Chapter 82: Summon the Stork?

February 16, 1988, McKinley, Ohio

“Girlfriend, huh?” Tami asked when we had lunch together on Tuesday.

“It worked, didn’t it?” I asked with a grin.

“It did.”

“What happened with Tim and his mom?”

“It got ugly,” Tami sighed. “She ended up being arrested, though I heard they let her go once Family Services took custody of both boys. I think Tim will go back to his mom, but I’m not sure what will happen to Philip.”

“Those situations just suck,” I sighed.

“I heard you recommended me for pediatrics.”

“I did. I think you’d do a great job with kids.”

“Including Rachel?”

“I’d say so, but I understand that ‘instant mom, just add ring’ is tough. I had an ‘instant family, just add ring’ chance with my ex the Summer after High School. We had broken up because she wouldn’t come to church. She got pregnant not long after that, by another guy, and tried to talk me into marrying. She still refused to even visit our parish, so there was no chance.”

“Would you have done it otherwise?”

“If she’d been willing to convert, we’d never have broken up. What are you thinking?”

“It’s strange, and I don’t have any context because single moms are common, but single dads are relatively rare, especially with infants. I also wonder if I’m cut out to be a doctor’s wife.”

“Those are the two fundamental questions.”

“And ones I don’t think I’m prepared to answer right now.”

“I totally understand. Friends?”

“Friends.”

When I went back up to psych, I was surprised to see Kylie. There was nobody in the lounge, so we went in there to talk.

“What happened on Friday?” she asked, though she wasn’t accusatory.

“I had multiple offers,” I replied with a sly smile. “And nothing against your sister, but I made the right choice because the young woman whose offer I did accept is someone I want to date, not just a girl with whom I would fool around. Besides, I have you for that, assuming you aren’t ticked about Friday night.”

Kylie laughed, “Are you kidding? My sister was outraged, which is a good thing! I heard your band is playing at the club next month, so that should be fun to watch! Hook up sometime next week?”

“The only day I have is Wednesday, and you know my schedule.”

“If I show up at 5:00pm, we’ll have an hour or two. That’s enough!”

“I’ll see you then.”

She left, and I went to join Doctor Lawson for afternoon rounds.

When I arrived home later in the day, I called my mom to find out when Dani and I could come to dinner.

“It’s that serious?” Mom asked.

“Serious enough that she wants to meet you,” I replied. “But I haven’t made any commitments to her except to explore the future.”

“A Tuesday or Thursday would be best, because I’d be home during the day and can make a really nice meal.”

“A Thursday will work perfectly. Dani will need to leave by 9:00pm so she can get back to Columbus at a reasonable hour. How about March 10th?”

“That’s good,” Mom said. “We’ll plan on it.”

“It’s on my calendar,” I replied. “Are you going to invite your parents?”

“I’m not sure I’d survive not inviting my mom, given she’s trying to make the match!”

“That’s between the two of you!” I declared. “I’ll ask Dani to arrive by 5:00pm, which she can do as the pediatric office closes at noon on Thursdays. We’ll see you on the 10th.”

I called Dani’s house, but she wasn’t home from work, so I left a message with the plans with her mom, and asked that Dani call me. After I ended that call, I called Becka, and we made a date for March 5th, agreeing she would spend the night. My final call was to Father Roman. He asked about medical school and I filled him in on my new schedule, then we talked about Lenten services, with me committing to attend all the ones at Saint Michael which I could, given my schedule.

“Continue the prayer rule I’ve given you, following the Triodion. As for fasting, I’d like you to abstain from beef, carbonated drinks, and candy. Don’t go further than that. Do you accept the rule?”

“Yes, Father.”

“How is your daughter?”

“She’s crawling, and I’ve begun reading to her, and thankfully, she’s sleeping close to eight hours a night.”

“With the same caregivers?”

“Yes.”

“I do have one thing to tell you. As of Pascha, I’m retiring from the active priesthood, and will move to the Monastery of the Dormition of the Mother of God in Rives Junction, Michigan. I’d like you to come see me after I move, as your schedule allows.”

Fortunately, Rives Junction was just north of the border, and I could make the drive in less than five hours.

“I’ll let you know when I have my schedule for May.”

“Then I’ll speak to you in about four weeks.”

“Yes, Father.”

We ended the call just before Sara arrived, and after she and I exchanged a soft French kiss, she went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. About fifteen minutes later, the phone rang, and I went to the study to answer it.

As I expected, it was Dani. I confirmed our dinner plans, then suggested we see each other on Thursdays. We’d have lunch, spend the afternoon together, have dinner, and then I’d drive home. Those plans made, I joined Sara in the kitchen.

“Did you get your new schedule?” Sara asked.

“Yes,” I replied, then explained it.

“Well, Tuesdays are out, for sure,” she said. “What night?”

“What about Sunday afternoon after church? We’d have to eat dinner around 5:00pm, and I’d need to leave around 6:30pm.”

“Sure! And alternate Saturdays, right? Switching with Oksana?”

“Yes, though I have plans for the 5th, so it’ll be the 12th.”

“OK. I take it neither of us should stand with you in church?”

“Or you both could,” I chuckled. “And make everyone’s head explode!”

Sara laughed, “That might lead to some interesting conversations with Father Nicholas for all three of us!”

“Trouble I don’t need,” I replied with a smile. “So it’s better if neither of you do, for now.”

Sara put a casserole into the oven and came over to me and sat on my lap.

“I have my prescription and I can start taking it next week, most likely Monday!”

Fortunately, I had at least a month before she could ask for me to ‘slide into home’. Of course, I also knew she was going to push things forward as far as I allowed, and I had to be careful not to mislead her.

“Second base, right?” Sara asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

Sara and I kissed and touched outside our clothes, though I only touched her above her waist and she didn’t try to push things further as she had the previous time. We had stopped a few times while she worked on dinner, but we had a very nice make-out session until Rachel woke up.

The meal Sara prepared was tasty and filling and after I helped her with the dishes, Sara, Rachel, and I spent time together, including reading Hop on Pop. After the book, we went to the study and said evening prayers, finishing just before Serafima and Elias arrived.

“See you on Saturday!” Sara exclaimed when I walked her to the door. “OK to arrive early so I can clean while you’re at band practice?”

“Absolutely. How about 7:30am?”

“See you then!”

We exchanged a quick kiss and hug, and I watched from the porch until she had driven away, then went inside and began my bedtime routine.

February 18, 1988, McKinley, Ohio

“Are you OK with leaving Rachel with your in-laws for an entire day twice a week?” Lara asked when I arrived home on Thursday.

“What are you thinking?”

“That to give Serafima and Alyssa a break, I’ll stay Sunday night and Tuesday night, and take Rachel to your in-laws in the mornings. You would pick her up when your shift is over. That’ll work well because Rachel is sleeping at least seven hours now, so I’ll easily get enough sleep.”

“I’m OK with that,” I replied. “Which night when I’m home works best for you?”

“How about Monday nights? That’s probably the least likely to interfere with anything.”

“That works well for me, given what I said about likely being able to get sufficient sleep on those shifts.”

“Unless you need something, I’ll head out. Have you given more thought to what I said about timing?”

“Yes, which is why I let Kari know I wanted to wind down the physical part of our relationship. I’ll see her, be friends with her, and she’ll play with Code Blue, but she’s not the one. I also plan to stop seeing the girls who don’t have a similar timeframe.”

“Susana and Irina, right?”

“Yes. Then it’s a matter of judging who is the best overall fit.”

“Or,” Lara smirked, “who has the best overall fit!”

“You!” I declared.

“So if we could somehow overcome the spiritual chasm, I’d be your choice?”

“I’d have already asked you. I was strongly leaning in that direction until you pointed out what should have been obvious to me.”

“You and Elizaveta, ignoring everything else, were exactly in tune spiritually, and THAT is what made it possible for her to help you through all the ecclesiastical bullshit! I’d never have put up with it, and I’d have told you to walk away. That would have been better for your short-term mental and spiritual health, but in the long run, I think it would have hurt you, the parish, and the diocese.

“Even though you aren’t going to be a clergyman, and you’re limiting your attendance at church, Mike Loucks is still, first and foremost, a spiritual creature. You keep a serious prayer rule, and you know I mostly can’t be bothered. You want to fast, and I take that with an entire shaker of salt. You want to attend every service while I pick and choose except for Sunday Liturgy. There would be no end of tension in that regard.

“That’s why, in the final analysis, I think it’ll be one of two girls. I think you can intuit which ones I’m thinking about — spiritually compatible, passionate, intelligent, strong, independent, and who want nothing more than to raise an Orthodox family. There’s a wildcard, of course, and that’s your new friend who simply has to, in effect, step across the aisle. I don’t think you know enough about her yet to consider her as more than another dalliance.”

“I’m not sure I know which two you mean, but given I asked you to limit what you said about specific girls unless I asked, I’d prefer you didn’t tell me. I am curious about the ‘dalliance’ comment.”

“Kari is the prime example. You knew, deep down, that she had a set of hurdles which were nearly impossible to clear, and continued your relationship because you wanted to bed the hot redhead! That’s not me judging, simply acknowledging the truth. You told yourself there was a chance, and while that might be true, it was never realistic. On the other hand, you can be a good friend and mentor to her.”

“Who else would you put in that category?”

“Maggie, because that was never going to work in the end. She was,” Lara smirked, “a smoking hot redhead.”

I laughed, “I think I see the pattern you’re establishing. I’ll counter with Angie, before.”

“Think that one through, please.”

I didn’t have to think long because it was blindingly obvious.

“My affinity for redheads began with Angie,” I replied carefully. “Do you think I’m substituting?”

Lara shrugged, “I can’t say for sure, but I think quite a bit of your pre-Elizaveta psyche was formed by your relationship with Angie. And what happened to her recently reïnforced it. Think about your visceral reaction and how exceedingly rare it is for you to feel that way about anyone or anything. The only thing you are more passionate about than Angie is medicine, and only by a smidgen.”

“Shit.”

“You using that word in this context speaks volumes, Mike.”

“Do you think I’m obsessed with her?” I asked.

Lara shook her head, “No. Passionate is the word I used, and I meant it. You imprinted on her, and she became your ideal life partner. She was, in your mind, the perfect woman to whom all others would be compared. You married someone who compared very favorably.”

“Minus the red hair,” I replied with a wry smile.

“Obviously, but you saying that more or less confirms my thinking. I know the answer to this question, but I’ll ask it anyway — if Angie recovered to the point where Ohio would let her marry, would you marry her?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“And that is the source of your visceral reaction. Part of you, deep in your soul, fervently hoped that Angie could succeed. Obviously, while Elizaveta was still alive, that didn’t affect your behavior, nor Angie’s. But put two and two together.”

“Oh, I know,” I sighed. “There is no doubt in my mind that Angie’s ultimate goal was to marry me. And that goal, once expressed to her psychiatrist, is what led us to where we are. I am still dumbfounded that a pair of alleged mental health professionals would think it wise to completely destroy Angie and call it good.”

“I have something to say about that, and I hope you won’t take it the wrong way.”

“Go on.”

“You couldn’t move forward so long as there was a chance, no matter how remote, that Angie might succeed. She was, from everything you’ve said, making progress and things were looking positive, well, so long as you ignore the statistics.”

“Angie, like any other patient, isn’t a statistic,” I said firmly. “Yes, you take that into account, but you develop an individual treatment program. It’s rare when you, in effect, roll the dice based solely on statistics. Sometimes you have to make the percentage play, but that can’t be the default. And if you do have to make a percentage play, it has to be done with informed consent, or, if the patient or their family isn’t able to give it for whatever reason, consensus among the treatment team.

“Where the true challenge arises is when the overall good for society is so great that you go with the statistics. That’s the thinking behind mass vaccination campaigns, but even those can end in disaster if you don’t weigh the overall societal good against the individual risks. Swine flu in the mid-seventies showed us how not to do a vaccination campaign. It was approved with minimal testing and turned out to be not just ineffective, but to have significant negative side effects. That’s a far cry from the polio or smallpox vaccines.”

“What do you think of the idea of annual flu shots?”

“For anyone with underlying risk where it would be a comorbidity, I think they’re a wise choice. But for the population in general? No. But you know me. I’m averse to using pharmaceuticals unless absolutely necessary and indicated by observed symptoms which they can resolve. Well, and the proven vaccines, obviously.

“But going back to Angie before we followed the rabbit trail of stats, I think you are likely onto something. The entire dorm floor referring to her as ‘Mrs. Loucks’ made it clear to anyone who was paying attention. In my case, I knew she was the one I should marry, and I did everything I could to work towards that goal, even after her first episode.

“The one nagging question is what would have happened if I had acceded to her request to make love when she came back to Taft after that episode? Not doing it led to the next episode, but it’s impossible to say what would have happened had we made love. Doctor Mercer felt it would have tipped Angie into a full-blown psychotic break, but guess what happened anyway?”

“Do you think you made a mistake?”

I took a deep breath and let it out.

“I don’t see how I could have done anything differently. I listened to Doctor Mercer, but I kept my own counsel. I offered Angie a steady relationship, with the plan to get engaged, but delaying sexual intimacy until I was confident it was the right thing to do. She accused me of, in effect, dangling the carrot just out of reach, with the intent of moving it if it appeared she’d be able to reach it. Or, to use a football metaphor, she felt I would keep moving the goalposts.

“I didn’t see it that way because I absolutely wanted to go to bed with Angie, and was ready to make the commitment necessary for that to happen. Angie’s psyche didn’t allow her to process things long-term, which is why she was insistent that we make love immediately. That was the way her brain worked, and that was the strongest indication she was suffering from her mental illness.

“And therein lies the true source of my visceral reaction. When Angie decided she was going to do whatever was necessary to get to a point where we could marry, she was thinking about the future, outside the moment, had made a plan, and was successfully executing it. That is NOT a sign of someone who is suffering from full-blown schizophrenia and is a strong sign that something has changed. The asshole psychiatrist ignored that. THAT is where the malpractice claim arises, and I think I can make it stick.”

“Holy fuck!” Lara gasped. “She showed signs of recovery and he purposefully and intentionally ignored them and did exactly the wrong thing!”

“Bingo.”

“I’m not sure yanking his license is enough,” Lara said. “He should be in prison for that.”

“Sadly, it mostly doesn’t work that way. It’ll be difficult to get an actual hearing before the Medical Licensing Review Board. And it won’t be cheap, but I don’t care.”

“Mike,” Lara said firmly. “I’ll cover all the costs. You know I have the money and you know how much I love you. Once she’s free of that quack, I want to see the bastard nailed to the wall, or to put it in terms you might prefer, hung higher than Haman!”

“I love you,” I said, holding out my arms.

“I love you, too, Mike! We make a good team, and we’ll be a good team for life, even if marriage isn’t in the cards. And we still have a few months of great sex!”