Chapter 4: Family Conflicts

June 1, 1985, Rutherford, Ohio

"Welcome, Mike! Welcome, Elizaveta!" my grandfather exclaimed with a huge smile when he opened the door of his house early on Saturday afternoon.

"Hi, Grandpa!" I replied.

"Hi, Grandpa!" Elizaveta exclaimed.

"Come in, come in!" my grandfather said. "How are the newlyweds!"

"Newly wed!" I grinned.

"Everything was good about your trip to Niagara Falls?"

"Perfect," Elizaveta gushed.

"Hello, kids!" my grandmother said, coming into the room.

"Hi, Grandma!" Elizaveta and I both replied.

"Mike," Grandma said, "Liz and Paul will be here soon, but your parents won't be here until right before dinner."

I suppressed a sigh but took solace in the fact that they weren't refusing to attend. Elizaveta squeezed my hand, showing she understood what I was thinking.

"OK," I replied.

"Let me get you both something to drink; there are snacks on the coffee table."

"Coke, please, for me," I said.

"7-Up or Sprite, please," Elizaveta said.

My grandmother left and came back a moment later with two glasses of lemonade for her and Grandpa, as well as my Coke and Elizaveta's 7-Up.

"When do you leave for Europe?" my grandfather asked.

"On the 8th," I said. "We fly from Columbus to Chicago to Amsterdam. We fly back from Amsterdam through Chicago on July 18th."

"And where are you visiting?" Grandma asked.

"Amsterdam, Paris, Spain, Rome, Athens, Vienna, Geneva, Munich, Copenhagen, and London. In Spain, we'll be staying with friends in Valencia, and we'll take the train to visit Madrid and probably see some other places, if we can."

"Have you ever thought about going to Russia?"

I shook my head, "I wouldn't go under the Communists. Maybe sometime in the future if they're removed."

"Sadly, that will probably take a war," my grandfather said, shaking his head. "Either a civil war, or God forbid, World War III."

The doorbell rang, and my grandfather got up to answer it. A few seconds later, Liz and Paul came into the living room. My grandmother greeted them and went to get them drinks.

"So?" Liz smirked.

"We enjoyed the Falls, including the boat ride," I said with a silly smile.

"Uh-huh," she replied dryly.

"«Не будьте некультурными» (Ne budte nekulturnymi)!" my grandfather said sternly, causing Liz to roll her eyes. ("Don't be indecorous")

"Sorry, Grandpa," Liz replied.

"Are you taking a class over the Summer, Liz?" Elizaveta asked.

"Just one. And I have full-time hours at the restaurant. Paul and I manage to have breakfast and dinner together, which I guess will be like when Mike is a Resident."

"We'll be lucky to do even that," Elizaveta said. "Some of his shifts will be thirty-six hours straight."

"Are you getting settled into your house?" Grandma asked.

"Yes," I replied. "We won't open our gifts until Tuesday, so we might have a few things to buy, but I doubt it."

"We'll have you over for dinner after we get back from Europe," Elizaveta said.

"Thanks!" Liz replied, as did my grandmother.

We spent an hour chit-chatting before my grandma needed to go to the kitchen to work on dinner. Elizaveta volunteered to help and, to my amusement, cajoled Liz into helping as well.

"Liz is NOT a fan of the kitchen," Paul said quietly after the women had left the room.

"Oh, I know," I chuckled. "Just wait until after dinner when we volunteer to do the dishes. My bride will have a fit!"

"So exactly the opposite of Liz, then?" Paul laughed.

"Mike is too modern for his wife's liking!" my grandfather observed. "At least with regard to traditional roles in the home."

"She'll just have to deal with it!" I declared.

"How did none of that rub off on Liz?" Paul asked.

"My dad is actually the one who has a more clearly defined idea of male and female roles," I said. "Mom is a good cook and stuff, but she believed everyone should share in the chores and we should learn to cook. Liz hated it, and I liked it."

"You were always your mother's son, Mike," my grandfather said.

"And your grandson!"

My grandfather laughed, "Perhaps so, Mischa; perhaps so!"

"I didn't get a chance to talk to Uncle Alex at the wedding," I said. "How is he doing?"

"Quite well, really. TWA is profitable, and his job seems secure. Of course, he's not going to church. Have you spoken to your sister about that?"

"Yes, and I feel it's best to leave that decision to her and Paul," I said. "I pray for them every day."

We chatted for another forty minutes before my parents arrived, and a few minutes after that, my grandmother announced that dinner was ready. My dad said no more than about ten words during the meal, and the tension was palpable. I could tell my grandfather was supremely annoyed, and I was sure my mom would hear about it. I wondered if they'd actually sought out counseling, but my gut feeling was that they hadn't.

Dinner went long, and Elizaveta and I had to leave almost immediately after dessert so we could make it back to McKinley in time for Vespers. We thanked my grandparents, said 'goodbye', and headed out to my car.

"Your grandmother is really cool," Elizaveta said as I pulled out of the driveway.

"Telling you stories about when I was little?"

Elizaveta laughed, "More about Liz, actually, and it was to tease Liz, not upset her. Your grandma said you were very well-behaved, but Liz was the troublemaker. Liz laughed, so don't worry."

"Grandma knows how to tell those stories without it seeming as if she's condemning."

"I did hear about one thing you did."

"Getting my mouth washed out with soap?"

"Yes! Your grandmother wouldn't say what it was, but Liz whispered it to me when your grandma went to the pantry."

"Which only proves my grandma right about Liz being a troublemaker! Did she tell you I didn't use the word? I was just answering Dale's question about how to say a certain word in Russian."

"I got the impression that your mom didn't care about the reason!"

"That impression would be correct," I grinned.

"I know we're going straight to church for Vespers, but does the rule apply now or after you're ordained?"

"After," I chuckled. "You were disappointed we only had time to do it once this morning! I'll make it up to you after church!"

"Good!" Elizaveta exclaimed.

June 2, 1985, McKinley, Ohio

On Sunday morning, we headed to church, where, as at Vespers, I'd worship with Elizaveta in the nave rather than serving in the altar. Unless we went to church in Europe, this would be the last time we'd worship standing together at Saint Michael the Archangel. We'd been warmly greeted at Vespers the night before, but as was typical of June, July, and August, only about twenty-five percent of the congregation had been at the service. That was about half the usual Saturday evening attendance, and the same would likely be true of Matins this morning, though the Divine Liturgy would be better attended.

"Good morning, Subdeacon! Good morning, Elizaveta!" Father Nicholas said when we walked into the church.

"Good morning!" I replied. "Father, bless!"

Both Elizaveta and I received his blessing.

"How was your trip?" he asked.

"Just fine," I replied, and then, because only the three of us were in earshot, I added, "Nothing I would write home about!"

Father Nicholas laughed heartily, "I don't think a letter of that kind would be well received, nor would it be appropriate!"

"In all seriousness, the Falls were awesome, and we enjoyed the time away."

"Good! I need to get to the altar; who knows what mayhem the High School boys might get up to unsupervised!"

"Sorry," I replied.

"No apologies necessary, Subdeacon. I relieved you of all your duties until after your honeymoon trip to Europe."

"We appreciate that!"

We walked into the nave, and Father went into the altar. Several people were already in the nave and nodded to us as we performed the usual entry rituals, including venerating the icons of Michael the Archangel and Elizabeth, the mother of John the Baptist, as well as the icon of Christ and the icon which depicted Pentecost. We lit candles and put them in holders in front of Christ and the Theotokos, following the tradition of the new bride placing hers before Mary while I placed mine before Jesus.

The services went along as usual, though it seemed as if every person who came into the nave came over to us, with the men putting a hand on my shoulder and the women hugging Elizaveta. That somewhat disrupted my ability to worship, but given it was a very Orthodox thing to do, I accepted it. Despite that, by the time when Father Nicholas brought the chalice through the Holy Doors for communion, my mind and heart were in a proper state, and Elizaveta and I approached the chalice together, with her in front of me.

When the services ended, we joined the rest of the congregation for lunch, though given it was Summer, there was no Sunday School. Elizaveta was mobbed by her friends, and I elected to sit with Father Nicholas and Matushka Natalya while my own soon-to-be Matushka held court with her friends.

"She seems in her element already," Matushka Natalya said quietly.

I chuckled, "My wife is clearly in charge of her world. And she's made sure I know it!"

Father and Matushka both laughed.

"She's a sweet, lovely girl, Subdeacon," Father Nicholas said.

"Oh, that she is; she's also VERY Russian in her temperament!"

"What are you trying to say, Subdeacon?" Matushka Natalya asked with an arched eyebrow.

"That the combination of chrism and a wedding ring seems to activate the Russian superpowers in every woman I know in either parish!"

"And to think, it's the men who wear the capes!" she teased.

"Delusions," I chuckled.

"Mike," Father Nicholas said, "before I forget, I want to do the traveling prayers for you and Elizaveta before you leave for Europe. How about Wednesday following Vespers?"

"That's fine."

We finished our lunch, and when I saw the conversation between Elizaveta and her friends die down as some of them left, I went over to her.

"Ready to head to Tasha's?" I asked.

"Yes!"

She said 'goodbye' to Oksana, Yuliana, and Serafima, and we left the church. I removed my cassock, put it in its bag, and put the bag in the trunk, then helped Elizaveta into the car. I got in myself, and we headed into McKinley. I parked on the street just south of the Quick Mart, and Elizaveta and I got out and hurried up the steps to Tasha's apartment.

"Mike! Elizaveta!" she exclaimed, "Come in!"

I chuckled, "We just saw you at church!"

"I know, but I couldn't hug you there! Is that OK, Elizaveta?"

"Yes, of course!"

She gave me a very nice hug, which Nikolas watched with a stoic face, though his eyes betrayed his objections. Hugs like that wouldn't be proper after the end of July, so it was a short-term concern.

"Congratulations!" Tasha said.

"Thanks! And thanks for the gift."

"You're welcome!"

There was a knock at the door, and Tasha moved over to let Mark and Alyssa into the apartment. Mark shook my hand, and Alyssa gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Congrats!" she said.

"Thanks," I replied. "And thanks for the gift."

"You're welcome!"

"Alyssa," Tasha said with a soft voice, "remember, once he's ordained, you can't do that."

"Oops! Sorry!" she said, sounding chagrined.

"It wasn't a reprimand," Tasha said. "Just a reminder about the future."

"I've actually never done that before!" Alyssa said. "But it just seemed right."

"Because it was!" Tasha said firmly. "Elizaveta has no objections."

"Of course not!" Elizaveta said.

She got a hug and kiss from Alyssa, and after a nod from me, Mark hugged her as well.

"How was the honeymoon?" Tasha asked Elizaveta.

"Wouldn't YOU like to know!" Elizaveta teased, causing everyone but Nik to laugh. "You'll find out when you have yours in two months!"

"There are bottles of pop in the fridge, or I can make coffee," Tasha said, obviously to change the subject.

Everyone opted for soft drinks, and then sat down — me and Elizaveta on the loveseat, Mark, Alyssa, and Tasha on the couch, and Nik in the chair that made up the living room set.

"How was Niagara Falls?" Alyssa asked.

"Gorgeous!" Elizaveta replied. "We got completely soaked on the Maid of the Mist and then even wetter when we went behind Bridal Veil Falls and stood on what they call the 'Hurricane Deck'. It's not directly under the water, but there's so much spray that you get drenched! It was fun, but my hair was a total mess!"

"She looked like a drowned rat," I grinned.

"Mike would have, too, if he'd let his hair grow!"

"Are you going to do that, Mike?" Tasha asked.

I nodded, "My wife thinks I should, and it is appropriate for a deacon to wear a ponytail. I'll keep my beard pretty much as it is rather than let it grow out. A big beard would cause trouble with masks in the hospital."

"I hadn't thought about that," Tasha said. "It makes sense. But all that matters is you have a beard."

"You know quite a few of the clergy don't," I said.

"I know," Tasha frowned. "It's traditional to have one, and to not have one is to say that Peter the Great was right about cutting beards."

"What's the issue?" Mark asked.

"In Russia, a beard is a sign of manhood," Nik said. "To not have one is to adopt French stylings rather than Russian ones."

"Tasha, tell them what the monk Seraphim said," I chuckled. "I know your dad agrees!"

Tasha laughed, "Seraphim said that if your father doesn't have a beard, you have two mothers!"

All the others cracked up, having not heard that before. I'd heard Deacon Vasily make that comment as fewer and fewer of the younger men chose to wear beards because they were out of style in the secular world. The context of the conversation had been an attempt by the Reds to acquire pitchers from the Oakland A's and the necessity of them shaving their facial hair to conform to the Reds' unique rules rejecting all facial hair.

"Mike's dad doesn't have a beard!" Elizaveta giggled.

"I don't think a male Loucks has had a beard since before the American Revolution," I said. "Well, until me. Dad wasn't thrilled when I decided to let it grow out, but once I was on the path to ordination, it was basically required by tradition."

"And the ponytail?" Mark asked.

"Another tradition for deacons, and it's cut when they become priests. I don't know of any support for that tradition outside the Russian church, either. That said, a chaste priest who was tonsured a monk would let his hair grow. There's no requirement, beyond obedience to your abbot or bishop, but there's also no reason to not follow the tradition."

"I think I need to grow a beard," Mark said thoughtfully. "I'd hate for my kids to have two moms!"

Everyone in the room, including Nik, erupted in laughter.

"I think you should," Alyssa said. "I find beards incredibly attractive!"

"I think you have your marching orders," I chuckled. "And she's not even Russian!"

Everyone laughed again. The rest of the afternoon had less teasing and a bit less talking as we played several games of Uno before the girls prepared dinner. After dinner, Tasha walked Mark, Alyssa, Elizaveta, and me to our cars.

"Can we have lunch on Thursday?" she asked Elizaveta. "You, me, and Mike?"

"Sure."

"Oh, and Clarissa, if she's free."

"I'll call her."

Tasha hugged the girls, then went back inside to be with Nik.

"Come to our place Friday night," Elizaveta said to Alyssa. "Clarissa and Abby will be there."

"We'd love to, right, Mark?"

"Sure. What about Nik and Tasha?"

"Nik's not comfortable with Clarissa and Abby," Elizaveta said. "Tasha and I talked about it."

"OK. See you Friday!"

We shook hands, and the girls hugged. Elizaveta and I got into my car and headed home, where we spent the evening wearing ourselves out in bed.

June 3, 1985, Columbus, Ohio

On Monday morning, Elizaveta and I were up extremely early because she insisted we make love before we left for Columbus, and I was not going to object! Her period was supposed to start in the next twenty-four hours, and she wanted to make love as much as possible before it started. We ate a quick breakfast, and Clarissa arrived just as we finished.

An hour later, I parked the car outside the hospital at Ohio State, where Jocelyn's back surgery was to be performed. I hoped, as she did, that this was the last surgery for a long time, though she was fairly certain that she'd need hip replacement surgery at some point in the distant future. Elizaveta, Clarissa, and I hurried inside and made our way to the floor where Jocelyn was to check in, and found her, Gene, and her parents sitting in a waiting area.

"Hi, Jos!" I said.

"Hi, Mik!" she exclaimed, hopping up for a hug.

"Has she tired you out yet?" Jocelyn whispered in my ear.

"Not for lack of trying!" I replied with a goofy grin.

We broke the hug, and I shook hands with Gene, then greeted Jocelyn's parents while she and Elizaveta greeted each other. Clarissa hugged Jocelyn after Elizaveta.

"How are you feeling, Jos?" I asked.

"OK, I guess. The surgery is low-risk, but you know how it is."

"You'll be fine. This is nothing compared to the last time you were here."

"And she didn't even get a helicopter ride this time!" Mr. Mills teased.

"I'd say that's a GOOD thing," I replied with a grin. "I mean, we know Jos wants to be treated like a princess, but she'd have to BE one for that to happen!"

"Be careful, Mik, or you'll be the one who needs surgery!"

"She always did want to be a princess growing up," Mrs. Mills said.

"You aren't helping, Mom!" Jocelyn protested.

I chuckled, "She did go through that 'princess' phase in third grade. I think she wore dresses to school every day that year."

"And she mostly wouldn't be caught dead in a dress these days!" Mr. Mills said.

"You're all hilarious," Jocelyn said flatly.

"You looked really nice in your dress at the wedding," Gene said.

"Thank you!" Jocelyn declared.