Chapter 81: Kid Whisperer

February 13, 1988, McKinley, Ohio

Becka and I slept in short stretches between sixty-nine and fucking, in effect, having sex all night, finishing our last time at 5:30am, so we could nap until 7:00am, which would give us time to shower before I drove Becka to Jo’s house, then drive through Dunkin’ Donuts for breakfast. The sugar overload would help replenish the energy I’d used overnight, though I’d potentially crash pretty hard later in the day.

“That feels so nice,” Becka said as I shampooed her hair.

“Showers afterwards are one of my favorite things to do,” I replied. “Bubble baths are fun, too.”

“Ooh! I want to do that sometime!”

“I think we can make that happen!”

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer, and I won’t be upset, or upset with the answer.”

“Ask your question,” I replied.

“Am I your first groupie?” she asked as I began soaping her body.

I chuckled, “Not even close! The first one was when I was at Taft, not long after I learned to play the guitar. It’s not a habit, and obviously for the two years I was married, it couldn’t happen, even if I had wanted to, which I didn’t.”

“I suppose I should ask another question — if I’m in Cincinnati and you’re here, and you’re super busy, which I gather, how do we see each other?”

“We’d have to work it out, obviously, but the first step is to get together again. I get my schedule for next month on Monday, Unfortunately, I have stuff going on almost every day for the next two weeks.”

“What about Monday? It’s a holiday.”

“Right,” I chuckled. “All hospitals just close down and send all the patients home and put up a sign in the ER that says ‘Closed for the Holiday’.”

“Oops!” Becka exclaimed. “Never mind!”

“I am free on Wednesdays, but I go to bed by 8:00pm so I can get up at 3:00am for my shift, and I really do have to sleep. Given the distance, that kind of makes it silly. If you give me your phone number, I’ll call you on Tuesday evening once I update my calendar.”

“Cool!” she exclaimed as I directed her under the spray.

When Becka had rinsed off the suds, she took the bottle of shampoo and began washing me.

“What kind of lawyer do you want to be?” I asked.

“Criminal defense,” she said. “I do not want to be an ambulance chaser like my uncle!”

“Plaintiff’s attorney?” I asked.

“Worse, I think, for you. Malpractice attorney.”

“So a true ambulance chaser, and someone I’d not care to associate with inside or outside a courtroom.”

“He’s really disgusting at times, because he’s gone after doctors who didn’t do anything wrong, but just had a bad outcome. But as he says, if anything goes wrong, it’s up to the ‘rich asshole doctors’, ‘evil insurance companies’, and ‘cash-rich hospitals’ to cough up money.”

“I’m not sure what planet he lives on, but I’m training at a public hospital that can’t afford to provide all the care necessary for the people of the county and some surrounding counties, and our doctors might make more money than the average person in the county, but I won’t make more than about $50,000 a year until my Residency ends, and that’s in about ten years. I bet your uncle makes that much a month.”

“At least.”

“So he’s a hypocrite, too. Wonderful.”

“I agree with you. It’s my dad’s brother, and my dad doesn’t like him at all. Dad is an investment advisor and Mom works at the BMV. Dad’s comment about his brother is that helping people generate wealth pays worse than using the legal system to rob doctors, hospitals, and insurance companies.”

“He’s not wrong,” I replied.

“What do your parents do?”

“My dad is a supervisor for the Harding County Property Division, and mom is a legal secretary. They’re divorced and both of them remarried. My mom’s new husband is an attorney focusing on divorce, child custody, and child welfare. My dad’s new wife is a stay-at-home mom with my baby brother, and I’m not kidding when I say ‘baby’! She’s also pregnant with baby number two.”

“I’m going to guess he married a much younger woman?”

“Eighteen when they married. My baby brother, Peter, is twenty-three years younger than I am. I have a sister, too, but she’s only three years younger. She and her husband own the Star Light Motel in Rutherford.”

“Last night, when you asked about Byzantine Rite, you were wondering if I’d be OK with going to your church, right?”

“Yes. I know it’s jumping the gun a bit, but it’s important to me, and when we have time, I’ll explain in detail. As an aside, my stepdad was Byzantine Rite when he met my mom, and he converted, but it’s pretty simple, really. Just say the Nicene Creed without the Filioque and make an affirmation about not being subject to the Pope.”

“He’s pretty badass, though, don’t you think?”

“John Paul II? Very. My grandfather is a huge supporter, even if he rejects the idea of the papacy. I tend to agree, given John Paul’s staunch anti-Communism. The fact that he’s Polish is a serious thorn in the side of the Soviets, and that’s a good thing!”

Becka finished soaping me, I rinsed off, then turned off the shower. We stepped out, dried ourselves, then dressed, with Becka having to put on the clothes she’d worn to the house because she hadn’t brought a bag with her. When we were dressed, she helped me change the sheets, which were damp with sweat and other fluids, and I put them in the washing machine before we left the house.

“It’s the traffic light after Frisch’s,” Becka said as I drove east on Elm. “You’ll make a left, then the first right, and her house is the sixth one down on the left.”

“OK.”

We rode in silence, though Becka put her hand lightly on top of mine, which was on the gear shift.

“This turned out way better than I even imagined!” Becka exclaimed when I turned onto the street where Jo lived. “I hoped for an awesome birthday, but wow!”

“I agree. You have my number, and it’s OK to call any time. I’ll call for sure on Tuesday.”

“Awesome!”

I pulled into the correct driveway, parked, and Becka and I got out of my Mustang. I walked her to the door, where we exchanged a soft kiss. She pulled a key from her pocket and inserted into the lock, but the door opened before she could turn it.

“Morning!” Jo exclaimed. “Report!”

Becka laughed, “He fucks as good as he looks, he’s huge, and you can’t have him!”

“I think this is my cue to leave,” I chuckled. “You have your girl talk, because I need to get to band practice!”

Both girls laughed, Becka gave me a quick kiss, and they went into the house. I walked back to my car, got in, and headed for Dunkin’ Donuts. I got two maple-frosted doughnuts and a large coffee, then drove to Taft, munching my doughnuts on the way. I arrived in the music room about fifteen minutes early, so I simply relaxed with my coffee until Kim showed up.

“We’re on for March 25th,” she said. “He’s raising the price of tickets by $3, and we’ll get $2 of that increase. He sold more booze last night than any time in the past five years! And the bartenders made serious bank on tips.”

“I think Anicka might want to charge more for tickets at Taft,” I chuckled. “I know she can’t pay us more than the university allows, but I don’t mind extra money going to the Music Department.”

“Somebody has to pay her salary and Milena’s!” Kim declared. “Is Kari going to be here this morning?”

“Yes, I am!” Kari declared, walking in at the same time as Sticks.

José arrived a minute later with a girl I recognized from the previous night. He was taking full advantage of being single, and this girl was at least the fifth.

“Everyone, this is Kelly,” he said.

We all said ‘Hello’ then gathered to talk about integrating Kari’s violin for two songs — Dust in the Wind and The Devil Went Down to Georgia.

“Mike, you’ll do the vocals, right?” Kim asked.

“I’m no Charlie Daniels, but I’ll give it a shot! His voice is just perfect for the song.”

“Cool. We also need a few new songs for next time, so I was thinking Let’s Go Crazy, Take Me With U, Take It on the Run, and Keep on Loving You. Kari, you already know Devil, right?”

“Yes,” Kari replied.

“OK. We should be able to learn four songs as well as integrate you into Dust in the six weeks we have. Mike, do you agree?”

“I can sing if you give me the sheet music; José has the tough part. Sticks just has to learn how to be a beat late on some new songs!”

“Hey now!” he protested as we all laughed.

“Teasing aside, that’s actually more my problem,” I admitted. “Lack of practice had me missing cues. Fortunately, that didn’t happen last night.”

Neither during the concert nor after!

“Then let’s get started!” Kim declared.

Just under two hours later, we finished, and I was pleased with Kari’s playing, and how the new songs sounded, though we were a bit rough around the edges on them. But with six new songs and a few others from our playlist that we hadn’t played, we felt there was enough new music to keep the patrons of Stirred Not Shaken happy.

Kari walked with me to my car, which gave me a chance to tell her about the decision I’d reached.

“I’m getting closer to being able to make a decision,” I said.

“Who?” Kari asked. “I mean, if you want to tell me.”

“I don’t know just yet,” I replied. “But I don’t think I can sustain seeing four girls much longer.”

Five, if I counted Becka, but our relationship was still in the nascent stages.

“I’m actually surprised it’s worked so far,” Kari said. “Why are you telling me?”

“Because it’s a step towards being serious with someone and I need to wind down my physical relationship with you before that happens. I was thinking the end of February.”

“I knew that was going to happen eventually,” Kari sighed. “This Thursday and next, right?”

“Yes, if you want to.”

“I do. Is there any way I could spend an entire night with you?”

“That’s going to be difficult given my schedule and me going to Columbus for Liturgy. But I know it’s important to you, so let’s extend to March 4, and you can spend that Friday night with me.”

“And Thursday dinner?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes.”

“Thanks. Then I’ll see you on Thursday!”

We hugged, I put my guitar and music into the car, she walked towards Rickenbacker, and I drove to my in-laws to collect my daughter. As I drove, I prepared a mental checklist comparing the girls, and reached a fairly conclusive opinion that saddened me, but which, I felt, was still correct.

My relationship with my wife was going to be strained by Residency no matter what, and despite the suggestion I could ask for scheduling preferences, it just seemed that going ten years, or more, without a consistent relationship was too difficult a path to safely navigate. While it was Scriptural to say that the road to truth and perfection was rocky and difficult, it was also the case that we were to count the cost before setting out on an endeavor.

What concerned me, of course, was how Maryam would react to me breaking the news to her. Of all the girls, she was the only one I felt was in love with me, though it had been called a ‘crush’ by Clarissa and others. Upon reflection, I didn’t think that was the case. It was more than that, but it was unrequited, first because I was married, then because of Elizaveta’s untimely repose.

As much as it pained me, it was the right thing to do, and it was also the right time, as we’d soon be making lists of programs and hospitals for our Match applications and interviews, a process which would start in about six months. I was fairly certain that Maryam would elect to Match in Chicago, or in a city with a significant Antiochian presence such as Toledo, Cleveland, or the Detroit area.

I retrieved Rachel from Anna and Yulia, spoke briefly to Viktor, then headed home to wait for Oksana, who arrived at 11:00am as we’d agreed.

“Hi!” she exclaimed when I let her into the house.

“Hi! Rachel is taking her morning nap,” I replied. “Her evening nap has almost disappeared, and she’s having her last meal of the day at 9:30pm this week.”

“That’s awesome! Did you receive your new schedule yet?”

“No, not yet. Monday, most likely, but it could be Tuesday.”

“OK. Would you get the bag of groceries from the car? There are some refrigerated items, but it’s cold enough out I didn’t bother with the cooler.”

“Of course.”

I went out to her car and retrieved the large brown grocery bag which was filled to the top, with a loaf of artoklasia on top. I carried it into the house and to the kitchen, where Oksana was waiting. I set it on the counter, and she began unpacking the bag. As she did so, the phone rang, so I answered it.

“Loucks Residence; Mike speaking.”

“Mike, it’s Fran Mercer.”

“On the advice of my legal counsel, I cannot speak to you,” I said.

“What?!” Doctor Mercer gasped in surprise.

“On the advice of my legal counsel, I cannot speak to you. If you have any questions, you can reach out to Stefan Chojnicki at (513) 555-9039. That’s his direct line. The main number is 555-9000. Let me know if you need me to repeat any of that.”

“Please do,” she sighed.

I repeated his name, spelled it, then repeated the phone numbers, then said, “At this point, I have to say good day.”

There was silence, so I hung up.

“What was that about?” Oksana asked.

“My friend Angie at Saint George in Loveland.”

“The one who has, uhm, mental problems?”

“Mental health problems, yes. She suffers from a disease for which we have treatment but no cure. Unfortunately, her psychiatrist ... sorry, no, I can’t say that because I’m not supposed to speak to anyone about it. Suffice it to say that there are problems my stepdad is handling.”

“I’ve never, ever heard you be curt with anyone, including that pastor you whipped in the debate when you were in college.”

“I was curt with him a few times, but only when he confronted me on the sidewalk at Taft, harassed my friends Robby and Lee, and tried to block our way. That’s what led to the debate.”

“Did Subdeacon Mark tell you some of his friends from his old church are going to start coming to church? They’ve been attending his Vespers service at least once a month and are going to come to liturgy.”

“There has been a serious influx of Protestants into the Antiochian Archdiocese, even beyond the EOC. We’re seeing smaller numbers, but our quiet evangelism is working.”

“Some not so quiet, Mr. ‘I date non-Orthodox girls’!”

“And I made it clear that Kari and I are simply friends.”

“I’m sorry about what happened with Serafima,” Oksana said. “I didn’t mean anything by what I said, other than she didn’t have to worry.”

“I understand. Just, in the future, demur. Please do not share anything about our relationship with Serafima.”

“I won’t! It’s, uhm, OK to answer Father Nicholas’ questions, right?”

I wanted to say ‘no’, but I couldn’t, given he was her confessor.

“Yes,” I said. “With the caveat that you can decline to answer about anything that isn’t sinful. Just say that we’re keeping our relationship private, and ask that he respect that.”

“I thought you were supposed to be fully open with your confessor,” Oksana said.

“The answer to that is nuanced,” I replied. “If you are receiving spiritual direction, which is not the norm for the laïty, then yes; otherwise, only with regard to your fasting rule, prayer rule, and sinful behavior.”

“How does it work for you and Father Roman?”

“That requires more openness and more discussion about my life, but we’re not at that point. We may come to it, we may not. If not, then I would be just like you with Father Nicholas. When I was a deacon, things were different, as I was completely under direction from the Bishop, though even there, my choice of things such as when to have children, and so on, were off limits.”

“And with Father Roman?”

“I’d discuss my thinking with him, and he might give advice, but it’s not instruction.”

“Sorry to change subjects, but do you want lunch before Rachel wakes up?”

“Yes, please.”

Oksana made lunch, then when we heard Rachel on the baby monitor, Oksana offered to care for her. Rachel tolerated that, including Oksana feeding her, but then demanded I hold her rather than put her down on the rug with her toys. She deigned to be put down after about fifteen minutes, and Oksana and I sat side by side, leaning against the couch, just close enough to the fire to feel its warmth, but not be too warm.

After a moment, I felt Oksana’s hand on mine, so I turned my hand palm up and we interlaced our fingers. We sat quietly while Rachel crawled around and played with her toys, after a fashion. She surprised me when she crawled to Oksana to be picked up.

The ‘Rachel seal of approval’ was mandatory, but didn’t appear to interfere with my choices, as she had now crawled to both Sara and Oksana, and had been totally comfortable with Dani. Tami had met her, but I felt strongly that Tami was going to come down on the same side of the line as Kari had. Becka was a complete unknown, as she hadn’t even met Rachel, and probably wouldn’t for several weeks.

As Oksana and I sat holding hands while she held Rachel in her lap, I gave further consideration to the best way forward and realized that there was one significant difference — I’d slept with Becka, but none of the other young women who were ‘in the running’. I wondered if that had any significance, but quickly discounted that idea.