Chapter 77: Psychological Assessment

February 3, 1988, McKinley, Ohio

“Mike, I’m sorry,” Kylie said quickly. “I thought...”

I thought back to the mistake I’d made with Kari, and realized I might have misread the situation.

“I think I might be the one who should apologize,” I countered.

“Why?”

“Because I assigned a motive that might not be true.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was afraid you felt obligated, or that it was a quid pro quo.”

“I can see how you might have thought that,” Kylie said, “but that’s not it at all. You know what life is like for med students, and I told you about my situation at home. I don’t have time for a relationship and when you said I could hug and kiss you again, it seemed as if you’d be OK with scratching an itch on occasion and getting your rocks off in the process.”

“Two questions, if I may?”

“If it’ll potentially lead to you scratching my itch, ask away!”

“First, birth control?”

“I put in my diaphragm before I picked up the chicken.”

“You won’t be offended or upset if I use a rubber? Diaphragms have a failure rate which neither of us can afford.”

“That’s fine.”

“Second, and please do not think I’m implying anything, but a recent STD test?”

“Smart question! I had one at my regular gynecological checkup after I answered my OB/GYN’s questions about being sexually active. Sadly, I haven’t been active in the eight months since then.”

“Mind if I ask why?”

“You might not believe it, but I’m picky. No doctors and no hookups at the hospital. That leaves med students and, to be honest, I slept with the only three who were even remotely interesting besides you, and you weren’t available.”

“I believe you,” I replied. “My rules are similar.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

“Heck if I know!” I declared.

I took Kylie’s hand and led her into the bedroom, where she began undressing. I followed suit, and we climbed into bed. Forty minutes later, we got out of bed and went to take a shower together.

“I have to disagree with something you claimed,” I said. “You are NOT the most boring person on the planet!”

Kylie laughed, “I suppose not! And you failed to mention how nice your scratching post is!”

“I’d say that it didn’t come up, but obviously it did!”

Kylie laughed, “Oh, it most definitely did!”

“Just out of curiosity,” I asked as I soaped her body. “How often do you usually need your itch scratched?”

She shrugged slightly, “It depends, really. During our first year, it was every few months because who had time for anything else with all the studying? Last year, it was as often as a couple of times a week, but then an eight-month dry spell. You were married and had a kid on the way, so obviously you were getting it. Will you answer about afterwards?”

“Often enough, after about three months, because, to be honest, I was lonely.”

“I can’t even imagine.”

I finished soaping Kylie, and she moved under the spray to rinse off, then took the soap from me and started washing me.

“How will this work?” I asked.

“You ask or I ask, and if the other one is game, we do it, if not, no hard feelings. And we both agree to tell the other one when we need to stop for some reason. I don’t cheat, so that’s a hard line that I won’t cross.”

“Same here.”

Kylie spent extra time fondling me with her soapy hands, which started a reaction which I was sure she intended.

“PA!” I heard over the baby monitor.

“Sorry,” I said, moving under the spray. “I’m being summoned.”

“Rain check on what I was about to do?”

“Sadly, yes, because Rachel needs to eat and she’ll be up for at least a couple hours.”

I quickly dried off, then dressed, hearing Rachel call me twice more before I got to her, and feeling as if I was staring into the face of a miniature version of Elizaveta who was unhappy with the time it had taken for me to get to her. She needed a fresh diaper, so I began changing it.

“You didn’t sleep quite long enough, young lady,” I said. “Papa needed another ten minutes!”

Rachel cooed and gurgled as I fastened the clean diaper, almost as if she was teasing me. I put a clean onesie on her, then picked her up to carry her downstairs. Kylie wasn’t in the bedroom, so I went downstairs and saw she was sitting in the great room.

“I need to make a bottle, then I’ll come sit with you.”

“I’ll leave you two to have your daddy/daughter time,” Kylie said. “See you at the hospital?”

“Absolutely!”

I walked her to the door, we exchanged a quick kiss, and she left. I watched out the window until she’d pulled out of the driveway, then took Rachel to the great room and put her on the rug in front of the fireplace. I went to the kitchen and made her bottle, then cradled her in my arms in front of the fire while she ate.

February 4, 1988, McKinley, Ohio

“Thanks for coming here for lunch,” I said to Antonne when we met in the cafeteria at the hospital.

“It’s cool. How do you like your new assignment?”

“It’s OK. It would be better if I could be with the psychiatrists in their offices outside the hospital, but that’s not part of the training for medical students. How is your study group doing?”

“We have four now. What’s the best size?”

“Somewhere between four and six worked really well for us. The key is to be consistent and not skip or blow it off. And that goes for everyone. If anyone can’t commit, cut them loose so their bad habits don’t rub off on the rest of you.”

“Man, you’re a stone-cold killer!”

“You want to be a doctor? You need ice water in your veins. You can be as happy-go-lucky as you want when you aren’t studying or on a clinical rotation, but when you are? Ice water. You need to be focused and never waver. And you need like-minded people around you. I learned that from Clarissa and Fran, who were the organizers for our study group; Clarissa at Taft and Fran at McKinley Medical School.”

“How’d you meet them?”

“At Taft. I had classes with them, and Clarissa asked me to study with her, which was the genesis of our study group.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have your notebooks, graded exams, and lab reports, would you?”

“I would. You’re welcome to borrow them.”

“That was easier than I expected!”

“They change the exams every year, so there’s no ethical problem with giving you what amounts to practice exams. Beyond that, Doctor Stanton asked me to help you, and more importantly, because I like you.”

“You are the first white friend I’ve had. I mean, I knew white guys who were OK, but they were never friends.”

“You’re the beneficiary of the hard work of Clark Brody, who was my first black friend. We were roomies, and it was touch and go at first, but in the end we became close friends.”

“Where’d you gain your affinity for Doctor King?”

“You’ve seen the pictures of the march, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“The bearded men in black robes were Greek Orthodox bishops. I used to wear robes similar to those when I was a deacon. Our priest told us about those bishops and their message, and I took it to heart.

“Cool.”

We finished our lunches and Antonne headed back to campus while I went upstairs. It was a quiet afternoon, with just one consult and no admissions. I left on time and headed home. Lara greeted me and I went upstairs to check on Rachel, who was sleeping, and then changed into comfortable clothes. Lara and I chatted for a few minutes, and she left when Kari arrived, bringing Chinese food with her.

“Anything interesting happen this week?” Kari asked after I prayed and we started eating.

“I changed some of my electives, but that’s about it.”

“You aren’t changing your specialty, are you?”

“No, just bringing my electives into better focus now that I’ve had eight months of clinical rotations under my belt. How about your week?”

“My dad went back to work and set a wedding date. June 11th. Think your band would play the reception?”

“I’ll need to check with Kim, but I’m pretty sure the answer would be ‘yes’. And speaking of that, would you bring your violin to practice on the 13th? We’d like you to play Dust in the Wind with us, as well as back me for The Devil Went Down to Georgia.” “I’ll need to check with Kim, but I’m pretty sure the answer would be ‘yes’. And speaking of that, would you bring your violin to practice on the 13th? We’d like you to play Dust in the Wind with us, as well as back me for The Devil Went Down to Georgia.”

“That’ll be fun! Did you talk to Professor Greene?”

“Yes. She’ll sing Endless Love with me at the Proms. I owe her one concert of her choice.”

“Cool!”

“Think we’ll have time for a bubble bath after Rachel has her dinner?”

“I think she’ll tolerate being in her swing so long as she can see us.”

We finished eating, tossed the containers in the trash, then went up to the bedroom.

“We have an hour,” I said. “What’s your pleasure?”

“Mind if I’m on top?” she asked.

“Not at all!”

“Think we can manage twice with sixty-nine in between before Rachel wakes up?”

“All we can do is try!”

We did manage, with Rachel calling for me about five minutes after we’d finished. I put on a robe and changed her diaper, fed her, then brought her up to the bedroom and set up the swing. I put Rachel into it, turned it on, then Kari and I got into the tub for our bubble bath.

“What time does whoever is watching Rachel show up tonight?”

“Between 7:15pm and 7:30pm.”

“I should probably leave before then.”

“Just relax, enjoy the bath, and don’t sweat it.”

I slipped my hand between her legs and move my other hand to her breast.

“What are you doing?” she asked playfully.

“Helping you relax.”

“By getting me excited?”

“Don’t you feel relaxed after orgasms?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m helping you relax!”

By the end of the bath, Kari was extremely relaxed. We got out of the tub, rinsed off the suds in the shower, dried ourselves, then dressed. I picked up Rachel, and we took her downstairs and went to the great room, where I put Rachel on the rug.

“Next Thursday?” Kari asked. “Same time?”

“Sounds good to me.”

I walked her to the door, she put on her hat, coat, and gloves, and stepped out onto the porch just as Serafima and Elias arrived.

“What is she doing here?” Serafima asked when she walked into the house. “I heard you broke up!”

I suppressed a sigh, because there were only a few people who knew that — Kari, Lara, Clarissa, Anicka, Oksana, and me. I couldn’t imagine Lara or Clarissa breaking my confidence, and I couldn’t imagine Kari or Anicka speaking with Serafima. That left only one possible source, and I’d asked her to keep it secret.

“Where did you hear that?” I asked.

“Oksana.”

Confirming my suspicions.

“Kari and I are friends,” I said. “I’m going to marry an Orthodox girl, which means you need to butt out of my relationships. Completely.”

“Serafima,” Elias said before she could respond. “He’s right. You’ve done your part, and the girl you were worried about is no longer a concern.”

The look Serafima gave Elias reminded me of the looks Elizaveta had given me when she was annoyed with me, but I was glad to see him putting his foot down because I’d really had enough of his wife’s matchmaking.

“I need to make a few phone calls before bed,” I said. “I’ll go in the study and take Rachel with me.”

I went to the great room, picked up my daughter, and went to the study. I closed the doors, moved the rocker closer to the desk where the phone was, and sat down. My first call was to Lara.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I need to ask a question, even though I’m positive I know the answer.”

“Sure. What?”

“Did you speak to Serafima about any of the girls?”

“No, of course not. It’s none of her business. Why?”

“Someone told her Kari and I broke up, and that information was very closely held — you, Clarissa, Anicka, and Oksana. And I swore Oksana to secrecy.”

“Oh, shit,” Lara sighed.

“Yeah. I’m going to call Clarissa, and I’m sure there was no communication by Kari or Anicka to Serafima.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Call Oksana and ask, but a violation of trust when I asked her to keep a secret is a serious problem.”

“Obviously. How did that come up?”

“Serafima saw Kari leaving the house.”

“That seems like a good thing, if it allows you to find out you can’t trust the girls.”

“You really know how to brighten my day,” I sighed.

“Because I said ‘girls’?”

“Yeah. It’s the problem with how Serafima orchestrated things with her friends. Let me make my other calls, please.”

We said ‘goodbye’ and I called the psych lounge and was happy that Clarissa answered. We had a nearly identical conversation, with Clarissa confirming she hadn’t spoken to Serafima. She had the same reaction as Lara, and that left me with one more call to make.

“Hi!” Oksana exclaimed when her mom called her to the phone.

“Hi. I’m just going to say this straight — Serafima said she heard from you that Kari and I broke up.”

“No way!” Oksana declared. “Honest! I didn’t! Mike, you have to believe me!”

“Then why would she say that to me?”

“I have no idea!” she exclaimed, sounding panicked. “But I didn’t tell her! I swear!”

I couldn’t believe either girl would lie, and that meant trying to find an answer where both could be telling the truth.

“Did you speak to Serafima at some point after our date last Friday?”

“Yes, of course. I saw her at Vespers and Liturgy.”

“Think carefully,” I said. “What did you talk about?”

“She asked how things were going and I said they were fine. She said she was worried about Kari, and I said not to be. That’s all! She didn’t even ask any more questions. Are you upset with me?”

I considered what Oksana’s options had been in responding to Serafima, and while silence would have been preferable, saying ‘not to worry’ didn’t technically violate the promise I’d asked her to make.

“While saying nothing would have been preferable, I realize how difficult that would have been. In the future, please do not discuss our relationship with Serafima. I very directly told her to keep her nose out of my relationships. If she asks, you simply say that I don’t want you to discuss it with her. I’ll tell Sara the same thing.”

“You’re not angry?”

“No, I’m not angry. I’ll see you a week from Saturday.”

“I’ll see you then!”

We said ‘good night’, I hung up, took Rachel to Serafima, then went up to bed.

February 5, 1988, McKinley, Ohio

“How did it go?” Clarissa asked when she arrived for her shift late on Friday morning.

“I have to give Oksana the benefit of the doubt, but it does make me cautious in a way I wasn’t before.”

“She denied it?”

“Yes, but it’s a grey area because what Oksana claims is that Serafima said she was worried about Kari, and Oksana told her not to worry. Serafima inferred from that comment that Kari and I had broken up. It would have been better for Oksana to say nothing at all, but I understand reflexively responding that there wasn’t a concern. In the end, I told Serafima to butt out of my relationships completely, and Elias backed me up, and I asked Oksana to simply decline to discuss our relationship with Serafima.”

“So I’m not the only one who’s being told to ‘butt out’,” Clarissa replied. “Good to know.”

“There’s a difference between what I said to Serafima and what I said to you. I asked you to simply not offer comments, but I think I was clear that I will ask your advice.”

“You were. Did you intentionally have Kari stay?”

“Yes, but I didn’t do it for that reason, though with my subconscious, who knows?”

“There’s more to this,” Clarissa observed. “Let’s have lunch.”

I nodded and a few hours later, we had lunch together in the cafeteria.

“What’s got you roiled internally now?” Clarissa asked. “I mean, besides the obvious.”

“What are the five primary responses to stress by people in the medical field?”

“Alcohol abuse, drug abuse, domestic abuse, hypersexuality, and suicide,” Clarissa replied. “You aren’t drinking or stealing narcotics, are you?”

I laughed, “You know better than that! And I have never laid a hand on anyone in anger or frustration, and only ever laid a hand on anyone in the dōjō. Do you think I’m having suicidal ideation?”

“No, because everything else aside, you would never do that to Rachel.”

“So...”

Clarissa laughed, “You sound like your mom!”

“Shocking,” I replied flatly.

“Is your sexual activity interfering with your training?”

I chuckled, “No, and thank you for not going all Freud on me there after mentioning my mom.”

“Is your sexual activity interfering with your family relationships?”

“No,” I chuckled, as Clarissa ran through what amounted to a standard assessment.

“Are you obsessed with sex such that you think about it at inappropriate times?”

“Only when I’m thinking about you!” I smirked.

“Be serious, Petrovich!” Clarissa demanded, but she laughed, too.

“No.”

“Are you engaging in risky sexual behavior, including unprotected sex, or sex with someone with risk factors for STDs?”

“No. That wasn’t something we worried too much about at Taft, but it is something I keep in mind now.”

“Are you cheating on a spouse, fiancée, or another person to whom you’ve made a commitment to exclusivity?”

“No.”

“Are you engaging in sexual activity in inappropriate places or at inappropriate times?”

“No.”

Clarissa shrugged, “We wouldn’t even suggest counseling. The only thing we would suggest is an STD test, which you’ve had recently.”

“Very good, Doctor Saunders,” I said sassily.

“We’ve been in school as long as most clinical psychologists at this point, who mostly have Master’s degrees. And we’re not dealing with a mental illness, so you know as well as I do that the assessment is, from a medical perspective, definitive. What would the suggestion be at that point if the patient were concerned?”

“To see a secular counselor or clergyman, whichever they felt more comfortable doing.”