Chapter 79: Paperwork

February 10, 1989, McKinley, Ohio

At 5:30pm on Friday evening, Kylie arrived at the hospital to cover six hours of my shift so that I could be at Code Blue's gig at Stirred Not Shaken. Kris arrived shortly thereafter, and after retrieving the newly renamed Rachel Michelle Korolyov-Loucks from daycare, we took her to Doctor Blahnik's house, where she'd have a sleepover with Abigail.

Once Rachel was safely with Anicka and Abigail, Kris and I headed to Shaken Not Stirred.

"It's so silly that I basically have to sneak into the club!" Kris declared as we walked in the stage entrance.

"I agree," I replied. "But, being with the band, and staying in the stage area, there isn't a problem. And afterwards, nobody is going to question you so long as you don't have any alcohol."

"Hi, Mike!" Kim exclaimed when she saw us. "No changes to the playlist. José is setting up."

"Then I'll join him," I said.

Kris went into the small room set aside for acts, while I went to the stage. I set my guitar on a stand, then did the same with the balalaika. The one major change was that Sophia was on shift, and after discussions with Robby and the other members of the group, we'd decided to open with Joe's Garage rather than Rawhide, though Kim would play the James Bond theme as our intro and outro before Robby announced us, but without the usual schtick.

"Are we wearing the fedoras?" José asked.

"I don't see why not," I replied. "We're switching out Rawhide but we're still singing Jailhouse Rock. I am a bit worried about Like a Surgeon but it sounded OK at practice last night."

"If you mess up just ad-lib," José said. "It's a Weird Al song, and there are discordant notes in almost all of his songs. Did you give Kim the tape of the cardiac monitor?"

"Yes. Doctor Strong helped me make it yesterday afternoon, before practice."

"How did you get the flatline?"

"There are a set of test modes on the machine, and we cobbled together three of them to get the desired effect. It's not perfect, but we'd need a sound studio for that."

"Hi, Mike; hi José," Kari said, coming onto the stage to set out her violin.

"Hi," I replied.

We weren't ready for our duets, as we hadn't had enough practice, and had agreed the previous day to not include Paradise by the Dashboard Light or You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth in this gig, but save them for our gig in Newport on March 10th. Kylie was going to cover for me for that gig, as well as the one in Newtown on March 24th. I didn't know my schedule for March as yet, but I strongly suspected they'd switch my shifts and Mark's, so that I had Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday shifts, but they also might keep them the same.

As was the case for our previous gigs, this one was a sellout, and the club was filled to maximum legal capacity. We took our places, Kim began playing the James Bond theme, and Robby went to the mic to announce us.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Without further ado, I give you Code Blue!" he declared.

We kicked off with Joe's Garage and continued with a revamped playlist, incorporating several songs we hadn't played during our previous appearances. The last song of our first set was Like a Surgeon and despite a couple of missed chords, it was wildly popular with the assembled crowd.

Our second set featured Kari, and we played all six songs with violin parts. plus several other songs. It concluded with Kris and me singing Endless Love together, and her French accent really made it a hit. When we finished, we received a loud ovation, and after a quick drink of water, we played three encore songs, and then, as Robby introduced each of us, Kim once again played the James Bond theme.

"That was fun!" Kris said after we took our bows. "Are we OK to go out into the bar area?"

"Yes. Just stick to soft drinks, which I'm doing because I have to finish my shift."

We mingled with the crowd, with Kris on my arm, which had the effect we both desired. José, on the other hand, was taking full advantage of the situation and had four girls basically hanging on him as soon as he made his way off the stage. We hung out for about an hour, then left the club. We walked to my car, and I drove to the hospital, where Kris had parked her car.

"See you around 6:30am," I said. "There's no band practice in the morning, so we'll pick up Rachel when we do our grocery shopping."

Kris and I hugged and exchanged a quick kiss, and after she had driven off, I went into the hospital to relieve Kylie.

"I really appreciate you covering for me," I said when I reached the ICU lounge.

"You're welcome! Nothing happened since you were here except the regular hourly checks."

"Sounds good! I need a shower."

"No worries. Go ahead."

I used the shower, then changed into clean purple scrubs. Kylie had changed into her street clothes while I was in the shower, so we exchanged a quick hug, then she left. I went to check in with Doctor Johnson, who acknowledged me, then I went to do patient checks to ensure I was up to speed.

February 11, 1989, Circleville, Ohio

"How was the rest of your night?" Kris asked when I arrived home on Saturday morning.

"Quiet. I took a pair of naps, as usual. I'll eat breakfast, then sleep about three hours."

"Sounds good."

I ate the breakfast Kris had prepared, we said morning prayers, and after a quick shower, I got into bed, setting my alarm for 10:00am. I fell asleep quickly and woke with my alarm. I dressed, then went downstairs.

"Did you sleep OK?"

"Yes. The blackout curtains make it so my body thinks it's nighttime, and it's quieter than the on-call room at the hospital. I have to wear eyeshades there because if someone opens the door, lights come on. They aren't bright, but it would be enough to wake me up."

"Why is it done that way?"

"Because sleeping isn't a priority when we're on shift! The patients are!"

"Yes, of course! I completed the shopping list while you were sleeping. Can you think of anything else?"

She handed me the list, and I scanned it, and didn't see anything we needed for the house, but I decided to get some granola bars to keep in my bag so I had something relatively nutritious to eat as a snack that didn't require me to go to the cafeteria. I let Kris know, added it to the list, and then we headed for Anicka's house to get Rachel. She was happy to see us, but not happy to leave Abigail.

"You'll see her on Monday," I said, hoping that mollified my daughter.

She pouted, but I picked her up, anyway.

"Thanks, Anicka!" I said.

"It was our pleasure! The girls love each other and enjoy being with each other!"

And if they were anything like Milena and Elizaveta, they'd be holy terrors together in High School, along with any other little girls they roped into their cabal!

We left Anicka's house, went to Kroger, then stopped at the bakery to get bread and bagels. Our shopping done, we arrived home and put away the groceries. We began making lunch, but the phone rang, so I quickly wiped my hands and answered it.

"Korolyov-Loucks residence; Mike speaking."

"Mike, this is Bonnie Masterson from Pickaway County Family Services. Do you have a moment?"

"Yes, of course. What can I do for you?"

"I was assigned your adoption case, well, your wife's. I'd like to come by and drop off a questionnaire for her to fill out. Would it be OK to do that this afternoon?"

"Yes, of course. Do you need to interview us?"

"That's not necessary at this time, and may not be. Once we have the paperwork back, we'll evaluate it. In cases such as this, with a deceased parent and a remarriage, it's usually straightforward. If we discover something out of the ordinary, or see any red flags, then an interview would be scheduled."

"What time should we expect you?"

"Would 2:00pm work?"

"Yes, it would. Just so there are no surprises, are you aware that my wife is a Green Card holder?"

"Yes. I spoke with your attorney yesterday and he suggested I call today because of your schedule at the hospital."

"Thanks. We'll see you at 2:00pm."

We said 'goodbye' and I hung up.

"Who was that?" Kris asked.

"Mrs. Masterson from Family Services. She's going to drop off the questionnaire at 2:00pm. We do have a problem, though."

"My Green Card?"

"No. She said if she saw any red flags, that would force an interview! You should probably take down the socialist banners!"

Kris rolled her eyes, "I didn't put up any socialist banners!"

"Do you have one?"

"For the flagpole on May Day!"

"Why am I not surprised?" I asked.

"Because you're intelligent, at least as far as Americans go!"

"I have news for you, «ma chèrie», but YOU are an American now!"

"Not quite! I have permanent residency and permission to work! I haven't applied for citizenship!"

"The meeting with the immigration attorney is next week, so it's not that far off."

Kris and I were meeting with the attorney on Tuesday afternoon, along with her parents, to discuss the process, which would give them all citizenship quickly, though Kris would have to complete the process before her parents could apply. We finished making lunch, ate, then cleaned up. Once we finished in the kitchen, I read two books to Rachel, then Kris and I played with her until Mrs. Masterson arrived.

"The form is seven pages," she said. "All the questions should be self-explanatory. If you have questions, my card is attached. You can drop this off at our office after you complete it, but the sooner you finish, the sooner we can complete our review."

"Do you need to see the house?" I asked.

Mrs. Masterson smiled and shook her head, "No. You're Rachel's biological father, with custody, so Family Services has no reason to question the situation. If you were both adopting, the questionnaire packet would be twenty-five pages."

"Ugh! Now I know what our friends Jocelyn and Gene are going through."

"If it's a straight adoption, there are three interviews, psychological testing, and thorough background checks."

"Thank you for bringing the paperwork to us."

"You're welcome."

She left, and we put Rachel down for her nap, then sat down at the dining room table to go over the paperwork. The first page was simply 'demographic' information about Kris, Rachel, and me, including birthdays, parents' names, grandparents' names, sibling names, and places of birth.

"Why do they need our grandparents' information?" Kris asked.

"I suspect it's for background checks," I replied. "At least in my case, the government has it, but it would be complicated to look up because birth registries are handled by counties in states. So just for me, they'd need to speak with Harding County here in Ohio, DuPage County in Illinois, and whichever counties my paternal grandparents were born in, and hope that the Tsarist records exist for my mom's parents. Yours is easy, I suspect, because everyone was born in France, or had French national identity documents."

"I still find it odd that your national government does not issue identity documents or keep track of citizens in any way."

"The only national identity is our Social Security Number and the card itself says it cannot be used for identification purposes. Well, and a passport, but only a tiny fraction of the population has one. Let's focus on the paperwork, please."

The second page had Kris' name at the top and asked for the address of every place she'd lived, along with the name of every school she'd attended. That required a call to her parents, as she didn't know the address of the apartment where they'd lived when she was born. The third page contained a series of questions about drug use, criminal activity, physical health, and mental health, all of which Kris answered negatively.

"Do people actually admit to illegal drug use?" Kris asked when we'd finished the page.

"It's a neat trap," I replied. "If you say 'no', then when they interview your neighbors, co-workers, friends, and family, and they say you do, you've lied. If you say 'yes', then you've admitted to illegal activity. Both will result in disqualification. Technically, we don't have to go through with this, so if there are any problems, we'll just withdraw the petition."

"I can't imagine there will be."

"So long as you haven't advocated the violent overthrow of the US or French government, then we'll be fine."

"Violent? No. But I don't have to approve of the system, do I?"

I shook my head, "No. The US Constitution has a built-in way to modify it and, with one exception, anything can be changed by two-thirds of the Senate and House, and three-fourths of the states. The only thing that can't be done by that route is to change the way the US Senate is composed, which requires the consent of every state."

"Don't you think that's wrong, though? A tiny percentage of the population can stop something that the majority want."

"I think without the compromise on the makeup of the House and Senate, the US would not exist. And now that I've given a non-political answer, is it OK to suggest we continue to fill out the form?"

Kris laughed, "Cute. You avoided doing something I didn't like."

"For marital harmony! And page four is fairly simple, unless you've been convicted of a felony or misdemeanor of which I'm not aware."

"No, not even a citation for parking or speeding!"

"Good. Then this page is actually simple as you just mark no and skip the rest."

The next page was equally simple, asking for employment information and character references. She didn't work, so that meant skipping half the page.

"You should put Vladyka JOHN as your first character reference," I said.

"A clergyman on a government form?"

"Yes. This is not France! And the nice thing about being Orthodox is that we're not really on anyone's radar. The typical anti-Catholic, anti-Semitic, or anti-Muslim sentiments don't apply. Sure, some fundamentalist, evangelical Protestants would have theological problems with Orthodoxy, but they aren't afraid we're under the spell of the Pope the way they were with JFK."

"Who else?"

"Your favorite teacher would be a good second choice, and then someone like Clarissa, Lara, or Serafima. One of your friends would be fine, too, so long as they're eighteen."

"I'll put Vladyka, Lara, and Mrs. Karl, my government teacher."

I chuckled, "Of course."

"What do you mean 'of course'?"

"A desire to earn an undergraduate degree in political science and a Master's in Public Administration are pretty significant clues!"

"Have you always been this difficult?"

"Yes! Just ask Clarissa or Jocelyn, or better yet, my mom and sister!"

"I have! It was a rhetorical question!"

The next page was financial, which was mostly about me. Kris had some savings from gifts her grandparents had given her, so we listed that, then I worked out my income over the previous two years from Code Blue, wrote in my savings, and listed our only debt — the car I'd bought for Kris. We did make an entry on the line for any necessary explanation that I'd have a Residency position as of July 1st, and I listed the current salary for that position at Moore Memorial Hospital.

The final pages were a series of multiple-choice questions that resembled a combination of the Myers-Briggs tests I'd taken and the psychological assessments we used in the ED. When Kris finished, we reviewed the form, then went to the kitchen to begin making dinner.

"I'll take the papers to Family Services on Monday," Kris said.

"Great!" I agreed.

Rachel woke up about fifteen minutes later, and I went to get her, changed her diaper, and brought her to the kitchen to be with us while we made dinner.

February 14, 1989, Columbus, Ohio

On Tuesday, Kris brought Lyudmila home with her, so Lyudmila could watch Rachel. Once she was settled, Kris and I got into my car and headed to the immigration attorney's office in Columbus, where her parents joined us. The four of us met in the lobby of the office and were shown to a conference room. The attorney came in a moment later and introduced himself to me as John Burge.

"Mike Loucks," I said, offering my hand.

He shook it and we both sat down.

"The first thing that needs to happen is for another four months to pass," Mr. Burge said. "In order to apply, Kris needs to have lived in the US for eighteen months of the last three years. But we can start working on the paperwork right away so that we can file on July 1st. We'll also need to gather copies of the documents we need. Let's walk through the process. First, once the application is filed, there will be a thorough background check. I assume there will be no problems?"

"None," Kris said. "Not even a citation for speeding."

"Good. Once the government has reviewed the background check material and your immigration record, they'll schedule an in-person interview that will require you to give oral and written answers under oath. It's possible they may ask some very intimate questions to ensure that you are not engaging in immigration or naturalization fraud, but for a Green Card, that's rare."

"What kind of questions?" I inquired. "I mean, if they do ask."

"Again, it's unlikely, but it would start with questions about your living arrangements and could delve into how often the two of you engage in marital relations, including what acts you do. Kris could refuse to answer, but then her application will almost certainly be denied."

"I have to ask..." I said.

"One common way to commit immigration or naturalization fraud is the sham marriage. A foreign national pays an American citizen to marry them, he or she obtains citizenship, and then they obtain a divorce. Questions starting with which side of the bed you sleep on, and up to and including exactly what you do and how you do it."

"What prevents the individuals from lying or conspiring?" I asked. "Not that we have any need to."

"The investigators are very good at figuring that out, and it's tough to fool them. If they have any suspicions, which I seriously doubt, you would be subpoenaed and put under oath as well."

"I'll testify willingly."

"They'd still issue the subpoena. But again, I don't expect that to happen. Naturalizing by marriage after obtaining a Green Card is usually simple and straightforward. Kris, my advice to both of you is to be completely honest, frank, and calm. No snarky answers, no obfuscation, and no euphemisms. I assume you know the technical terms?"

I laughed because they don't teach those in medical school, and medicine was prudish, behavior of doctors to the contrary notwithstanding.

"I know the words," she replied.

"Who else will they interview?" I asked.