Chapter 63: Small Victories

March 28, 1983, West Monroe, Ohio

As I drove home, I considered my conversation with Tasha and realized it was, in its own way, very close in character to conversations I'd had with Clarissa — intimate, honest, and designed to build a relationship. That, as much as anything else, confirmed that her conditions were not only wise but the correct course of action.

In one sense, it really only excluded Janey, but I felt my conversation, or rather, attempted conversation, with her had closed the books on that relationship. There really were no other girls I was interested in at either parish. Most of the girls at both parishes who weren't involved with someone were fifteen or sixteen, which was not something that even remotely interested me. Mindy was seventeen and a half, which was basically at the edge of what I considered acceptable. Maggie was around the same age, but barring some miracle, that was as much of a non-starter as a renewed relationship with April was.

Thinking about Mindy caused me to consider what Tasha had meant by 'do what you think is right'. I could easily twist it into a license to do anything, but there was no way I was going to do that. The wisest course of action, at least at first blush, seemed to be the status quo. No changes, except for Janey, until I'd had time to seriously consider everything that had happened.

I could, if necessary, easily wind things down with Mindy simply by not seeing her. With Kristin, it really would be just a matter of telling her that I was focusing on a relationship, and we could also wind things down. Sophia would understand and wouldn't be upset. The one fly in the ointment, as it were, was Becky. We talked every three or four weeks, and I knew she was interested, but I wasn't sure if I was. I needed to be very careful about how I handled things with her, though she had stated quite clearly up front that it was an exploration.

It felt as if everything was falling into proper place with one major exception — Jocelyn. There was, in my mind, no real chance to reestablish the 'Mik and Jos' relationship. That had been destroyed by my immaturity, foolishness, cluelessness, and flat-out ignorance. The only thing for which I held out hope was some sort of amicable reunion where we attempted to forge a friendship from the ashes of what had been a beautiful relationship which I had burned to the ground.

I arrived home and backed into the driveway as I usually did, being careful not to park too close to Mindy's car so as not to hit it with my door when I got out of my Mustang. As I was walking towards the house, a car pulled up along the road and stopped. I turned to look and saw a girl I didn't recognize getting out of the car and start walking towards me.

"Hi! I'm Violet!" she gushed. "I'm here to get Liz!"

"I'm Mike."

"I know who you are!" she exclaimed. "I saw you around the school before you graduated! But you would never have noticed an eighth grader!"

She was peppier than any girl I'd ever met and seemed close to bursting with energy.

I nodded and smiled, "Let me get Liz. You can come in."

She followed me into the house, and I called out for Liz, who came bounding down the stairs.

"Hi, Mikey! I'm leaving with Violet! We're going to figure out how to take care of Jake Baxter once and for all!"

I chuckled, "God help him!"

"Ha!" she laughed. "Even God can't help him! Have fun!"

She and Violet headed for the door, and I shook my head. Liz or Mindy, or more likely the two of them, had arranged things so Mindy and I could be alone. I waited for Liz and Violet to leave, then went to the bottom of the stairs.

"They're gone, Mindy," I said, laughing. "Come on down."

I heard padding feet and a soft giggle, and when she came into view on the stairs, I almost had a heart attack. All rational thought simply evaporated in that instant. She was wearing some sort of flimsy, see-through robe which barely came past her hips, no bra, and panties which didn't appear to have enough material to make a handkerchief for a mouse! I was dumbstruck and simply stared mouth agape.

"You like?" she asked with a huge grin.

I nodded but was still unable to speak or move. My brain had completely short-circuited at the vision.

"Are you going to stand there or do something about what you see?" she asked with a smile.

I swallowed and nodded, "Anything you want."

Her smile turned to a grin, "Fuck my brains out? Please?"

Given my mental state, that would leave both of us without capacity for rational thought. I walked over to her, took her hand, and led her up to my room. She quickly shed the flimsy robe and nodded towards me. I took the hint and quickly undressed, being careful when I removed my briefs as I was sporting a rock-hard erection. Mindy stepped forward, and I took her in my arms, feeling her large, firm breasts pushing against my chest as our lips met and her tongue sought mine.

Mindy broke the kiss after about a minute, slipped from my arms, removed her panties, and moved to the bed. She pulled down the comforter, got onto the bed, and waited. I moved over, drew down the next-to-nothing underwear, and got between her legs. I lowered my mouth to her slit and gently sucked on her clit.

"So good!" she sighed.

Mindy was obviously as turned on as I was, and it was only a few seconds later when she moaned and bucked softly. I quickly moved up and pressed my glans against her labia.

"Fuck me, Mike," she gasped. "Fuck me hard!"

Mindy spread her legs wide and raised her hips to encourage me. With one firm thrust, my glans parted her labia, and I buried myself deep inside her tight, slick tunnel.

"Oh, God," she gasped. "Yes!"

I lowered my mouth to hers, and we began kissing furiously. I pulled back and pushed forward with all my strength. Mindy groaned into my mouth and thrust her hips up almost violently. The next thrust WAS violent, or as close to violence as was possible while having sex. Mindy and I spent the next fifteen minutes frantically thrusting our bodies against each other until I exploded into her, and her body shuddered as her silky walls squeezed me tightly.

"That," she gasped, "was awesome. Just stay there for a minute."

I nodded and kissed her softly. When our breathing had become somewhat normal, I gently pulled out of Mindy's deliciously snug tunnel and rolled onto the bed next to her. She snuggled close and put her head on my shoulder.

"That outfit!" I said.

Mindy laughed softly, "All it took was my car, a trip to Columbus, and some of my allowance! I told the woman at the lingerie store I was getting married and needed something for my wedding night!"

"It was amazing!"

"She said my husband would attack me and give me the best screwing of my life! She was half right! By the end, I couldn't think straight. I think I had like a dozen orgasms!"

"What gave you the idea?"

"My cousin told me she did something like that for her wedding night!"

"And you couldn't wait?"

"No! She was a virgin, but there was NO WAY I was ever waiting that long to do it! And after New Year's, I KNEW I was right not to wait!"

"How long have you planned this?" I asked.

"Since the last time you and I did it, and I found out you would be coming home for Spring Break."

"And that bit about your wedding night?" I asked.

"I don't think she'd have sold me that stuff if she knew I was seventeen and just wanted to look sexy!"

"How do you plan to top THAT?" I asked.

Mindy laughed, "I'll think of something! What time do your parents get home?"

"Mom around 5:15pm and Dad about 5:30pm. Why?"

"I just wondered how many times we can do it before we have to clean up and get dressed!"

"Well, we should probably eat lunch at some point."

"Oh, I suppose!" Mindy agreed, laughing.

We spent the rest of the day fooling around, stopping at about 3:30pm so we could change the sheets on the bed, get them in the washer, and air out my room. When we'd done that, we took a fun joint shower and screwed for the last time of the day, sitting under the warm spray.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Mindy asked as we dried off.

"I didn't have any plans."

"Now you do!" she said with a silly smile.

March 30, 1983, West Monroe, Ohio

"Good evening, Father Deacon."

"Good evening, Reader Michael."

"Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.

"What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to apologize to you for my behavior," I said. "I've already apologized to Natalya. She and I had a fight, and I did something very foolish the next day. There won't be a repeat. She's forgiven me, and I hope you'll do the same."

"You had a disagreement with my daughter, and literally the next day, you're seen kissing another young woman from the church."

"It was a moment of weakness, one which will not be repeated. I've already told Janelle Catherine I won't see her again."

"How does something like that happen, Reader Michael? To behave so inappropriately? To disrespect my daughter, Janelle, and yourself."

"It happened because I am weak, Father Deacon. And I acknowledge that. I'll speak to Father Nicholas about it when I return to McKinley."

"You want something else besides my forgiveness."

"Your permission to see Tasha again. I discussed it with her on Monday morning when I asked her forgiveness, and it's what we both want. With whatever restrictions you deem appropriate."

"I need to think about it, as well as speak to my wife and to my daughter."

"Of course," I said with a nod, then added, "I am sorry."

"Sorry that you were caught, Michael? Or sorry for what you did?"

"To be totally honest, both."

Deacon Vasily nodded, "Honesty is good. And so is proper behavior. I forgive you, Michael. But that does not mean I will approve of you seeing Tasha."

"I understand."

We hugged and kissed each other's cheeks as was the norm for clergy, then I left the parish office. My part of the plan I'd concocted with Tasha earlier that morning had been completed. Tasha's part was to talk to her mother, which she was supposed to do after her dad had left the house for Vespers. If everything went according to plan, we expected that, at a minimum, I could have dinner at her house when I visited West Monroe.

"How did it go?" Mom asked when I walked into the house.

I shrugged, "I'm not sure. I was sure I'd be forgiven so long as I expressed proper regret. He really didn't have a choice in the matter once I owned up to what I had done and sincerely apologized. Tasha is going to talk to her mom now."

"You've done the right thing, Mike. At this point, all you can do is wait and see what Deacon Vasily does.

"What's your guess?"

"I think it comes down to Matushka Alexandra. If she's sympathetic, you're in good shape. If not, well, then it becomes a matter of whether or not Tasha is willing to defy her father once she turns eighteen. That's not something I'd recommend, given the circumstances. You do have one ace in the hole."

"What's that?"

"She'll marry you against his wishes, and you two are certainly compatible enough that even if you can't see each other formally or informally, you could marry without much risk at all."

I grinned, "I'll keep that in mind."

"On another but similar note, Mrs. Riley spoke to me this evening."

"And?" I asked warily.

"She was wondering how we could get you two to talk again."

"It's simple, really. When Janey is willing to sincerely accept my apology, then we can talk. When I left there on Monday, I had the distinct feeling she was going to use our conversation to try to score points rather than try to work things out. The only reason I was even able to make my apology was because her mom insisted. I left it with Janey that she should call me when she was ready."

"Mrs. Riley said she felt like marching Janey over here and making her apologize to you and insisting on her accepting your apology. I told her that wouldn't solve anything because I know you well enough that a phony apology and a forced acceptance aren't going to change your mind. And it shouldn't, by the way."

"I can understand why Janey is angry with me," I said. "Tasha executed a brilliant strategy in a very deft way. First by standing next to me, then adjusting her view of our relationship to be much closer to mine. It's almost as if some invisible hand was guiding her. The hand of a concerned, soon-to-be «бабушка» (babushka), perhaps?"

"That's a serious accusation, Mikhail Petrovich," Mom said flatly.

"Thank you for confirming that it WAS you!" I laughed. "I had my suspicions, and now you've confirmed them. Care to tell me why?"

Mom shook her head and smiled ruefully at being 'caught'.

"After long, careful consideration, I concluded that I don't believe you've met a girl who is more perfect for you than Natalya Antonova. I'm not saying there isn't another girl out there, just that if there is, you haven't met her. Tasha's reaction was really one of her expressing her dad's opinion. What she needed to hear was an alternate opinion from someone who managed to step outside the strict confines when she was a teenager. That certainly wasn't Tasha's mother or godmother!"

"Did you put her up to standing by me in church?"

"I didn't suggest any specific course of action. All I did was explain to her how YOU saw the world and how it differed from how her parents, her godparents, and my parents saw the world. One Russian girl to another. The difference, really, was that your grandfather wanted me to be an American of Russian heritage. Tasha's parents wanted her to be a Russian living in America. Do you see the difference?"

I nodded, "A big one. Katy and I actually talked about this because we had varying ideas on just how 'Russian' our family might be. For the most part, the way you and Dad handled it seems to me to be the best approach. I know Tasha will want to teach her kids Russian, and that's fine."

"I hope she has more success than I did!" Mom laughed, interrupting me.

"She actually might be more stubborn than you are, something I never thought would be possible."

"Excuse me?!" Mom exclaimed in outrage, but then she started laughing. "You can take the girl out of Russia, but you can't take the Russian out of the girl!"

"You were never IN Russia, Mom!"

"Tasha is if you think about it," Mom said carefully. "Think about their home, how they act, how they dress, how they speak. They even have a picture of the last Tsar and his family in the living room."

I nodded, "It is a bit like stepping into a foreign country."

"And that's why I felt I needed to speak with her. But honestly, all I did was explain to her how you viewed certain things. The rest was up to her. She knows you aren't hers just yet, though that certainly is her goal."

"And an admirable goal it is," I said haughtily.

I hadn't been cuffed on the back of my head in YEARS, but that didn't prevent my mom from doing it at that moment. Once I got over the momentary shock, we stared at each other and then broke up laughing.

"I told you, Mikhail Petrovich, that one day, some young woman would knock that smirk from your face. I may have to do it first!"

"And my revenge will be in becoming the man for whom I'm named!"

March 31, 1983, West Monroe, Ohio

"What was so funny?" I asked Liz as I came into the kitchen on Thursday morning.

She was just hanging up the phone and was giggling and giddy, something quite rare for her.

"That was Violet. She put our plan into action last night!"

"Which plan was that?"

"The one to make Jake Baxter's life a living hell! You know I told you he claimed he did it with Violet, right?"

"Sure."

"Well, she's friends with one of the cheerleaders. She told the cheerleader it was true, but that Jake only has three inches and only lasted thirty seconds!"

"Ouch!" I laughed. "But how will that accomplish anything?"

"Because Jake will come to Violet and demand she stop lying about him. And then she'll demand he stop lying about Sasha. And if not, Jake becomes the laughingstock of the school. What girl is going to stand up for him? We think he lied about most of the girls he claims he bagged. And if they start saying that he lies, along with the rumor Violet started, the rest of the school year is going to suck for him!"

"So then what? He admits he lied about having had sex with her?"

"Part of Violet's deal is going to be that he would have to tell Janey, Larisa, Valerie, and Anastasia. Then they go to Mrs. Antonov and tell her it was all lies made up by Jake."

"Which helps, kind of, but not really. The problem is she snuck out of the house to see a boy, and in Deacon Vasily's mind, that's sufficient cause to think she's 'surrendered her virtue' or whatever he wants to call it. You see, in his mind, 'pure' women don't engage in that kind of behavior. Even the appearance of bad behavior makes her a 'harlot' in his mind."

"That's just sick!" Liz spat.

"I know, and I agree with you. But that's what you're up against. I'm not saying you shouldn't try to put Jake in his place, but I'm not sure it's ultimately going to help Sasha. You, like me, are fighting a thousand years of Russian culture! What's your plan for the day?"