Chapter 6

Thirty-two people signed their pictures in my Armstrong High School yearbook, the most repeated comment being “Keep your winning ways and you’ll always succeed.” Mary Lou Devlin wrote: “You mean so much to me. You have taught me so much! I hope you succeed in Baltimore. I wish you weren’t going so far away!!!” I never had enough time for a steady girl but had two stalkers, Mary Lou Devlin, and Becky Baldridge. Becky was a pest. But had it not been for my commitments at ST. Bart’s and to Rina Strelnicov I would have probably allowed myself to fall in love with Mary Lou. I tried to keep my distance, but she asked me to all the school dances including the prom. She was sweet, witty, and an extremely horny young woman. Becky was just a pest who continually stroked my ego (she was the prettiest girl in class

At my high school graduation many people thought I was a devout Catholic. They knew I worked at St. Bart’s but were amazed at the number of nuns attending the ceremony on my behalf, all five of them like a row of penguins in their black and white habits. Rina Strelnicov was there as well along with my parents, two sets of grandparents, three uncles, two aunts and the pastor of our Quaker church which confused the few who didn’t know I wasn’t Catholic.

Though my father exuded suspicion of what could have gone on with the nuns he never pressed it other than to say, “Stay out of the nun’s bedrooms,” when I first went to work there. I was just as a matter of a wise parent advising me of the possibility of something untoward coming my way, my mother never put it together. She just considered I was just doing my job as an employee of the church. Both parents said they were proud of my consistent work ethic. They respected my being a valued employee of the church and were thrilled by all five of St. Barts’s nuns coming to my graduation. They had no idea how intimate my relationship was with these women, except for sister Agnes of course.

Rina Strelnicov was a different matter. She and my mother had even become friends. Rina knew our family was on a limited budget. Not only did she let my mother know how pleased she was to have such an “enterprising young man helping out at my house,” she told her she had taken on the role of a business mentor “which can be helpful when Toby is deciding on a career.” She made sure I always had work to do at her house which provided me with extra money. As an executive at Higbee’s department store she was able to wheedle executive discounts for our family on clothing. Having attended numerous picnics at our house she hosted our family numerous times at cookouts of her own.

Kent State University offered me a partial scholarship, but Rina told my parents about the Dean of the Medical school at Johns Hopkins University having been a colleague of her husband Sergei Strelnicov. She talked with him about securing a spot for me at Johns Hopkins, a much more prestigious university, with a scholarship in the same proportion. They enrolled me as a pre-med student.

Additionally, Rina owned an apartment building which was part of Sergei’s estate. It was just around the corner from the university on East 34 street. She said she would rent the two-bedroom apartment for half the going rental price which meant tuition and housing would come in well under what it would cost for me if I attended Kent State.

Either my parents were so traditional they had no suspicion of our so far ongoing four-year affair, or they were in denial of its possibility. Instead, Mom and Rina were half mile apart neighbors who traipsed up and down Burling Road to have coffee on weekend days and some holidays. She was an astute businesswoman who advised my parents to refinance our house at a lower interest rate which helped them stretch their income significantly. They adored Rina but wondered why she chose to stay single. God knows what they would have done had they found out about Rina and me. Rina mentioned to me how my dad continually ogled her. She never suggested he might enjoy having an affair with her himself. But what healthy male wouldn’t?

The apartment in Baltimore was within easy walking distance from the university. There were four apartments, one being rented by a young couple who were former Bloomberg Law students and newly employed lawyers, the other two by four male students and the one I was in which came a little cost to my family. Sergei had engaged a cleaning and maintenance company to keep the apartments in good order. Rina made a deal with me. “I know you’re a healthy young man Toby and expect you be interested in college girls. I don’t mind you having a girl in for the evening but under no conditions are you to be having a girl living with you there.”

She said trusted her management company to keep the apartments up to date but usually came to inspect the property once a year. “But since you’ll have your own room, I’ll be coming more frequently (she didn’t designate what the frequency would be). I respect your privacy, Toby. We never spent nights together here, so I’ll just plan on using the other bedroom.” She chuckled, “I’ve become accustomed to sleeping by myself so I’m fine with it. Also, your parents will probably want to visit from time to time.” She never said anything to me about here not making any money from the apartment to minimize the cost to my family, only about taking care of the apartment and being responsible so I never viewed it as a situation where I was kept. “I do request one thing however, when I come—and I will give you plenty of advanced notice—I would like to have your company exclusively for that weekend.

Though I was a bit intimidated the first day I walked onto Johns Hopkins’ campus, it wasn’t meeting new people in a strange town which scared me, it was the magnitude of the institution and the possibilities it offered me. My first week in class was both fascinating and daunting. The speed with which information was being thrown at and the amount of text assigned as homework was incredible. My initial fear was being in so far over my head I would never be able to keep up. But within a week I had completely adapted and was being thrilled by the challenge.

That week was also the first in the last four years when I hadn’t had sex. Even if I had the opportunity, I was too distracted by the new demands of Johns Hopkins to give it any thought. In a way it was a sabbatical from a regimen which had previously entertained and exercised me. I hadn’t realized the changes in my mind and body. Where most young men my age were constantly lusting after females but coming up empty handed, I was getting it if only on a cot in the St. Bart’s school breakroom after school hours with one of the sisters riding me until I came.

Until I went to work at St. Bart’s I woke up every morning since my first wet dream with a vibrating erection. But it was almost two weeks in Baltimore before I woke up with morning wood and masturbated for the first time in months. Unlike most males my age, rather than masturbating to hopes and dreams I did it to memories of Sister Natalie; Kathy Warren, Sister Kathleen, Sister Mary-Celeste, Rosie Kowalski, Sister Mary Cecile (Cissy who I thought was the love of my life) and Rina Strelnicov.

Because I was living in Rina’s apartment, not in the dorm, I was saving money by shopping at the grocery store and preparing meals in the kitchen. Having been catered to by my mom all my life it took some effort on my part, but I found it wasn’t brain surgery to cook stovetop meals. And I ate healthy meals, chicken and fish with a vegetable and salad. I could cook any of those in no more than a half hour and there was barely anything to clean up eating alone.

One night early in the first week, I took a break from studying around eight and went down the street to Sig’s Diner and had a cup of coffee and a slice of cherry pie when the woman who had served me said, “Judging by the way you cleaned up every crumb you must have enjoyed the pie, can I refill your coffee?”

She was about 5’5,” had a slim curvy body with pleasantly rounded breasts and soft blond hair which hung almost to her shoulders. Her deep blue eyes reminded me of sapphires and her gorgeous smile sent chills down my back. She was not a young girl by my standards, I would say mid to late thirties and had the aura of a waitress, while something was telling me she was trained for something more than just a serving girl.

“You must be living off campus,” she said. “Guys in the dorms usually don’t come here this time of night. They’re either studying or getting drunk in bars.”

She seemed too pretty to be this friendly. But I had already become accustomed to people in a college town talking to me out of the blue, not just females either. To her comment I responded, “I live in an apartment on 34^th street.”

“Whoa,” she said with a comical look of astonishment, “you must be a rich kid.”

“Not rich,” I said.

“Then how can you afford an apartment this close to campus?”

With a chuckle I said, “If I told you I would have to kill you.” It was something I had recently heard in a movie. The way she looked at me out of the corners of her eyes was like she was getting ready to either laugh or slap my face with the back of her hand.

Raising my eyes which caused furrows in my forehead I shrunk back I feigned being bullied and crossed my arms in front of my face and said, “I almost feel off my seat onto the floor.

“I thought about killing you,” she said obviously enjoying the interchange, “but the freezer is already full. Actually, I was getting ready to offer you a job.”

“I might be a greenhorn kid from Cleveland,” I retorted, “but I’ve never heard of waitresses offering jobs.”

Sticking out her hand she said, “I’m Samantha Onassis, I run this place.” Taking her hand I said, “I’m Toby Wakefield.” I had never shaken a hand which felt firmer or more purposeful.

Sig’s Diner was a fixture on Charles Street which had been there for over forty years. Demetrius Onassis immigrated from Greece in 1920 as a teenager after his parents died of the Spanish Flu which killed an estimated 50,000,000 people worldwide. He went to work at Sig’s as a busboy and dishwasher, soon becoming cook. Working his way through Johns Hopkins he earned a business degree then went for another two years to earn his MBA. When Sigmund Broz decided to retire and open two frozen custard stands in Florida, Demetrius bought Sig’s Diner. Demetrius had three daughters Samantha, Sigrid, and Suzanne, all of whom worked at the diner. Demetrius added two more Sig’s Diners, one on the other side of the campus in 1949 which Sigrid ran and one in the Inner Harbor in 1951 which Suzanne took over. In1953 Demetrius bought Sig Broz’s custard stands in Florida, opened two custard stands in Baltimore which he appointed Sigrid’s and Suzanne’s husbands to run then turned over management of the original Sig’s next to Johns Hopkins and made her general manager of the Maryland operations.

I had been accustomed to working and working hard since I was fourteen. The prospect of carrying a full load and working didn’t faze me. But I couldn’t figure out a person who would be willing to hire me based on the few words we had just exchanged. As she assessed me, looking at me as if she had x-ray vision, I couldn’t help what came out of my mouth. “You must be desperate for help to offer a job to a person you haven’t even talked with for a couple minutes.”

“People call me the “mad Greek” Mr. Wakefield but I don’t think any have ever called me desperate. The fact is though I AM desperate. I can get employees anytime I want but it’s difficult to find the kind of employees I want. So, I suppose I AM desperate for the right kind of employees. If I had enough of the right kind of employees Sig’s instead of being three diners would be six or nine, or twelve. We’ve only talked for a few minutes Toby, but I’ve seen you walking by my diner at least twice a day. At one point I told myself ‘I’m going to go out there and introduce myself to that young man.”