Chapter 97: Transitions

August 3, 1997, Saint Petersburg, Russia

On Sunday morning, after Natalie left and I did my morning run, Jesse and I went to Kazan Cathedral for Liturgy, grabbed a quick lunch, and met the team at the hockey rink. Jesse went to the locker room and I joined the parents in the stands.

“How was church?” Mary asked.

“The same as always,” I replied. “Which is exactly how it’s supposed to be! The only downside is the homilies are in Russian, but Jesse knows the hymns and prayers by heart in English, and I know them pretty well, so we know what’s being said except for the saints of the day, but Jesse checked those in his book before church.”

“I am SO happy the Catholic Church switched to English for their mass,” Elaine said.

“I barely remember the Tridentine mass,” I said. “That said, I can still sing O Come, All Ye Faithful in Latin.”

“Seriously? Why that?”

“Who knows?” I chuckled. “I learned it and still remember. I know a few prayer refrains, too, but I think I remembered them from later.”

“They still say Kýrie, eléison,” Chris said.

“Which is Greek,” I replied. “«Κύριε, ἐλέησον> and «Χριστέ ἐλέησον» are both Greek. As one of my professors said, when they switched to English from the Latin mass, the only thing they left alone was the Greek, and a bit of Aramaic.”

“Oops!” he said with a laugh. “I’m not a very good Catholic.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not a very good anything.”

“But you seem to know it really well.”

“From studying. I’m on a life-long search for truth, and that means considering as many sources as possible. Wisdom can be found in all of the great traditions, once you filter out the pious hyperbole.”

“What do you mean?” Paul asked.

“Do you think you should pluck your eye out if you look at a woman lustfully?”

“No, but my WIFE does!” he said, causing all of us, and few others around us to laugh.

“He knows who HIS god is!” Mary declared, but then leaned over and kissed him.

“Mine is pint-size and just turned nine!” I chuckled. “At least she’s god in HER mind! Jesse would seriously disagree.”

There was more laughter, but then we had to stop for the anthems. Once the puck dropped, we focused on the game which was hard fought, with the teams trading goals the entire way, with neither team gaining a major advantage. They reached the end of the third period knotted at three goals apiece, and after consultation, the coaches decided to play a sudden-death overtime which wasn’t something that had been planned - ties were going to be ties, but the kids obviously wanted to decide it amongst themselves.

The puck dropped for the overtime period and both teams traded chances, but the goalies turned the shots away. The game turned into a defensive struggle, with neither team able to gain an advantage because of tired legs. At the ten-minute mark, I realized that Nicole, Tim, and Jake had missed two consecutive shifts, and smiled. Coach was trying to pull a fast one, and if he got away with it, we’d score because they’d be rested and the Russian kids wouldn’t. It was a brilliant idea, and it worked perfectly when Mikey fed a streaking Jake who broke away. The Russian goalie made a great save, but gave up a rebound which Nicole carefully slid around his sprawling body for the win. The defense had simply been too tired to get back with them.

“That was perfect!” Elaine declared as the raucous cheering died down. “Coach snookered them on that one!”

The kids lined up for handshakes and several of the Russian players patted Nicole and Jake on their helmets to acknowledge the deciding goal. Jesse and the opposing goalie stood together for a couple of minutes with one of the Russian coaches obviously translating. I grinned when they traded sticks and skated back to line up to receive their commemorative medals. The Russian kids from the other two teams got theirs as well, and after the kids had showered and changed, everyone went to a large room at the rink for a party which featured music, food, and lots of socializing, and lasted until very late in the evening.

August 4, 1997, Saint Petersburg, Russia

On Monday morning, our last day in Saint Petersburg, I was up early so Natalie could return to her room and I could run before seeing Jesse and his friends off. Once they were gone, the Sarcus, Heaths, and I went to have breakfast. We hung out at the hotel drinking tea until it was time to leave for our boat tours.

The first one, the ‘Cruise Of The Sea Gates Of The Russian Empire’ departed from the Central Pier, near the ‘Guard Lions At The Admiralty Embankment’ and the Palace Bridge, and then took us along the Big Neva and the Small Neva, and out into the Gulf of Finland. Our tour guide pointed out many sights, including St. Isaac Cathedral; the Bronze Horseman; the Hermitage; the Peter and Paul Fortress; the Palace Bridge; a number of monuments to the Navy, and several icebreakers.

We arrived back at the pier, had time for lunch, then boarded the boat for the second tour, the ‘Boat Tour Of The Northern Islands’ which took us along a similar route, but with different important sights - Vasilievskiy Island; the Winter Palace; Kamenny Island; Yelagin Island; Krestovsky Island; and numerous bridges. There were a few repeats as well, including the cathedral and fortress, but this guide had slightly different things to say which kept it interesting.

When we returned to the pier, we walked around Saint Petersburg until it was time to return to the pier to board the boat for the dinner cruise.

“Remember to be on your best behavior, Natalie,” Elaine said. “We’re trusting you to behave like an adult.”

“I will, Mom! I promise!”

“I’ll have her back as promised as well.”

“If we’re not in our room, we’ll be with the Sarcus or in the bar. Just find us, please.”

“Will do. And thanks for keeping an eye on Jesse after he gets back.”

Natalie hugged her mom and dad, and they walked away. She and I boarded the boat, and as soon as her parents were out of sight, she slipped her hand into mine.

“My first real date!” she gushed. “And I even get to sleep with you afterwards!”

“You slept with me before you had your first real date!” I chuckled. “You didn’t go out with your boyfriend?”

“No. We went to football games and hung out with our friends. My parents don’t think I should date until I’m sixteen. I was really happy when they said I could do this. Will you dance with me?”

“Of course!”

“And later, you’ll make love to me all night?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“I’ll sleep on the plane,” she sighed. “Tonight I just want to be with you, in your arms, with you moving inside me, all night.”

“As you wish,” I replied, slipping my arm around her shoulders.

Natalie slipped her arm around my waist and leaned against me. The boat left the pier, and moved slowly along the Neva, retracing our earlier course, though eventually we would see things which we hadn’t seen on either of the other two cruises. But that wasn’t the point, the point was to be with Natalie. We stood quietly, at the rail, for several minutes before she spoke.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How do I know if I should go to bed with a boy?”

“How did you know you should go to bed with me?” I asked.

“It just felt right. I mean, like it was meant to happen.”

“I’d say you have your answer. But don’t decide that when you’re alone someplace, kissing. Decide beforehand. Determine your limits, communicate them, and stick to them.”

“You mean like saying ‘you can touch me outside my clothes, but not put your hands inside my shirt or jeans’?”

“Exactly. And any boy who doesn’t follow those limits isn’t one you should be interested in.”

“How long should I date before I do it?”

“Already realize you’re going to miss it?”

“Yes, but not just that. Will you be upset if I tell you I really, really like the cuddling?”

“Why would I be upset?” I asked.

“Because you might think I don’t like sex.”

“I like cuddling. I always have. And you can get cuddling without sex, too. In fact, find a guy who is willing to cuddle you, and I think you’ll be off to a very good start in finding a lover. As for how long, that really depends on you and the boy. I’d suggest getting to know him, which is pretty much a requirement if you’re going to talk about STD tests.”

“I should make him have one?”

“Yes. And you should get one regularly, too. There are clinics where you can have that done, and I’m sure there’s one close to you. You can ask Mrs. Jaeger and I promise she won’t tell anyone you asked. It’s set up so they give you a code number and you call in with the number to get the results. Or, you can use your name and get a card like I have if you need to show it to people.”

“Why do you have that? Because you have sex with lots of girls?”

“Yes. Does that bother you?”

“Not really. I mean, I wondered if I was just another girl for you, but it doesn’t seem like it. I think you really care for me.”

“I do. Would you have asked me to take you to bed if I didn’t?”

She was quiet for a minute.

“Maybe,” she replied. “But I’m glad I didn’t have to decide. Can I ask why you did it with me?”

“There’s a simple answer, and a complicated one. The simple one is because you asked. The complicated one is that in getting to know you, I found someone who was a mature, beautiful young woman who I thought was worthy of a lot of my time and attention, and who I thought I could help have a brilliant future.”

“Because I asked?”

“For me, sex isn’t a taboo, or something to only be done with your spouse. It’s a way of bonding with someone I want to be close to. But also, I had told you that I felt you should make your own decisions and they ought to be honored. You asked me, and I didn’t have a single good reason not to do it that mattered. And your parents objecting is not a good reason not to.”

“Weird.”

“I know. But I can also say something else - you are a beautiful, desirable young woman that any sane man would want to be with.”

“And you like doing it with me?”

“Very much so.”

“And it feels good?”

“Amazing.”

“Is there something I could do better?”

“For me? No. I think it’s perfect. Is there something you would change?”

“No. When my cousin told me about it, it was totally like what we do. But I have a friend who just graduated and she said her boyfriend goes really hard and really fast.”

“Is that what you want?”

Natalie shook her head, “No. I like how big, powerful, and strong you are, but how gentle and slow we do it. The other way just doesn’t seem like love, but more like,” she lowered her voice and put her lips by my ear, “fucking. That’s what she calls it.”

“And some people prefer that. The only thing that matters, in the end, is that both people are happy with how they do it. There are all kinds of things that can be done, and I think at this point, I’ll leave those for you to discover for yourself, and try as you feel a desire to try them.”

“You won’t tell me?”

“Let me ask you a question. If I suggested something, would you do it just to make me happy?”

“Probably.”

“So?”

“Oh! You won’t because you don’t want to hurt me. I mean, like emotionally. But if I were to ask you, then you would.”

“Most likely, yes, but everyone has limits. It’s just like what I said before when I told you about telling a boy how far you were willing to go. That’s true about other stuff as well. You have to discuss it with your lover.”

“Would you refuse to tell me about those things if I insisted?”

“No. I would talk to you about them and answer your questions.”

“And want to do them?”

“Only if you wanted. But you already told me what you wanted tonight, and I think anything else would take away from what should be a glorious night of lovemaking. One that might be our last.”

“That makes me sad. Not like depressed, but I realize that things have to change. You’ll still talk to me, right?”

“I promised, and I think after tonight, your parents will allow it.”

“I’m so glad I met you, Stephen Adams.”

“And I’m so glad I met you, Natalie Heath.”

“What’s your middle name?” she asked.

“Mark. What’s yours?”

“Bridget.”

August 5, 1997, en route from Saint Petersburg, Russia to Chicago, Illinois

As I wrote in my journal, with Natalie sitting next to me, just across the aisle from her parents, I contemplated everything about the trip that was now nearing its end. The revelation of Natalie’s middle name had been like a thunderclap, calling back to mind the thoughts about Birgit Andersson I’d had as I’d run through the streets of Saint Petersburg. There was some connection between the two girls, almost like bookends of a period of my life.

And really, that wasn’t a bad metaphor, as just about everything in my life was about to transition. My sister was taking over at NIKA. I was cutting back my travel so I could be home more. I had weaned myself from my Outfit connections, though that situation could rear its ugly head without warning at any time. But the most important transition was that my oldest kids were about to enter puberty. That would change all of our lives, and bring us into a new era, one which would give way to another era which I truly looked forward to - being a grandfather.

The bookends, I realized, were basically from my entry into puberty to my kids’ entry into puberty. There were subdivisions, of course, with college, marriage, business, and kids. But now my kids’ lives would become much more their own, with new relationships, and eventually new families, each one reconfiguring all the relationships. To date, everything still centered around me, but that was going to change.

There was another big change on the horizon, one which would drive home those thoughts, and that was Elyse and Eduardo buying a house. They were already looking for the right location, and I was sure that she would stick to her timeline. Matthew and Michael would be the first to move out of the house, though not yet on their own. That would come soon enough for all my kids. I rejoiced in the idea of them going out into the world to make their own way, but a part of me knew I’d miss having them around all the time.

Leaving the nest, as it were, was an important and necessary step. I’d done it, as an escape. My kids, I hoped, would do it because of the independence I’d instilled in them, but I also hoped they’d retain the close ties we had because of the love we’d given them. I was confident that was the case, which made letting them go just a tad easier.

My mind returned to that day in eighth grade when I had met the first Birgit. I had Bridget sitting next to me. And Birgit waiting for me at home. Perhaps, in some way, she was a new bookend, with her story becoming the one which bookended a slightly different set of divisions - from her birth until the day when she, eventually, would present me with a granddaughter. Three girls, with the same name, allowing for the differences between modern English and the Germanic form which the first Birgit and her namesake used.

That was a repeating pattern in my life - three girls, from the Triumvirate to Kara, Jessica, and Maria Cristina. There had been other sets of three as well, with one moving out and another moving in, though Kara had been a constant since January of my Senior year in High School. She was, in the end, the rock on which any group of three girls had to be built, and it was fitting that she was the one who had found Maria Cristina and added her to our family when my failure in the handling of my relationship with Elyse had come to its head.

I wondered if, somehow, Bridget figured into my life in the future. I couldn’t see that now, because, I was, with apologies to Saint Paul, looking through dark sunglasses and couldn’t see the future clearly. And that went right back to the discussion I’d had with the Heaths and Sarcus in Moscow about carpe diem. Life was a great adventure, but I could only see clearly just far enough to know where to take the next step.

The destination was known - for it is appointed for all men to die. Whether that was the ultimate destination, or simply one more waypoint on an eternal path, I wouldn’t know until I arrived, and I hoped that would be many years, and many grandkids and great-grandkids, in the future. For now, it was a matter of simply taking that next step in the proper direction.

The movie continued to play, though without sound it didn’t make any difference to me. Natalie, or Bridget as I was thinking of her at the moment, was sound asleep, as she’d planned, because we had, indeed, made love all night. As was often the case, that had energized me, and I wasn’t at all tired. The thought of her beautiful, athletic body moving under mine stirred my blood and I shifted slightly under the blanket that covered my legs and lap to relieve the discomfort.

I closed the laptop, put it away, and put on my headphones to listen to ABBA. I reclined my seat just a bit, and when I did, I felt a hand searching for mine under the blanket. I took Natalie’s hand, she sighed softly, and then she fell back asleep.

August 5, 1997, Chicago, Illinois

“Dad!” came the chorus from five kids who mobbed me when I walked into the house.

Jennifer and Josie had picked us up at the airport, both very eager to see their son, but also greeting me. I’d had a slight concern passing through Immigration that someone would stop me, but we’d cruised through with no trouble, retrieved our bags, cleared Customs, and walked out into the arrival hall where Jennifer and Josie had greeted us and then brought us home.

I dropped my bag and accepted hugs from the kids, including the boys, who clearly had missed me. I resisted the demands from the girls to pick them up and went to hug Kara, Jessica, and Maria Cristina.