Chapter 64: «Ὀδύσσεια» (‘Odyssey’)

December 29, 1987, McKinley, Ohio

“How was your visit with Katy?” Lara asked when she arrived at the house on Tuesday morning.

“We agreed I’m not moving to California, and we also agreed she has no good employment options in Ohio.”

“Of all the things that would be ‘not news’, that’s about the most ‘not news’ news possible.”

“She’s happy and seems to have a good job lined up when she finishes her Master’s. Things are pretty much exactly where they were when we figured that out four years ago. Her parents went out after dinner and left us alone.”

Lara laughed, “Hoping you guys would rekindle your past relationship?”

“So it would appear, but literally the moment they left I asked if Katy planned to stay in California and she asked if I planned to stay in Ohio. We both said ‘yes’, and I said that we had that out of the way.”

“Parents are so weird!” Lara declared.

“You’re telling me?” I chuckled. “And on the actual news front, my sister had her baby yesterday. Liz and Michael Paul are doing fine. Also, Tasha called again while I was out. She might call again today.”

“You’re being passive aggressive with her?”

“I suppose. I’ll call her, but you know I’m at the medical office today, and I’m having dinner with Doctor Cooper’s daughter tonight.”

“What’s on the menu?” Lara asked with a smirk. “Breasts with a side of thighs?”

“She might be calling to cancel, for all I know. She’s going to Vanderbilt on a tennis scholarship, and there’s less chance of me moving to Tennessee than California! Clarissa and I at least considered Stanford, but we rejected it, as well as Emory in Georgia.”

“Is your groupie going to be at Doctor Blahnik’s party?”

“I have no idea. Lexie is from near Bowling Green and I suspect she went home for break. She also made it clear she’s very much into ‘one and done’ when it comes to hook-ups.”

“So, basically a thespian!”

“Pretty much. It doesn’t bother you?”

“No. If you want to bang all those girls Serafima is parading through here, go for it. On the other hand, what I said about the nanny applies to ALL other girls if we decide to do this.”

“Obviously! And that’s the way I want it, too! Breakfast is ready, so let’s eat, or I’ll be late.”

We went to the kitchen, and I decided to see if Rachel would tolerate her high chair for the first time, and after strapping her in, she seemed content.

“She can see the world from there,” Lara said. “As opposed to staring at the ceiling!”

“Good point!”

“Though girls probably should get used to staring at the ceiling!” Lara teased.

“Whatever!” I chuckled, then said the blessing, and we began eating.

“What do I tell Tasha if she calls?” Lara asked.

“That I’ve been busy, which is true. Tell her I’ll call her on Friday or Saturday, whichever day she doesn’t work.”

“OK. When are you going to see your nephew?”

“It almost has to be Monday. I’ll call Liz and confirm.”

We ate, then I got dressed. When I was ready to leave, I kissed Rachel’s forehead, exchanged a hug and a soft kiss with Lara, and then headed to the medical office.

It was a typical day in the office, though I managed to find five minutes to call Annette, who confirmed our plans, saying she’d arrive about 6:00pm. Later in the day, I called Liz to arrange to see my nephew.

“Did you see Grandma and Grandpa Loucks?” I asked.

“Yes. They were very happy!”

“Mind if I bring Lara with me when I come to see you?”

“Not at all! Did you invite her?”

“No, but I will tonight. I’m positive she’ll say yes. OK to show up around 9:00am?”

“That sounds good!”

“Getting much sleep?”

“No!” Liz groused. “But I guess you know how it is.”

“I do!”

“See you Monday!”

We said ‘goodbye’ and I hung up. The rest of the day was uneventful, as days in the pediatric office typically were, and I headed home at 5:00pm.

“Tasha called,” Lara said after I greeted her and Rachel. “She asked that you call her on Friday morning. She sounds very upset.”

She only had herself to blame, as had she not run to Father Nicholas with her ‘concern’, we wouldn’t be in the situation in which we found ourselves. It did make one thing perfectly clear to me, and that was that Tasha was nowhere near mature enough for me to marry. Elizaveta certainly had been, and there was no doubt in my mind that Lara was mature, nor any doubt about Maryam. And in the end, that had to be an important factor in my consideration, to the point that lack of sufficient maturity would eliminate a young woman from consideration.

“I don’t think she’ll be any less upset after I speak to her. Can I ask you about something you once said?”

“Sure.”

“If I recall correctly, you said that your stepdad believed that kids needed to be taught responsibility starting from birth. And that when you were around six, he gave you significant freedom and expected you to take responsibility for what you did.”

Lara nodded, “I did. I think I also told you that my biological dad freaked out and was sure I was going to turn into some kind of sex-crazed drug addict who held up liquor stores to support my coke habit. It appears, despite what I said back then, that he might have been partly correct!”

I laughed, “Having had exactly one sex partner, having been chaste for three years, and having done nothing more extreme than sex in front of the fireplace, I don’t think ‘sex-crazed’ applies!”

“Just wait!” Lara smirked. “But, all kidding aside, what are you getting at?”

“Maturity. I realized that the root cause of Tasha’s problems is that she’s immature. I’d say it was the root cause of my problems as well. Elizaveta was extremely mature at fifteen, though not quite at your level. As I thought about it, the more conservative and controlling the parent, the less mature the kid. Katy, for example, was more mature at eighteen than I was when I turned twenty-one, and by a wide margin.”

“Considering parenting styles for the future?”

“Yes, though a more pressing concern is dealing with Tasha, and, secondly, as perhaps the most important criteria for selecting a life partner.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Lara observed. “You’ve moved from ‘mom for Rachel’ to ‘wife and mother’ to ‘life partner’.”

“I’m trying to learn from my mistakes, my parents’ mistakes, Deacon Vasily’s mistakes, my dad’s parents’ mistakes, and so on.”

“Not your Grandpa and Grandma Borodin?”

“They appear to have been less controlling and conservative than I was led to believe growing up.”

“There’s a story there, for sure!”

“Let’s just say my mom was a teenager and my grandfather knew far more about her than she thought he did. My mom was, from what I can tell, far more mature than my dad when they married, and I’m not sure my dad ever grew up, so to speak. I was following the same pattern, but had the advantage of having Jocelyn as my friend, and more importantly, of meeting Clarissa, who wasn’t afraid to apply good whacks with a figurative baseball bat when necessary, which was pretty often. In a sense, I’ve been using age as a proxy, and that appears to be a poor idea. The thing is, we do it all the time in society — age of consent, driving age, marriage age, liquor and cigarette purchases, insurance discounts, and so on.”

“If I may, the insurance discounts are based purely on statistics and actuarial tables. Male drivers ages sixteen to twenty-four have a much higher risk because they have a much higher loss rate.”

“Yes, and that’s a direct reflection of maturity, wouldn’t you say? Granted, it’s done with stats instead of perception or history, but it’s still a proxy for maturity.”

“OK, I see your point,” Lara said. “One way to look at it is that the more controlling the parent, the less likely the kid is to be mature because they don’t have to be. The same is true of spoiled kids who never learn the meaning of ‘no’.”

“Like kids who are given cherry red Corvettes on their sixteenth birthday?” I asked with a smirk.

“And do you think my stepdad would have done that had I not been mature and responsible?”

“Unlikely, in your case.”

“Trust me, I saw the results of the immature spoiled brats, and it wasn’t pretty. I was a mature spoiled brat!”

I laughed, “Except you never acted like one.”

“Thank my biological dad for that. Despite being a well-off attorney, he was always grounded. And I think his faith was the key to that. That’s something I learned from him, and then discovered to be true when I returned to the Church. If you forget all the drama, and I know that’s tough, the Church keeps you grounded.”

“It’s hard to forget the drama. Honestly, what I could use right now is living close to the monastery and attending services there. The congregation is of a very different character.”

“Besides the Cathedral, is the parish in Loveland the closest?”

“It’s about the same distance as the parish in Norwood, but yes. Otherwise it’s Cleveland, Toledo, or Pittsburgh.”

“What about the Greeks or Antiochians?” Lara asked.

“About the same for the Greeks. I don’t think there’s an Antiochian parish in Columbus, but there might be one of their mission churches that either meets in a house or in rented space. Otherwise it’s Toledo, Cleveland, or Detroit. Sadly, we have nowhere near the number of churches the Roman Catholics or Lutherans have. In the end, I think the best approach, my schedule permitting, is the Cathedral or Saint George in Loveland. Both are significant drives, but both will be more peaceful. And so long as I can receive the Eucharist every three weeks, there won’t be a problem.”

Lara smiled, “Leave it to you to follow that canon.”

“It’s who I am,” I replied. “But you also know that I understand how those canons are to be applied, and never expect anyone else to follow as strictly as I do, when that is within the guidance I’m given by my confessor and bishop.”

“You know that’s an area where we’ll have to compromise, right?”

“Yes, of course. As it was with me and Elizaveta. You know my ascetic tendencies, but I think you also know I understand that asceticism and marriage do not go together.”

“Which creates part of your spiritual difficulties. We don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll just say this — your behavior with regard to sex is a direct result of your asceticism intersecting with living in the world. You could easily live as a monk, which I think has been proven time and again over the years, and it actually fits both your personality and your spirituality.

“In a slightly different world, it would be Monk Michael, then Father Michael, and eventually Bishop Michael. There is no doubt in my mind. But, your true calling, the one which drives you, is your secular calling to be a doctor. That both complements and conflicts with your spirituality.”

“Damn, Lara,” I said, shaking my head.

“I think I have time for one further insight, which might help you as you contemplate what I just said, and it’s this — you are far more rigorous than Tasha’s father ever was. He, as I see it, was focused purely on externals. Well, no, that’s not fair; I’m sure he was spiritual as well. That said, for him, it was all about appearances. You are the exact opposite. You know why we agreed we couldn’t marry three years ago, and that was because I refused to live under the microscope. Well, guess who else refused to live under the microscope?”

“Me.”

Lara smiled, “Exactly. One last thought, because I have to say this now, and that is I’m pretty sure that after you think this through and work it out in your heart, that you and I will have a six-month sexual odyssey, and you’ll marry someone else. I won’t be upset, Mike, in fact, I’ll be happy because YOU are happy.”

“I’m not sure what to say to all of that.”

“Nothing right now. In fact, nothing until we work through everything in The Joy of Sex. The last thing I want is your ascetic nature to block the sexual odyssey we plan to undertake!”

“I...”

Lara shook her head and held up her hand, causing me to stop speaking.

“Kiss me, and I’ll see you tomorrow evening before your shift.”

I did, and after I walked her to the door, I picked up my daughter, went to my study, sat in the rocking chair, to think about the conversation I’d just had with Lara. Twenty-five minutes later, having contemplated everything she had said, and having reached no conclusions, and having added no clarity, I was startled by the doorbell. I checked my watch, and it was just before 6:00pm, which meant Annette had arrived. I got out of the rocking chair, somewhat in a fog, and went to the front door.

“Hi!” Annette exclaimed. “I parked in the driveway behind your Mustang. I hope that’s OK.”

“It is! Come in.”

Annette entered, I closed the door, and after she’d hung her coat in the closet and set down her bag, she held out her arms for Rachel.

“Hi, little one!” Annette cooed. “You’re getting big!”

“90th percentile at her checkup two weeks ago,” I said. “Let me order the pizza. I should have done that earlier, but I was spending time with Rachel.”

“It’s OK! Miss Rachel and I can talk about girl stuff!”

I laughed, “She’s not much of a conversationalist just yet.”

“Then I’ll talk, and she’ll listen!”

They went to sit in the great room by the fire while I went to the kitchen and ordered a large pepperoni pizza with medium crust. The leftovers would be good for lunch, and given the difference in price was $1.50, that made much more sense than ordering a smaller pizza.

“Forty minutes or less,” I said to Annette.

“Cool! Rachel seems very happy.”

“If you received as much attention as she does, you’d be happy, too!”

Annette made a face, then said, “Except when it’s boys who want to get into my panties and won’t take ‘no’ for an answer!”

“Does that happen a lot?”

“You’ve seen my tennis outfit! What do you think?”

“I think you like the attention, and the problem is the lack of self-control common amongst High School guys!”

“Maybe,” Annette said with a silly smile. “You liked the outfit, right?”

“I did.”

“I have it with me, so if you want to screw the pretty tennis player in her sexy tennis outfit, I’m game!”

My thinking was muddled, and I was somewhat off kilter from Lara’s observations, and that meant my decision-making abilities would be affected. The safest course of action was to simply do what I’d planned to do, and not make any important decisions until I had more time to think.

“That sounds like fun! May I ask what you told your parents?”

“That I was coming to see you to get my brains screwed out by a medical student with a huge dick!”

“Doubtful.”

“Actually, Mom knows where I am and what I’m doing, well, in a general way. Dad thinks I’m spending the night with a girlfriend.”

“Who knew?” I smirked.

Annette laughed, “Not in this or any other universe!”

“What happened last time?”

“Dad left the house before I arrived home, and didn’t know I was out all night because the door to my room was closed. Mom asked, quite directly, whom I spent the night with.”

“And you told her?”

“Yes. Her reaction was, well, interesting.”

“Oh?” I asked with an arched eyebrow.

“She said that she could tell from the moment I laid eyes on you that I wanted to go to bed with you, but that I was not the kind of girl who would cheat or who would have an affair with a married man. She also said it was obvious you liked me, but you were married and would never, ever even think of crossing the line. That meant I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, act on my attraction.

“She asked if I’d offered to comfort you after, you know, and I said ‘yes’, but that you very politely turned me down. She asked where I saw this leading, and I gave her a synopsis of our conversation. She’d be perfectly happy for you to try to Match at Vanderbilt, and offered to put you in touch with a friend of hers who Matched there and is an Attending in cardiothoracic surgery.”

“And you said?”

“That you were more likely to Match here because you had personally designed your Residency program, but that you were at least open to the idea, even if it might be a longshot. That’s good enough for Mom. Dad, well, short of a ring and a ceremony, he won’t accept it. According to his thinking, I’m supposed to be a virgin and bleed on the sheets on my wedding night.”

“No chance of that, and I don’t mean because you’ve had sex.”

“You mean because by my age, especially as an athlete, most girls don’t have one, right?”

“Yes.”

“When I was ten, I went horseback riding and when I arrived home, I found a spot of blood in my panties. I kind of freaked out because I knew I was too young to have my period, and mom explained what had likely happened. There was no more blood, and I didn’t get my period for a few years. And my first time, it was obvious to me that I didn’t have a hymen.”

“There are cases of girls as young as ten having their periods,” I observed. “They’re outliers, but that’s not physiologically problematic. Any younger than that, and there might be some kind of hormonal problem. That said, healthy diets seem to be pushing menarche earlier. But I’m no specialist in adolescent physiology.”

“Well, you sure seem to know your way around a teenage female body!”

“The average High School jock or stoner can generally figure it out,” I chuckled. “So that’s not saying much!”

“Trust me, there is a big difference between ‘figuring it out’ and knowing how to make a girl feel really good! You know how.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m curious,” Annette said, “will you be more like my mom or my dad when Rachel is fifteen?”