Chapter 21: Mothers, Sons, and Daughters

July 19, 1985, McKinley, Ohio

“What are you making for dinner?” I asked when I returned to the cottage after talking with Viktor.

“Spaghetti with marinara sauce, salad, and garlic bread. I know they aren’t strict on dairy.”

“May I help?”

“You may entertain me with your guitar!” she declared firmly.

I wasn’t going to push harder, as she’d relented on allowing me to help with the dishes.

“Mom came to talk to me while you were talking to Papa.”

I groaned, then asked, “How did THAT go?”

“I was as sweet as my Napoleon cake!” Elizaveta replied. “I simply reminded her that I was married, and promised not to interfere in her marriage. And that if she had a problem with that, she could take it up with you.”

“Gee, thanks,” I replied. “I’m not sure that’s much better.”

“In a week and two days you’re going to be a deacon and she knows better than to confront you about anything to do with our marriage!”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s going to stop her from trying to interfere or get you to do things her way.”

“But what can she really do? I’ll just be as sweet as syrup and listen to her and then say I’ll decide what I’m going to do after talking with you. It’s your strategy!”

“Oh, I know,” I replied. “But I am reasonably sure it’s not going to be that simple.”

“Well, she can kick rocks! I’m done with her bossing me around!”

And a light went on - the conflict had really started before our marriage, and if my sister’s experience was an indication, it probably started around puberty, which would have been right about the time I moved to McKinley. And right about the time Elizaveta set her sights on me.

“Kitten,” I asked gently, “when did your problems with your mom start?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Liz and my mom started tangling about the time Liz turned thirteen. I wondered if you and your mom had any conflicts before we got married.”

“Some, I guess,” Elizaveta replied. “Why?”

“Just curious,” I replied. “I’ll get my guitar so I can practice while you make dinner.”

She kissed me, then went into the kitchen while I went to the small bedroom to get my guitar and music. Playing would give me a chance to think about how to approach what appeared now to have been a cold war turned hot. I suspected there had been some kind of low-level, quiet conflict between Yulia and Elizaveta from puberty to our wedding, and now my wife felt emboldened and empowered to escalate. That had put Viktor squarely in the line of fire, and my wife had now helpfully dragged me into it as well, though that was certainly inevitable.

I sat down in the living room to play, electing to play through the Billy Joel songs I knew so that I could continue thinking.

I’d realized, perhaps too late, that being drawn in was inevitable. It was something I should have thought about before we were betrothed, because I’d seen it with both Liz and Tasha, and in both cases, moving out of the house had been their way of declaring independence. Elizaveta had never lived away from home until we had moved into the cottage, so the apron strings had never been cut, so to speak. Neither mother nor daughter had a chance to come to terms with the new lay of the land, as Elizaveta had basically gone straight from adolescent to wife, without even going to college.

And the thing was, I had the exact same conflict with my parents, though it had started after High School graduation and intensified over time as I abruptly cut the apron strings and tried to live my life the way I wanted. I hadn’t had many conflicts with my parents because I was, in effect, willingly following my mom’s program, even though I hadn’t seen it that way. When everything with Liz had crashed and burned, I’d asserted myself and created a situation similar to the one in which Elizaveta now found herself.

The question in my mind was how to keep the peace, as best I could, and keep the conflict from erupting into full-scale warfare, rather than small skirmishes. The last thing I needed was a situation similar to the one in my own family - Liz and me both being on the ‘outs’ with our dad, and having somewhat strained relationships with our mom. If we were going to live in the cottage for the next five years, and there was little chance of moving before then because of finances, we had to find some kind of modus vivendi.

That said, I had to prioritize my wife, supporting her, and ensuring she was happy. Nothing was more important than that. I was sure that if our relationship ran aground, everything else was going to spiral out of control. I’d put myself, intentionally, in a position where my entire future depended on the happiness of the young woman in our kitchen, and, truth be told, my happiness with her. That was a fairly stark realization which I’d felt, but never articulated, even mentally.

I wondered, as I played Piano Man, if I’d understood Elizaveta’s true motives to marry. I knew mine, and they had not been because I was in love with her, but, truth-be-told, because she checked every mandatory box on my list. I wondered, exactly, what Elizaveta’s list included, and if I was, at least in a small way, a way to escape her mother’s clutches. It would fit with the other girls I knew, though it was more their dads, which was my own experience as well.

The question in my mind was how to best manage the situation going forward, with a goal of an armistice, if not an outright peace treaty. I’d put my foot down at the first sign of the conflict when it had been a violation of our privacy, but hadn’t considered the possible source of the conflict, or how it might actually play out. In the end, though, I’d made my bed and had to lie in it, though there were distinct advantages of lying in that bed, given the other person who was in it with me!

I switched to The Entertainer and continued thinking.

I considered the most recent disagreement and how I might have handled it had I actually known about it. The problem had started because Elizaveta hadn’t told me about it, and I’d need to address that with her in a way that didn’t upset her, though I wasn’t quite sure how to do that. One thing was sure, I had a lot to learn about how to be a good husband, and I had to be very careful about how I addressed concerns with my wife, and very conscientious about how my words might affect her. I was even more convinced that of Paul’s two commands, ‘love’ and ‘obey’, ‘love’ was the much more difficult of the two.

Had I known about her mother’s request, or more likely, demand, that Elizaveta call home from every city, I would have offered a compromise - a call when we arrived in Amsterdam and a call from Anicka Blahnik’s villa in Valencia. That would have annoyed my wife, but it would have given Viktor sufficient ammunition to argue that I was being eminently reasonable, and would have set the stage for the future when we had kids and I expected the combat to intensify, or flare up if it had ended.

I was fairly certain Elizaveta would have objected, and I also realized it could backfire as my mother-in-law would take it as a sign she could pocket a victory and try to gain more ground in the future, but it was a reasonable compromise, especially given my wife was only sixteen. At twenty-two, it would have been different, even if our living arrangements were the same. I’d considered the potential for conflict, but I’d let my aversion to debt push all other thoughts out of my head, and I’d accepted Viktor’s offer. The ‘golden handcuffs’ had been closed tightly when I’d agreed to allow him to pay my tuition. That said, HE didn’t appear to be the one who saw the handcuffs, and he and I could easily work through any concerns. It was my mother-in-law who seemed to think she had some sort of divine right to control Elizaveta.

I considered the things I’d seen, and the lessons I’d learned from the situations with Liz, Tasha, Clarissa, Emily, and Maggie, as well as my own experience with my parents. There was a way through this, and I was reasonably sure it had to start with Elizaveta, because I could, and I used the term advisedly even in my mind, control her, whereas I couldn’t exert any control on her mom. I also wanted to avoid bringing our priest or bishop into what amounted to a mother-daughter tug-of-war for control.

I’d take the first step to try to play peacemaker by suggesting to Elizaveta that the best approach was to be the epitome of sweetness and light, but I also knew my young wife was feisty, and at some point, her mom would push one button too many and I’d see an eruption of Mount Kitten like nothing I’d seen before. Preventing that was a top priority, lest the Kozlov property becomes a modern-day Pompeii. It was incumbent on Viktor to do the same with his wife, though they’d been married so long, the roles and responsibilities were likely set in stone. In a sense, he might have a much harder task at hand.

I switched to Radio Ga Ga, another song I knew fairly well.

I wondered, as I played the intro, how to broach the subject of compromise and negotiation with Elizaveta. I suspected she had very little experience in that area, not that I was a great expert. The difference was, I had four years of experience living away from home, and Elizaveta had zero. I was twenty-two and she was sixteen. I had graduated from college, and she was still in High School. I’d dated and been in a couple of serious relationships and she hadn’t even been on a date before we basically became a couple.

None of that was a surprise, but I certainly hadn’t given it enough serious thought because I was fixated on finding a wife who could meet several very specific needs, and who was willing to agree in advance, to the potentially nightmarish conditions of medical training combined with church ministry. Elizaveta hadn’t flinched from anything I’d said in that regard, but I wondered if she truly understood what she’d agreed to, AND if she’d set her concerns aside because she had her own agenda, for which I, like she did for me, checked all her boxes. I shook my head, realizing we might both have walked into our marriage effectively blinded to reality, something which several of my friends had tried to point out.

In the end, though, we’d both made a lifetime commitment, and that meant working through any and all problems that arose. Just seven weeks into our marriage, we had two - my past promiscuity and Elizaveta’s conflict with her mom. Had I acted on Doctor Mercer’s advice, I might have avoided the first one, though I was fairly sure Elizaveta would have called off our wedding. As for the conflict between mother and daughter, I should have realized it was inevitable and taken steps to minimize it before Elizaveta and I married.

I was, I understood, focusing on the ‘problems’ at the expense of the ‘positives’. Elizaveta and I were very compatible - spiritually, philosophically, and sexually - and that compatibility was a solid foundation on which to build our future as a couple, and eventually, a family. I had a strong belief that our mutual faith was THE source of strength in our relationship, and that, ultimately, it would allow us to solve any problem and overcome any obstacle which might be set before us, including a mother-in-law, determined to set the direction for our lives. I knew that with good spiritual guidance, which I could expect from Father Nicholas and Vladyka ARKADY, we’d be in good shape, but I also was sure we’d need secular advice, so I made a mental note to call Doctor Mercer to discuss everything I’d been thinking about.

My playing, singing, and thinking were interrupted by a knock and the door, so I put the guitar down and went to open the door.

“Hi, Subdeacon!” Alyssa said.

“Hi! Come on in. And here, at my house, it’s OK to call us Mike and Elizaveta even after my ordination.”

She and Mark came into the cottage and Elizaveta came out to greet them. She happily accepted Alyssa’s offer of help in the kitchen and I did my best not to show my displeasure over the whole issue of a gender-based division of labor. Sure, there were things such as nursing babies which were clearly suited to one gender but not the other, but to think that cooking, cleaning, laundry, and so on were things only women should do was the kind of thinking which led to all doctors being men and all nurses being women, something that simply made no sense to me. I’d expressed my rationale for a male-only priesthood, but otherwise, there was, in my mind, no job which equally qualified men and women couldn’t do equally well.

“How was Europe?” Mark asked after Elizaveta brought us glasses of lemonade.

“Fantastic. Elizaveta took a lot of pictures and so did Abby. Once we get them all developed, we’ll be happy to show you, if you’re interested.”

“Totally. I take it you’d recommend it for a honeymoon?”

I nodded, “Though you might want to only stay in places where you can have a private room. We had about a third of the nights where we had to share with Clarissa, Abby, Sandy, and Pete.”

“How was the hotel in Paris?”

“Outrageous,” I replied with a grin. “Laura booked us the ‘Honeymoon Suite’ and I’d say it was actually bigger than our cottage here! Or at least it seemed that way! Why are you asking about honeymoons?”

He laughed, “Future planning. We have four years of college before we could even consider a honeymoon like that, and we’re not in a position financially to get married and probably won’t be for some time. Can I ask you something, privately?”

“Let’s go out to the garden,” I replied.

He agreed, so I went to let Elizaveta know we’d be outside. We went outside and walked through the garden and sat on a bench near the pool.

“What’s up?”

“I’m not, uhm, sure how to ask this, so I’m just going to say it - what would Father Nicholas say if we were betrothed and ... well, you know.”

“Would you like an official answer or one from a friend?”

“A friend,” he replied, visibly relaxing.

“I guess my first question for you is if you’ve already taken that step?”

He shook his head, “No, but, uhm, we both want to.”

“And you don’t feel you have the willpower or self-control to resist?”

“Can I ask something that might be too private or even offensive?”

“Sure,” I replied, fairly certain about what he was going to say. “We’re friends.”

“Thanks. Did YOU have the willpower or self-control?”

“Not even close,” I replied. “How did you know?”

“Alyssa talked to Tasha and got the idea that your relationship was, well, ‘complicated’, was how Tasha put it.”

“I’m not sure you could say anything about Tasha and me that was more of an understatement than ‘complicated’. Let me ask you an important question - are you and Alyssa certain you’re going to marry?”

“Yes. We’ve been dating since we both turned sixteen, and we liked each other before that, but she wasn’t allowed to date. I guess that’s one similarity between Alyssa and Tasha.”

“Tasha wasn’t allowed to date until she was eighteen, at least officially. Deacon Vasily gave us a bit of freedom that let us spend time together and occasionally go to dinner, but it wasn’t officially dating. And if I can draw a parallel, she was convinced we were going to marry.”

“But you weren’t?”

“That’s where a good part of the ‘complicated’ comes in. You’ve met my friend Jocelyn, but I’m not sure you know we were best friends from kindergarten. We finally admitted to each other, after graduation that we were in love. That was before I was even talking to Tasha, though I’d noticed her. Jocelyn and I would probably have married if she hadn’t been in the accident that Summer. It’s a long, complicated, ugly story, but the bottom line was that we faced challenges neither of us was ready to face.

“Tasha and I began talking about that time and received permission to spend a small amount of time together, and I considered her the best candidate for marriage. We were working in that direction, but in the end, when she counted the cost of marrying me, including medical school, Residency, and ordination to the diaconate, she couldn’t make the commitment. She pointed me to Elizaveta, and you know the rest. Yes, there were other girls I dated in between, but none of them could make the commitment to the insanity that will be the next seven years of my life. Elizaveta was the exception.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say is that my circumstances were out of the ordinary, mostly because I can’t earn any money for another four years, not even a part-time job. Well, I could perhaps work weekends or nights for the next two years, but that would seriously impact my study time and create serious difficulties with my marriage. Both you and Alyssa could work as I did when I was at Taft and live in the married student dorms. Granted, you have to get your Master’s and she has to go through the necessary schooling and training to get her license, but you COULD do it.”

“You’re saying we should get married?”

“Putting on my cassock for the moment, that would be the official advice, IF you are sure she’s the correct girl, she’s sure you’re the correct guy, and you sit down and work out the details to ensure you can make finances work. I can certainly ensure you both get enough hours of work, if that’s what you want to do. The Quick Mart would be one option, but there are others. What you and Alyssa need to do is sit down and work up a plan. I’d be happy to help you with that, and once you decide if it’s possible, you should go to your godparents and Father Nicholas for pre-marital counseling. If that’s what you both want, I can’t imagine any impediment to marrying before school starts. And, if you want a less-expensive option than the married dorms, you could talk to Mr. Sokolov about the apartment over the Quick Mart - Tasha will be moving out in a couple of weeks. You’d have to move quickly on that, because he’s certainly going to be looking to rent it, if he hasn’t already.”