Chapter 42: I Do Know What I Ought to Do

January 2, 1985, McKinley, Ohio

"Well?" Clarissa asked after I returned to the great room.

"Wait and see. Angie's next appointment is a week from tomorrow. I'm hoping Doctor Mercer waits until then to speak to Angie, but I'm afraid she'll call Angie's mom, and THAT will cause Angie all sorts of heartache and might even set off her condition."

"Wouldn't Doctor Mercer know that?"

"Yes, but the problem is that Angie did something Doctor Mercer thinks is inherently dangerous. She's almost compelled to act. But I didn't see any way around telling her. And not calling wasn't a real option because I care about Angie. I'm just afraid I've made things worse by doing the right thing."

"I see your point, but isn't that almost the perfect test — if Angie handles it rationally and calmly, then how can anyone say she's suffering from a mental illness? If she does have a relapse, then it basically shows she's still sick."

"You're right," I replied. "But I still feel like I may have hurt more than helped."

"And your dilemma?"

"I have no idea. I keep asking myself the question, and I keep coming back to the fact that I love her."

"Have you considered how something that radical would affect things at church?"

"Oh, they'd be a complete mess, and it would very likely mean I wouldn't be ordained in August and perhaps never."

"And that's OK?"

"Didn't you say to Tasha that we would have to have had a very long conversation about ordination? That tells me the answer from you, ultimately, would have been 'no'. Do you think for one second I would have let that come between us?"

Clarissa smiled, "No, I don't, because you wouldn't."

"The problem is, no matter what I do, I'm potentially going to hurt someone very badly. And I honestly don't see a way out where that isn't the case."

"What about you, Mike? Your decision could hurt you very badly, too."

"Breaking my word?"

"Which for you would be traumatic. And I'm not arguing one way or the other right now, but you do need to count the cost of the tower you decide to build. And make sure that the foundation is on bedrock, not sand."

"You're mixing your Biblical idioms," I chuckled. "'Counting the cost' comes from Luke 14 and is about discipleship; 'bedrock versus sand' is Matthew 7 and is about heeding the teachings of Jesus."

"Whatever! You know what I'm getting at!"

"I do. And, to be brutally honest, either of those could refer to any of the three possible marriage partners."

"Three? Becky?!"

"No, you dimwit, YOU!"

"No Russian?" Clarissa asked with a smirk. "I would have expected you to use «глупец» (glupys)!" ("blockhead")

"In case you hadn't noticed, once things with Tasha went the way they did, I started using less and less Russian. Even with Lara, I mostly used English. If my kids speak Russian, it'll only be because Elizaveta's grandparents teach them. I'm pretty much down to using only the occasional swear word and my pet name for Elizaveta. But we're off the point.

"In each case, there is the possibility of the foundation being built on sand — you're a lesbian; Angie has her condition; Elizaveta is very young. The question is, I guess, if there actually is any bedrock on which to build. And, I think, in each case, there is. You are my soulmate; I'm in love with Angie, and she's a faithful Orthodox girl; Elizaveta is, despite being young, a rock of stability."

"I'll have to admit that those Russian women are pretty damned strong — Tasha, Katy, Lara, and Elizaveta."

"My sister in her own way," I added.

"I don't know that I could have gone through what she did and come out OK on the other side. You had a large part in making that happen."

"Not without a ridiculous amount of angst, drama, and heartache. And we're still not out of the woods with my dad. He's civil, but that's it."

"Which is light years ahead of where he was."

"True."

"So? Sexy redhead or nubile Russian?"

"No third choice? Gorgeous lesbian?"

"If there was a third choice, it would be one of the hot blondes — Tasha, Katy, or Becky."

"Well, Tasha is betrothed; Katy told me she's been dating the same guy for six months; and Becky and I kind of drifted apart because of distance, and, to be honest, because I expected to be with Tasha, which Becky knew was most likely the case. Then, when things with Tasha went the way they did, Lara appeared, and then Elizaveta."

"I think I'm going to have to lean towards how I think Doctor Mercer is going to come down on this — that any kind of commitment to Angie is risky, fraught with all kinds of problems, and could lead to true disaster for you with your twin vocations of church and medicine."

"But isn't there a chance of disaster no matter which way I decide?"

"Yes, obviously, but that's why I made the point about counting the cost. Be honest with yourself, Mike. Think back to the old Mike and what he used to say about medical school and the timing of his marriage? Can you TRULY give Angie what she needs? Can you truly be there for her? Does she understand what it means to be married to you?"

"Does Elizaveta?" I countered.

"Going back to foundations — Elizaveta has a very strong support network and has at least acknowledged the amount of time you're going to need to spend studying and working. You'll have her mom and both grandmothers ensuring she behaves the way a proper Russian woman should — tough as nails and able to deal with whatever life throws at her. She may be young, but she has a thousand years of collected wisdom to help her, not to mention two thousand years of Christian tradition. She has the Matushkas and Doctor Evgeni's wife to turn to as well. Now, compare that with your other option."

"If you could get over your pussy fetish, YOU could handle it!" I teased.

Clarissa laughed so hard she had to lie down on the rug in front of the fireplace. She sat up about two minutes later.

"Mike Loucks! What has gotten into you?!"

"I got into YOU, Lissa!"

"Yes, yes, of course. But you using THAT word? Wow. You have lightened up considerably. And it's NOT a fetish, you goofball!"

"Whatever!"

"I'm just saying that you need to count the cost. Do you want Angie SO badly that you'll risk everything for her?"

"Which is the very definition of «agápē» love — self-giving love which puts the other person first."

"Even if it causes you misery?"

"I believe I've read that there is no greater love a man has than he lay down his life for his friends. And that a husband should love his wife as Christ loved the Church, even giving himself up for her."

"Sorry, but that's just irrational — and it goes against the principle of building on bedrock! At some point, you have to look out for yourself! Even Jesus made a whip and chased the moneychangers out of the temple!"

I chuckled, "When I'm THE Son of God, I'll allow myself righteous anger."

"Right, because you weren't righteously, and rightly, angry at those clowns who attacked Robby and Lee."

"Actually, I was sad more than angry; sad that they failed to display basic Christian love and sad that they were taught to use violence to resolve their differences."

"Stop being difficult, and let me make my point!" Clarissa demanded.

"Why should I change now?" I asked with a silly grin.

"I can't WAIT to see that little Russian girl wipe that silly grin off your face!"

"She said the same thing, but the problem is, she has no clue how to tease by innuendo, so it kind of ended there with a bit of frustration on her part."

"That girl is going to be wound so tight by your wedding night that she's going to fuck you to death!"

"But what a way to go," I smirked.

"You PIG!" Clarissa exclaimed, but she was laughing.

"I do get your point, and it has to be a balancing act. One or the other of the partners being miserable or suffering isn't conducive to a healthy relationship and can lead to resentment."

"Let me guess, that was something one of your priests discussed in applying those verses."

"Exactly. There IS a time when one might be called upon to lay down one's life, but that is not the norm. Seeking martyrdom is a sin. That said, not trying to avoid it is not a sin. And it's a balancing act — trying to preach Christianity in a Muslim country is pretty much asking for martyrdom, but we are also called to spread the Gospel. I think my way is the balanced approach — live my life as a Christian, answer questions when people ask, and make no effort to hide that I am a Christian."

"But you wouldn't go to Iran or wherever in the first place!"

"No, I wouldn't. But I'm not called to the mission field, so I can't speak for someone who is. That would be between them and their confessor and bishop. And, generally speaking, the bishops would not encourage anyone to willfully put themselves in that kind of situation. Some people, though, are thrust into it.

"There's a story from Albania, when Enver Hoxha was enforcing state atheism, about an Orthodox lady in the ethnically Greek region of southern Albania. The soldiers had come to remove all the religious articles from the village, and they went house to house searching for icons, prayer books, and Bibles. When they finished their search, an older lady went to the captain commanding the troops and smugly told him his troops had missed a cross. They once again searched her home but found nothing. She taunted them again, and they tore the house apart, looking for it. Finally, the captain came back to her and demanded to know where the cross was. She then made the sign of the cross and stood awaiting reprisal. The story goes that the captain was stunned and walked away amazed."

"YOU don't think that's what happened."

"No. In my mind, I'm reasonably certain that he pulled out his service revolver and shot her dead on the spot because that's what would have happened in Albania. But that's no more the point than the tacked-on happy ending in Job."

"Huh?"

"From textual evidence, it's fairly clear that the challenge by Satan in the beginning and the restoration of Job in the end were tacked onto a dialogue about suffering to help the story make sense. They aren't strictly necessary to the lesson, but some scribe somewhere thought they should be added."

"Interesting. So the Albanian lady wasn't seeking martyrdom? Or was she?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. I'd put it down to a story about holding to the faith in the face of overwhelming social forces trying to destroy it. The specific outcome may or may not have been martyrdom. The story I heard had the ending with the soldier walking away."

"You're weird, Petrovich! Why not keep the story with the righteous person winning?"

"Because, as my grandfather says, 'Life is suffering'. Or, to use another analogy, putting rosewater on dung doesn't change the character of the manure; it just makes it smell a bit less like manure for a time."

"That's depressing."

"I never understood what he was saying until all that stuff happened with Jocelyn, Liz, and Angie. Now I have something of a taste of what he meant."

"That's kind of the opposite story from what you hear all the preachers on TV and radio say."

"And what story does the Bible tell about what happened? And the history we have from the early Church?"

"They paid a heavy price for following Jesus."

"Yes. There is no 'health and wealth' Gospel. To borrow from Sir Winston Churchill, and paraphrase — 'I would say to the people as I said to those who have joined this church: I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat. We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. We have before us many, many long months of struggle and of suffering.' And to continue to paraphrase that speech, and substitute 'salvation' for 'victory' — 'You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word: Salvation. Salvation at all costs; salvation in spite of all terror; salvation, however long and hard the road may be, for without salvation, there is nothing.'"

"So, what are you going to do?"

"Wait to see what happens after Angie talks to Doctor Mercer. She isn't expecting an answer from me in the next few days."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I do need to leave in a few minutes."

"I remember. What are you going to say to Elizaveta?"

"Nothing. Well, I will tell her I'm having lunch with Becky tomorrow. My parents will both be working, so I won't see them."

"You won't tell her Angie visited?"

"Why cause unnecessary turmoil?"

"Then you've made your decision?"

"When I asked Elizaveta to marry me."

"And NOTHING could change that? Not even Angie?"

"Are you trying to change my mind, Lissa?"

"No, it just seems that you were confused, and suddenly you aren't."

"Oh, I'm still very confused, but I also feel I need to continue down the path I'm on."

"Even if it's not the right one?"

"I don't know that there's a right or wrong path here, really. It's about which of several possible futures I believe is the one which is the best."

"And being Doctor Mike trumps being Deacon Mike, Daddy Mike, and any other possible incarnations of Mike. You would choose celibacy over giving up on being a doctor. Everything else has to take a back seat."

"Yes, but without turning back into my former self and becoming like the girl in Indianapolis."

"I bet she's the most boring lay on the planet!" Clarissa replied.

"Then again," I replied with a grin, "she was pretty hot, and she is probably in need of serious stress relief the way Sandy was!"

"Maybe she likes girls!"

"Anything is possible! Maybe she likes both guys and girls, and she'd be the perfect wife for us!"

I laughed, "That fantasy again? I just don't see it happening."

"Well, we're not going to Indianapolis, so we'll likely never find out."

"I need to get going," I said, standing up.

"I'll be heading to Abby's in about an hour. She's at work."

Clarissa stood, we hugged, and I headed out to my car for the drive to the Kozlovs' house. Elizaveta greeted me at the door when I arrived and brought tea so we could sit by the fire in the great room.

"Tomorrow I'm going to have lunch with my friend Becky. She's visiting my parents for a few days."

"She's the one who lived with your parents after her parents got into trouble with the government, right?"

"Yes. She's attending Central Michigan University. We keep in touch occasionally. I didn't even know she was coming to visit until she called me yesterday. And speaking of yesterday, how was your tea?"

Elizaveta rolled her eyes, "Fun when I was five, boring now. I really can't stand the long white gloves!"

"What do you plan to wear for our wedding?"

"Just the nice white dress I have, no veil, gloves, or anything like that. And you're wearing your suit, right?"

"That's the plan. Have you told your grandmothers?"

"Yesterday. That was another reason I didn't enjoy the tea outing. We're not doing a traditional Russian wedding or any of the traditional things afterwards. Just the reception at the country club with dinner, the cake, and dancing."

"Cutting ties with the Old Country?" I asked.

"You know my parents mostly have; I think it ends here."

"What about your grandparents teaching the kids Russian?"

She shrugged, "If they want to, but we'll always speak English to them."

I nodded, "We're on the same page. Clarissa actually noticed I stopped using as much Russian."

"You used it mostly because of Tasha, right?"

"Yes, and because I could say things in Russian in public I could never get away with saying in English!"

"Tasha said you knew ALL the bad words but had trouble carrying on a lengthy conversation."

"Now I'm worried!"

"I plan to talk to Clarissa, too!"

"Now I'm positively frightened!"

"Both those girls love you, Mike!"

"That only makes it worse!"

"Oh, please!" Elizaveta protested, followed by a soft laugh.

"If the three of you are ganging up on me, I'm in REAL trouble!"

"Yes, because it's so terrible to have me speak with girls who love you and for you to have friends who know you quite well speak to me. And it's a terrible thing for me to be friends with the person you will probably spend more time with than any other?"

"No, of course not! And you know I was teasing. I want you to be friends with them. Before I forget, I need to pick you up about 6:30am on Sunday so we can get to the Cathedral before Matins."

"OK. I'll be ready."

We had a nice afternoon together, went out to dinner, and then saw Johnny Dangerously, a movie we both thoroughly enjoyed for the second time.

January 3, 1985, West Monroe, Ohio

On Thursday, I drove to West Monroe to have lunch with Becky at Marie's. She was waiting in a booth, and I simply nodded to the hostess as I walked past. Becky jumped up, we hugged, and then we both sat down.

"How are Abby and Jake?" I asked.

"Jake is fine. He has a girlfriend, and they're pretty serious."

"He's a Junior, right?"

"Yes. He's playing ice hockey, and he's a pretty good forward. He's hoping to play in college."

"And Abby?"

"She moved in with an older guy; a lot older."

"How much older?"

"He's about forty, I think. My grandparents are pretty upset, and her therapist told her not to do it."

"And she's eighteen, so nobody can stop her," I replied. "Is there something wrong with this guy?"

"Other than him being old enough to be her dad?"

I shrugged, "In normal circumstances, I wouldn't care one way or the other, but I'm guessing you think this is because of what happened when she was younger."

"Obviously. But you wouldn't have a problem with it?"

"I tend to mind my own business. But also, my great-grandfather was thirty years older than my great-grandmother."

"But that was in Russia, wasn't it?"

"So?"

"I guess maybe it's perspective."

"You know about Liz and Paul, right?" I asked.

"Yes. I guess it's just, well, never mind."

"I'm not saying that it's good or that Abby is doing the right thing; in fact, I suspect she isn't. But it's not just the age gap."