committee of the USSR. They supervise the Ministry of Foreign Trade."

"Does this affect your plans?" I asked.

"Not at this point. Father does not think that there will be a purge, though there will certainly be changes. We shall have to see what happens. As for Father, the approval of his appointment will necessarily be delayed a short time."

"OK. Just let me know when his going away party will be."

"I will, assuming that it does happen. I look forward to seeing you, Stepa."

"And I you, Tatyana. The press here seems to like Gorbachev, but I'm not sure that means much of anything. If it does, I will miss your father and Colonel Anisimova."

"They will miss you as well. I will miss you when I go back to the Soviet Union."

"And I you, Tatyana Ivanovna."

We said our goodbyes and hung up. I went back to the kitchen to finish breakfast and wondered if this was the event that might cause radical changes in my plans. What WOULD I do if Tatyana suddenly decided to stay in the US and work on her PhD? I quickly pushed that thought out of my conscious mind, knowing that if I started speculating on something like that, I'd drive myself completely crazy.

It was safe, on the other hand, to wonder what kinds of changes might come from a new leader who was born after the Russian Revolution. Gorbachev was only fifty-four, and was following three old, sick men. Perhaps this was a sign of a coming thaw in relations between the US and the USSR. I certainly hoped so. To me it seemed that the concerted efforts of Ronald Reagan, Margaret Thatcher, and Pope John Paul II had put the Soviets on the defensive pretty much everywhere, and the war in Afghanistan was looking more and more like it was going to be a Soviet Viet Nam.

Once again, I was happy with a quiet week — school, work, karate, and time with my friends. My relationships with the girls had settled into a comfortable pattern, and Sofia was no longer feeling ignored. Other than Kara and Sofia, only Elyse and I got together. If the rest of the semester went this way, I'd be quite happy. The only really important thing that happened was a call to my sister on Wednesday to wish her 'happy birthday'.

"I wish I could be there today, Squirt," I'd told her.

"It's OK. You're taking me to lunch on Sunday."

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"I'll tell you on Sunday!"

"I love you, Squirt!"

"I love you too, Big Brother. See you Saturday morning."

That had been Wednesday. It was Friday, and I was anticipating my date with Jessica. She was a real enigma, and she had me somewhat off kilter. I had never been involved with a girl like her before. Becky had been aggressive, but this was different. Bethany and Sofia were driven, but again, Jessica was different. She seemed to have some kind of road map, but she wasn't sharing it with me. At least not so far. I showered, dressed, and then headed to Connie's Pizza for my third date with Jessica Wilton.

When she arrived, I stood up to pull out her chair, and she greeted me with a quick hug and an even quicker peck on the cheek before she sat down in the chair. We made small talk until the waitress came to take our usual order — Chicago-Style pepperoni pizza, salads, and Cokes.

"What are you doing next weekend?" she asked.

"I didn't have plans other than my usual homework and hanging out with my friends. Why?"

"Doctor Barton is having a reception for students on Saturday afternoon at his house in Indianapolis. You're taking me. I already sent our RSVP."

I laughed, "And if I'd had something going on?"

"You would have changed it. I need a date and I'm taking you. At a minimum, it fends off all the idiots who would otherwise hit on me all afternoon. Here's the address," she said, handing me a piece of paper. "Be there at 12:30pm sharp on Saturday. The party starts at 1:00pm, but Doctor Barton wants to have a chance to chat with you beforehand."

"Is this where the two of you try to strong-arm me into taking the MCAT?" I chuckled.

"Oh HELL no! I'm not marrying a doctor! Marriage is going to be tough enough as it is without the problems THAT would bring!"

"Someone with the same personality as you?" I grinned.

She laughed, "Something like that, yes. But you can handle it. In fact, you see it as a challenge, which I think is a good thing."

"But can you handle me?" I said, keeping my voice neutral. "I'm not exactly conventional."

"I got that idea the first time I met you. I'm not looking for conventional. What I am looking for is a guy with the right mix of things I think are necessary for a successful relationship. Everything else can probably be worked out."

Now I laughed, "I'd be careful making that assumption. My life might be just a bit crazier than you think it is."

"You have a harem! How much crazier than THAT could it be?" she asked with a silly smile.

"Touché! But I can't imagine you're OK with that kind of situation."

"One step at a time. We aren't dictating terms at this point."

"Terms of surrender?" I grinned.

"I suppose it depends on how you look at it. But don't worry about that at the moment."

"You seem to have this all mapped out," I chuckled. "Have you decided on a date?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?!" she asked with a wry smile.

"Assuming for a moment that your plan succeeds, which, I'll remind you, is no sure thing, how would you see this working out with you in medical school followed by Internship and Residency?"

"I have an apartment in Indianapolis. You'd come down on the weekends and then go back to Chicago during the week to work. I'd be in the hospital, in class or studying during the week, anyway."

"Back to my harem?" I said with a laugh.

"Don't push this hypothetical too far, Mr. Adams. We aren't at terms just yet."

"But you have a lengthy Internship and Residency, not to mention working with Doctor Barton to perfect your trauma skills."

"Very true. I didn't say it would be easy. I'm looking for the person who can handle it. I think that might just be you. You've conducted long-distance relationships from what I gather. Several of them, in fact. That tells me that it COULD work out."

"I keep getting the sense that I'm out of my element here," I said.

"And yet, despite being off balance, you're doing just fine in the conversation. So tell me, besides a shared vision of the future, compatible goals, friendship, and love, what do you need from a relationship?"

"An equal partner. True intimacy."

"'True' intimacy?" she queried. "That sounds like you don't mean sex."

"I don't. I mean, sure, sex is part of it, but true intimacy comes before sex. It's truly knowing the other person, a joining of souls. Once you have that, then you can move on to sex."

"An interesting idea. Where did you get this?"

"An Indian friend of mine. She's Hindu, and we discussed quite a bit of Eastern philosophy."

"Another member of your harem?" Jessica asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Former," I chuckled. "She's about to get engaged. But we spent the better part of a year getting to know each other before we made love the first time, which I think was important. I could have had her before, but she convinced me that waiting was the right thing to do. And it most definitely was."

"Very, very interesting. Your poll numbers just went up a bit. I'm no prude, but I'm also not going to just drop my panties on a whim."

"I never expected that you would. In fact, that day in the surgical theatre, I got that message loud and clear. But I didn't take it as prudish. And you'll notice that I'm respecting what I believe to be your views on sex."

"What ARE my views on sex, smart guy?" she asked, cocking her head and showing a whimsical smile.

Our food arrived, and we dug in. Once we'd eaten some, I answered her question.

"I'm going to simply give it straight. I assume that's OK?" I said.

"It's the only way."

"You're a virgin, not because of some religious or moral issue, but because you haven't found a guy who is even remotely worthy of your virginity. You might, or might not, insist on waiting until marriage, depending on the timing and the guy. On the other hand, you are happy to discuss sex and intimacy, and not just from a clinical standpoint. I believe that you're very passionate, and when the time comes, you'll make love the same way you do everything else — confidently, aggressively, and fully committed. You'll seek to get, and give, maximum pleasure, and you won't let social mores stand in your way."

She smiled and nodded, "Not bad. Not bad at all. I'd say that you're fairly perceptive. And you don't feel some burning desire to relieve me of my 'burden'?" she asked, making air quotes.

"Are you asking if I want to go to bed with you?" I inquired with a smile.

"Are you going to ask me?" she retorted with an equal smile.

"Why is it that you turn every single question around on me?"

"Because I can! Just answer the question."

"No, I'm not going to ask. We aren't there; we may never be there. You are completely uninterested in a casual screw at this point, though, under the right circumstances, you might be in the future. But not now. And, honestly, I basically don't do casual screws."

Jessica laughed hard, "Says the man with his own harem!"

"Believe it or not, with a very limited number of exceptions, and I do mean limited, I don't just casually screw. Hell, I've been criticized for agonizing over it and dragging it out too long. And those limited exceptions were all in very special circumstances."