Chapter 39: A Summons

October 11, 1981, West Monroe, Ohio

On Sunday morning, Becky and I got out of bed and snuck across the hall to the bathroom, where we got into the shower together.

"Thank you," she said as I lathered shampoo in her hair. "I was afraid you'd say 'no', and I'd have missed that."

"You're OK?" I asked.

"Mike, it's what I wanted from the day I met you. I just knew you'd be perfect. You let me do exactly what I wanted and how I wanted. As I said, patient and gentle."

"You weren't very gentle that first time!"

"I needed you inside me so bad I couldn't wait. It only pinched a little. And then, just wow! It's amazing what this," she grasped me gently, "can do!"

"And it's amazing how this," I ran my finger along her labia, "feels when I'm in it!"

"Even with the rubbers?"

"Yes, even with the rubbers. It changes the sensation a bit, but considering the alternative, it's not optional!"

"Babies?" she asked.

"Worse, in a way," I chuckled. "Not doing it!"

"Oooh, yeah!" she laughed. "No way!"

I helped her rinse the shampoo from her hair, then picked up her rose-scented soap and lathered her body with it, enjoying the feel of her slick skin on my palms. She rinsed off, then did the same for me. We dried off, then wrapped towels around us, and went to our rooms to dress. We met in the hallway and went downstairs to the kitchen.

"Do you want breakfast, Mike?" Mom asked. "Or are you going to partake of the Eucharist?"

"I can eat," I said. "I need to talk to Father before I partake."

Becky and I sat down at the table, and Mom poured tea for us. A few minutes later, she put eggs and sausage on our plates and a plate of toast on the table. My dad came in and sat down, and Mom served him breakfast then sat down herself. My dad gave me a very hard look but said nothing. I could tell he had something on his mind, and I was pretty sure I knew what it was.

We ate, and when we finished, Becky and I did the dishes together and then took the teapot out to the patio. We sat quietly and sipped our tea. Mom came out a few minutes later.

"Becky, would you get your things and bring them down to the front hall, please?"

"Sure, Mrs. Loucks."

She got up and went into the house, and Mom sat down.

"How are you, Mike?"

"I'm fine. You didn't need to send her away to ask that."

"How are you feeling? And I don't mean physically."

I chuckled, "No details?"

"No, thank you!"

"I'm OK, Mom. I really am. After my talk with Jocelyn and my talk with you, I'm absolutely at peace with this. I was convinced Becky was ready and that it was the right thing to do for her. I'll need to talk to Father Herman or Father Nicholas about it, but I'm prepared for that."

"Then I'd say you made the right decision for you. I want to talk to Becky. Your father would like to talk to you."

"Am I going to get a lecture?" I asked.

"Probably. He wasn't happy last night when he saw the door to Becky's room open and yours closed."

"Did he say anything?"

"You're kidding, right? He just shook his head and clammed up."

"OK. I'm guessing he's in his workshop?"

"Yes."

I got up and went into the house. I went down the steps to the basement and walked over to my dad's workshop. I sat on the stool in the corner as I usually did and waited for him to finish using the router he had in his hand. I wasn't sure what he was making, but it had some fine-detailed woodwork. It was nearly five minutes before he put the tool down.

"Hi, Mike."

"Dad," I nodded.

"Mike, you're an adult, and you have to make your own decisions about how to live your life; I get that. I also know I'm not going to agree with all of those decisions, but I'd ask you to show your mother and me the same respect we show you."

"I'm sorry, Dad. I made an error in judgment. I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you."

"One of the most important parts of being an adult is understanding the impact of your actions."

"Could I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"What did you really think of Jocelyn and me going to Cincinnati?"

"Bluntly?"

"Yes, please."

"I thought it was a mistake. I think events since then have borne that out."

"Are you trying to say the accident was some sort of punishment by God for our sinful behavior?"

Dad sighed, "I may have been raised to believe things like that, but I don't anymore. What I was trying to say was what happened after that."

"I don't see the difference. What happened after that was a result of the accident. Or are you saying that if we hadn't made love, she wouldn't have been driving to McKinley to meet with a guidance counselor? It all works out the same. Dad, Jocelyn, and I were trying to figure out how to be together. If not for that accident, there was a very, very good chance she would have been your daughter-in-law.

"Neither of us could overcome what happened after that accident. Neither of us was strong enough. We failed each other. But not because we made love. We failed each other because we couldn't see past our friendship. I figured it out sooner than she did, but I never actually did anything about it until I made an offhand comment at graduation. She didn't do anything about it until she suggested we make love. We both failed miserably, and we'll both pay a price for it."

"Maybe I've failed as well," Dad sighed. "You and I never really talked the way a father and son should have."

"And I should have come talk to you more often instead of always going to Mom."

"You were always her son. Always. I don't know, but I suspect you asked her permission about last night. Did you?"

"Yes. She talked with Becky and me and gave us advice, which we chose not to take. She also gave us the freedom to make the choice ourselves."

"That does change the character of the situation somewhat. Why not tell me that?"

I smiled, "That's between you and Mom."

"You were covering for her?"

I shook my head, "No. And I'm also not going to hide behind her skirts. I take responsibility for my own actions. Having permission or not doesn't change the fact that you feel I disrespected you. And I'm sorry for doing that."

"Maybe if I'd been stronger..." he sighed.

"Are you talking about me? Or are you talking about Liz?"

"Liz."

"I'm not sure what you could have done. She talked to me more than she talked to you and Mom, and I had no idea what had happened. I don't think Emmy did, either. Sure, she knew about Paul Reynolds, but not about the stuff that happened before then. Nobody knew except Liz and the «мудаки» (mudaki) who did that to her."

Dad smiled, "Which word is that?"

"One that'll get my mouth washed out with soap despite being a responsible eighteen-year-old."

"I won't tell."

"'Assholes'," I said quietly.

"It's handy to have a language to swear in nobody around you knows."

"Except Mom!"

"True. I'd say the word fits, and if you know a stronger one, that probably fits, too."

"Oh, I do. But you won't catch me THINKING that word, let alone saying it aloud!"

"The English version being 'm-f'?"

"Yeah. I can STILL taste the Ivory soap. But it's actually worse in Russian."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it's an imperative, as in 'go do it', or an insult, as in you have done it or want to do it."

"I think I understand now why she reacted the way she did when you were twelve. She would never tell me what you said."

"The dumb thing is I was joking with Dale about the word, not really using it. Mom didn't care."

"I can see why not!"

"She never told you?"

"No. She simply said it was an unspeakable word which I shouldn't ask you to repeat. She sure wouldn't say it. I take it Grandpa Mikhail is the source?"

"Or one of his friends; I don't remember for sure. I like hanging around them a lot. Unfortunately, I didn't hear nearly as much proper Russian as she would have preferred."

"Let's talk more, Mike. More than we have. Please?"

"Absolutely! And if you're worried about Becky, please don't. While I was a very willing participant, she initiated it. She convinced me she wasn't reacting to what happened at home. I'm positive about that now."

"And the two of you?"

"Are friends. She'll be in Michigan, and I'll be at school. We both realize that it's unlikely we'll see each other soon, if ever. And yet, it was very much the right thing to do."

"You are your mother's son," he said.

I wondered if he knew more about Mom than she thought he did, but I couldn't ask.

"I need to get to church," I said. "I'll see you at Thanksgiving, though if Jocelyn wants to see me, I'll make sure I stop in."

"She might not?"

"Her psychologist asked me to stay away while they work on getting her to want to live for herself instead of just for me."

My dad shook his head, "That's a heck of a burden, I imagine."

"It is."

"Mike, if you ever begin to feel that way, PLEASE come talk to us."

I nodded, "I will, Dad. I promise."

He nodded and turned back to his woodwork. I went upstairs to find Mom and Becky sitting in the living room, laughing.

"I need to leave for church," I announced.

"We'll see you when you come home again," Mom said.

She got up, we hugged, and she kissed me on the cheek. She left the room, leaving Becky and me alone.

"Did your dad get on your case?"

"It wasn't about you, really. Don't worry about it."

"I guess this is 'goodbye'?" Becky said softly.

I nodded and held out my arms. She melted into them, and we held each other for a few minutes. We exchanged a single soft kiss, then let our arms fall to our sides.

"I'm very glad I met you," I said.

"Me, too," Becky said with a smile. "Thanks for everything, Mike, but mostly, thanks for being my friend."

I returned the smile, "You're welcome. Try to enjoy the rest of your Senior year."

"I will."

We exchanged a quick kiss, then I went upstairs, grabbed my bag and keys, and headed out to the car. Becky stood on the front porch and waved as I pulled out of the driveway and headed for church. As I drove, I felt a very strong desire to talk to Jocelyn, but I couldn't do that unless Doctor Henderson cleared it. The last thing I wanted to do was mess up any progress Jocelyn had made. I'd call between classes on Monday and see if a phone call to Jocelyn would be OK.

When I arrived at church, I had the fleeting thought that the building was going to come crashing down around me as soon as I walked through the doors. I'd had sex — no-strings-attached sex — with not just one but two girls on the same day! The mind boggled! As I paid for my candle and lit it in front of the icon, I wondered just exactly what I was going to say in confession. I also wondered how Father Nicholas would respond, as I'd decided it was best to see him going forward.

I walked into the nave and bowed before the icon of the Venerable Leonid of Optina, who represented the Synaxis of the Elders of Optina. I kissed the icon, crossed myself, then moved to a place in the nave where I wouldn't be able to see Tasha because seeing her would only distract me. She'd been on my mind since my talk with Jocelyn, but also because I'd considered how she would react to me having engaged in sex. I pushed those thoughts from my mind and recited the 50th Psalm, which seemed entirely appropriate, given it was David's prayer of repentance after he had been with Bathsheba.

As I stood before the icon of Christ, with the Royal Doors to His proper right and Saint John the Forerunner to His proper left, I contemplated my situation. I felt, oddly enough, at complete peace with what had happened, despite acknowledging that it was sinful. I had, as the Greek and Hebrew terms implied, missed the mark. That was the Church's opinion, and, oddly enough, one with which I agreed despite being completely sure that I had done the right thing. I knew I could never reconcile the two, which left me in exactly the circumstances my mom had found herself in, and, unsurprisingly, I would follow in her footsteps.

I knew from Father Herman that I wasn't the first, nor would I be the last, teenager or young adult to find themselves in such a situation. That was the main reason many of the men and women who were close in age to Mr. and Mrs. Orlov and my grandparents believed in early marriage. They believed it resolved, in an appropriate way, what they knew to be a major problem — the temptation of sexual activity, which began with puberty. As I stood waiting for Matins to start, I finally understood exactly why they felt the way they did.

Father Herman began the service, and I allowed the chanting of the choir and the prayers intoned by Father and Deacon Vasily to wash over me and draw me into the throne room of God for worship. I felt, as I always did, calm and peaceful, and by the end of the service, re-energized as if I was a NiCad battery in a wall charger. I didn't partake of the Eucharist, but I did approach the chalice for a blessing. That wouldn't be mentioned, as there were many reasons why someone might abstain, and, ultimately, everyone knew it was between me and my confessor.

"Mishka!" Tasha gushed at the end of the service. "I didn't know you would be here!"

"I wasn't sure. I took Emmy on a date yesterday for her birthday and decided to stay overnight at my parents' house. I have to be back to McKinley for work at 2:00pm, but I thought we could eat together in the church hall then go for a short walk."

"Yes, of course!" Tasha exclaimed happily. "I wish you could have taken ME on a date like that for MY sixteenth birthday, which was the day after you left for college."

I wished that, too, but I suspected Tasha's idea of a date celebrating her sixteenth birthday and Emmy's were nowhere near the same. Of course, given what Tasha had said to me, maybe they were! That said, I wasn't about to test that theory. If Tasha and I ever made love, it was going to be on our wedding night and not one second before.

"That would have been fun," I said. "But your father isn't going to allow that. He allows us to have dinner and fibs to himself that we are not 'dating'!"

"Do NOT let him know we know that!" she giggled. "That would be the end!"

"He knows, Natalya Vasilyevna, but like his Bob Dylan albums, it has to stay hidden for decorum's sake."

"Let's go eat, then we can take a walk!"

We went to the church hall and got tea and filled small plates with finger food, then went to sit with her parents.

"Where are your parents, Mikhail Petrovich?" Deacon Vasily asked.

"The young woman who was staying with them for the past few weeks is leaving this morning to go back to Michigan."

"What a horrible situation! I read about it in the newspaper, then spoke to your mother about it."

I nodded, "Very much so."

"You did the right thing, Mikhail Petrovich. We're very proud of you."

"Thank you."

"And how is your sister?"

"My parents are hopeful she'll be able to come home next week."

"Dad, may I take a walk with Mike when we finish eating?"

"Yes, of course."

She smiled, and we ate quickly, then left the church hand-in-hand. The church property was large enough that we could walk along the perimeter and be away from most people, except some kids playing soccer on the grass behind the temple.

"How have you been?" Tasha asked.

"The situation with Jocelyn has really jarred me. She's a bit better but still has serious troubles; Liz is still in the hospital, and I'm insanely busy with school and work. On the plus side, I received a small grant from the university that will allow me to reduce the hours I work."

"That's good, right? And you'll still be able to make your finances work?"

"Yes. It actually works out just a bit better and lets me start karate again, which I want to do. And as I said, if I can get the RA job for my Junior and Senior years, I'll be in very good shape."

"Just in time for a wife," she laughed, squeezing my hand.

"You truly believe you'll feel the same way in three years?"

"I do. You know Mrs. Orlova thinks we are a perfect match and thinks I would make a good doctor's wife. In addition to that, I am very attracted to you. I simply don't see any of those things changing."

"Don't you think we're a bit young to be discussing this?"

Tasha laughed, "If Mrs. Orlova had her way, we'd have married on the day of my sixteenth birthday! Well, on the Sunday after it, if it wasn't a Sunday. She believes all young women should marry on their sixteenth birthday, or very close as it prevents all sorts of troubles!"

I nodded, "I understand. But we're not in the Old Country."

"No, we aren't. But I believe the problem is the same! Young men and young women have desires. They WILL act on them. Every «бабушка» (babushka) knows that!"

I chuckled, "Because they were teenage girls themselves before they became grandmothers."

"Yes, of course. Just as my father was a teenage boy. Why do you think he is very careful about what we are allowed to do together?"

"Because he's afraid..."

"Yes, that we celebrate our wedding night BEFORE our wedding, instead of after!"

"And you can wait three years?" I asked.

"YOU will help me get things in the correct sequence, Mishka. I trust you to do so."

I would, but it would be in spite of my desire to get them very much out of sequence. Jocelyn had been correct. The events of the previous twenty-four hours had flipped a switch. But I had to be VERY careful not to allow that flipped switch to take control of my life. We walked for some time without speaking before Tasha broke the silence.

"When do you think you will be home again?" she asked.

"The week of Thanksgiving," I said.

"I would like you to come to dinner. Are you home the Sunday before Thanksgiving?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'll ask my mom, but I'm sure she'll say 'yes'. Please call me sometimes, like you have been."

"I will. You know I like you, Tasha."

"I know, but I worry you'll find an older girl and get engaged before I graduate."

"I don't think that's very likely at all," I said. "I'm dating, as we've talked about, but the chances I'll get engaged before the end of my Junior year are very, very small."