Chapter 87: Reactions

March 6, 1988, Sunday of Saint Gregory Palamas, McKinley, Ohio

Becka and I had a lot of fun, but also spent time talking, though, as she’d requested, we’d spent more time having sex than talking, while ensuring Rachel received plenty of attention. The more time I spent with Becka, the more I was convinced she was a legitimate option for the future.

As we drove to Saint Michael early on Sunday morning to celebrate the Sunday of the Veneration of the Holy Cross, I did my best to get myself into the correct frame of mind for worship and vowed not to let anything distract me. I was sure that Becka’s presence would draw attention and hoped that Father Nicholas would simply allow me to worship in peace.

Becka and I had discussed the typical practices in our parish, which were familiar to her given she’d been to Byzantine Rite Roman Catholic services, which were very similar to Orthodox services. I did remind her that despite the strong similarities, she couldn’t receive the Eucharist because our bishops were not in communion with each other.

“Sometime around 10:00am, I’ll take Rachel to the cry room to feed her,” I said. “No food is supposed to be eaten in the nave, especially during the Divine Liturgy.”

“Including babies?” Becka asked.

“Including babies. That’s the usual use of the cry room — nursing and bottles. You’ll discover most babies are very content during services. Without pews, toddlers can wander around, and that keeps them content as well.”

“Rachel is the most content baby I’ve ever seen!”

“One of these days she’s going to decide she doesn’t like something, and she’s going to make it very clear.”

“Does she ever cry?”

“Only on rare occasions, but if you were waited on hand and foot around the clock by a team of caregivers, you’d be happy, too!”

“‘Princess Becka’ sounds good!”

“So does ‘Tsar Michael’, but given our chosen paths through life — law and medicine — I doubt either of us will be waited on hand and foot until we’re in a retirement home, if even then! And that’s probably sixty years from now, if not longer!”

When I pulled into the church parking lot, I recognized all the cars, including ones belonging to Subdeacon Mark, Elias, Father Nicholas, and the Sokolovs. I parked next to Father’s car, we got out, I gathered Rachel’s things, then picked her up from her car seat. We headed into the church, and I prepared myself for any reaction by reminding myself to stay calm and focus on worship.

The first reaction, which I fully expected, came the moment Becka and I walked into the church. Serafima, standing in the narthex, showed surprise, then gave me a death stare that rivaled any I’d ever received from any Orthodox woman in my life. She looked as if she were about to explode, then turned and stormed down the hallway in the direction of the nursery.

“What was that?” Becka asked quietly, having caught Serafima’s look.

“My wife’s best friend. She has her mind made up who should take her best friend’s place as Rachel’s mom and doesn’t appreciate me recruiting outside her draft list!”

Becka laughed softly, “And your opinion?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“That should tell you what you need to know about my opinion!”

Becka smiled, we took off our coats, and then went into the nave. We moved to what had been my usual spot on the left side of the nave where I stood when I wasn’t serving. I had Rachel in my arms, her carrier at my feet along with her bag, and Becka to my right. There was very little room to my left in front of the benches and the wall where the small icon of Saint Michael hung amongst dozens of others.

We stood quietly, waiting for Matins to begin, which it did about five minutes later. When Father Nicholas came out to cense just after the service began, something that had been my duty as a deacon, I saw a brief frown cross his face, but he quickly restored his usual peaceful countenance. I hoped he wouldn’t send Subdeacon Mark, Elias, or one of the acolytes to ask me to speak to him.

Not long after, and while the six Psalms were still being read, Oksana arrived with her family. They stood on the other side of the nave, just across from us, and when she looked over, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a pained expression, rather than an angry one. I was supposed to see her on Wednesday, and I didn’t relish that conversation, but it was one that was necessary.

There was one final obvious reaction, but I didn’t see it until I turned to take Rachel to the cry room to give her a bottle. I saw Sara, who was standing behind us and to our right, and the word that popped into my head was ‘bemused’. Sara’s lips formed a slight smile, and she made a quick roll of her eyes. From her look, I strongly suspected the conversation with her would be of a completely different character from the one I’d have with Oksana.

That conversation would happen later in the day, after church, though Becka and I were skipping lunch and Sunday school, so that would give me plenty of time to get her to Jo’s house and get home before Sara arrived.

I opened Rachel’s bag, took out her bottle, and offered it to her. I went to stand close to the pane of glass that separated us from the nave, but allowed us to see the service, and turned on the speaker so that I could hear the service via a pair of microphones — one in the altar and one near the choir.

Perhaps a minute later, I heard the door open behind me and saw a reflection in the glass that was clear enough for me to recognize it was Serafima.

“What are you doing,” she whispered angrily.

“Feeding Rachel her juice and worshiping. You should be worshiping and minding your own business.”

“Michael Peter Loucks,” she growled.

“Go,” I said firmly, before she could continue. “You’re neither my wife nor my mother.”

“I’m Rachel’s godmother!”

“Yes, you are,” I replied quietly and firmly. “And you’re interfering with Rachel’s bottle and her worship, as well as mine. Now go.”

Thankfully, Serafima did, and when she entered the nave to rejoin the choir, who stood just on the other side of the glass, she turned and gave me another death stare. I wasn’t bothered by it, in fact, I was actually glad she was upset. She’d complain to Elias, and I fully expected that he’d tell her to butt out. The same thing would happen with Father Nicholas if she went to him, based on what the bishop had said to me.

When Rachel finished her bottle, I burped her, then carried her back to the nave and set her into her carrier, knowing she’d likely fall asleep. She did, and I had to wake her to receive the Eucharist, but she tolerated that as she usually did, and I said a silent prayer of thanks for how content she was.

“I know why you don’t eat before Liturgy!” Becka said playfully when we walked out to the car following the dismissal. “That way, you don’t need to pee halfway through the service!”

I laughed because while I’d been feeding Rachel, Becka had used the restroom.

“That’s not quite why, but it does help to not eat after midnight! What did you think?”

“My feet hurt!” she complained. “But it’s good practice for standing in court examining or cross-examining witnesses! Of course, that’s four years away, at least, and I’ll do the legal equivalent of your medical scut for a couple of years, most likely.”

“Every profession has it,” I replied. “Elias, who is Rachel’s godfather, joined the electrician’s union last Summer, and he’s basically a gofer. The new civil engineers hired in my dad’s department in the county do all the paperwork he hates to do, which he then signs off. I bet that’s true for your dad, too, if he’s not practicing on his own.”

“He does have his own practice, but he has an assistant who does all the crap, including filing all the government reports financial advisors have to submit.”

We reached the car, I got Rachel settled, and then Becka and I got in to head to Jo’s house.

“How much grief will you get from Rachel’s godmother?” Becka asked.

“Already started! She came into the cry room to dress me down. I sent her away. I’m sure I’ll hear something from someone about it. My guess is she’ll try to use my in-laws in some way, but I hold the ultimate trump.”

“Their granddaughter.”

“Yes, though I would never cut them off completely. But wanting to see her pretty much ensures that they won’t give me too much grief. A word to my father-in-law will solve it if my mother-in-law becomes difficult. Now, if I were at risk for leaving the church, then I’d hear it from all sides, and rightly so, but anyone who knows me knows there’s no chance of that happening. Other than your feet hurting, what do you think?”

“It’s really similar to my grandparents’ church, though they have pews.”

“Most Orthodox churches in the US have pews. I take it nothing bugged you?”

“No. So far, so good. And that applies to everything.”

That was good, and my analysis was shifting such that it was a true three-way competition between Becka, Sara, and Dani. While Sara and Dani were neck-and-neck, Becka was ‘moving up quickly on the outside’ as I’d heard watching the horse racing Triple Crown every year growing up. With Pascha just five weeks away, we were quickly entering the ‘home stretch’ if I was going to ask one of the girls to marry me during Bright Week.

When we arrived at Jo’s house, I parked, and we left a sleeping Rachel in her car seat while I walked Becka to the door. She rang the bell, then we hugged and exchanged a soft kiss, breaking it when Jo opened the door. Jo greeted me, invited Becka in, and I went back to my car to drive home.

At home, I got Rachel settled, changed clothes, changed the sheets on the bed, put out fresh towels in my bathroom, and started a load of laundry. I debated a fire because it was relatively warm outside and elected to light one anyway, then went to the kitchen to have a bite to eat.

Rachel woke just as I finished eating, so I changed her, fed her a bottle and then put her down on the rug. I was about to sit down when the doorbell rang, announcing Sara’s arrival.

“Serafima is on the warpath!” Sara declared after I’d greeted her with a hug and quick kiss.

“That was obvious from the ‘death stare’ I received,” I replied with a grin.

I took the grocery bag Sara was carrying from her and we went to the kitchen where I put a few things which needed refrigeration into the fridge, then we went into the great room and sat down on the couch with Sara snuggling next to me and Rachel crawling around on the floor.

“Who’s the girl you were with?” she asked.

“Someone I met a couple of weeks ago,” I replied. “She’s a pre-law student at Xavier in Cincinnati.”

“Not Orthodox, though, right? She crossed herself the wrong way the first few times.”

I almost laughed at the attention to detail, but Sara had her sights on the prize, and so far hadn’t missed a thing in her pursuit.

“Her maternal grandparents are Uniate and her mom married a Latin Rite guy, so they attended Saint Augustine here in McKinley. Your reaction was interesting. A slight smile and rolling your eyes?”

Sara smiled, “I suspect part of why you brought her to church was to piss off Serafima, and I totally get that. And even if this girl is a Uniate, she’s no threat to me! I meet every single one of your criteria and when you ‘slide into home’, it’ll be game, set, and match!”

I laughed, “You’re mixing your metaphors!”

“Then a ‘walk-off’ home run!” Sara exclaimed.

“You’re that confident?”

“Yes, but, and this is important, I’m not going to go all Fatal Attraction on you and boil Rachel’s pet bunny if you decide to marry Dani! And she won’t lose her mind if you marry me. On the other hand, Dani will put out a hit contract on you if you marry the hot strawberry blonde! Though it could be worse, Dani could be Bulgarian instead of Serbian!”

I laughed, “Given the reputation of Bulgarians for doing all the ‘wet work’ for the KGB, that would be truly frightening. Though there are some things which are too far even for the Bulgarians, given they outsourced the assassination attempt on the pope to Mehmet Ali Ağca, a Turk. You actually saw Fatal Attraction?”

“I turned seventeen two weeks before it was released, so I could get in. You didn’t see it?”

Rachel had crawled over and demanded to be picked up.

“No,” I replied once I had Rachel in my lap. “I had a chance, but with my schedule and caring for Rachel, I had to pass when some of my friends saw it. Did you like it?”

“Worried I might go psycho?” Sara asked with a smile.

“You’re Orthodox, so ‘might’ isn’t correct! It’s more like ‘are’, and it’s not a worry so much as a certainty!”

Sara laughed, “You know that’s not true! On the other hand, I do know some girls like that! I did like the movie because it had a great plot and was really suspenseful. It had some really hot sex scenes, too!”

“Gave you ideas, did it?”

“Everything was implied except for kissing and some playing with boobs. I’d need to see something way hotter to get ideas I don’t already have!”

“And you’d want to see that?” I asked.

Sara laughed, “I’d rather do it! And I know enough, I think. And what I don’t know, I bet you know! What time do you have to leave for the hospital tonight?”

“About 6:30pm. Lara will be here around 6:00pm. Normally she’d join me for dinner, but she’s not going to interfere with your time together with me. We can say evening prayers once Lara is here.”

“She’s awesome. I actually started talking to her about a month ago. I didn’t realize she’s only about two years older than me.”

“I take it she told you she skipped two grades,” I asked.

“Yes. She’s super-smart, and I can see why you like her. I haven’t seen your friend Clarissa at church in some time.”

“She’ll start attending a few times a month now that I’m back. You know about her, right?”

“Elizaveta told us. But I figure if you and I can do the stuff we’re doing, I can’t really say anything about her.”

“An excellent attitude, both from an Orthodox perspective, and a secular one.”

“Is Rachel’s schedule messed up by church?”

“Only a bit. She’ll go down for a nap around 3:00pm, wake up around 6:00pm, then stay up until her usual bedtime between 9:30pm and 10:00pm. Obviously, Lara will take care of Rachel’s bedtime.”

“Can I put on some music?”

“Sure. Anything that’s on the shelves in the study is OK.”

“What’s NOT on the shelves in the study?” Sara asked.

“Good insight,” I chuckled. “My George Carlin tapes, my Frank Zappa albums, and Steve Martin’s Wild and Crazy Guy.”

“That’s the one with the dirty joke about the cat, right?”

“Yes.”

“George Carlin I understand, because as Dad says, he’s ‘earthy but right’. What’s wrong with Frank Zappa?”

“He has songs which are very explicit, more explicit than Rod Stewart’s Tonight’s the Night.”

“My dad about lost it when he heard my brother playing that song.”

“I can’t imagine a dad of a teenage girl not worrying about that! I’m OK with you listening to those albums, but it’s probably best to pick something else.”

“OK. Be right back!”

She got up, and I picked up Dr. Seuss’s ABC and began to read to Rachel.

Sara came back a few minutes later as Don’t Stop Believin’, from Journey’s Escape album, began playing.

“Dad says this song is goofy because ‘South Detroit’ would be Windsor, Ontario!” Sara said.

“A city in Canada you can, strangely, reach by driving due south from a place in the continental United states. OK to finish reading to Rachel?”

“Yes, of course!”

I continued reading, concluding with:

“She is bored out of her skull,” Sara remarked with a smile when I finished.

“I know, but it’s good for her. I have other books, too, but I love the Seuss books and the Beginning Reader books. I want her to get used to being read to, because I think it’s important developmentally.”

“If she’s as smart as her mom and dad, she’s going to be very successful!”

“And success for me means that my kids are fulfilled and happy, both growing up and as adults. That’s also true for my wife.”

“Elizaveta was very happy to be married to you, and I’m absolutely positive I’ll be happy. And I think you’ll be happy being married to me!”

“I wouldn’t marry someone unless I was positive that would be the case.”

Rachel yawned, and it was obvious she was ready to go to sleep, so I took her upstairs, settled her into her crib, covered her with the blanket, then returned downstairs and sat next to Sara.

“It’ll only take about forty minutes to get dinner ready,” Sara said, “and that’s mostly because of baking the bread.”

“And what did you want to do for the next ninety minutes or so?” I asked.

“I bet you can guess!” Sara declared, putting her hand on my thigh.

I nodded and put my arm around Sara, who carefully slipped her hand into my sweatpants and then into my briefs. She found what she was seeking, and began gently stroking me, quickly bringing me erect. Sara turned her face up and we kissed as her hand moved up and down my shaft, occasionally exploring my sack and squeezing my glans, building me towards the release we both wanted me to have.

“Mike?” Sara said a few minutes later. “Can I see it? I promise only my hand!”

I had to trust her, though if she tried to violate her promise, I would have to put a stop to things even if it left me in a painful condition.