Chapter 32: Orientation

August 20, 1985, McKinley, Ohio

“Confession and absolution?” Elizaveta whispered. “At a wedding?”

I shrugged, then whispered back, “I’ve never been to a Lutheran wedding, so this is new to me, too.”

The minister had proclaimed an absolution which had surprised me, but as I’d said to Elizaveta, I’d never been to a Lutheran wedding. I had been to a couple of services at Jocelyn’s church, but not a wedding. The ceremony continued along traditional lines from there, with vows and the rings. That was followed by Scripture readings, a hymn, a brief homily, the Lord’s Prayer, a blessing, and, finally, the introduction of the couple.

After the recessional hymn, the guests headed to the restaurant which Jocelyn and Gene had reserved for the reception.

“Dale!” I exclaimed, shaking his hand.

“Nice getup!” he chuckled. “Sorry I couldn’t come by the house before the wedding, but I had to fly out today and stop at home to see my parents. I’m flying home tomorrow.”

“That’s a LONG way to come for less than twenty-four hours!” I said.

“Well, I’m glad he’s here!” Mikayla said happily, looping her arm through his.

Dale smirked conveying information I shouldn’t have known about a girl from church, but without official knowledge, I wasn’t going to say or do anything.

“Where’s your dad, Mike?” Dale asked.

I gently pulled him aside, and Mikayla went to sit down.

“He and my mom are separated as of last weekend. It’s not public knowledge yet.”

“Whoa! What happened?”

“I really can’t say,” I said.

“How are YOU doing?”

“I’m OK. Obviously, it sucks, but I can’t fix it.”

“Let me know if I can do anything to help, and call if you need to talk.”

“Thanks, Dale.”

“Oh, and my parents asked about your rifle.”

“It’s yours. Orthodox clergy are forbidden from owning firearms of any kind. I can’t even handle it.”

“I don’t think I should try to take it to Seattle in my carry-on!” he chuckled.

“That would not end well! Just do what you want with it.”

“Do you want the money if they sell it?”

I shook my head, “No. That would imply I still own it.”

“Hardcore, man.”

“I should have dealt with it before I was ordained, but I didn’t think about it.”

“How’s married life treating you?”

“Quite well,” I replied with a grin.

Dale laughed, looked over at Elizaveta, and nodded, “I bet!”

“Any girls on your radar in Seattle?”

“I’ve been on a few dates.”

“Liking the job?”

“It’s awesome. Ready for med school?”

“If I said I’d been waiting my entire life for this, I wouldn’t be lying.”

“So true! Shall we join the girls?”

“Absolutely.”

We went to where Elizaveta and Mikayla were sitting at a table with Dale’s parents, Clarissa, Abby, Liz, Paul, and my mom. I wondered if they’d asked my mom about my dad, but I didn’t want to ask and restart a conversation which had been handled.

“Mike,” Mrs. Melrose asked, “do you know why they didn’t play Here Comes the Bride and the Wedding March?”

“I don’t know about the Mendelssohn recessional, but Jocelyn told me that Wagner’s Bridal Chorus is objectionable because of opposition in Germany before World War I to theater in general, and Wagner’s Lohengrin specifically.”

“What’s wrong with the opera?”

“According to her pastor, operas, in general, tend to glorify murder, suicide, and illicit sex, and they often have heathen influences as well. It’s not all that different from the Orthodox guidelines that prohibit ordaining thespians.”

“Actors can’t be ordained?” Mikayla asked.

“Did you ever hang out with drama kids?” Liz smirked.

“No.”

“You might want to have this conversation in private,” I suggested.

Liz rolled her eyes but dropped the topic. A few minutes later, Jocelyn and Gene arrived and were announced. Everyone applauded and they walked to the head table to sit with their parents and their two attendants and their dates.

“Are you allowed to dance, Mikey?” Liz asked.

“With Elizaveta, yes, but not with anyone else. Well, I suppose with you or Mom.”

“Gross!” Liz said, shaking her head.

“You do realize that Jocelyn is going to dance with her dad, right?” I asked.

“Oh, shut up!” Liz laughed.

“Elizabeth, that’s not appropriate to say to a deacon,” Mom corrected.

“Mikey is my brother before anything else!” Liz protested. “If I can’t give him a hard time, nobody can!”

“I hear the bishop’s sister teases him and gives him grief,” I chuckled. “So nobody is immune!”

The minister who had performed the wedding walked over to the table.

“You must be Deacon Michael,” he said. “I’m Pastor Johan Mueller.”

I stood and we shook hands.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t invite you to participate,” he said, “but we don’t allow non-LCMS ministers to be involved in our services.”

I nodded, “We have the same rule, and I wouldn’t have been permitted to participate by those same rules. I think that’s true for you as well.”

“Indeed it is. Jocelyn tells me you’ve been friends since kindergarten.”

“Don’t believe a word she’s said,” I chuckled.

He laughed, “It’s all been good. I won’t take up any more of your time, but I did want to greet you.”

“Thank you, Pastor Mueller,” I said.

He nodded and went to the front of the room to give a blessing before the food was served. Once he had prayed, waiters and waitresses moved throughout the room serving salads. The meal was pretty good, and when it finished, there was the traditional cake cutting and the first dances. And I was presented with my first true dilemma - Jocelyn wanted to dance with me. I couldn’t in my cassock, and removing my cassock was technically a violation of the bishop’s command. There was nobody in the room who would say a word, except the one person guaranteed to do so - Tasha’s husband, Nik.

“You should,” Elizaveta said quietly, in Russian.

“Nik will lose his mind,” I replied in Russian, equally quietly.

“Let me fix that,” Elizaveta said.

She got up and went over to the table where Nik and Tasha were sitting. She whispered in Tasha’s ear and a moment later, the three of them disappeared to the lobby. Taking my cue, I removed my cassock, glad I’d worn slacks and a proper shirt underneath, and Jocelyn and I moved to the dance floor to have a very chaste dance.

“Thanks, Mik,” she said. “I know this is technically against the rules.”

“More than technically,” I replied. “But I had to do this for you, Jos.”

She smiled broadly, “This is a long way from Miss Jackson’s kindergarten class!”

I smiled, “It is. And with Dale here, our little trio is still together.”

“He looks like the cat who ate the canary sitting with the girl from your church!”

I chuckled, “I know nothing! I see nothing! I hear nothing!”

Jocelyn laughed, “So you don’t have to tattle on her for enjoying his company later on?”

“Correct!”

“What did Elizaveta say to Tasha?”

I shrugged, “I have no idea, but I’m sure she’ll run interference until the song is over and I can put my cassock on again.”

“How much trouble could you be in?”

“I’ll get a reprimand, I’m sure, but given our relationship and given that Matushka Elizaveta gave her blessing, that’s all. I’ll mention it to Father Nicholas myself as a ‘one-time exception’ for my oldest and dearest friend.”

“I love you, Mik!”

“I love you, too, Jos!”

The song ended and I quickly made my way back to the table and donned my cassock just before Elizaveta, Nik, and Tasha came back into the room.

“What did you say?” I asked in Russian.

“I told Tasha what was up, but then said I wanted to talk to both of them about our dinner tomorrow night.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it. I will mention to Father Nicholas that it happened in case somehow it gets back to him.”

“How much trouble will you be in?”

“Very little, because you gave your blessing, because I removed my cassock, and because our dance was completely chaste. There is nobody else in the entire world I’d have done that for.”

“Clarissa?”

“No, because she would never ask.”

“But why did Jocelyn ask? She loves you as much as Clarissa does.”

“Who is she dancing with now?”

“Dale.”

“That’s why. It’s our trio that goes back to second grade, and Jocelyn and I go back to kindergarten. Her wedding couldn’t be complete without both of us here and both of us dancing with her.”

“And the dance he’s going to have with Mikayla later?” Elizaveta giggled.

“As I said to Jocelyn, I know nothing, see nothing, and hear nothing! What are YOU going to do, Matushka?”

“Get details!” she teased, causing me to laugh.

“You are bad, Kitten!”

“I can show you how bad later!”

“Deal!”

August 21, 1985, McKinley, Ohio

On Wednesday morning, Elizaveta and I were up early, ran, showered, and then ate breakfast together. Before I left for the medical school for orientation, I called Father Nicholas to check in. After ensuring I was doing OK emotionally, I let him know about my dance with Jocelyn.

“The circumstances were unusual Deacon, and I understand your desire to not offend your friend, and how much you love her, but your behavior went beyond pushing the edge of the envelope.”

“I understand,” I replied. “And that’s why Matushka and I spoke about it beforehand.”

“Let’s discuss this in confession on Saturday. I think we can safely keep it between you and me.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“Extreme «ekonomia», Deacon.”

“I understand.”

“Have a good day at orientation and enjoy the banquet tonight. Eat whatever is served.”

“Yes, Father. And thank you.”

“You’re welcome! I’ll speak to you tomorrow morning. Please let Elizaveta know I’d like to see her in confession on Saturday as well.”

“I will.”

We said ‘goodbye’ and I hung up.

“What did he say?” Elizaveta asked.

“He wants to see us both in confession on Saturday, but that’s it.”

“Good. It was the right thing to do. Are you ready to go?”

“I am. I have my bag, though I’ll leave it in the car because I doubt we’ll need it, and I have a notebook and a pair of mechanical pencils. See you just before 6:00pm for the banquet?”

“Have a good day! I love you!”

“I love you, too!”

We exchanged a soft kiss, I put on my ryassa, and left the cottage for my first day of medical school orientation. When I arrived, I checked in, got my name tag and orientation materials, and then, as planned, I met Clarissa, Fran, and Sandy in the room where coffee and doughnuts were being served. I drew a few strange looks from other students which I assumed was because of my cassock, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

“How was your honeymoon?” I asked Fran.

She laughed, “It was just some time away. You know we basically lived together for three years, except when that bitch Parker was on her rampage! How was YOUR honeymoon?”

“Enjoyable,” I replied smugly.

She, Clarissa, and Sandy laughed hard.

“And Europe?”

“Was awesome,” I replied. “I am so glad we did that because, for the next seven years, we’re at the mercy of professors and doctors.”

“How many people do we want in our study group?” Sandy asked.

“The optimal number is supposedly four or five, from what I’ve read,” Clarissa said. “Maybe one more, and probably a guy.”

“Why?” Fran asked.

“Mike’s pastor wants him to have guy friends in medical school in addition to the three of us.”

“He does,” I confirmed, “but we want the right person, male or female. Nothing says I can’t make friends who aren’t part of the study group. Fran, did you guys get moved in?”

“Yes. It really helps that Jason’s scholarship and stipend include room and board. I’m obviously borrowing my tuition, but otherwise, we’re fine on finances while he works on his Master’s and PhD and I finish medical school. You know we had pretty simple tastes and needs.”

“Jack Daniel’s is a pretty inexpensive date,” I chuckled.

“Accepting that drink was the smartest thing I ever did!” Fran declared.

“You’ll pardon me if I think you and Mike are both crazy!” Sandy exclaimed.

“Says the woman who is going to marry Pete sooner rather than later!” Clarissa teased.

“JUST SHUT UP!” Sandy protested, causing Clarissa, Fran, and me to laugh.

“What did you guys end up doing about living accommodations?” Clarissa asked.

“Off-campus apartment the way we planned. We’re in the complex about a mile from Taft on University Avenue. Pete’s moving our stuff in today with help from my parents.”

“Mike, any fallout from last night?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” I replied. “My priest understands, but he also has to do something in case it gets back to the bishop.”

“What happened?” Sandy asked.

“I danced with Jocelyn last night at her wedding. Strictly speaking, I’m not supposed to do that, but I had to make an exception for her. She danced with Dale right afterwards.”

“Why the rule?” Fran asked.

“Propriety,” I replied. “But I had Elizaveta’s blessing and encouragement, so there won’t be any real fallout.”

“And Liza deftly moved the one person who might complain out of the room,” Clarissa said.

“Who?” Sandy asked.

“Tasha’s husband. He’s ultra-conservative.”

“Not for long!” Sandy smirked.

I wasn’t so sure about that, though I’d have a chance to find out if he’d mellowed at our dinner on Thursday evening.

“Shall we head to the auditorium?” Clarissa suggested.

The rest of us agreed so the four of us made our way to the main auditorium, our coffees and doughnuts in hand. We found seats near the front and sat down to wait for the orientation program to begin. Promptly at 9:00am a distinguished-looking man in a medical coat walked up to the podium. He held up his hands for silence and then introduced himself as Christopher Warren, MD, Dean, College of Medicine & Life Sciences. He gave a brief welcome, then introduced Phil Worth, PhD, Dean of Student Affairs, who went over the schedule for the orientation and discussed the facilities at the school. He introduced Nora Mertens, MD, Dean of Clinical Instruction, who gave a longer welcome speech describing academics and clinical instruction. All three of them made it clear that we were going to be challenged beyond anything we’d ever experienced in life.

Following the Deans, the Medical School Student Organization was introduced, with the MSSO President, Arnie Johnson, explaining the role of the Student Organization in helping govern student life and the input they had into academics. The Vice President of the MSSO, Valerie Simmons, encouraged us to all become members and to think about serving on committees or running for office at the end of our first year.

“Who has time for that?” Clarissa whispered.

I shrugged and shook my head, then whispered back, “Not me, for sure.”

Next up, following the Student Organization was a presentation of the Student Honor Code by a fourth-year student, George O’Malley. Unsurprisingly, the key features were integrity, respect, and personal responsibility. Equally unsurprising were zero tolerance for academic misconduct, disrespectful behavior or language, unprofessional behavior, and unprofessional appearance of attire. I wondered how they would react to my cassock, beard, and ponytail, which was just long enough for Elizaveta to braid, something she’d been doing after our showers each morning for the past few days.

“Great, now we’re narcs,” Fran whispered when we were told we were required to report violations.

“I think that’s how it works as doctors,” I whispered back.

When the Honor Code presentation finished, we had a fifteen-minute break to use the restrooms and get more coffee.

“So, Petrovich, you’re one of the few with a beard, the only guy with a ponytail, and the only guy in a cassock! Think that fits the dress code and ‘professional appearance’?”

“Well, I can’t play for the Reds because of the beard and mustache, so you never know,” I chuckled.

“Uhm, you actually have to be able to play baseball, too!” Fran laughed.

“Well, given how they’ve done since they fired Sparky Anderson, I’m not sure being able to play baseball is a high bar!”

All three of the girls laughed.

“And the Penguins?” Clarissa asked.

“Worse!” I chuckled.

“I don’t like the idea of having to snitch on my fellow students,” Fran said. “You can be found in violation of the Honor Code for not reporting Honor Code violations. That is SO Dean Parker!”

“True,” I replied. “But if you saw a doctor who was drunk, would you report him or let him perform surgery?”

“The problem with THAT scenario is that a doctor would even consider coming to work after drinking!” Sandy said.

“But it happens, I’m sure,” I replied. “At some point, we’ll have a class on coping with the stress of being a doctor and I’m sure we’ll hear lots of horror stories. I’ve heard plenty from Doctors Mercer and Hart.”

“You know,” Fran said looking around, “we appear to be the only large group of friends here. I see some people paired off, but the small groups all look ad hoc, and there are a lot of loners.”

“It’s one of those we want to pick up in the next two weeks,” I said. “See any likely candidates?”

“Well, if it was a year ago, I see the one you’d want,” Clarissa smirked. “The gorgeous brunette in the corner!”

“A year ago I was thinking Lara might be the one,” I replied. “You’d have to go back longer than that!”

“You were still playing the field!”

“Excuse me,” a soft female voice said from behind me.

“Yes?” I responded, turning to see a very pretty, dark-haired, olive-skinned girl.

“Are you a deacon?” she asked.

I nodded, “Deacon Michael from Saint Michael the Archangel Orthodox Church here in McKinley.”

“Hi! I’m Maryam Khouri from Saint John Chrysostom in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Are you Russian?”

“Yes. I’m guessing you’re Antiochian?”

“Yes! Are you a student here, Deacon?”

“First year. You?”

“Same!”

“These are my friends Clarissa, Fran, and Sandy.”

“Hi!” she said to the others, “Are you guys a study group?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“You wouldn’t happen to have room in your group for one more, would you?”

“It’s OK with me, Petrovich,” Clarissa said.

“Sure, go for it,” Sandy said.