Chapter 94: Home Run Hitters Also Strike Out

March 25, 1988, McKinley, Ohio

When we returned to McKinley from Columbus on Friday morning, I drove straight to my in-laws’ house to leave Rachel with Anna. She and Yulia, who seemed much improved thanks to her counseling, had agreed to keep Rachel until Sunday morning. Given Yulia had taken on what I considered an appropriate grandmother’s role, I felt it was good for both her and Rachel.

Once Rachel was settled with her grandmother and aunt, I drove to the medical school to drop off my evaluation form, then headed home. At home, I started a load of laundry, did some light cleaning, and when, just before 11:00am, the doorbell rang, I went to answer it.

“Hi!” Maryam exclaimed.

“Hi! Come in.”

She did, and I shut the door.

“Are hugs permitted?” I asked.

Maryam smiled, “Yes, in private.”

We exchanged a chaste hug.

“I have water boiling for tea if you want to stay for a bit. Antonne will be here around 11:30am for our mentoring session.”

“Having tea would be nice!”

We went to the kitchen and I put tea into the strainer in the teapot, then poured hot water over it, and put the lid on. While the tea steeped, I went to the study and retrieved Maryam’s ticket and brought it back to her.

“Thanks!” she exclaimed. “How much?”

“No cost. The band received ten tickets to hand out.”

“Is Rachel napping?”

“No, she’s with her grandmother and aunt. With my mentoring session and the gig tonight, it made sense to leave her with them. And Yulia very much appreciates it.”

“She’s better, right?”

“Yes. And Anna is there, so there’s no concern.”

“Do you realize by this time next year, we’ll have our Match and be just two months from graduation?”

I nodded, “When I started at Taft, it seemed like forever, now it’s as if time is flying by.”

“Medical school would have been very different without you,” Maryam said. “I’m glad we met.”

“So am I,” I replied. “And who knows what the future might have in store?”

I poured tea for both of us.

“Will you keep playing in the band after May when José finishes his Master’s?”

“He has several good job prospects in Cincinnati, so he’ll be close enough, and Sticks is working in Columbus, and Kim is working on her Master’s but will likely work in Columbus. All of us want to continue, and we’re having fun. The extra money is nice, too, especially now.”

“My parents will be very happy when I no longer need an allowance!” Maryam said mirthfully. “Can you imagine? A twenty-five-year-old with an allowance?”

“I suspect, strongly, they feel it’s money well spent.”

“Yes, of course, but it’s just strange! Of course, my parents felt I should marry before medical school, but that made no sense to me.”

“What our parents or grandparents want should not be our primary concern. If my grandmother had her way, I’d marry her friend’s granddaughter as soon as possible.”

“You need to resolve your spiritual and emotional struggles first,” Maryam observed. “Or if not resolve, at least stabilize.”

“I agree. That’s why I’m going to see Father Roman Braga at some point after Bright Week.”

“I hope he can help you.”

“I believe he can,” I replied.

We finished our tea, and I walked Maryam to the porch.

“See you tonight!” Maryam exclaimed, then surprised me with a quick peck on the lips. I watched as she got into her car and drove away, not quite sure what had just occurred. I turned and went back inside and began preparing lunch. The doorbell rang six minutes later, and I went to answer it.

“Hi,” Antonne said.

“Hi!” Danika said. “Don’t blame Antonne. I wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Come on in,” I replied. “I can handle a third for lunch if Antonne is cool with it.”

“Yeah, it’s cool,” he agreed.

I led them to the kitchen and put a third plate, bowl, and glass on the table.

“Danika? Club sandwich or PB&J?”

“PB&J,” she replied. “What’s the soup?”

“Vegetable.”

I made a second PB&J sandwich, and then served soup, the sandwiches, chips, and pickle spears. I got them each a Coke and lemonade for myself.

“What’s with the PB&J?” Antonne asked when I sat down.

“It’s Great Lent,” I replied. “We’re fasting.”

“My mom is Pentecostal, but I haven’t been to her church in ten years. The music was cool, but I couldn’t handle the preaching and testimony, which could go on for hours at a time.”

“Our Sunday morning services tend to run between three and four hours,” I said. “But the sermon, or what we call a homily, is usually only about ten minutes. There’s a small Pentecostal church in a storefront about two miles from Taft.”

“Mom’s church is like that; it’s in a strip mall.”

“How is your study group doing?”

“Pretty good, and it really helps with lab reports.”

“Do you guys hang out besides studying?”

“Not really. Is that something you guys did?”

“Yes. We became close friends. We don’t hang out as much these days because of our clinical rotation schedules. Has anyone talked to you about what Residency is like?”

“Not really.”

“That’s something we should discuss at the next meeting with the entire group in April.”

“That sounds good,” Antonne agreed.

“Were you invited to join the Honors Program?” I asked.

“Doctor Stanton had to pull a few strings because my grades first semester weren’t really good enough, but I’m in. I didn’t get invited to the special Wednesday lunch, unfortunately. Danika did.”

“One of the reasons Doctor Stanton asked me to mentor you was to make up for that,” I said. “The program has caused quite a bit of controversy, though fortunately the main source of the controversy is no longer at Taft.”

“What happened?” Danika asked.

“A radical feminist dean decided that the only solution to past discrimination against females was to effectively eliminate men from the Honors Program and things like the departmental lunches. She did quite a few other things, some of which I can’t discuss, that ultimately resulted in her leaving Taft.”

“Women have to be at least twice as good as men to get the same treatment,” Danika said. “Fortunately, that’s trivially easy!”

Antonne and I both laughed.

“All kidding aside,” I said, “female medical students and doctors are not treated equitably, and pay a huge price for motherhood. It’s decidedly unjust.”

“I’ve heard, but aren’t things getting better?” Danika asked.

“Slowly, but it’s still too often a ‘No girls need apply’ club. I’ll point out that had that dean had been less radical, and had approached me, I’d have been a huge ally. I see from the women in my study group exactly what they have to sacrifice for medicine. I have to make sacrifices, too, as will Antonne, but it’s not even remotely comparable. If you want to be a mom, your career will suffer, and that’s just wrong.”

“What kind of sacrifices?” Antonne asked.

“It’s basically what I said to you about your study group and studying — everything has to take a back seat to your studies and pursuit of a medical license. It will affect every single aspect of your life, and there is little you can do to change that. I’ve called medicine a harsh, demanding, jealous mistress, and she does not brook anyone or anything interfering with her demands.

“The study of medicine is, basically, all-consuming. I’ve had some advantages with scheduling because of what happened last August, but I’m at a point now where no further accommodations can be made. If it hadn’t been for a close female friend, my daughter’s godparents, my in-laws, and people from church, I’d have never made it this far, even with those schedule accommodations. Sixty-hour weeks are the norm for Third and Fourth Years, and that’s just for rotations. You need to study and read, too. And Residency gets worse. But we’ll discuss that in April.”

“What do you read?” Antonne asked.

“Medical journals, mostly. But I also spend time reviewing gross anatomy and the flashcard deck I created during my first two years.”

“I bet that is worth its weight in gold!” he replied.

“When the time comes, I’ll help you create a system that works for you.”

“Cool.”

“Friday next week again?” Antonne asked when we finished lunch.

“Yes, and the following week I won’t be available because it’s our Holy Week and there are services every evening.”

“Right, I remember you mentioning that. I hate to eat and run, but I need to stop in the Registrar’s office to make sure my schedule for the Fall was updated with honors courses.”

“Then I’ll see you next week.”

“Mind if I stay and talk?” Danika inquired. “I want to ask some questions.”

“Sure,” I replied.

“I’ll show myself out,” Antonne said.

We shook hands, and he left. I got up and put on some water for tea, then cleared the plates from the table.

“What questions do you have?” I asked when I sat back down.

“Doctor Stanton said you were class valedictorian. I want, no, I need, to be valedictorian. What can I do?”

“I don’t know that there’s a way to guarantee it, but the first thing you need is straight A’s in every course, not just honors. Better if you have A+ grades in every course. Write lab reports that are better than everyone else. Ace your MCAT. Find a way to be popular with your peers. In my case, learning to play the guitar was a stroke of luck, and wasn’t something I had planned to do. My friends suggested it, and it solved the problem of me being seen as a pure egghead.

“The bottom line, really, is you need to distinguish yourself from the other students who’ll have 4.0 averages. The key to success, at least as I see it, is for the other students who want to be valedictorian to acknowledge you deserve it, even if they do so grudgingly. The committee that decides will take all of that into account, and unlike some schools, it’s not just pure academics, so it’s possible for someone with slightly worse grades to win the honor.”

“What things did you do?”

“Being an RA helped, as did getting involved in a bit of campus activism when some administrators and community leaders tried to impose rules on students that were worse than the rules I had living at home. Fortunately, we defeated most of those rules, but I know they’ve begun to creep in. There’s this terrible trend I’m seeing of deciding that eighteen-year-olds are no longer truly adults. I’m afraid it’s going to get worse.”

“Aren’t those rules always the result of some person doing something terrible?”

“Yes, but collective punishment is wrong, whether it’s Nazis, Communists, or the school administration. Why should you or I have our freedoms curtailed because someone did something bad? It makes zero sense to me. Punish the wrongdoer appropriately, but don’t impose Draconian rules. It never works, by the way, and there’s a simple proof.”

“What’s that?”

“Murder has been ‘against the rules’ since at least the Ten Commandments. Did that stop murder?”

“Obviously not.”

“Just as laws against drunk driving don’t prevent it, either. All laws can do is punish, not prevent. And the claims that heavy punishment is a deterrent are false as well. Increasing penalties doesn’t change anything. People still commit heinous crimes. Heck, even ‘white collar’ crimes continue despite ever-increasing penalties.”

“I see your point, but you aren’t arguing against laws, are you?”

“No, so long as they don’t interfere with liberty. I’m not a libertarian, but people ought to be free to live their lives the way they want with minimal interference from the government, which should be there to help, not hinder them. But we’re way off topic now.”

“Would you do something for me?” Danika asked.

“You’ll have to tell me what before I can answer.”

“Review my lab reports before I hand them in? And proofread my papers?”

“So long as you provide them to me with enough time to do a good job, I can do that, yes.”

“Cool! Also, would we be able to meet occasionally so I can ask questions and get advice?”

“With the caveat that I can’t predict my schedule more than about a month in advance, yes. Do you have a car?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because that would allow us to meet at the hospital, which might be necessary due to my shift schedule.”

“Is your daughter sleeping?”

“She’s with her aunt and grandmother. I have a gig tonight at a club, so they’re watching her.”

“I was at your concert at Taft in December and it was great. Do I need a ticket to come to the club?”

“You have to be twenty-one to get into th club. We have another gig at Taft in May. Changing subjects, what do you do about church?”

“I go when I’m home, but there isn’t a church anywhere near McKinley.”

“I’m not sure what your bishop thinks, but our bishop would be OK with you attending services at our parish during Holy Week and for Pascha, though obviously you couldn’t receive communion, just as I couldn’t in your church.”

“I’d have to ask my priest.”

“I’ll provide a phone number for our priest, as well as for Bishop JOHN, if you want.”

“It would be nice to worship at least occasionally instead of only when I’m home.”

“This will be the first year in my entire life where I miss any services on Holy Friday.”

“There’s no accommodation?”

“Not really. I can trade shifts, but I already traded for Holy Saturday so I can attend a baptism in Loveland, near Cincinnati.”

“What would you do if you had to work on Pascha?”

“Work if I couldn’t find someone with whom I could trade shifts. It’s not like hospitals close down for holidays. I wasn’t kidding when I said everything has to take a back seat to medicine. I do mean everything.”

“I suppose I should know that from all the things my dad missed because of patients while I was growing up.”

“When did your dad marry?”

“During his second year of Residency. My eldest sister was born just under two years later.”

“Which means you missed the worst part of it as a kid. Did your parents date while your dad was in medical school?”

Danika laughed, “Date? Surely you jest! It was an arranged marriage! Dad was in medical school at Stanford when the arrangement was made, and Mom was in India. He took a two-week vacation during his PGY2 year, flew to India, they married, and brought her here in 1961. My sisters were born in 1965 and 1967. I was born in April 1969.”

“My marriage was effectively arranged, though it was my wife who arranged it! She proposed, insisted I accept, and I did.”

“There has to be a story there.”

“Oh, there is,” I sighed. “Got an hour?”

“Actually, I have class, but I’d like to hear it. When can we meet?”

“I’m free for lunch on Tuesday, if that works.”

“It does. Here?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks. I’ll bring my lab report with me.”

We finished our tea, I walked her to the door, and after she disappeared down the sidewalk, I decided to take a brief nap. After my nap, I took a walk for exercise, then returned to the house, finished the laundry, made dinner, ate, showered, dressed for the gig, gathered my things, and then headed to Stirred Not Shaken. I went in through the stage door and greeted Kim.

“Any last-minute changes?” I asked.

“Not unless you have something you want to change. You and José have your solo acts as planned, and the playlist is exactly what we discussed last Saturday.”

“Then I’ll get set up.”

I went to the stage and unpacked my instruments and music, moved my stool, and adjusted my mics to the correct height. We were playing electric acoustic guitars, but I’d need the second mic for when I played my balalaika.

“You blew me off!” Kassie declared, coming up to the stage, though she was smiling.

There were no good options on what to say to her, so I decided to simply acknowledge that it had happened.

“I did,” I replied. “I hope I didn’t ruin your evening.”

“It could have been WAY better! I’m still interested in playing doctor if you want!”

“Let’s play it by ear,” I said, with no intention of taking her up on her offer.

I left the stage and joined Kim in the room set aside for us, and the other members of the band, plus Kari, arrived and set up, then we warmed up. Robby and Sophia arrived just before it was time for us to take the stage and after confirming there were no changes, they kicked off the show.

We were every bit as well received as we had been the previous time, as was José’s new solo. Kari did a great job on her two songs, and the audience really loved The Devil Went Down to Georgia, which really showcased her ‘fiddling’ rather than my voice.

Once we completed our encores, we mingled with the patrons. I saw Maryam and began to make my way towards her when someone tapped my arm from behind. I turned to see Erin Edwards.

“Hi, Mike!”

“Hi,” I replied.

“You were awesome! I was disappointed you never called. Can I buy you a drink?”

“You’re only nineteen, if I remember correctly.”

“Twenty as of last month. You just have to know the right people! My dad’s best friend owns the club.”

“I chose to stop drinking once I began my clinical rotations.”

“Then a Coke or whatever and we can talk.”

I had to balance how I handled her, given her dad was still Chairman of the Board for Moore Memorial, but I was also singularly uninterested in her, given her invitation to cheat on Elizaveta. I came up with an easy solution.

“I don’t think my girlfriend would approve,” I said. “She’s right over there, which is where I was heading.”

“Oh,” Erin replied, looking disappointed.

“Enjoy the evening,” I said.

I walked over to where Maryam was standing with Peter, Clarissa, Tessa, Fran, Jason, and Pete. The earlier peck on the lips on the porch had confused me, but I felt it was safe to put my arm around her waist to create the illusion for Erin.

“Just roll with it,” I said quietly.

Maryam nodded and put her arm lightly around me.

“Stalker?” Clarissa asked.

“Yes.”

Erin frowned from across the room, then turned and walked away. I removed my arm from around Maryam, who lowered her arm.

“Sorry about that,” I replied.