Chapter 7: A Chance Encounter

June 6, 1985, West Monroe, Ohio

When we arrived at Jocelyn’s house, Gene answered the door and let us in.

“How is she?” I asked.

“Probably about like you would expect. There’s a cease-fire in the mother-daughter war, imposed by her dad.”

“Which is why you answered the door?”

“Jocelyn’s mom decided to go shopping after Mr. Mills laid down the law that Jocelyn was to decide what was best for her.”

I chuckled, “He was always better about that, though I did get a bit of grief from him about our extended love affair.”

Gene nodded, “I’m pretty sure if it were up to him, I’d have been able to stay in Jocelyn’s room when we visited; her mom was having none of it.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, shaking my head. “How’s her pain?”

“Manageable. they have her on Percodan, and it seems to be working.”

“Oxycodone and what?” I asked.

“Aspirin. I asked because the name was close to what Lee was taking, but with a different ending.”

“And her mood, besides her mom?”

“Pretty good, actually. She says the pain is from the incision not from the nerve, so I think that’s a good thing.”

“You all can come in and stop talking about me behind my back!” Jocelyn called from the living room.

Clarissa and I both laughed, then she, Elizaveta, Gene, and I went into the living room where Jocelyn was lying face-down on a roll-away bed.

“Hey, Jos,” I said. “Gene was just filling us in on your mom’s sudden shopping trip.”

“Hopefully it’ll last until August!”

I bent down and kissed her cheek, then Elizaveta greeted her.

“When can you sit up?” I asked.

“I can, but it’s not comfortable, and I have to use a wooden, straight-back chair for a couple of weeks.”

“Can you at least use a cushion to sit on?” Clarissa asked.

“Yes. It’s the back support, not to mention that if I sat in the recliner I probably couldn’t get out of it. I have a check-up with the orthopedic surgeon on Tuesday. Where will you be?”

“Amsterdam.”

“How can we get in touch with you, if something comes up?” Jocelyn asked.

“I’ll mail you the itinerary when we get back home. There are phone numbers for each of the youth hostels, the hotel in Paris, and Anicka’s villa in Spain. I left a copy of the itinerary with Tasha as well.”

“Anicka is Professor Blahnik, right?” Gene asked.

“Yes, and if ‘something comes up’ means you’re going to the courthouse for a marriage ceremony, I’m going to be very put off at missing it!”

Jocelyn laughed, then grimaced, “As tempting as that might be to get away from my mom, I’m not ready for that and neither is Gene. Just because we’re sleeping together doesn’t mean we’re ready to get married!”

“And you told your mom that, didn’t you?” I asked.

“Yes!”

“Putting out the fire with gasoline! Not that it wasn’t warranted, but you knew she’d be upset by that.”

“You’re a pain in the butt at times, Mik!”

“Only at times?” Clarissa asked snarkily. “I thought you knew him better than that!”

“Well, yeah,” Jocelyn said with a wink. “That was Bowie, right?”

“Yes, from Cat People.”

“Is there anything we can do for you, Jocelyn?” Elizaveta asked.

“Not really. Gene is here full-time until I’m able to get around OK, and maybe beyond that. My dad is being totally cool and keeping my mom out of my hair as much as possible.”

“So like with us, then,” Elizaveta said. “My mom is being super nosy. I think she thinks I’m still a little kid, but I’m a married woman, even if I’m only sixteen. And I’ll be a matushka in July!”

“A standard refrain amongst all of us,” Clarissa said. “Which is why all of us were glad to be shut of Dean Wormer! And it was Mike who was on ‘double-secret probation’!”

All of us except Elizaveta cracked up and I had to explain it was from Animal House. We chatted for about twenty more minutes, until Jocelyn said she needed a nap, so Clarissa, Elizaveta, and I said ‘goodbye’, she wished us a good trip, and then the three of us left the Mills’ house to head back to McKinley.

“She’ll be very happy when she can get back to school,” Clarissa said as we get into my new Mustang.

“No kidding,” I agreed. “Jocelyn is at the same place I was when I just had to get out of the house for good. Liz had the same struggles, as did Tasha. Clarissa’s situation was different, but taking Abby to her parents’ house is probably a non-starter.”

“No kidding,” Clarissa replied. “That said, my mom is slowly working her way to accepting me as I am. My dad is like Mike’s dad - he has his opinions and the best I think I can hope for is grudging tolerance.”

“We all have each other for support,” Elizaveta said. “That’s part of what tomorrow night’s dinner is about, though Tasha and Nik already had plans, so it’ll just be the three of us, Abby, Alyssa, and Mark.”

Which Tasha had planned purposefully because of Nik’s discomfort with Clarissa and Abby. Tasha was working on that, but it was a much more difficult task than trying to get him to loosen up a bit.

“Church behavior rules?” Clarissa asked.

“Sort of,” Elizaveta said. “In private, with the teens and young adults, we can let our hair down a bit, though Nik’s a bit of a stick in the mud.”

“Don’t you think Tasha will fix that?” Clarissa asked.

“She’s working on it,” I replied. “But, he’ll only ever see me as clergy, so around him, like most of the congregation, we’ll need to be a bit more reserved.”

“You won’t wear your cassock at home, will you?”

“No. I’ll keep the ryassa by the door in case we have visitors from church, but if we’re just hanging out, even with the teens and young adults, I’ll wear shorts and a t-shirt in the Summer and sweats in the Winter. and that includes going to the main house, too.”

“It’s going to be weird seeing you in a cassock at school. Would you wear the ryassa as well?”

“It’s an outer garment, usually, so I’d wear it to and from school, but hang it up like I would a coat or whatever. The reason for wearing it inside at home if some visitor shows up unexpectedly is that it would take too long to change clothes every time. If I know they’re coming, I’ll put on the cassock. but again, not for the teens and young adults if we’re just hanging out.”

“Abby’s shift started at 11:00am today, so if you want, we could have dinner together and I’ll come to Vespers.”

“We’d love that!” Elizaveta exclaimed.

June 7, 1985, McKinley, Ohio

“Ready for your trip?” Alyssa asked when she, Mark, Abby, Clarissa, Elizaveta, and I gathered in the living room of the cottage on Friday evening.

“Pretty much,” Elizaveta replied as she served everyone soft drinks. “We packed this morning.”

“Backpacks, right?” Mark asked.

“Yes, though we’ll each take a carry-on. We bought small gym bags that have handles and shoulder straps. and we both bought fanny packs.”

“What about cameras?”

“Just my Instamatic,” Elizaveta said. “Neither of us is a big photographer and we don’t want to carry an expensive camera with us, or worry about film spools. My camera just takes a small cartridge and it has a built-in flash. It’ll be fine for what we want.”

“Abby has a nice Nikon she’s going to bring,” Clarissa added. “That will let us get some nice shots when we need them. She was in the photography club in High School.”

“Alyssa, what are you guys doing over the Summer?” Elizaveta asked, coming to sit in my lap in the chair.

“Just hanging out, really. Church and spending time together. Neither of our families has a Summer vacation planned.”

“Why not take a trip yourselves?” Abby asked.

“That would never fly with Alyssa’s parents, and mine wouldn’t be too happy about it, either.”

“You could do day trips,” I suggested. “King’s Island, the Cincinnati Zoo, the Cincinnati Art Museum if you go west; the Columbus Zoo and the Botanical Gardens if you go north. Those are all close enough to be easy day trips. Your parents wouldn’t object to those, would they?”

“I don’t think so,” Alyssa said. “Those are good ideas. what do you think, Mark?”

“I think it gets us away from McKinley in a way which won’t upset your dad, so I like the idea.”

“Mike, what does it take for Mark to become a subdeacon?” Alyssa asked.

“Right now? Time. The canons forbid ordaining new believers. The OCA sets that at two years. He’ll need to serve in the altar, come to church faithfully, attend Sunday School, and then either petition the bishop directly or have someone suggest it to the bishop. I’d also strongly recommend marrying first.”

“You didn’t!” she protested.

“And ran the risk of, God forbid, having a new bishop who chose not to exercise «ekonomia» and allow me to marry. The risk was small, but it was real.”

“What would you have done?” Mark asked.

“Are you kidding?” Clarissa said, laughing. “He’d have asked to be laicized.”

I nodded, “That really would have been my only option. Celibacy is not something I’m called to. Obviously, I could still end up that way, God forbid, but let’s not even think about that, please. There’s no rush for Mark, really. My situation was unique because my grandfather used his friendship with the bishop to push to have me ordained at a younger age than is usually done. And then the sad circumstance of Deacon Grigory’s repose brought on the current situation.”

“Would that have happened if you weren’t a subdeacon?”

“I would have expected so,” I said. “There would have been three consecutive ordinations - reader, then subdeacon, then deacon, but they have to be at least a day apart. When married seminarians graduate, they’re often ordained a deacon one day and a priest the next, though a lot depends on the bishop’s schedule and where they’re being assigned. And graduation from a seminary is no guarantee of ordination; that’s always at the bishop’s discretion.”

“So your grandfather used his friendship with your bishop?” Abby asked.

“Yes, but the bishop wouldn’t have agreed if he felt I was unqualified. and it was Elizaveta’s dad who approached the bishop on behalf of the Parish Council before she and I even considered marriage.”

“Before Mike considered marriage!” Elizaveta declared firmly. “He knows I was interested from the first time he showed up at the church!”

“You were TWELVE, «Котёнок»!” I protested.

“And your point is? I waited until I was fifteen to approach you, but that was only because you were being an idiot!”

“As if THAT is anything new!” Clarissa teased. “Petrovich could be a real blockhead at times!”

“Could be?” Elizaveta asked petulantly. “More like CAN be!”

“I love you both, even if you give me grief.”

Elizaveta got up to check on dinner and came back to announce it would be ready in five minutes. I got up to get everyone their choice of beverage, and a few minutes later we all sat down at the table to eat. I gave the blessing, and then everyone helped themselves from the ‘family-style’ pasta, garlic bread, and salad.

“How did you learn to cook so well?” Alyssa asked.

“I started helping my mom when I was about five, which is when I started learning to sew and do needlepoint. Then I took Home Ec, which really was just practice.”

“Which is why I basically insisted she substitute chemistry, physics, and calculus for Home Ec,” I said. “She could TEACH the Home Ec class!”

“Mike, you’re a Reds fan, right?” Mark asked.

“The baseball cap gave me away, didn’t it?”

He laughed, “Sorry. What do you think of their chances?”

“I think with Pete Rose managing and playing, and with Dave Parker having a good year, and with Mario Soto, Tom Browning, and John Franco pitching, they have a decent shot. Unfortunately, I suspect the Dodgers are going to win the NL West. I was pleased with the draft; Barry Larkin looks like an awesome prospect.”

“Sadly, I think you’re right about their chances, but I like the Larkin pick. What about football?”

I shook my head, “Not really. I follow the Pittsburgh Penguins for hockey, but that’s about it for sports besides baseball. I haven’t been to a baseball or hockey game in years. You?”

“We go to three or four Reds games a year with our parents,” Mark replied. “And I go to the Bengals games against the Steelers in Pittsburgh and Cincinnati with my dad. What about you, Clarissa?”

She shook her head, “I never got into professional sports. I went to High School basketball and football games with my group of friends, but it was more like a social time than watching the game.”

“Abby?” Mark asked.

“Baseball, but I’m from up north, so I’m a hapless Indians fan.”

“Could be worse,” Mark chuckled. “You could be a Cubs fan!”

“It’s almost as bad!”

“Hey, they won a World Series in 1948! The Cubs haven’t won since 1908!”

“I’ll give you that, but that’s poor consolation and not something I can take much solace in!”

“What do you do at the Women’s Clinic?” Alyssa asked.

“I’m a general nurse, so all the stuff you’d imagine a nurse would do.”

“Do you assist with abortions?”

“Yes.”

“And let’s leave that one right there, please,” I suggested gently.

“You object?” Abby asked.

“It’s a very difficult subject which has no easy answers and which can quickly become volatile. I can quote the church’s teaching which won’t mean a thing to you, and you can cite Roe v Wade, which won’t mean anything to Mark or Alyssa. I’d rather cover this some other time, not at dinner the night before we’re leaving.”

“He’s right,” Clarissa said to Abby, putting her hand on Abby’s arm. “Another time.”

Abby looked as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she nodded and kept eating. I knew her position through Clarissa, but it appeared Clarissa hadn’t said anything to Abby about my struggles with the topic.

“Mike, a one-word answer is OK,” Abby said, “but is the Orthodox position on birth control the same as the Catholic one?”

“There is no definitive answer to that question,” I replied. “The bishops’ and theologians’ thinking about that is all over the map. Generally speaking, it’s handled between the married couple and their priest. There are some hardliners who say that the rhythm method is the only acceptable birth control, but most bishops accept the idea of birth control for family planning. We don’t live in an agrarian society where having more children can be helpful with farm work. Given children can present a serious burden on a family, using birth control for timing and to limit the number of children to the number you can properly care for, our bishops usually leave it to each individual’s conscience.”

“You?”

I nodded, “Yes, of course, because it’s unreasonable and irresponsible to have kids before Elizaveta graduates from High School.”

“That actually sounds reasonable.”

“Thanks,” I chuckled. “I know you aren’t big on religion, but you’ll find that in most things, we’re pragmatic, practical, and reasonable, and that we respect science in its own domain.”

“What do you mean?”

“Science can answer pretty much everything except existential questions. That’s the realm of philosophy and theology. And even if you say there is no meaning, that’s philosophy, not science, because you don’t have a testable hypothesis.”

“But you can’t prove God exists.”

“And you can’t prove He doesn’t. Impasse.”

“But you’re making the assertion; I’m simply rejecting it.”

“The cool thing about faith is that it’s personal, so the only person I have to convince is me. Have I, even once, tried to convert you? Or Lissa?”

“Not directly.”

“It’s not MY fault if the way I live my life and the way I answer questions makes people curious!”

Abby actually laughed, “Nice judo move. Suddenly, I’m on the back foot because I appear to be trying to convert you to my belief!”

“Yes.”

“Wow, that’s slick.”

“It’s simply a byproduct of following the direction of Seraphim of Sarov - to look to my own salvation and the world around me will be saved. In other words, live the Sermon on the Mount and let the world notice and react.”

“And it’s very, very effective,” Clarissa said. “Mike loves everyone, does his best to model his life to the Sermon on the Mount, and teaches only when asked. Probably two dozen students have come to his church over the last four years. I believe that’s because Mike is the opposite of that preacher who stomped around campus haranguing students.”

The rest of the evening was enjoyable, though our guests didn’t want to stay late because we were all going to be up early in the morning. Before we went to bed, Elizaveta and I double-checked that we had everything we needed - tickets, train passes, passports, traveler’s checks, and cash. We moved our bags near the front door, then said our evening prayers before heading to bed.

June 8, 1985, Columbus, Ohio

“Good morning,” the young woman wearing a blue blazer said as Elizaveta and I came up to the check-in desk. “May I have your tickets, please.”

I handed over the tickets and she looked over them.

“I see you’re connecting through Chicago to Amsterdam. May I see your passports, please?”

I handed her our passports, and, as suggested by the travel agent, our marriage certificate. I also had, in my pocket, a letter from Viktor allowing Elizaveta to travel with me, but neither the travel agent nor Viktor’s attorney felt I’d need it. The agent looked over the passports and the marriage certificate, then checked the passports again. She tapped some keys on her computer terminal, then picked up the phone.

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

“Usually anyone under eighteen needs parental permission to fly overseas. I just need to verify with my supervisor that it’s OK to override the system based on your marriage certificate. It’ll just take a minute and I’m sure it’s OK, but procedures require me to check.”

I took Elizaveta’s hand and squeezed it, hoping she’d simply let the process work. She had definitively declared herself independent of her parents, and chafed at anything that implied she was still under their control. That was why the letter was in my pocket, and would stay there unless there were no other alternatives. The LAST thing I wanted to do was start our European vacation on a sour note.

“Everything is OK, Mr. Loucks,” the agent said, returning the phone to its cradle. “How many bags do you have?”