Chapter 6: Juggling Act

May 31, 1981, West Monroe, Ohio

On Sunday morning, as I dressed for church, I faced the true reality of what happened the previous night. My make-out sessions with April had not gone far enough to be included in my confession, except on that single instance where I'd fondled her sweater-clad breast for more than a second or two. What had happened the previous night certainly had. I now faced effectively the same dilemma I would have faced had April and I gone to the motel after Prom. I hadn't decided beforehand what I was going to say or do, and I sure didn't know now.

I knew, eventually, I'd face this spiritual struggle. I could put off a resolution for perhaps one or two weeks before Father Herman would, as he had in the past, gently encourage me to come to confession. It certainly wasn't for any prurient interest on his part — my confessions had to be the singularly most boring confessions he had heard. Most of the teenagers at church rarely went to confession, but it was part of the prescription for dealing with sin and coming to union with Christ.

I could simply lie in confession, but that defeated the entire purpose and would make me a hypocrite, something I worked hard to avoid. This was, in effect, a test of my faith. Did I really have the courage of my convictions? And if I didn't, what did that mean? Certainly, it would mean I owed April an apology and, if she wanted it, a chance to restore our relationship. It would also mean leaving the Church as so many of the kids who went off to college did. But I didn't want to do that. The only choice was to take the bull by the horns, so to speak, and confess.

But that led to the next question, one that Father Herman was sure to ask. Was I intending to do it again? If I was, then I certainly couldn't be sorry for my sin. Was I sorry for what I had done the night before? I knew, deep down, the only thing I was really sorry about was that it hadn't gone further! And, once again, being honest about that put me right back on the horns of a dilemma.

I wasn't going to resolve anything in my mind immediately. Anyway, confession wouldn't be until either Wednesday or Saturday night. I finished dressing and left my room. I walked down the hallway and down the half-flight of stairs of the upper floor of the split-level house.

"Asshole!" I heard hissed from behind me.

"Elizaveta Petrovna!" my mom said sternly from behind my little sister. "We do NOT use language like that in this house, no matter how upset we are! Get in your room RIGHT NOW. I'll be in to speak to you as soon as Mike leaves for church."

I didn't turn but continued into the family room and waited for my mom to come down the steps.

"She's upset that you're having your picnic lunch with Emmy."

I nodded, "Obviously. But Mom, Emmy asked me on the picnic. I didn't ask her."

"Oh, no, Mike, I'm not taking your sister's side in this at all. I was just letting you know why she used that very inappropriate language."

I smiled, "Oh, I'm well aware of just how ticked she is at me."

"Do you like Emmy? I mean, really like her enough that it's worth the attitude here at home?"

"Are you asking me if I'm going out with Emmy because I know it annoys Liz?"

Mom smiled, "I suppose I am."

I shook my head, "No. I'm having the picnic with Emmy because she and I had a really nice time on Friday night, and I really enjoyed being with her. Unless she tells me not to, I plan to ask her out again."

"And Natalya?"

"I haven't even been on one date with her yet! Ask me on Wednesday night. Well, assuming I don't throw myself in the Monroe River because the date goes badly!"

I made sure to smile so Mom knew I was kidding.

"Let's not do that, shall we? What about this girl, Carol?"

I shrugged, "She's Stacey's friend, and I'd asked Stacey to find someone I could take on our group dates."

"So now you have three girlfriends?" Mom asked with an arched eyebrow and a smile.

"I have three girls with whom I will have gone on dates, at least as of this coming Wednesday. But you know me, I'd prefer to have a steady girlfriend, if possible. The problem with all three of them is that they'll be here in West Monroe, or in Carol's case, Rutherford, and I'll be in McKinley. I know it's only forty-five minutes away, but I won't get home that often with school, karate, work, and church. Emmy isn't old enough to drive, Natalya doesn't have her permit, and Carol doesn't have a car."

"Such terrible trouble my son has. Three young women who want to date him, and he's throwing a pity party for himself because he's going to a good school to become a doctor!"

I laughed, "Sorry; that did sound like I was whining, didn't it?"

"Yes. Now, run along, or you'll be late for your duties at church. I need to go deal with your foul-mouthed sister."

"Cut her some slack," I said quietly. "Please. She's just upset."

"That's true, but we can't have a repeat of that kind of language in this house. You remember what happened when you were twelve, don't you?"

I nodded, "Vividly."

We hugged, and I walked out of the house and got into my Mustang. I could laugh now, but being grounded for a month when I was twelve was no fun. Nor was having my mouth washed out with soap. I'd certainly never said «твою мать» (tvoyu maht) ever again! Well, at least not in my mom's hearing. I'd been joking around with Dale, and when he'd beat me at pool, I'd called him a 'motherfucker' in Russian. Mom had heard me explaining the words, and the punishment had been swift and severe.

As I drove, I thought about the conversation with Mom. If I had to pick, which girl would it be? The one I'd been pining for and lusting after for years? The one who seemed to truly like me and want to be with me? Or the one who would likely be a short-term fling and would most likely help me solve what I felt was my biggest problem in life — being a virgin. I laughed as the thought of juggling all three crossed my mind. Carol as a casual Summer fling, Emmy as someone to do lots of stuff with, and Natalya as the long-term project to find Mrs. Michael Loucks.

I knew sustaining something like that long-term was very unlikely. I couldn't see Tasha tolerating it, and Emmy had already asked me to the picnic today, and we were going out on Friday as well. The only thing to do was wait to see what happened over the next week or so. A lot would depend on whether or not Tasha would go on a second date with me. And I'd have no idea about that until after our date on Wednesday.

I arrived at church and carried out my usual Sunday morning routine. I managed to say 'hello' to Tasha when she arrived, but I didn't have a chance to talk to her because the service was about to start. I saw my parents and Liz come in just as Father Herman began the service, and Liz looked decidedly unhappy. I was sure some serious punishment had been meted out despite my imploring Mom to cut Liz some slack. I'd done that more out of self-defense than anything. Liz would blame me for whatever happened, which would only make the situation worse.

As Father Herman and Deacon Vasily led the congregation in the litanies, I thought back to Mom's question. Was going out with Emmy worth the trouble it was causing at home? What if I just stuck to Carol until I sorted things out with Tasha, one way or the other? I could do that, but the problem was I liked Emmy a lot. I felt she was the kind of girl who would make a great girlfriend, and I actually felt I had a real chance with her, unlike with Tasha. I realized I wasn't focused on the service, and I pushed the thoughts out of my mind and concentrated on worshiping and performing my duties to assist Father Herman.

When the service concluded, after extinguishing the oil lamps, I headed to the church hall for lunch. I saw my parents and sister sitting together, and Liz looked daggers at me. I really didn't want to sit with them. I saw a chair open next to Tasha and decided to ask her if it was OK to sit next to her. I wouldn't get any grief for that from my mom.

"Yes, of course, Mike!" Tasha exclaimed happily. "I hoped you would sit next to me."

"How is your Summer going?" I asked.

"So far, it's OK, I guess. It's only been a week since school let out. I'm working at the Ben Franklin over in Rutherford, where my dad is the pharmacist."

I nodded, "Cashier?"

"Yes. You're working at the hardware store, but what about the Fall? Will you work?"

"Mr. Orlov and my grandfather have friends in McKinley who could hire me. I don't know what's available yet. I'm supposed to talk to Mr. Orlov this week. I have my confirmed class schedule, so I know when I'm available to work."

"Do you plan to come home on weekends?" she asked.

"I don't know yet. Between school, work, and karate, I'm not sure how often I'll be able to come home."

"Oh," she replied.

Was she disappointed by that revelation? If so, maybe I'd been wrong all along about her, and her behavior towards me had been because she wasn't allowed to date!

"I know you're just starting your Sophomore year in the Fall, but what's your plan once you graduate?"

"College, I think," Tasha replied. "But I don't know for sure what I want to study. I don't think it matters much in the end, though."

"Why?"

"I want to marry, have kids, and stay home with them if possible."

"I want to marry and have kids, too. But not for quite a few years!"

Tasha laughed, "I didn't mean tomorrow! Though I'm pretty sure my dad would prefer I skipped dating and went straight to the 'Dance of Isaiah'!"

I nodded in sympathy, "He's very conservative, that's for sure!"

"You know that's why he was pleased Mrs. Orlova arranged for our dinner!"

I laughed nervously and tried to make a joke, "Are we engaged?"

She smiled softly and put her hand on my arm, "Relax, Mike. My dad and Mrs. Orlova have their ideas. I have my own!"

"Sorry, I was joking."

"But you looked like you'd seen a ghost!"

"I know how a «бабушка» (babushka) thinks! And if Father Deacon Vasily also has that in mind, well..."

"Michael Loucks! I'm not going to marry you tomorrow no matter what my father or a «бабушка» (babushka) says! I at least have to graduate High School first!"

She was giggling now.

"I'm an idiot," I said.

She shook her head, "No, you aren't. You're just nervous because you've been interested in me since I turned fourteen, and you were sixteen or maybe seventeen!"

"You knew?" I gasped.

She smiled, "Girls always know! It's no secret when boys like us! Why did you never come to talk to me?"

If there was ever a time for absolute honesty, this HAD to be it.

"Because I was scared to death of being rejected!" I said.

"So instead of talking to me and having a chance, you didn't ask and had no chance anyway?"

I chuckled, "I guess I have a fragile ego."

She shook her head reprovingly, "Not good for a doctor! You're supposed to have a big ego! If you don't trust yourself and your abilities, why should anyone?"

"An excellent point, Natalya Vasilyevna," I smiled.

"Thank you, Mikhail Petrovich! How good is your Russian?"

I smiled, "About as good as my understanding of women, apparently!"

She laughed, "That bad?"

"Sadly. I know enough to get by, plus the Church Slavonic we use during services, which doesn't help much because it's so antiquated. How about you?"

"My dad is a stickler. We only speak Russian at home. If I were to invite you to dinner, would you be able to handle it?"

"If you don't mind me sounding like a retarded six-year-old, probably, yes."

She laughed, "I suppose Latin is more important for a doctor. You took Latin in High School, right?"

I nodded, "Yes, and remember, my dad isn't Russian, and he really doesn't speak it at all!"

"Are you not eating?" she asked.

"I'm meeting a friend for a picnic lunch after coffee hour."

"Oh, OK. Do you need to sit with your family?"

"I probably should. I'll see you on Wednesday at Vespers! Is there someplace specific you want to eat?"

"How about Marie's Diner? They have booths, it's quiet, and the food is good."

"Great! We'll go straight from church, and I'll have you home before 9:30pm."

She smiled, and I got up and went to sit by my family. As I expected, Liz simply glared at me while my parents and I spoke.

"How is Tasha?" Dad asked.

"I'm an idiot!" I said, shaking my head.

"What did you do now, Mike?" he said, but his voice was lighthearted.

"Oh, nothing. Just missed the fact that Natalya Antonova has known I've liked her for over two years and wondered why I never talked to her."

Both my mom and dad laughed hard.

"I TOLD you, Mike," my mom said through her laughter.

"She also said Father Deacon Vasily wants her to skip dating and go straight to the 'Dance of Isaiah'!"

My dad laughed even harder, "I think you might want to at least finish medical school first, unless she's an heiress!"

"I'm going to be so far in debt I'll need Scrooge McDuck's money to pay it off!"

"You'll be fine, Mike," he said. "We're helping you with your tuition at William Howard Taft, so you don't have to borrow any money. And once you finish your Residency, you'll make close to six figures, easily, and be able to pay back the loans."

"Yes, but for three or four years of Residency and possibly a fellowship, I'll be seriously underpaid."

My dad laughed even harder, "Mike, your version of underpaid is a better salary than most people around here earn. Yes, it's not the princely sum that established doctors make, but in the long run, you'll make more in a year than I do in three. At least."

"You're right, but that seems like a million years from now."

"Mike, what do you want to do?"

"Be a doctor."

"And the price of admission?"

I sighed, "I know."

"You can be an accountant, teacher, or an engineer and be done in four years with no debt. Interested?"

I shook my head, "No. I want to be a doctor. A trauma doctor."

"So?"

"Shut up and quit complaining because I made my decision knowing the cost in advance."

"You HAVE listened to your mom and me!"

"Occasionally," I said with a silly smile.

"Mike, you can leave if you want," Mom said. "You spoke with Tasha and sat with us for a bit. Go on. Have fun on your picnic!"

"Thanks, Mom!" I said.

I knew she was tweaking Liz because of what Liz had said at home before I'd left for church. The one thing I could count on with my mom was that she was merciless when we screwed up. Liz had screwed up in a big way. I was sure to hear about it from her, but at this point, I'd let her whine and complain as much as she wanted. To do otherwise would be to invite Mom to change sides, which was the LAST thing I wanted!