Chapter 48: Is Something Wrong?

December 3, 1983, West Monroe, Ohio

The funny thing about temptation was that it only attacked our weaknesses. If we were strong, there was no real temptation. I had worked in the hardware store, and the Quick Mart, and I'd had plenty of opportunities to take money or items, but I'd never even considered it. There were fairly easy ways to cheat on homework and tests, but I'd never even given a moment's thought to them beyond recognizing they existed. And I could go on and on about the things which never tempted me.

I'd never really fought the temptation to have sex, either. Oh, I'd fooled myself into thinking I was fighting it, but I hadn't; not really. I'd wanted Cassie when I dated her. I'd wanted other girls I'd asked out. I'd even made plans to be with April. I HAD been with Jocelyn, which had exposed my weakness. I didn't blame her for it; the accident had ended what likely would have been a lifetime, exclusive relationship.

It had taken Emmy, if I was honest with myself, all of about five seconds to convince me to have sex with her. And not much longer for Becky to do the same. I'd struggled over Nancy, but it wasn't about whether or not we'd do it, but what it would mean. I wanted Angie, and if she hadn't had her own struggles, I'd probably be engaged to her and having sex every night. She wouldn't have had to expend any significant effort to get me into bed.

I'd resisted Melody, but I realized that if she hadn't been so forceful about the subject, I'd have happily gone to bed with her much sooner. The same was true with Janey as well, though, before her, I'd been with Sophia and Sandy and had put up zero resistance. And I had a decision to make about Sophia because she had, to my great surprise, offered four days of sexual ecstasy if I decided to go on the skiing trip.

Katy and I had carefully walked along a path with a clear destination — one I wanted to reach from the beginning, slowed only by her caution. I'd purposefully set out to turn Kristin into a groupie and had, after a brief bout of guilt, decided I liked sleeping with her way too much to stop doing it. Milena had, like Melody, used the wrong tactics, and once she'd switched, I'd done what I'd fantasized about from the first time I met her and had a threesome with her and Deb. I'd recoiled a bit from that, but I hadn't fought it, and I had to admit that it had been fun despite not being emotionally fulfilling.

Then there was Tasha. The only reason we hadn't started 'fucking like crazed bunny rabbits' when she was fifteen was because she'd insisted I not allow it to happen, and I'd kept my word. But, again, if I was honest, I was able to keep my word because I was getting laid regularly. And then there was Kimiko, who I had been very attracted to and who I had very much wanted to sleep with.

And it wasn't just the girls I'd been with, either. I wanted to be with Clarissa, and the only thing holding me back was my concern for her emotional well-being. I knew Maggie was right about me wanting her, and the only possible thing that would hold me back there was the demand for exclusivity. And, continuing my honesty with myself, I wanted Hannah. And telling myself that I had been with 'too many girls' was just foolish at this point because, despite significant angst in the past, I sure hadn't let it deter me.

The really sick part, at least in my mind, was that Maggie actually had a point. It might not be May, but over the Summer, things were going to have to come to a head. I would HAVE to make decisions, and those decisions would close numerous doors which were currently open. Maggie might wait until the end of the Summer, but if by then we weren't a couple, we probably never would be. And if Tasha and I didn't elect to marry, she would start dating. And Clarissa and I would need to decide which future we wanted. And Katy would move on as well if she hadn't already met someone at Stanford.

And it might not even be Summer. There was, I realized, a distinct possibility I'd say «ai shiteru» to Kimiko and start down a path with her that would, assuming she completed her catechism, lead to marriage. I didn't think it was infatuation or a fantasy. There was something VERY special about her, and we had 'clicked' despite the cultural divide. I could actually see a future with her, which I hadn't truly seen with anyone except Tasha, though that imagined future with Tasha had been very different before we'd first had sex.

So here I was, looking at a cute blonde, a virgin with a sexy body, who was asking me to take her to bed, with absolutely no strings attached, and with the blessing of her best friend who saw herself as my future wife. I knew I could say 'no', but I didn't WANT to say 'no'. Or, to put it in Monty Python terms — 'I don't WANT to be rescued!'

I suppressed a chuckle when I thought about a six-month rampage through all the girls who were interested in me, who were at least sixteen, and just how much fun that would be. Of course, all it would take was one mistake, and I could be in the same kind of situation in which Sasha found herself or one of the girls could decide that having gone to bed with me, I now belonged to her and then staking a public claim which could turn very messy very quickly. Perhaps being a pig wasn't the best plan. That said, THIS was an opportunity of which I wanted to avail myself, provided it truly had no strings attached.

"If we do this," I said. "It can only be today."

"I know. Maggie would KILL me if I tried to be your girlfriend! I like you, but I totally understand that it's just going to bed together and making each other feel really good."

"You're absolutely sure about what you want?" I asked.

Hannah nodded and leaned close, "I want you to come to my house and have sex. Lots of sex!"

I laughed, and we walked out of the kitchen, only to have the phone ring. I turned back to answer it.

"Loucks Residence, Mike speaking."

"Subdeacon Michael? It's Father Nicholas."

I detected something in his voice that didn't bode well.

"Hi, Father. Is something wrong?"

"Father Deacon Grigory had a heart attack. Are you able to come back to McKinley? I need you to lead a Reader's service tonight if that's at all possible."

I looked at my watch and saw it was about 10:25am. Nate had picked up my car at 7:00am, so I was sure the oil was changed, and the tune-up was probably done, but I couldn't be sure.

"I left my car with the mechanic early this morning for an oil change and tune-up. I might be able to get it back right away, but I'm not sure. I'll have to call and check, but I can be there about an hour after I get it. I take it you're at the hospital?"

"Yes. And as long as you're here early enough to open the church, it will be fine."

"I'm sure I can do that."

"Good. I may need you to lead a Reader's Matins service as well. And, of course, help with the Liturgy. His Grace authorized you to sing the litanies during Liturgy. He's actually on his way here from Akron."

If the Bishop was already on his way, leaving a parish he was visiting, that meant that it was serious.

"How bad is it?"

"The doctor said 'massive'. Pray, Subdeacon."

"I will, Father. I'll see you in about an hour."

"God bless you."

"Thank you."

We said 'goodbye' and hung up.

"What's wrong?" Hannah asked.

"The Deacon of our church had a serious heart attack. I need to go back to McKinley right away. I'm so sorry."

She pouted but then nodded, "I understand."

"Thanks."

"Raincheck?" she asked hopefully.

I smiled and nodded as I picked up the phone to call the garage. Nate said he'd finished the oil change, rotated the tires, and done the tune-up but hadn't taken it out for a road test. He offered to do that right away and bring the car by within thirty minutes. I thanked him, hung up, and went downstairs to let my dad know I was leaving and why, then went up to my room and quickly packed my bag.

I went back downstairs and called Tasha to let her know I was going back to McKinley and why.

"Lord have mercy!" she exclaimed. "I'll tell my dad."

"Please do. Would you call Father Herman or have your dad do it, please?"

"Yes, of course! Moore Memorial Hospital?"

"Yes. But I'll be at the church about an hour before Vespers."

"Do you want me to come to McKinley tomorrow?"

"If you want, yes. But I'll be very busy in the morning because it's very likely I'll have to lead Reader's Matins."

"I'll be there in the morning for church."

"Thanks. Would you call Clarissa and ask her to meet me at the hospital in, say, two hours?"

"Of course!"

"Thanks, Tasha."

We said 'goodbye' and I made myself a quick lunch because I wasn't sure when I'd get a chance to eat. Mom came home from grocery shopping just as I finished, and I filled her in.

"He's not that old, is he?" Mom asked.

"About sixty-five," I said. "But he smokes heavily, like most of the older men, and I don't know if he exercises at all. He's an insurance adjuster and spends a lot of time in his car."

"Listen to my son, the doctor," Mom teased.

"I think anyone who took a High School health class knows those risks! And it's even on the cigarette packs, although it's pretty wimpy — 'Caution: cigarette smoking may be hazardous to your health'. Putting menthol in cigarettes doesn't make them magically healthy!"

"Tell your grandfather and his friends."

"I have," I grinned. "He told me that I sounded like an old woman, and if I was going to do that, I couldn't hang out with him at Pascha!"

"That sounds like my dad. I sometimes thought the two main food groups for him and his friends were vodka and tobacco."

"And black bread, butter, and pickles," I said. "And despite his bad habits, he's as healthy as a horse."

The doorbell rang, and I went to answer it. Nate handed me my keys, I paid him, called goodbye to my mom, and hurried out to my car for the drive to McKinley, all thoughts of Hannah having vanished.

December 3, 1983, McKinley, Ohio

I pulled into the lot at Moore Memorial Hospital at about 12:30pm, parked, debated whether I should put on my cassock, and decided I should. I got it from the bag in the trunk, put it on, then hurried inside. Clarissa was waiting in the lobby, and together, we went to the information desk.

The clerk directed us to cardiology, and we took an elevator up one floor, walked down a hallway, and into a waiting area where I saw Father Nicholas, his wife Matushka Natalya, Father Deacon Grigory's wife, Matushka Anastasia, John, their son, and Mr. and Mrs. Sokolov standing in a small group. I hurried over and got Father's blessing.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Subdeacon Michael."

"How is Father Deacon Grigory?" I asked.

"He's in cardiac intensive care, and Doctor Evgeni is with him."

Doctor Evgeni Petrov was a GP who had probably delivered eighty percent of the babies in the church in the forties, fifties, and sixties and was largely retired, though he still saw a few patients and had admitting privileges at the hospital. I suspected he was talking with the cardiologist and would bring us information as soon as he could.

"Is there anything I can do now? Anything you need?"

"Just your prayers at the moment, Subdeacon. Thank you for agreeing to lead the Vespers and Matins services."

"You're welcome. What should I say about Father Deacon?"

"Just what we know. I'm sure word has spread, but there are always people who don't hear until they come to services."

"I'm going to get some coffee. Can I bring anything for anyone?"

"I'd like a coffee, please, Subdeacon," Matushka Anastasia said.

"How do you take it, Matushka?"

"Cream and one sugar, please."

I nodded and looked to the others, who all shook their head. Clarissa walked with me back towards the elevator to go down to the cafeteria for coffee.

"Tasha said he had a massive heart attack," she said quietly.

"That is what Father told me earlier. He's a heavy smoker."

"I've seen the older men at your church. I'm amazed at how many of them smoke."

"It's one of those things they brought with them from the old country. Most of the younger people never took it up."

"I didn't see Emmy with Clark today, so I take it you accomplished your mission."

"I mostly lent moral support," I said as we got onto the elevator. "And I discovered that Emmy's dad and his friends beat up a black kid on the football team because he was dating a white cheerleader."

"Then he's in jail?"

"No witnesses except the two kids. He's in intensive care with serious head and internal injuries; she's not talking."

"So they get away with it?"

"So it would appear," I sighed. "Assuming they keep their story straight."

"I guess you didn't really get to see anyone but your family."

"And my sister's friends, including Hannah. Father's phone call interrupted her carefully planned afternoon."

"No way! You were going to?"

"What is my one weakness, Lissa?"

"And now you've given up the fight?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.

"A note Maggie sent made me think about next Summer. I am going to have to make some decisions which will have long-lasting effects."

"Because Tasha, Jocelyn, Maggie, Mindy, Katy, and Kimiko will all be here? Or not far away."

"Pretty much. And don't forget Sophia."

"You're considering the ski trip and her offer?"

"I'm keeping all my options open," I said.

We got off the elevator on the ground floor and walked towards the cafeteria.

"You've given up on Kimiko?"

I shook my head, "No. I told my mom she might be the one, but I'm worried about her sense of duty and whether, ultimately, she'll be happy. I talked to Jocelyn about it as well."

"I bet you anything Jocelyn agreed with me that you have to accept what Kimiko tells you at face value."

"Pretty much. And I had a funny thought, too."

"What?"

"In Japanese culture, men are allowed mistresses, if they are circumspect about it and it doesn't interfere in the marriage."

"So you and I could have a baby?"

"I'd have to talk it over with Kimiko, but it IS possible. You know Tasha's and Maggie's take on it, and I can't imagine any of the other girls like Katy or the girls at church would permit it."

"Interesting."

"I also told my mom that if you were straight, we'd already be engaged."

"No kidding," Clarissa replied flatly. "Tell me something I don't know!"

"Can you say, with reasonable certainty, that you can go for the rest of your life without having an intimate relationship with a girl?"

"There are different kinds of intimacy, Petrovich. You know that! Think about us. Think about you and Milena. Or me and Tasha. Or me and Kimiko."

"Oh, I have," I said with a silly grin.

"Pig!"

We got our coffees from the urn, and I prepared the one for Matushka with cream and one sugar cube. I paid for all three, and then we headed back towards the elevator.

"All kidding aside," I asked, "that kind of relationship would be satisfying? Very close, but not physical?"

"You tell me," Clarissa replied. "Is your relationship with Milena satisfying? Is our relationship satisfying?"

"Yes, to both."

"And would they meet your needs for a close, intimate relationship without sex?"

"Yes, but I'd be having sex with someone of my preferred gender in addition to having them as close friends. That's a pretty significant difference. Let me ask you this: is your being a lesbian any different from Clark being black, Kimiko being Japanese, and me being half-Russian, half-Dutch? We're all born that way, right?"

"Yes, but sexual preference is on a sliding scale. And I'll point out that Clark, Larry, and Carter are all different shades. And José is every bit as Caucasian as you are, but his skin is a different color, and so is Sophia's. What I'm saying is that there are variations in sexual preference just as there are in racial genetics."

"I hadn't thought of it in those terms."

"Milena's friends Laurie and Jennifer are bisexual, which puts them in the middle of the scale. You're at the extreme hetero end; Robby Lee,, and Glenda are at the other extreme."

"And, where are you?"

"Maybe I'm Petrov-sexual!"

I laughed so hard the coffee would have spilled had I not put covers on the cups. The elevator doors opened, and I did my best to compose myself before we returned to the waiting area.

"And here I am in my cassock," I chuckled.

"What do you wear underneath it?" she teased, keeping her voice low.

"Considering you saw me put it on over my street clothes, you know!"

We arrived back to where Father Nicholas and the others were waiting. I handed Matushka her coffee and asked if there was an update, but there wasn't. About ten minutes later, Doctor Evgeni came into the waiting area.

"How is he, Doctor?" Father Nicholas asked.

"His heart went into ventricular fibrillation in the ambulance, but they shocked him, and his heart started beating properly again. He'll need bypass surgery. He's not out of the woods, but this kind of surgery is very common these days."

"When?" Matushka Anastasia asked, sounding very nervous.

"In about an hour. They'll bring you the forms to sign and explain the procedure. He's going to have to quit smoking, quit drinking, and start exercising. They'll probably put him on aspirin therapy."

"How long is the recovery?" John asked.

"Four or five days in the hospital, if there are no complications. The rest will depend on following the cardiologist's program of diet and exercise and giving up those damned cigarettes."

"You used to smoke, Doc Evgeni!" John countered.

"Used to Ivan Grigorevich! Used to. I quit when you were about eighteen, I think. How old are you? Forty?"

"Forty-one."

"All those deliveries run together in my mind at this point! But in the late 50s and early 60s, we really began to understand the dangers of smoking, and so I quit. The government warnings came soon after that, around 1965, if I remember correctly."

"Can we see him?" Matushka Anastasia asked.

"They're going to start prepping him for surgery. Ah, here comes Doctor Washington now. He's one of the best, and sadly, in January, he's taking a position as Head of Cardiology at the University of Chicago Hospital."

I wondered what Len Nelson would say if Doctor Washington, a very distinguished black man who was about forty, walked into his hospital room one day. Would he rather die than let a black man operate on him? Sadly, I thought he might. Or maybe not so sadly.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Malik Washington," he said. "Mrs. Minsky?"