Chapter 52: Get Used To It, Mike!

November 20, 1988, on the road to McKinley, Ohio

We left the monastery after lunch on Sunday, having attended the morning services — the Akathist to the Lord Jesus Christ, the 3rd & 6th hours, and the Divine Liturgy. Once we were off the monastery grounds, I did something I had been waiting to do.

"Happy eighteenth birthday!" I said to Kris.

"Thanks!"

"Your mom invited me to dinner to celebrate," I said.

"Now you're keeping secrets from me?" Kris asked.

"Only this one, and at the express request of your mom!"

"Promise me that you won't ever do that again, please. No secrets, ever. I know you have to keep patient confidentiality, but I want an agreement that we don't keep secrets."

"Including surprise parties?"

"Yes. In Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy wrote, 'Anything is better than lies and deceit!'."

I nodded, "I've read it, along with The Idiot. I think Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy are both onto something. The thing is, social convention tells us to answer 'fine' when someone casually asks how we are, even if it's not true. And, of course, the ultimate question — what is the proper response to a girl asking if clothes make her butt look fat?"

Kris laughed, "I promise not to ask that question! Or any other one that requires those little lies. I certainly want to know how you are when I ask."

"Yes, of course, I was thinking more of the casual social context, not marriage."

"You studied Latin, so I'm sure you know the phrase falsus in uno, falsus in omnibus."

I nodded, "False in one, false in all. Once you're known to be a liar, you can't be trusted."

"And that's why I didn't ask for any details about your activities. I know you can't be completely honest, as you cannot reveal any details which would implicate others in sin, so it's better not to ask than to have you lie or refuse to answer a question."

"An interesting notion," I replied. "I would be OK with simply saying I couldn't answer, as I'll have to do that throughout my life for anything to do with patient confidentiality. That said, I can talk to you about things so long as I don't identify the patient."

What Kris had said immediately created two potential areas of conflict — one, the bishop's intention of discussing the application of 'extreme «ekonomia»' to my situation, which I intended to reject, and more importantly, the agreement I had with Clarissa about having a baby together with the sperm I'd donated. Both things were from before my relationship with Kris, but wouldn't come to the fore until several years had passed. It would, I felt, in her mind, look like a secret I'd kept, and she'd be right.

"How far does this extend?" I asked. "I know things about friends I'm not at liberty to reveal."

"As do I, but so long as they don't affect our marriage, I don't see that as 'keeping secrets' the way I meant."

I nodded, "I can agree with that."

"Good," Kris replied.

I really had no choice but to broach both topics immediately, lest I create a situation where Kris felt I'd deceived or misled her.

"There are some things I need to tell you," I said. "The first thing is that when I described what happened with regard to asking to be laicized, there was one condition which the bishop imposed, and about which I was sworn to secrecy."

"Is this going to get you into trouble with Vladyka JOHN?"

"Only if you were to reveal that I spoke to you about it."

"Which I won't. Marriage is, in a way, like confession, in that nothing that is said privately between us is shared unless we agree it's OK to share. Obviously, there is an exception for confession, and anything that might impact your medical training. What was the condition?"

"That when sufficient time has passed, I'd consider accepting ordination as a deacon."

"«Impossible!»" Kris exclaimed, saying it the French way. "It's forbidden by the canons to ordain someone who has married a second time!"

"Vladyka JOHN considered allowing me to remarry as a deacon, and there is precedent in the Antiochian Patriarchate where a young priest in the Middle East whose wife had died was permitted to remarry. Vladyka felt that applying extreme «ekonomia» to allow it would create an impossible to manage scandal. He has the right to exercise «ekonomia» in that way, but it wouldn't be wise.

"Having considered that, he felt that ordaining a twice-married man via extreme «ekonomia» would be possible, and that the objections of the laity, and possibly his brother bishops, would be manageable. I agreed to consider it no sooner than after the first three years of Residency, but I made no commitment to accepting at the time. Since then, I've come to the conclusion that being a deacon is incompatible with my medical career, not to mention not wanting to live under that microscope again."

"May I say that it's outrageous that Vladyka JOHN would even consider such a thing?"

"You may, and that is exactly the reaction I would expect from a significant number of people. That said, he is within his rights to do it, even over the objection of some of the laity, or even his brother bishops. Their only recourse would be to suspend or depose him. In my estimation, it would be an error, but I'm not the one who has to decide that. I am, though, the one who can refuse, which I would do."

"I'm surprised you think it's OK."

"I think it's possible, and within the bishop's power to do so, but I don't think it's OK, if that makes sense. But I don't need to argue with him about the canons, which are meant as guidelines for the bishops, because I simply cannot accept ordination, even if my marriage to you were my first one."

"Was that a quid pro quo for you basically orchestrating his election as bishop?"

I laughed, "If it were anything like that, it would be payback, in the sense of getting even with me for doing that! Honestly, it had more to do with the special circumstances of my original ordination and Elizaveta's untimely repose than anything else. I could have accepted tonsuring and chosen not to marry again, but I felt Rachel needed a mom."

"And there is no chance you would accept? None at all?"

"None at all. And you would be asked and would have a veto, even if I was foolish enough to subject myself to ordination."

"But you did so once," Kris replied.

"I did, out of obedience to my bishop and to honor my grandfather. I was naïve about the impact it would have on my life. I obviously won't make the same mistake twice."

"Don't you think you should have shared that with me before now?"

"I was commanded by the bishop to not speak to anyone about it. I'm not sure why you think I should have violated that command and broken a solemn vow. I was reluctant to do it even now, but if I can't trust you with that information, then we're probably making a huge mistake. I hope you understand."

"I understand the dilemma, and I'm happy with how you resolved it."

"Thank you. There is something else which is a bit more complicated. It began with Clarissa inviting me to begin a study group and with us becoming best friends. At the time, she hadn't revealed her orientation to anyone, though as we grew closer, she eventually felt comfortable enough to come out to me.

"Not long after that, I went with her to see her parents and held her hand while she came out to them. They didn't take it very well, especially her dad. It was obvious they hadn't suspected she was lesbian because before she could even tell them why she wanted to talk to them, they asked if she was pregnant. They've become more accepting, though her dad is still uncomfortable.

"Once Clarissa had come out to her parents, she began openly living as a lesbian and began dating. The first girl she dated ended up basically betraying her by secretly applying to school in Chicago and accepting, and not telling Clarissa about it until it was almost time for that girl to move. That hurt Clarissa badly, and I provided emotional support, just as she had for me when Jocelyn and I had our falling out.

"Around that time, Clarissa and I discussed what our futures would look like, and for me, it was marrying sometime during my second or third year of Residency, and having kids not long after. Clarissa obviously can't marry, but she expressed a desire to have children and suggested we have a baby together via artificial insemination. I considered the request and tentatively agreed. In order to facilitate that, I made a series of sperm deposits at Moore Memorial.

"Not long after that, Bishop ARKADY expressed his intent to ordain me a deacon, which made the entire exercise moot. That caused me to accelerate my plan for marriage, and I was actively looking for a spouse, but hadn't found anyone who was interested in being the wife of a deacon and medical student. It was at that point, Elizaveta accosted me and you know the story from there.

"I didn't share Clarissa's request with Elizaveta because it was moot, in that there was no way that I could, as a deacon, procreate with someone other than Elizaveta. Of course, everything changed the day Rachel was born, and suddenly it was possible that Clarissa's request could be fulfilled. Of course, that would all depend on your agreement."

"And just when did you plan to tell me about this?" Kris asked, sounding unhappy.

"I don't know," I admitted.

"Have you discussed it with Clarissa since we met?"

"Yes," I admitted.

Kris didn't respond, and I felt it was better to wait for her to process what I'd said, and to allow her to have as much time as she needed. I concentrated on driving and listened to the radio, and it was about five minutes before Kris spoke again.

"I'm concerned that you felt it was OK to keep that from me, and that had it not been for my mom asking you to keep a secret I wouldn't know, and might not know until you sprung it on me years from now."

"I'm sorry," I replied. "I made an error in judgment."

"A big one, Mike," Kris said. "This only works as a true partnership of equals. If you can't do that, then perhaps I've made a mistake."

"I'm not sure what I can say at this point, other than to admit my error and ask for your forgiveness."

"Answer truthfully, please, is there anything else you haven't shared with me? Anything at all?"

"Besides the names of any girls I was with?"

"Yes, besides that, which is, honestly, none of my business unless there is some risk you'll be unfaithful, which I don't believe you will."

"I won't. I've given you my word and I will keep it."

"Is there anything?"

I couldn't think of anything important, or that would matter to our relationship. I had given her the entire story of the situation with Liz and Paul, as well as the false accusations over the years, and she knew about Jocelyn and my relationship from kindergarten. Really, the only secret I was keeping was Peter being gay, and he had no intention of coming out during medical school. To me, that was a confidence that I couldn't violate, but I didn't know how Kris would take it.

"The only thing I can think of is that I know a gay man who is in the closet, as they say, and I feel his privacy has to be respected. I'm the only person who knows. It strikes me as wrong to reveal that to anyone, as I was told in complete confidence. I feel it's a completely private matter, and it has no material impact on our relationship."

"That is something of a completely different character, and as you say, it has no impact on our relationship. Well, beyond the 'no secrets' rule, but I think, in this case, it's OK for me to simply know you know."

"OK. How upset are you?"

"I'm unhappy you felt you could conceal something so important, and which would directly affect me, and it does make me question my decision."

In my mind, anything I said in response could make things worse, not that they weren't already bad. I was in the middle of a figurative minefield, and a single misstep could blow apart the future I had hoped for, not just for Rachel, but for me. A few minutes passed before Kris spoke again.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" she asked.

"As I said, all I can do is admit my error and ask your forgiveness, which I've done. Nothing I can say will undo my mistake, and would only sound like justification. And until we resolve your concerns about that, it doesn't make sense to discuss the substance of the matter. In the end, I think it comes down to your assessment of my character, and I don't believe I can say anything at this point to sway you beyond having given you my word about no secrets."

"I would have expected you to defend your decision."

"To what end?" I asked. "The only thing I could do is dig myself deeper. Fundamentally, I approach this like confession — I've admitted missing the mark, acknowledged I could have done better, expressed remorse, and committed to not repeating the error."

"You won't even tell me your logic?"

"No matter what I say, it'll sound defensive or like an attempt to justify my behavior. I can't."

"Did you frustrate your priests?" Kris asked.

"All the time! But what I've found is that when you screw up, and you know you've screwed up, the only thing to do is admit it, promise to do better in the future, and move forward. As one monk said — 'This is the Christian life: we fall down, we get up, we continue on the path'. I don't know what else I could do."

"May I ask something about the past?" Kris inquired.

"At this point, I feel as if I have nothing to lose and everything to gain by answering any question you ask."

"Did you ever justify your behavior?"

"No. I acknowledged a weakness and a lack of desire to quell the passions, despite ascetic fasting and prayer. I mean, honestly, what could I say to a priest in confession to justify that behavior?"

"Nothing, obviously. What about to Clarissa?"

I laughed, "Despite coming to church regularly, Clarissa does not agree with the Church's position on sex outside of marriage, for what I think are obvious reasons. From her perspective, I wasn't doing anything wrong. Of course, she knew I knew it was sinful, but that wasn't something that mattered to her for her, though it did matter for me to her, if that makes sense."

"You're going to have to explain that."

"She knew my conscience was eating at me, even though I was willfully and happily sinning. That was what bothered her, not what I was doing. Does that make it clearer?"

"Yes."

"Am I still coming to dinner?" I asked.

"Do you realize you've made it impossible for me to stay upset with you?" Kris sighed.

"Not intentionally. Well, I mean that's not why I do it. I assume that's a 'yes'?"

"Yes. I wouldn't break my commitment so lightly, but without your commitment to complete honesty, I would have to reconsider."

"May I ask if your attitude is a result of something specific, or if it's just who you are?"

"I have seen enough deceit in my eighteen years to know I don't want to see any more, and while I can't control the world, I can control my marriage, at least in that regard. It's about trust, Mike. If I cannot trust my spouse, who can I trust?"

"A good point, and I agree with that statement. I'm curious, but were you deceived? Or was it others?"

"Personally? No. It was others. I saw, many times, during «lycée», couples deceiving each other, and the emotional pain attendant to that deception. Cheaters, liars, schemers, and all manner of deceit. It's the main reason I didn't 'go steady', as you call it here, and only went out with groups. It wasn't lack of interest, or a belief in courtship, but an act of caution."

"Which you threw to the wind in agreeing to marry me!"

"I had sufficient information with which to make a reasoned decision. First, you met the basic criteria of having a professional career, being intelligent, and being reasonably handsome."

"Reasonably?" I interrupted with a grin.

"Doctors already have big egos, so no need to feed yours!" Kris declared mirthfully.

"A reasonable point," I agreed with a smile. "Go on."

"For you to be ordained a deacon, that meant you were faithful and that the bishop and your priest felt you were spiritually qualified. Then, of course, I had Oksana's endorsement. You and I both have the same view of marriage — a partnership of equals — and neither of us believe romantic love is a precondition for marriage. We both want children, and we want to raise them in the Church.

"It really was a matter of timing, and as I said, why pass up a person who meets my standards simply because it's a few years before I felt was the right time? You did something similar, though, in response to the bishop's decision to ordain you. I think, ultimately, it wasn't a lack of caution or rash, but a reasoned choice. That is true for both of us, as we both knew what we wanted, and despite the timing, we both felt it was wrong to pass up a mate who met our criteria."

"Has anyone expressed an objection or a concern?"

"Just some friends in Paris who think I'm too young to marry. In their mind, nobody should marry before they are twenty-six, or have completed their education. That was your plan, too."

"Not because I didn't want to marry sooner, but because of practical considerations. The only way I could manage it was a situation similar to the one I had with Elizaveta, where we lived in a cottage on her parents' property."

"Your friend Lara is quite well-to-do, «non»?"

"Yes, but she had no interest in being the wife of a clergyman."

"And now?"

"She feels there is too wide a gulf in our spiritual lives, and she's likely right."

"And Tasha?"

"She had no interest in being the wife of a deacon, given her strained relationship with her father, who was a deacon, and the scrutiny that came with being the daughter of a deacon."

"But after?"

"There are other factors, but the main one was something that would have been a concern even without ordination, and that is the amount of time I have to dedicate to medicine, especially starting next year. Tasha readily admits she's too needy for what would have amounted to a largely absentee husband."

"A woman should neither be defined by her husband, nor dependent on him," Kris said firmly. "You Americans often have very warped views on marriage and relationships."