Chapter 3: Jocelyn\'s Solution

June 12, 1982, West Monroe, Ohio

"What's going on between you and Jocelyn?" Mom asked when I returned upstairs after talking to Dad.

"I thought that was obvious," I smirked. "Or did you want details?"

"Pass," Mom laughed. "But seriously, Mike, what's going on?"

"We love each other. We had a long, long talk about everything, and this is what we want to do. We're not going to marry; we both understand that. And I'm not going steady with Melody."

"Do you love Melody?"

I shrugged, "I have no idea how to even answer that question. I suppose it depends on how you mean it."

"You've been listening to Father Herman's homilies and in Sunday School," Mom smiled. "With Jocelyn, you'd die for her. With Melody, well, I suppose it's a combination of lust and friendship."

"Probably."

"Are you IN love with anyone?"

"You mean romantically? As in want to spend my life with? Have children with? No. But didn't Father Herman make the point that being 'in love' isn't enough?"

"It's not. The hard work of keeping a relationship healthy comes from something deeper. Something you have with Jocelyn, I'll point out."

"But that's not enough, either," I said. "There's much more to it."

"If you understand THAT, then believe it or not, you're ready whenever the time comes."

"Ready? To marry?"

Mom nodded, "Practical concerns will always be there, but if you understand the basic structure of the relationship and how difficult it is to make a happy, loving home, then yes, you're ready."

"The only real practical consideration at this point is finances. Both Taft and McKinley Medical School have efficiency apartments for married couples in their dorms, and renting a studio apartment in McKinley isn't much more expensive than living in the dorms."

"Still looking for that bikini-model heiress?" Mom teased.

"In my dreams!" I laughed. "But in all seriousness, it would take someone earning about $1500 a month, assuming we didn't need a second car. And that assumes having kids almost straight away. The thing is, that's almost triple the minimum wage. Mr. Orlov is paying me $4.00 an hour, which is a princely sum compared to what I was making when I first started working. And without trying to give offense, the number I mentioned is only a little less than what you make right now, and you have a degree and have been working for a long time. Dad doesn't even make twice that, and he has a manager's job with the County. Of course, if we put off having kids, that number would be a lot less. But I won't earn any money, really, until I finish my Internship year, so I have to think in terms of what it would cost if we did have kids. And those can sneak up on you!"

Mom laughed, "Jocelyn?"

"Her parents did have that challenge, yes."

"That number you mentioned, does that include what you'll get from your Summer job and your grants?"

I shook my head, "No. You know how conservative I am with regard to finances. I'm assuming I won't get the grants after next year, and I'll have to go back to working three or four days a week."

"So if you had those, and you were able to obtain grants for medical school, things would be different?"

"Yes, of course. But I won't know about medical school grants until my last semester at Taft, or perhaps I'll find out during the Summer. So I have to assume they won't be available. I'm also not counting the money that Mr. Orlov and Deacon Vasily gave me. That went straight to savings. I have to have emergency money in case something happens to my Mustang.

"It's six years old at this point, and even though I have Nate keep it in tune and change the oil, I'll need tires for sure and who knows what else. Eventually, I'll need a new car, but I hope to nurse the Mustang through medical school and my Internship year, if at all possible. But the number I gave you allowed for having to buy a car during Medical school when the Mustang will be ten years old."

"You always were very aware of your financial situation."

"I got that from you and Dad," I said. "We had everything we needed, but I know there were times when things were tight. And the counselors and others I talked to impressed on me just how big a financial burden it is to get a medical degree. So I prepared, and I watch it closely. I stick to a budget for entertainment and don't spend frivolously."

"You didn't give up your music budget, did you?"

I chuckled, "I'd skip going on dates before I'd do that!"

"Just keep doing what you're doing, Mike. I think you're on the right path."

"Including with Jocelyn?"

"There is one important thing you do need to think about, and I don't want you to answer this out loud, OK?"

"Sure."

"Are you and Jocelyn going to be able to spend the next fifty or sixty, or even eighty, years together, that close, without having an affair?"

I nodded grimly at the question because, as was usually the case with Mom, she'd hit on the core question. I got up from the table and went up to my room, put on a Moody Blues album, and lay on the bed to listen. As The Voice began, I marveled at my mom's ability to simply distill things down to a specific, important question that needed an answer. Jocelyn was pretty good at it, and, come to think of it, so was Melody. It was just that their skills weren't as finely honed as my mom's, most likely due to the wisdom that came with age.

She had a point about Jocelyn and me. I had serious difficulty resisting her, and if she put on a 'full-court press', even if I were to get married, it would be difficult to resist, even in the best of times. And that created a potential for disaster. I didn't have any idea what the solution to that risk was other than steadfast fidelity. I believed in it once the commitment was made, but did I have the ability to actually live it out with the temptation that would be set before me?

I spent the rest of the day in my room, except for eating lunch, then showered and dressed for Vespers. After the service, Tasha and I went to dinner.

"Tonight I want to see E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial," she said.

"Your wish is my command," I grinned.

"As it should be!" Tasha said primly.

"So that's how it's going to be?"

"Of course! The woman is always in charge!"

"And here I thought it was a partnership!"

Tasha laughed, "It is! I was just teasing. But I'm not old-fashioned like my parents, and I hope you aren't like my dad."

"Not even close," I grinned. "I barely even speak Russian."

"Something we'll have to fix. Our kids should speak Russian and preserve the tradition."

"Our families have been here a long time," I countered. "Our Russian grandparents came to the US either during or not long after the Russian Revolution, and we're pretty thoroughly American. The Church services are almost all in English now, and what's left in 'Russian' is often actually Church Slavonic, which isn't what you speak at home. In fact, I bet the Russian you speak at home is from the early 20th century, not what is currently spoken in Russia."

"You don't think our heritage is important?"

"Sure I do, but is speaking Russian necessary?"

"It's something I'd prefer. It really wouldn't hurt for our kids to speak two languages."

"I agree, but is Russian really useful?"

"You never know. Perhaps our children could grow up to be diplomats, or perhaps, Russia will throw off the Communists."

"I know President Reagan would like to think that will happen, but it doesn't seem as if it will be anytime soon."

"But why are you so opposed?"

I shrugged, "I'm not really opposed; I just don't think it's all that important."

"Let's not fight about it, Mishka. It's something to talk about when the time comes. Will you let me at least teach you some better Russian?"

"Sure," I agreed.

"Good. Then let's have dinner and see the movie!"

We had an enjoyable meal, then drove to Rutherford to see ET. We both enjoyed it, though Tasha enjoyed it more than I did. I found it a bit too sappy, despite being science fiction, at least of a sort. As with our date the previous Saturday, we hugged tightly and kissed deeply in the parking lot of the theatre, rather than risk the wrath of her father, should we try that at her house.

June 17, 1982, West Monroe, Ohio

"What do you do in your free time?" Amelia asked at lunch on Thursday.

"When I leave the store, I go straight to the karate dōjō for my lessons on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. On Wednesday and Saturday evenings, I go to church, but you know that because I've seen you there. The same is true for Sunday morning. Otherwise, I mostly hang out with my best friend, Jocelyn."

"You're dating the deacon's daughter, right?"

"Yes, but we're not steady. She just finished her Sophomore year."

"So she's sixteen?"

"She'll be seventeen in September. What do you do when you aren't here or at church?"

"I hang out with my little sister or one of my friends from High School. My boyfriend is from Indiana, and he's back home for the Summer. I'll see him when we go back to Ohio State. Most of my friends from my old church won't even talk to me."

"Because your family converted to Orthodoxy?"

"We're excommunicated, don't you know? That makes us heretics, I guess."

I shook my head, "To be honest, they're the heretics, but we usually save those words for people like the Jehovah's Witnesses who really are Arian heretics."

"Arius? That's the guy who Saint Nicholas slapped across the face, right?"

"Yes, at the First Ecumenical Council," I chuckled. "Santa Claus is no 'Mr. Nice Guy'! What happened with your old church?"

"They called my parents in for a long discussion, and when they refused to recant, they were excommunicated. I think it was silly because my parents had already made it clear they were leaving. I guess they had to do something because some other families were thinking of doing the same thing."

"Why did you convert?"

"Dad started doing some research, and the more he read, the more he discovered the truth of Orthodoxy. He read some books by an English priest, Kallistos Ware."

I nodded, "I know the books. The Orthodox Church and The Orthodox Way. They're very good introductions. I heard from Father Herman that either he has, or will soon, be made a bishop in England."

"Well, his books really made my dad think. And here we are."

"Did you want to change churches?"

"Yes. I love Holy Transfiguration. Our old church was just too austere. Dad said that Vatican II really did a number on the Roman Catholic Church. I've seen some pictures from when he was growing up, and I have to agree. The church he went to growing up looked much more like an Orthodox Church, minus the icon screen. And the priest faced the same direction as the congregation, just as the Orthodox do. The one thing that should have changed, and did, was doing the services in English rather than Latin."

"I never saw any pictures of what the churches used to look like, and I did notice how austere the local Catholic church looked when I visited once. What about your boyfriend? Is he Catholic?"

"Yes."

"That makes it easier. My ex-girlfriend was a Protestant and said our church was 'too Catholic'. We broke up because she refused point blank to even set foot in our church."

"And you're deadly serious about it, obviously. I heard you used to be an acolyte."

"Head acolyte, even."

"I heard a rumor you were going to be tonsured a subdeacon."

"We'll see," I said. "It's been discussed, and I'm considering it."

"You don't want to be a deacon or priest, do you?"

"No freaking way!" I laughed. "I'll stick to bloody traumas, thank you very much! They are MUCH easier to deal with than parishioners are for clergy!"

"We need to get back to work, but if you want to hang out, just let me know. I can use more friends."

"Sounds good to me!"

June 18, 1982, Circleville, Ohio

"What's the plan for tonight?" I asked Katy when I arrived at her house.

"Well, we're back in the fasting cycle, so I was thinking sushi. Have you ever had it?"

"No, but I'm sure I'll be OK with it. I like most kinds of seafood, and I like rice. And if it's spicy, I'm OK with that, too."

"Cool. There's a new Japanese restaurant in Columbus that Mom and Dad went to a couple of weeks ago. I'll pay, though, because it's even more expensive than the steak place."

"For fish and rice?" I asked.

"For the sushi chef. It's a serious art."

"I suppose that's not so different from one of those expensive places where it's all about the food presentation and service."

"Exactly. I suppose you don't go to places like that very often."

I had taken Jocelyn to The Maisonette in Cincinnati, but I didn't want to explain the reason, so I simply obfuscated.

"Try basically never," I replied. "That's a luxury I really can't afford, and, honestly, I'm happy with simple food."

"We could go somewhere else if you prefer."

"No, it's OK."

She called 'goodbye' to her parents, and we walked to my Mustang for the drive to Columbus. As usual, Katy's directions were impeccable, and about forty minutes later, we were seated at a low table sitting on floor cushions. All the waitresses were dressed in traditional Japanese kimono, and the menu was printed in Japanese and English.

"Let me order, if you don't mind," Katy said. "I'll get a wide selection of items, two of each, so we can try them. OK?"

"Sure. I'm totally lost. I mean, sure, I can read the menu, but I don't know the first thing about Japanese food. I've had Chinese, and I like it, but this seems very different."

"It is. I'll also order some vegetable tempura. You'll like that, I'm sure. Also, look at the back of the menu. It explains how to eat Japanese food properly. The etiquette is different from what you're used to."

"How do you know all this?"

"Mom and Dad have taken me to another Japanese place once or twice a year since I was twelve. They said this one is better."

Katy ordered for us, and we sipped green tea while we waited for everything to be brought out. I enjoyed the meal immensely but felt the cost was far too high for what was served, though I suspected that was my middle-class sensibility kicking in. I'd have been happy with a meal which cost a quarter of what this one had, but Katy seemed to think it was worth it. After she paid the check, we walked back out to my car.

"Are you bothered by the way I spend money?" Katy asked.

I shrugged, "I'm not sure 'bothered' is the right word. If you'll pardon a bad pun, this is just so foreign to me. But I'm not upset or offended, or bothered by the fact you have money to spend. I could spend a lot more if I wasn't saving for medical school. I have a budget, and so long as I stick to it, everything will be OK. And that's my choice."

"I'm curious; if you had more money, would you do stuff like this?"

I smiled, "I'll let you know when I have more money to spend. About eight years from now!"

"I am NOT suggesting this is going to happen, but that really does put a crimp in getting married and starting a family."

"If you remember, I mentioned that back when we first started dating. But if you figure in five years, I'll be twenty-four and starting my second year of medical school. You'll be twenty-two and have graduated from college. I'm not saying this is going to happen, but pretty much no matter what career you select, assuming you don't need an advanced degree, you would make enough for us to live on and even have kids. Assuming you can handle the insane amount of time, I'd be studying and working."

"To be honest, that is a serious concern."

"It is," I agreed. "I'm concerned about it, obviously, but I really don't want to wait to get married until I finish my Residency. I'll be thirty. To me, twenty-five seems about right. But as I said, that requires a wife who's willing to put up with the insanity and who earns enough to cover our expenses. But it's a bit premature to talk about that. You need to at least graduate from High School."

"We are getting pretty serious if you know what I mean."

"I do. And that next step is a big one. And we should talk about what it means."

"You mean like if I would expect a promise ring and later an engagement ring?"

"Yes. I want to be totally honest with you; I am not ready to make that kind of commitment."

"But going steady would be OK?"

That was a VERY good question to which I didn't know the answer. In theory, it would be OK. But it had far-reaching ramifications.

"It's certainly possible, yes. I guess the question for both of us is, are we ready to do that?"

"You mean, are we ready to make love?" she asked quietly.

"Yes."

"I don't know," she replied.

"Then we can't. You have to be absolutely sure. I don't think it's something you would just casually do."

She shook her head, "No. Until I met you, I hadn't met anyone I'd want to do it with. And I do want to do that with you, but..."

"You're conflicted?"

She nodded, "About lots of things. Can I be honest without you getting upset?"

"I promise I won't be angry with you for telling me how you feel."

"It's just that from the way it sounds, I'm not sure I could handle five years where I barely saw you and where, if we had kids, your kids would barely see you. That's not how I envisioned what being married would be like. If you were going to be an engineer or a lawyer or a banker, it would be different."