Chapter 30: Rocks and Shoals

September 19, 1981, West Monroe, Ohio

"Why are you sending me such mixed signals?"

"Mixed signals?"

Jocelyn and I were sitting on the couch on Saturday afternoon. She was cuddled next to me, at least as best she could, given her obvious discomfort from the injuries, catheter, and physical therapy. I had thought a lot after my talks with Doctor Hart, as well as my talks with Nancy. One thing I was seriously concerned about was getting more deeply involved with Nancy and messing things up with Jocelyn. I wanted Jocelyn and could not for the life of me figure out what I needed to do to make that happen.

It wasn't about marrying her or even getting engaged, but about being a real couple. We COULD be one now, and in my mind, we SHOULD be one now. She was only forty-five minutes away, and I could see her every weekend, at least. I could even see her on occasional weeknights if I didn't have too much homework, though that would be rare. A forty-five-minute drive was NOTHING.

"Yes. Telling me to date and not wanting to be a couple even though I can see you every weekend. But wanting to make love in February. And talking about kids and marriage. But pushing me away."

"Do you love me?"

"Of course. I told you that, and I meant it. I can say it again if you want? And I'll mean it just as much. I love you, Jocelyn."

"And I love you, too. That's enough reason to make love, isn't it? I mean, you didn't think that meant we were promised to each other, did you?"

I shook my head, "I don't think so, no."

"What?" she gasped, sitting up.

"I have confusing thoughts about it. And about you. But I think most of it is because of the mixed messages."

It was also the issue of sin, but that was a different thing altogether.

Jocelyn cuddled close again, "Are you ready to hear this?"

"If not now, when?"

"You have a ton of potential, Mike. If you turn out the way I hope, I could easily marry you. But the current Mike? No way."

"So, I'm good enough to fuck, but not good enough to date? How does that EVEN make sense?"

Jocelyn sighed, "Do we HAVE to have this conversation. Can't we just let it be?"

"Actually, no, we can't."

"Why?"

"Because you told me to wait for you, but you're also telling me not to. I can't do both, Jos."

"The passive Mik was easier to deal with," she sighed. "Me and my big mouth."

"I LIKED your big mouth!" I chuckled quietly so I wouldn't be overheard.

"Mike Loucks!" she gasped, then lightly swatted my arm.

"And you didn't like mine? Hmm?"

"I did. Can we just let things be, Mik? Please?"

"Can we? Can we both put our lives on hold for that?"

"Can we take a step back for a second?"

"Sure. Why?"

"What changed since last Saturday?"

"I talked to one of the doctors helping Liz. She was concerned by some things I said and insisted I go to student health services immediately and talk to a counselor. I didn't want to talk about it, but he managed to convince me to start talking. I've met with him three times now. I've also had some heart-to-heart talks with my parents and a friend."

"You've changed, Mike."

"For better or worse?"

"I don't know."

"I'm lost," I sighed. "I don't know what I have to do. You keep putting hurdles in front of me. Just when I think I've cleared the last one, another one appears. I KNOW I'm afraid of sex and that I avoid confrontation. I'm working on those two things, as well as others. But what are YOU afraid of, Jos?"

She was quiet for a minute, which seemed like an hour.

"Of losing you," she said softly.

"So you push me away?" I asked gently. "How does THAT make any sense?"

"Because if I blow it, I lose not just a lover but my best friend in the entire world."

"So you keep me at arm's length, but you want to make love?" I asked.

Jocelyn started crying, which was NOT something I would have expected from her. She was always the strong one, and now she wasn't. I didn't know if it was her injuries, the accident itself, me, our having made love, her, or, most likely, some combination of all of them. I simply held her while she cried. It was a good ten minutes before she sat up and got a tissue to blow her nose.

"Will you do something for me? Something difficult, but something very important?"

"I'll do anything within my power for you, Jos. You know that."

She took a deep breath and let it out.

"Don't come see me until Thanksgiving. Give me time to think and sort things out. Please?"

"Two and a half months?! You don't want to see me?"

"I DO want to see you! But I'm a mess right now. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally. Romantically. Please do this? For us?"

"And just put everything on hold until then?" I asked.

"I'm going to lose you anyway, aren't I?" she said plaintively.

"The ball is in your court, Jos. I don't know what you want me to do. I've done everything you've asked, and I feel like we've gone backwards, not forwards."

"It's my fault," she said, starting to sob again.

"Honey?" Mr. Mills said, coming into the room.

"It's OK, Dad," Jocelyn said. "I'm just really emotional right now."

"OK, Honey. If you're sure."

"I am. Mike's here. It's OK."

He nodded and left the room again. Things were decidedly NOT OK. But I didn't know what to do.

"Jos, you know I love you. You know I'll commit to you right here, right now, and never look at another woman. If you tell me to get up and walk out and never come back, I'll do that, too. It'll kill me, but I'll do it. That's how much I love you."

"I know," she said softly. "I love you, too. But not like that. Not yet."

That was a punch in the gut, which told me everything I needed to know. Jos and I were done, at least in the short term. Certainly, as lovers. Maybe even as friends. Maybe forever. Going without seeing her for over two months would be the most painful thing I'd ever done. Even more than talking to Liz's doctor or Doctor Hart. And it would change our relationship in ways nobody could predict if not completely destroy it. I felt as if I was in a runaway stagecoach heading for a gorge.

"I should go," I said in a calm voice that belied my increasingly foul mood. "Call me if you want me to come see you."

I got up and walked out of the house, leaving a sobbing Jocelyn on the couch. I got into my Mustang, jabbed the key into the ignition, turned it savagely, jammed the car into reverse, and slammed down the accelerator. I was fortunate there were no cars on her street, as I wasn't really paying attention. I put the car in first, mashed the gas pedal, and burned rubber for several seconds before I shifted up into second.

Without realizing what I was doing, I made my way to the church. The problem was, I didn't have my keys. I got out of my car anyway and was happy to find the door open. I didn't bother to look around and simply walked into the nave. I was lost without Jocelyn, and I had no idea what to do next. I threw myself on the floor in front of the icon of the Theotokos and began bawling like a baby.

"Mishka?" I heard a voice say some unknown amount of time later.

I felt a soft hand on my shoulder, and she asked. "Are you OK?"

It was Tasha. The girl of my dreams when I had thought Jocelyn wasn't interested. The girl I'd proclaimed I'd do anything to have. And here I was, bawling like a baby on the floor of the church. That just seemed to fit what was going on, and I began to wonder if God hated me or was punishing me for my transgression with Jocelyn. It sure seemed as if being with her had been the gravest of errors. A sin committed without consideration of what came after. I kept my face buried in my arms and simply shook my head slightly side-to-side.

"Mishka," Tasha said softly. "Please sit up. Talk with me."

I did my best to get control of myself, but it was a serious struggle. After several minutes, I managed to stop crying and slowly sat up.

Tasha put her hand on my cheek, "What's wrong, Mishka? Let me help you."

"Will you marry me, Natalya Vasilyevna?"

"Of course, Mikhail Petrovich! Immediately! But you must ask me at lunch tomorrow, not when you are distraught, as you are now. Then you must ask my father to sign the permission! Will you tell me what happened?"

"Jocelyn told me she didn't want to see me until Thanksgiving."

"Your best friend? Well, besides Dale."

"Yes. May I be honest with you?"

"Of course, Mishka! You just asked me to marry you! Come sit on the benches."

I slowly got up, and we went to sit on one of the benches along the wall where those who were unable to stand for services could sit when they needed to.

"I love her," I said.

"And that is supposed to be news? Everyone knows that! But you're not a couple."

"No, we aren't. But I wanted to be."

"That is also not news! Mishka, even if you and I didn't talk, I knew you were in love with her and have been for years. Now, I think she's told you she's not sure or doesn't feel the same as you do."

I nodded, "Yes."

"Then you may NOT ask me to marry you tomorrow. That is a terrible reason to marry. If you ask, I have to say 'yes' because I won't let you go. So please, don't ask. Not tomorrow."

I smiled, despite my distressed mood, "Thank you for caring enough to keep me from doing something, well, intemperate."

"If you had said 'foolish' or 'dumb', I'd go get my mop and hit you over the head, Mishka!" Tasha said, laughing softly.

"Will you hit me if I admit that 'foolish' was the word that first popped into my head?"

"No, because you didn't say it! Does this mean you won't come home every Saturday and Sunday?"

"I was coming to see her, but I could still come home."

She shook her head, "That is not wise. I wish to see you as much as possible, but I think what is best for us is for you to focus on your studies."

"You don't want to see me either?" I sighed.

"Oh, no, Mishka! I do! But every time I see you, I have very unladylike thoughts! Thoughts I can do NOTHING about until we marry! It's better to see you only occasionally until you ask me for real, not when you're having a temper tantrum!"

"You're very sure of yourself."

"Where did you come when you felt you had nowhere to turn?"

"Church."

"That tells me everything I need to know. I see a faithful, believing man who turns to the Church in the time of his need. A man to whom I am VERY much attracted, who I know is attracted to me, who I very much wish to share the marriage bed with, and whose babies I wish to have. And I strongly suspect you wish the same!"

She made me laugh again, "Tasha, what would your father say?"

"That I am having VERY inappropriate thoughts, and the sooner Father Herman leads us in the 'Dance of Isaiah,' the better he will feel, for fear I get things VERY much out of order!"

"That's not your dad talking," I said.

"No, my mother, of course! Why do you think she has to remind me constantly of how to behave? I told you I'm a normal girl!"

"Yes, you did."

"So, how can I help you?" she asked.

I smiled broadly, "You just did. It's not every day the most beautiful girl in the county says she wants to go to bed with me!"

She laughed, "I should hope not! But all you need do is ask. I will say 'yes'. But in the correct order, please. My willpower is not so strong as my mother would like it to be!"

"I would never ask you to do anything inappropriate," I said.

"Something I know, and my mom and dad both know. That is why we are allowed some freedom to be alone together."

"Thanks for being here for me," I said.

"Promise me that if something like this happens in the future, after coming to see the Mother of God and begging her intercession, you'll come to see me so I can help you?"

"I promise."

"Good. I'll walk you out to your car. I want a kiss, but I cannot kiss you in here!"

I took Tasha's hand, and we walked out to my car, which was parked at an odd angle across three parking spaces. I hadn't even noticed when I'd arrived. Tasha and I exchanged a relatively chaste kiss because we were at church, then I got into my car and headed home.

"Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad!" I called out when I walked into the house.

"In here," Mom called from the kitchen.

I walked in to find her baking prosphora for the Eucharistic service.

"You're early."

"I'm fairly certain Jocelyn and I just broke up."

Mom stopped kneading the dough and turned to me.

"I was afraid that was coming. You've been crying."

I nodded, "At church. Tasha found me and comforted me. I asked her to marry me, and she said 'yes'."

"What?!" Mom gasped. "Michael! Don't be «глупый» (glupyy)!"

I chuckled, "I might be 'stupid', but Tasha was smart enough to tell me to ask her again when I wasn't having a temper tantrum."

"Thank heavens! That girl would marry you this afternoon if you asked!"

"I understand that now. She was very clear about that. But she said I couldn't ask when I was distraught about Jocelyn."

"You don't seem distraught now."

"Thank Tasha for that. It's not every day the most beautiful girl I know tells me she's very much looking forward to sharing the marriage bed with me!"

"Mikhail Petrovich, that is VERY inappropriate!"

"And also true."

Mom shook her head with a rueful smile, "File that under 'not news'. You never saw how she watched you during the services because you were behind the icon screen. Her mother did, though!"

"I got that picture," I grinned. "Apparently, Deacon Vasily and Matushka Alexandra trust me."

"I hope that trust is well placed, Mike. That would be a very different kettle of fish from Jocelyn. Do you want to talk?"

"I want to know how Liz is first."

"As well as can be expected, I guess. Whatever YOU told Doctor Orosco seemed to cause all heck to break loose. Care to share?"

I sighed, "Doctor Hart insisted I should."

"Doctor Hart?"

"A psychologist at Taft I started seeing on Monday after I talked to Doctor Orosco. She insisted I go see someone immediately after I told her about Liz and me."

"You're scaring me, now. Mike, did something happen between you and Liz?"

"Not like you think, Mom. And I'm not freaking out at your question because both Doctor Orosco and Doctor Hart have asked me about that, Doctor Hart extensively. Where's Dad?"

"Shopping. We probably have an hour or so before he gets home. Do you mind if I finish the prosphora while we talk?"

"I think you better finish first," I said. "You're supposed to be praying while you're doing that, and what I need to tell you is pretty much the epitome of unholy."

Mom nodded grimly and went back to kneading the dough. I went up to my room, unplugged my mini stereo, and carried it down to my car. Then I boxed up all my albums and put them in the car as well. I went to the kitchen and got an RC just as Mom was putting the bread into the oven to bake. She washed her hands, poured herself some lemonade, and we went out to the patio.

"It's really that bad?" she asked, sipping her lemonade.

"You might want some of Granddad's vodka in that lemonade."

"No; I saw your father last week after all that Scotch. I'll stick to lemonade."

I took a deep breath, "If Liz knows you know this, she'll lose her mind. I almost lost mine. It was that close, Mom."

"Just spit it out, Mike."

"Before I do, I want you to know Liz said what she did to provoke me to react. I didn't react the way she needed me to, and she only sank deeper and deeper until I, as Dad put it, found my balls and called her on it. And what I said was only meant to provoke her."

"OK," she said, sipping from her glass.

"Liz asked me to have sex with her."

The lemonade glass shattered when it hit the paving bricks that made up the patio. Wordlessly, I went into the house and got a fresh glass of lemonade for my mom, then got the broom and dustpan and cleaned up the broken glass. Then I went to sit down.

"You're serious?" Mom said, choking on her words, barely able to speak.

"Yes. But remember, it wasn't real. She was trying to provoke me into confronting her. She wanted help. Doctor Orosco and Doctor Hart both agree it was a plea for help. The request was, well, very 'earthy' as you can imagine. I told her I wouldn't dignify it with an answer and walked away. She called me a coward and taunted me about running away. I thought it was about sex, but it was really about avoiding confrontation. I didn't figure that out until much later, though.

"There was a second incident like that and then a final one when I left for school. She didn't repeat the request, but it was implied, and she once again taunted me about running away. I figured out, with a bit of help from Jocelyn, who does NOT know the details, that Liz wanted me to demand she stop using drugs and stop being promiscuous. I didn't actually decide what to say or do until I walked up to her room that last night.

"The reason you found me curled up in a little ball and why Liz tore out of the house like she was being chased by demons was I went up to her room, told her, in equally 'earthy' terms, that I'd do what she wanted. I demanded she strip and get into bed, and I'd, well, screw her into next week. She was shocked, but not enough, so I walked over to her bed, repeated my demand, and started unbuttoning my polo shirt. She begged me to stop. I repeated it once more, then said she was all talk and no action. I pushed past her into my room. You saw the results."