Chapter 4: When It Rains, It Pours

May 27, 1981, West Monroe, Ohio

"Cancel!" Liz growled from the door to my room on Wednesday evening.

"Cancel what?" I asked, innocently.

"You know what I'm talking about! Cancel! Now!"

I was going to milk the situation for all it was worth. For once, I had the upper hand with Liz, and she was the one who was supremely annoyed. It felt good!

"No way, Lizard Breath!" I chuckled, using a term of 'endearment' I'd come up with when I was eight and only used when I really wanted to make her angry.

"I'm telling Mom!" she whined, sounding like she was five again.

I chuckled, "She knows about my date!"

"Cancel!" she demanded again.

I shook my head, "No. I'm taking Emmy to dinner on Friday, and then we're going to see Urban Cowboy at the Drive-In."

"You can't date my friend!"

Time to turn the screws.

"She asked ME, Lizzy! She heard I broke up with April and asked me to take her on her first 'real date'! She's really cute and sweet, so I said 'yes'! Heck, I bet I get a great 'good night' kiss, too!"

"You can't mess up my life like this!" she whined. "I'm talking to Mom!"

I just laughed and went back to studying the chess problem from the morning paper. I wasn't surprised when, five minutes later, my mom was at the door to my room.

"Mike, I know your sister was annoying you, but calling her 'Lizard Breath' is out of line. It's one thing at eight; it's a very different thing at eighteen."

"I'll apologize," I said, knowing that an argument was fruitless. "You know why she's upset."

Mom laughed softly, "Oh, I do. You really did stick the knife in when you suggested you might get a 'great good night' kiss!"

"I couldn't help it," I grinned, knowing Mom was cool about that kind of teasing. "You're not here to tell me to reconsider, are you?"

Mom smiled, "Oh no, not at all. Emmy asked you out, after all. And even if you had asked Emmy, Liz would still just have to deal with it. Emmy made her own decision, and I'm sure she knew Liz would be upset."

I nodded, "I even asked about that. She said Liz would get over it."

"And so she will! I wouldn't try to apologize for your nasty remark tonight, though. Your sister is in a mood."

I chuckled, "I bet!"

"And Mike? A gentleman doesn't talk about his dates in that way, even about getting kisses."

She was warning me, indirectly, not to tease Liz about anything that might happen with Emmy. Not that I expected anything except a simple 'good night' kiss. But even that thought would make my sister's head explode!

"Yes, Mom," I said sincerely.

She left without anything further, and when I solved the chess problem, I went down to the basement to watch some television before bed.

May 29, 1981, West Monroe, Ohio

Work at the hardware store on Friday was no fun. Part of it was that I ached from losing a sparring match with a 2nd Dan black belt the previous night. Part of it was anticipation of my date with Emmy. And part of it was thinking about the letter from April that I'd found tucked under my windshield wiper when I'd left the house to head to the hardware store. I'd read it before starting my Mustang for the drive to work, and it had put a damper on what I'd hoped would be a good day.

April's letter had made it clear that she felt I'd broken up with her over what happened after Prom, and I wondered if I could ever convince her otherwise. I doubted it because the one thing she didn't write in her letter was anything about church. It was as if she hadn't heard what I said to her. It was, in her mind, about her refusal to sleep with me and nothing else. Her letter offered to remedy that, once again stating that she would 'let me'. But I didn't want to be 'let'. When it happened, I wanted the girl to want it as much as I did. Well, maybe that was asking a bit too much, but to at least want to do it rather than simply 'let' it happen.

I wasn't going to call her before morning, as calling tonight would likely put me in a foul mood, and I knew from listening to Jocelyn that was a sure way to get Emmy upset with me. Even if this turned out to be a single date with Emmy, I didn't want to spoil it for her. It was, after all, her first date. I could call on Saturday after karate, but I wondered if I should just stop by the house to see her. The problem was, in the end, I didn't think she'd believe what I had to say. And unless she changed her mind about church, I didn't see a way forward for us.

"Mike?" Mr. Orlov said.

I shook my head to clear it, "Yes, Mr. Orlov?"

"You've been standing there staring at those tools for five minutes. Is everything OK?"

"Sorry. I was just thinking about some stuff that happened last weekend. I'll concentrate on my work."

"If you need to talk, we can talk at lunch."

"Thanks, Mr. Orlov."

I did my best to focus and concentrate and managed to accomplish my morning tasks. At lunch, I sat down with Mr. Orlov and his wife, Ivanka, to eat.

"What's bothering you, Mikhail Petrovich?" she asked.

I quickly explained the situation with April, though I left out her accusation of why I broke up with her.

Ivanka nodded, "When I was a young girl in Paris, my best friend was in love with a Jewish boy. This was after my family fled Russia to get away from the Soviets, so perhaps 1930. We were around twelve or thirteen. I am sure you can imagine how her parents reacted. And his parents. They had to break up because neither could change religion. I liked a Catholic boy before I met Vanya, but I wanted an Orthodox husband, so I knew it could never work."

"And I wanted an Orthodox wife," Vanya said. "My friends who married Catholics or Protestants have mostly left the church to go with their wives. I could never do such a thing. I do not think you could, either."

I shook my head, "I can't see ever doing that. Which is why I told April we had to break up. I invited her to church many times, but she always refused and said she would never think about becoming Orthodox."

"Then it is good you resolve this now, Mishka," Mrs. Orlova said, using the Russian equivalent of 'Mikey' that didn't grate the way my sister's use of 'Mikey' did. "To wait would not be fair to the young woman. She should find someone of her own religion."

"That doesn't make it easier," I said.

"No, of course not," she said gently. "But you are young and learning about life and love! Perhaps we need to find you a proper Orthodox girl! Natalya Antonova would be a perfect match for you! The daughter of a deacon of the Church. She would make an excellent doctor's wife!"

"I don't think she knows I exist," I chuckled.

"This is easily fixed!" she proclaimed gleefully.

"I don't think so," I countered.

"You leave it to me!" she said confidently.

I knew from experience that arguing with a «бабушка» (babushka) was a hopeless cause. I'd seen college-age men dragged from the nave by their ear for some minor infraction of etiquette, and nobody who valued their life went against a «бабушка» (babushka). And, to be honest, a date with Tasha Antonova would be the highlight of my life, at least until she shot me down, which I felt was a sure thing. I finished my lunch, thanked Mrs. Orlova for providing it, and then went back to work. (Lit. "Grandmother", but any older lady)

At the end of the day, I hung up my blue apron and headed out to my car to face the immediate challenge — Emmy's dad and his collection of firearms! Emmy had said he was 'cool', but I wondered just how 'cool' the father of a fifteen-year-old going on her first date with an eighteen-year-old would be. I knew if I had a daughter going on her first date, 'cool' wasn't the word that would come to mind!

I walked into the house to an icy glare from Liz, who hadn't spoken to me since Wednesday night. When I'd tried to apologize the next day, she'd simply turned up her stereo. When I tried again, she'd put on her headphones. At that point, I decided the ball was in her court. I let Mom know I'd tried, and she'd just smiled, saying that Liz would eventually get over it and that I should just ignore her. I decided that was good advice, especially given how unlikely it would be for Liz to ask me for rides. Maybe there WAS something to dating her friend!

I went upstairs, and after a quick shower, I dressed in a pair of comfortable, faded jeans and pulled on a royal blue T-shirt. I stopped in the bathroom to brush my teeth and run a brush through my hair one last time and then went downstairs to let Mom and Dad know I was leaving. Liz was sitting on the couch with her arms crossed, and I suppressed the urge to say something or even stick out my tongue. Just going on this date was annoying her beyond anything else I could do.

I made the short drive to Emmy's house and parked in their driveway behind her dad's black Chevy Monte Carlo. I got out of my car, locked it, and walked up onto the front porch. I was just about to ring the bell when the door flew open, and Emmy greeted me excitedly. She opened the screen door, grabbed my arm, and practically dragged me to the family room where her mom and dad were sitting.

"Dad, Mom, you remember Mike, Liz's brother."

"Hello, Mr. Nelson, Mrs. Nelson," I said, nodding at each.

"Hi, Mike," Mr. Nelson said. "Have a seat."

Leonard Nelson was 6′2″ tall and had all muscles. He worked construction and had the tan to show for it as well. I'd seen him fairly often at the hardware store or the lumber yard but never really spoken to him. Under his watchful eye, Emmy took my hand and led me to the loveseat, where we sat side by side. I felt the only things missing were the stark white walls and bright light in my face they always showed on TV when the police were interrogating a suspect.

"Thanks, Mr. Nelson," I replied.

"I understand from Emily that you're going to dinner and then to a movie?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I picked the movie, Dad," Emmy added quickly.

"You did say that," he acknowledged. "What kind of car do you drive, Mike?"

I knew I was on safe ground despite Emily having asked me to take her to the Rutherford Drive-In. My car was completely unsuitable for what I was sure he had in mind.

"A black '76 Ford Mustang Cobra II with a manual transmission," I said. "I bought it used two years ago."

He nodded, "And what time does the movie start?"

"Around 9:15pm, I guess. The sun goes down around 9:00pm."

"And how long is the movie?"

"Just over two hours," Emmy said.

I was glad she had checked because I hadn't.

"And this movie is rated PG?" her mom asked.

"Yes, Mom," Emmy answered.

"Do you go to church?" Mr. Nelson asked.

I was pretty sure he knew the answer to that question because Emmy and Liz had been friends for five or six years. But I'd answer all his questions and do my best to make him happy.

"Yes, Sir. Over in Rutherford. We're Russian Orthodox."

He nodded, but that didn't tell me his opinion of my church. I didn't know for sure where the Nelsons went to church if they did at all. It was one of those things that never came up because I'd never expected to go on a date with Emmy.

"Mike, Emmy's curfew is midnight, and I expect you to have her home before then. I don't tolerate excuses. If you have a flat tire or some other problem, you call me first, not the garage or your parents."

"Yes, Sir," I agreed.

"Then have a nice evening," he said.

"Thank you," I said.

"Thanks, Dad!" Emmy said happily. "Thanks, Mom!"

She grabbed my hand and drew me up from the loveseat and out the front door as quickly as possible.

"Sorry about the third degree," she said as I opened the passenger door for her.

"It's OK. He's just looking out for you. And he did let us go!"

"I'm SO glad you don't have a big car with a bench seat!" she laughed. "He'd have sent me to my room and sent you home!"

"I think you're right!" I said with a grin.

Ponderosa was only about six minutes from her house, and she chatted happily the whole way. I found out she had an older brother who was away at college in Florida, that her mom worked in a veterinarian's office, and that she had a cat. She knew almost everything about me from hanging around Liz, so I didn't have much to tell her she wasn't aware of. At Ponderosa, we got in line, ordered our steaks — rib eyes, medium rare — and filled our trays from the buffet-style counter. I paid for our meals, and by the time we sat down, our steaks and baked potatoes were brought out.

"Do you mind if I pray?" I asked.

"Naw, go on. My dad always prays at dinner."

I said the short Orthodox blessing — O Lord, bless the food and drink of Thy servants, for Thou art holy unto the ages of ages. Amen.

"Amen! That was quick! When Dad prays, he goes on and on with what I call the 'prayer of the just'!"

"I don't know that one," I said.

"Oh Lord, we just want to thank you for the food, and oh Lord, we just thank you for your grace; and, and, and..."

I laughed, "I get it. Are you Baptist?"

"More or less, I guess. Dad's pretty serious about it, but I can take it or leave it. You're kind of fanatical about it, according to Liz."

"If by that you mean I take it seriously, then yeah, I do."

"Obviously, if you broke up with April over it!"

"I gave her plenty of chances to come to church with me, but she always refused. I want to keep going to church and raise my kids Orthodox."

"I don't know much about your church except what Liz says."

"I wouldn't judge the Orthodox Church by anything Liz says!"

"Did you know she threatened to never speak to me again if I let you kiss me?"

I laughed softly, "Did you know she insisted I cancel our date, and when I refused, she stormed off and hasn't spoken to me since?"

"She was so angry with me she couldn't see straight," Emmy said, eating a bite of her steak.

I chewed and swallowed and figured we should talk less and eat more so our food didn't get cold.