Chapter 13: Stress

March 24, 1986, McKinley, Ohio

“Mike, Father Nicholas is on the phone,” Elizaveta said while I was with the study group.

I excused myself and went to the bedroom to take the call, rather than broadcast any details of what might be said. Elizaveta went back to the small bedroom where she was putting the finishing touches on her term paper.

“Hi, Father,” I said.

“Hi, Deacon. Between your grandfather, your father-in-law, and Tasha, there’s a firestorm, to avoid using an earthier term.”

“Are YOU in any trouble?”

“I suppose that depends on how you mean that. I was taken to task for not controlling you.”

“I hope you pointed out to His Grace that I’m under his omophorion, which a priest does not wear.”

“I’m not sure that would have been the best course of action, given the delegated authority.”

“Except that part of it isn’t, and can’t be, delegated,” I protested. “You and I are both under his omophorion, so if there is blame in THAT regard, it lies solely with the bishop.”

“I could argue with you about how that is handled practically, but you are correct in that regard. In any event, the bishop made it my problem. I’ll mention, too, that he doesn’t believe you are ill.”

“He can take that up with Doctor Evgeni or Elizaveta, if he wishes,” I said firmly. “Doctor Evgeni wrote a prescription AND called my personal physician with a diagnosis. I’ll also point out that another member of my study group has sought psychological care for stress. I think Viktor noticed something that I was actively trying to hide. Elizaveta has mentioned it indirectly, but she was reluctant to suggest any changes to my studies. The study group actually agreed today to cut an hour from our evening studies, so we’ll end at 10:00pm instead of 11:00pm, which means an extra hour of sleep, and that Elizaveta and I will go to bed about the same time.”

“Doctor Evgeni explained all of that, except the modified schedule, yesterday morning. I think getting another hour of sleep each night is good.”

“And?” I asked.

“The Metropolitan called a meeting of the Synod after the Archdiocesan Council voted unanimously to invoke the provision of the by-laws to force them to address an issue raised by the Archdiocesan Council. A telephone conference call will be held tomorrow with the hierarchs and the Council. Until that matter is resolved, Bishop PAUL is forbidden from taking any action, something which the Metropolitan can do because Bishop PAUL is locum tenens.

“With regard to you, again, because Bishop PAUL is locum tenens, the Metropolitan exercised his authority to lift your suspension and instructed me to tell you that you are to serve at Saint Michael until such time as a new bishop is elected or Bishop ARKADY is restored. A letter to that effect was faxed to the parish office late in the day. Mrs. Sokolov received it and left a message for me with Matushka. I drove over to get it before calling you.”

“So much for my vacation!” I replied.

Father Nicholas laughed, “The letter also says that your health and studies should be taken into account. I know under normal circumstances, being at church refreshes you, but I also know it’s been stressful for you of late. I’ll leave it up to you what to do about Vespers, but I would like you to serve Matins and the Divine Liturgy with me on Sundays.”

“Let me talk it over with Elizaveta, please.”

“Of course. May I ask why you felt it necessary to tell Tasha?”

“How could I possibly explain not serving on Wednesday? Or not being in church? We grew up together, and she’s the daughter of a clergyman. All I told her was that I was suspended, which was true. That was enough for her to start making calls to mobilize the grandmothers, who, I suspect, are what you implied was the shitstorm that has broken out.”

“There were four telephone calls for Bishop PAUL just during the hour he and I met.”

“And the genesis of this mess is not me, but Protodeacon Seraphim, who Elizaveta referred to as a ‘thieving clergyman’. But it appears that anyone who tried to say so has been publicly disciplined, despite the fact that I hear there is damning evidence not just for the embezzlement, but also for the blackmail AND the reason for the blackmail.”

“No rumormongering, Deacon.”

“You know as well as I do what the report is going to say, Father.”

He sighed deeply, “I do. Which is why I agree that the only solution is for Bishop ARKADY to retire.”

“You know who I most like to quote, and he said ‘The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in the moments of comfort, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”

“I agree, even if it’s not easy to do. I’m curious, just how many quotes from King can you recite?”

“Probably about two dozen,” I replied. “I wrote three papers on his life and work in High School.”

“I’ll let you go, Deacon. Please call me tomorrow to check in.”

“I will. Thank you, Father.”

“You’re welcome.”

We said ‘goodbye’ and I pressed the switchhook then dialed my grandfather to let him know the suspension had been lifted, and after I spoke with him, called my mom, and finally, Tasha. I let Elizaveta know and asked her to tell her dad, then went back to my study group.

March 25, 1986, McKinley, Ohio

“What did your priest say?” Clarissa asked when she picked me up on Tuesday morning.

“My suspension was lifted by the Metropolitan and if I serve, it’s at Saint Michael. There’s a meeting of the bishops and the Archdiocesan Council which I suspect is going to end with Bishop ARKADY retiring and Protodeacon Seraphim being deposed.”

“Wow! Tasha’s doing?”

“A combination of the Archdiocesan Council and the grandmothers is pretty difficult to resist.”

“You didn’t use the Russian term?”

“I’m making a concerted effort not to. Sorry to have wasted your time learning.”

“Petrovich, I think there is something seriously wrong with you. Your personality seems to have changed dramatically in the last couple of weeks. I’m very concerned.”

“A lot has happened in the past few weeks,” I replied.

“I think you should go see Doctor Mercer, and soon. You didn’t manage to do what she suggested — stay out of the line of fire.”

“No, I didn’t,” I sighed.

“Call her, Petrovich. Please.”

“You won’t give me any peace if I don’t, will you?”

“That answer, from you to me, says more than anything,” Clarissa declared.

“I’ll call her after lunch,” I said, mostly to head off the argument.

The thing was, I actually was feeling a bit out of sorts, though I was pretty sure it was simply based on the tension related to everything that was going on with church, and how that hurt me spiritually. Ultimately, I thought that was the problem, as instead of helping reduce stress, it was inducing stress.

Class went as normal, though Clarissa and I left at the break, which we usually took around 10:30am so that we could head to the courthouse for the hearing. We arrived about five minutes before the hearing was scheduled to start and found a mostly empty courtroom with just the bailiff, the two attorneys, and a Sheriff’s deputy present. We took our seats and waited. The clerk and court reporter arrived exactly on time, but the judge was three minutes late. The case was called and Frank Bush was brought from custody. He saw us and glared at me, but I simply ignored him.

“Mr. Robbins,” the judge said, “you may plead your case.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. This is an obvious case of overcharging...”

“Objection!” the County Prosecutor exclaimed harshly, rising to his feet. “There has been no motion made to quash the indictments, which itself requires an evidentiary hearing. With valid indictments for capital murder, the defendant is not, as I noted in my brief, entitled to bail. This is well litigated and settled law and I’ve included an even dozen citations in my brief.”

“Mr. Robbins, Mr. Taft is correct in that this is not the venue to challenge the indictments. You asked for a bail hearing, and I’ve granted one. In your brief, you did not cite any cases, State or Federal, which are germane to the suggestion that your client is entitled to bail. I expected you to do so. Unless you can cite a relevant holding by an Ohio or US Court on this matter, I’m going to issue an order denying bail.”

“Your Honor, if you’ll indulge me for a moment...” Mr. Robbins requested.

“No, Mr. Robbins,” the judge said, cutting him off. “If you want to argue to quash the indictments, file a motion to that effect, and once the Prosecutor files a response, I’ll schedule a hearing. But in this hearing, I’m not going to entertain anything except a straight motion for bail, which, by statute, I am required to reject, unless you can provide authorities which show the statute to be incompatible with the Eighth Amendment or the Ohio Constitution. If you cannot, then you may, as a matter of right, appeal the denial of bail, but I will not delay the trial on that account. Do you have anything further?”

“No, Your Honor,” Mr. Robbins admitted.

“Then the motion for bail is denied. This matter is set for pre-trial conference at 9:00am on May 5. A trial date will be set at that time. Frank Bush is to remain in the custody of the Sheriff and in segregation.”

He banged the gavel and the three deputies guarding Frank Bush led him from the courtroom.

“His bluff was called,” Clarissa said as we left the courtroom.

“Pretty much,” I agreed. “I think he expected the judge to deny his motion for a bail hearing, and he was planning to use that on appeal.”

“Sure, but I still don’t see what he was hoping to gain,” Clarissa replied.

“Me either, but I’m sure there are lawyer tricks Robbins can play. I think he was trying to create what Melody called ‘reversible error’ and the Judge didn’t fall for it.”

“There is another possibility,” Clarissa said with a smirk, “that the attorney is an idiot like his client.”

“Possible. Let’s stop in the Clerk’s office and see if anything has happened with Nadine Bush’s case.”

We went to the Clerk of the Court’s office and inquired about Nadine Bush, and were told that no motions had yet been filed for the case. I thanked the young woman who helped us, and then Clarissa and I headed back to campus where, because I had enough time, I decided to call Doctor Mercer. She was in a counseling session, which created a problem in that she couldn’t return my call. At Clarissa’s urging, I inquired about an appointment early on Saturday and one was available, though I’d have to leave McKinley by 6:00am to get to Milford on time.

“That was the right thing to do,” Clarissa said when I hung up.

I wasn’t sure, but I decided I’d call Angie that evening and see her if possible, as I hadn’t seen her in months.

“I think I’ll visit Angie while I’m there,” I said. “I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“But you talk to her, right?”

“Every couple of weeks. She’s hanging in there, but her mom is worried about her, which is another reason to visit.”

“As in, she’s getting worse?”

“Her mom is afraid they’ll need to put Angie back on antipsychotics.”

“That sucks.”

“It’s probably inevitable, given what I know about the progression of schizophrenia.”

Our friends joined us for lunch, and then all of us headed to our Preceptorships. The only truly interesting part of the afternoon was watching an intake of a Taft student who had taken a baseball bat to his room, breaking the window, the shelf, and destroying some of his own belongings. My assessment, as a rank neophyte, was that he had discovered that his girlfriend was pregnant by his roommate, and that was sufficient to explain his rampage. I also felt that the fact that he didn’t attack anyone else nor destroy anyone else’s property, he wasn’t a danger. Doctor Stern, on the other hand, ordered a 72-hour ‘psych hold’.

“Why?” I asked. “I’d say he was restrained given the circumstances.”

“Liability, more than anything,” she replied. “If I release him and he actually does something to his roommate or girlfriend, I, and the hospital could be in trouble.”

“Ex-girlfriend, I’d say.”

“True. He probably only needs a bit of anger-management counseling, but we’ll decide that over the next couple of days. I don’t think couples’ counseling is indicated.”

“No kidding,” I replied flatly.

“What would you do?” Doctor Stern asked.

“You mean counseling? Or if that happened to me?”

She laughed, “Counseling! Though I am curious about the other one.”

Little did she know one of my girlfriends HAD become pregnant by my roommate, though by that point, Emmy and I weren’t dating, so it wasn’t quite the same.

“Break up with her.”

“That’s it?”

“Violence solves nothing, and in this case, simple rage led that guy to the ER and a ‘psych hold’. As for what I’d do, I’d refer him to a counselor and send him home, because I don’t understand the intricacies of liability in a circumstance like this.”

“It’s not a tremendous risk, but if he were to hurt someone, the argument would be that I should have known and didn’t take the necessary time to evaluate him.”

“Do you think he’s actually a risk?”

“I don’t know, because I don’t know him, so I have to err on the side of caution. I’m sure what he did is a misdemeanor at worst because the cops didn’t actually arrest him. I suspect that will depend on what the university does.”

“Doctor Anderson is sympathetic, but I don’t think she can overlook this. I suspect he’ll be suspended and required to undergo anger management counseling.”

“There you go!” she declared mirthfully. “You can do a psych consult!”

“Nah,” I chuckled, “I’m not crazy enough to be a headshrinker!”

“Right, because wanting trauma is sane?”

“I’d much rather put my hands in somebody’s guts than try to climb inside their head! The Vulcan mind-meld is great for Sci-Fi, but in real life? No thanks. I’ve dealt with a friend with schizophrenia, and while I want to learn enough to help her as her friend, I could never do that for a living.”

“It can be frustrating, that’s for sure. Shall we go find Doctor Robinson so I can have her sign off?”

“She doesn’t have to assess the patient?”

“An attending will speak with him once he’s admitted. The Attendings will sign-off on holds without an assessment, but if I were to say it was OK to release the kid, then Doctor Robinson would at least speak to him briefly.”

“Ah, OK. That makes sense.”

“They can always kick the kid in the morning, and that gives him some time to calm down, too.”

“Got it.”

March 29, 1986, Greater Cincinnati, Ohio

“Do you want me to drop you at Frisch’s or do you want to sit in Doctor Mercer’s waiting room?” I asked as we neared Milford.

“How about we stop for coffee at the deli, then I’ll come with you?”

“Sounds good.”

I stopped, we got coffee, then we got back into the car.

“You didn’t get decaf,” Elizaveta said.

“No, I didn’t. but we had tea with breakfast. You know I’m sticking fairly close to what Doctor Evgeni suggested, including getting an extra hour of sleep on nights when we have study group.”

“Clarissa is worried about you,” Elizaveta said quietly.

I wanted to sigh, but I knew that was the wrong response.

“I know, which is why we’re here today. You know the problem, and you agreed with me on the likely source.”

“I know, but still...”

“I’ll be fine, Kitten.”

When we arrived at Doctor Mercer’s office, she greeted us, then invited me into her office while Elizaveta took a seat in the reception area. I spent ten minutes recapping what had happened over the previous month, with Doctor Mercer simply listening and taking notes.

“I’m going to have to agree with Clarissa and your father-in-law. Did you take any of the sedatives?”

“No. I don’t have trouble falling asleep.”

Doctor Mercer’s lip curled slightly, “Sex is a good sedative.”

“This week hasn’t been like that.”

“Because you’re tired?”

“More so that I’m not interested.”

“Loss of libido from stress is pretty common. I know you at one point felt that sex was good stress relief, which it can be, though once the stress is high enough, it can seriously affect both your desire and your ability. Has that caused problems with Elizaveta?”

“No, though she did mention it last night.”

“This is a tricky situation for any counselor because, even in a relationship, nobody is entitled to sex.”

I chuckled, “You might want to take that up with Elizaveta!”

“Actually, Mike, if it is a problem, I will.”

“I was teasing, because I obviously agree with you. The Christian view is that a husband and wife should not deny each other except by mutual agreement, and then only for a short time. The principle being that if you aren’t getting it at home, you are more prone to stray. That said, most priests would generally agree about not suspending marital relations, though they lean more towards the ‘you should’ theory, not ‘you must’.”

“I am serious about this, though, in that if it does become contentious, it’s Elizaveta who needs to be patient.”

“It’s not. I just don’t feel like it.”

“Which is perfectly understandable. You know my solution, but I can’t voice it.”

“But it’s mine as well,” I replied.

“Yes, but even then, the ethical problem with me affirming or denying your religious belief and actions is tremendous, and difficult to overcome.”

“So what could you say?”

“That you should eliminate whatever stressors from your life which you reasonably can. Obviously, that’s not going to be medical school, nor your wife.”