Chapter 14: A Hearing and A Deposition

April 4, 1986, McKinley, Ohio

The week had passed peacefully and by Friday, I was feeling somewhat less stressed. Elizaveta making love to me had broken the dam, so to speak, and while my desire was still somewhat lacking, I was in a much better mental state than I had been at the end of the previous week. I was still unsure about my status as a deacon, knowing that in just over two years, I’d be doing Clerkships and Sub-Internships, and then be an intern and Resident. The stress from learning the practice of medicine would only grow, at least until I’d finished my first year or two after graduation.

“You seem to be doing better,” Clarissa said when she picked me up for school.

“I am. Doctor Evgeni said he’s OK with me driving again starting next week.”

“Your stress level does seem to have come down significantly; or are you just hiding it?”

“I feel less stressed and more relaxed. I think the decision by the bishops has helped, and I’m confident a new bishop will right the wrongs. That said, I am still very concerned about what’s going on at Holy Transfiguration.”

“Don’t you think that part has to just play out with the individuals and the rest of the parish just has to suck it up and deal with it?”

“You would think so,” I replied. “But I spoke to my mom last night and there are factions forming, which is not Christian behavior, in addition to one of the factions being decidedly wrong.”

“How so?”

“The object of the contest made a public confession — those are rare. About two-thirds of the congregation supported him and welcomed him back. The other third felt he ought to be kicked out of the parish for grave sin.”

“I thought you guys didn’t do that!”

“We don’t. And that’s the problem. It’s something the priest has to handle and, according to my mom, he’s doing a poor job of it. I can’t be involved, obviously. We need a bishop and May 17th can’t come soon enough. Unfortunately, the enthronement will not occur that day; it’ll probably take three weeks to arrange, including having vestments made. So it’s probably two months before anything can happen, and the bishop will have plenty of other matters which require his attention.”

“Including what amounts to your resignation?” Clarissa asked.

“I honestly don’t know. I believe Father Jeremiah will make a good bishop. If it’s not him, well, I have to reserve judgment. Fortunately, I’m in a position to decide. For the next six to eight years, I cannot deal with a bad bishop or church politics. I don’t want to after that, but most of the stress of our training will have dissipated by then.”

“So it comes down to who is elected then?”

“It comes down to my conversation with whoever is elected. I won’t do it lightly, or in a fit of pique, but I have to put my medical career, my marriage, and my spiritual health ahead of remaining a clergyman.”

“How do you actually feel?”

“Better. I think the extra hour of sleep is helping. How are you doing?”

“Fine. I don’t have any stress except medical school, and it’s really no different from yours, which isn’t all that bad. Your problems are all external to medical school.”

“True.”

“Speaking of external stress, how are things with your dad?”

“He and Holly are still together, and with the possible exception of Holly’s mom, things seem settled. It’s not ideal, but if he’s happy, I’m not one to judge. He’s been amicable with my mom since the divorce was finalized.”

“You never mentioned how her date went.”

“Because not only do I not know any details, I most decidedly do not care to know any details!”

Clarissa laughed, “I meant did she see him again?”

“Liz says Mom has gone out with him three times, but that’s all she knows, and she wants to know even less than I do! If my mom does remarry, her husband is not going to be a ‘step-dad’ or anything other than the man married to my mom. Ditto if my dad were to marry Holly.”

“A step-mom younger than you!”

“By strict definition of terms, yes, but no.”

“What if your dad has kids with her?”

“Are you TRYING to ramp up my stress, Lissa?”

“Just asking the question!”

“Don’t!”

“You’re too funny! How is Tasha?”

“Well, if I said the same thing about her that she did about Sasha when Sasha was at at this stage, Tasha would strangle me, even without being in your car!”

“Fat?”

“Yes. Let’s just say she’s VERY ready to have the baby. She was crabby on Sunday, and I suspect it’s getting worse every day.”

We arrived at the medical school and went into the building to meet our friends. Eight hours later, we departed, and Clarissa dropped me at home. Elizaveta and I had decided to stay home and spend time together, and after a fasting meal, we settled down to watch a movie with Anna and Geno on Viktor’s VCR.

About halfway through The Breakfast Club, the phone rang and Yulia let us know that Tasha was in labor and at the hospital. I felt it was best to let Tasha and Nik be in peace, or as much peace as was possible with Tasha in labor and with two grandmothers in attendance. I silently wondered if any Sheriff had enough disregard for his own life to pull over the car which Matushka Alexandra had driven from Rutherford to McKinley at a speed which likely far exceeded the posted limits!

April 5, 1986, McKinley, Ohio

“Tasha had a baby girl,” Father Nicholas said when he called early on Saturday morning. “Larisa Nicole Antipov was born at 6:28am.”

I started laughing, “Seriously, Father? You’re not pulling my leg? She’s Lara Antipova? Like in Doctor Zhivago?”

“Apparently so! Mom and baby are both healthy. Nik prefers we follow the forty-day tradition.”

“Of course he does,” I replied. “What did Tasha say?”

“Nothing. I suspect that will be discussed at home, in private!”

“I suspect so! Thanks for letting me know, Father. I’ll see you at Vespers.”

We said ‘goodbye’ and I hung up.

“I’ve never seen or read Doctor Zhivago,” Elizaveta said when I sat back down next to her on the couch.

“I wonder if it’s available on videotape. I saw it when it was shown in Rutherford a few years ago. Want to hear something funny?”

“What?”

“Nik suggested following the forty-day tradition.”

Elizaveta laughed, “Oh, right, because Tasha is going to stay away from church for almost seven weeks? I don’t THINK so!”

“Agreed. Baptizing Larisa on the fortieth day, I can see. But a ‘purification’ period for Tasha? That mostly went out along with the admonition that women shouldn’t receive Eucharist during their periods.”

“What do you want from old men who have no clue about women’s bodies?!” Elizaveta demanded.

“The Church moves slowly, but they do follow scientific and medical advancement. And women have been involved in running the churches for centuries.”

“I’ll bet we see Tasha no later than next Sunday morning!”

“I won’t take that bet because I’d say it’s a sure thing! Tasha, despite being very conservative, is also quite modern.”

“A bit too modern, as I said some time ago.”

“I believe we agreed to let that go,” I said.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, we did. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“You should if it’s bothering you.”

“It’s not. Anyway, I need to do some cleaning before we go to the library.”

“I’ll help.”

“No,” Elizaveta said firmly. “You relax and practice your guitar.”

“Kitten, I know how to clean.”

“I’m sure you do! But this is MY house, and it’ll be cleaned MY way!”

“Yes, Dear.”

“Do not patronize me, Michael Peter Loucks!”

I laughed, “Oooh, all three names. I’m in BIG trouble now!”

“You will be if you don’t get your guitar and practice!”

I knew better than to continue the argument, as Elizaveta had made it quite clear she was the mistress of the house. I went to the small bedroom, got my guitar and sheet music, then went back to the living room to practice. I felt comfortable that we’d do OK at the Prom, as we still had plenty of time to practice. I ran through all the songs in the repertoire once, and then Elizaveta and I headed to the public library so she could check out books she needed for a history paper. On the way home, we stopped at Kroger to do our weekly grocery shopping.

“I think we’ll only need food for six tomorrow,” I said.

“No?! Really?!” Elizaveta asked sarcastically.

I chuckled, “Sorry for stating the blindingly obvious! But it’s something we’re being taught to do in medical school. In the ER, you say out loud literally everything you observe, even if it’s blindingly obvious. That way, nothing is missed. Many diseases and injuries have subtle clues which might otherwise be overlooked. For example, when the paramedics bring someone in, they give age, sex, vitals, and a complete list of observed injuries or symptoms. Then those are all repeated when observed by the doctors in the ER. And everything is written down, no matter how minor or obvious it might be. As they said in our Practice of Medicine course — if you don’t write it down, it didn’t happen or wasn’t observed. A mistake there could cost you your career.”

“Those are the ‘charts’ you see on TV?”

“Yes. And every chart has to be signed-off by someone with a license, always under the supervision of an Attending physician who has ultimate responsibility. Record-keeping the way we’re being taught to do it, with individual files for each patient organized by sections, originated at the Mayo Clinic, mostly to support research, but also for easier patient tracking. But they have limits, as I think I mentioned with the young woman who had the tumor.”

“The one time I’ve ever heard you say anything positive about computers!” Elizaveta teased.

“True. If a complete set of that young woman’s medical records had been in some massive databank somewhere, someone could have easily brought it up and seen a pattern.”

“I think they’re called ‘databases’ now,” Elizaveta corrected.

“Whatever!” I replied. “I’ll leave that to Kristin and the others who want to deal with those infernal machines!”

Elizaveta laughed, “You’re so cute when you pretend!”

“Just pick out the groceries, please! Your Luddite husband will push the cart. Someday, though, we’ll have a REAL technological advance and they’ll make carts where the wheels work properly and don’t squeak!”

“Probably designed on a computer!”

“Oh, shush, woman!”

“You seem to be in a better mood!”

I smiled, “I suppose I am.”

April 8, 1986, McKinley, Ohio

“What happens today?” Clarissa asked as we headed to the courthouse late on Tuesday morning.

“If everything goes the way we expect, Melissa pleads guilty to a misdemeanor and gets community service, though according to Katy Malenkov’s mom, the sentence might not be imposed today.”

“What about her lawsuit?”

“The medical school has thirty days to respond from the time she filed. Katy’s mom suspects they’ll offer a settlement rather than risk losing. If Melissa does plead guilty with a proposed sentence of community service, the school has discretion as to whether she’s allowed back. With a felony, she can be automatically denied unless she is granted a waiver by the Ohio Medical Licensing Board. So, Katy’s mom expects them to allow her back next year to repeat her fourth year.”

“That would suck.”

“Think of the alternative, though — she wins in court and suddenly the medical school is no longer in control. Better to make a deal than get the courts involved in whether or not she passes.”

“Won’t she be able to sue if they fail her?”

“According to Mrs. Malenkov, the court won’t substitute its judgment for that of the doctors who train her. And the Medical Licensing Board is generally the ultimate authority. There are very limited avenues to challenge the denial of a medical license. Or so Mrs. Malenkov says.”

“You sound like you think she won’t make it.”

“I think she should be given a chance to demonstrate remorse and repentance. If she does, then she deserves a shot at a medical license. I’m skeptical, but hopeful.”

“You are SO weird, Petrovich!”

“There’s a reason why I’m wearing the cassock, and while it might not override my need to de-stress and improve my mental health, it has to override any animosity I have for someone who repents in an Orthodox way — turning from their old behavior to new behavior.”

“That does fit your belief system, even if I think you’re wrong.”

“Lissa, forget the theology — where would any of us be if we didn’t get second chances?”

“I hate it when you make sense and are right! Fortunately, that’s rare!”

“Love you, too, Lissa!”

“You know I’m teasing. But I will say your attitude is much improved.”

“I’m trying. I wonder how much of it was sleep deprivation. I’ve noticed everyone seems to be in a better mood, including Sandy.”

Clarissa shook her head, “That’s a false front. According to Pete, she’s not sleeping well, even with a prescription.”

“I don’t get it. Sure, she was mildly stressed when we were at Taft, and we were all within an millimeter of insanity during anatomy, but things have relaxed a bit now.”

“I agree, but Sandy appears to have worked herself into a state where she can’t de-stress, even the way she sought stress relief with you. What she really needs is a Summer vacation and we’re not getting one for the next five years! Well, minus the week we get at the end of this semester. Are you still planning on going to Seattle?”

“Yes. We booked the tickets and hotels, and Jocelyn and Gene did the same. Did you and Abby decide what to do?”

“A week in the Smoky Mountains. We booked a cabin and we’ll hike and otherwise chill.”

“Chill, huh?” I asked with a smirk.

Clarissa laughed, “Now THERE is the Petrovich I know and love!”

“I guess I didn’t realize just how down I was about, well, everything, I suppose.”

“At Taft, that usually meant you and Milena or you and Sophia doing your thing, with lots of cuddling for me. Then you had to go and get yourself ordained and married!”

“I have ZERO regrets about being married!”

“I bet! A nice, warm...”

“Oh, look, we’re at the courthouse!” I said with a grin, interrupting her.

I parked, and we got out of the car, and began walking towards the courthouse.

“Excuse me?” a voice from behind called out.

I turned my head to see who was calling out for me, then stopped and turned to face Melissa’s attorney.

“I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Arthur Braun, and I represent Melissa Bush.”

I nodded, “I do remember you, Mr. Braun.”

“You’re Mike Loucks, the medical student who witnessed the exchanges between Doctor Gibbs and my client, right?”

I nodded, and replied warily, “I am.”

“I’d like to call you as a witness in a hearing next week. I can have the judge issue a subpoena today, but it would be easier all around if you would appear without a subpoena.”

“I really don’t have anything to add to what Doctor Gibbs and the other medical student had to say.”

“Actually, I think you do. In any event, do I need to get a subpoena today?”

It seemed silly to make him do it, especially because I was sure he could, and there was probably nothing I could do that would ultimately prevent it.

“When is the hearing?” I asked.

“Next Tuesday afternoon at 2:00pm.”

I shook my head, “I won’t attend then, even if you do get a subpoena. I have a Preceptorship, which is actual medical training at the hospital, and I won’t miss it.”

“You realize that would very likely result in a bench warrant for your arrest.”

I nodded, “I do now. But the minute you serve me, I’ll have an attorney challenge the subpoena. You might win, you might not; but trust me, the last thing you want is for me to be a hostile witness.”

He considered for a moment, then asked, “What about a deposition? I’d ask you questions with a court reporter present, along with an attorney from the Medical School. We could do that at your convenience.”

“It would have to be this Thursday afternoon,” I said. “And preferably at the Medical School.”

“I’m sure that will work,” he said. “Let’s say 2:00pm. If that doesn’t work out for some reason, I’ll get a message to you through the school.”

“OK,” I replied.

He nodded and continued towards the courthouse while I waited for him to be out of earshot.

“What the fuck?!” Clarissa demanded quietly but urgently, as soon as he was a few paces away.

“He knows I’ll testify to the fact that Doctor Gibbs didn’t give Melissa a chance to explain herself, and then assigned her a never-ending regimen of scut. It’s the truth. I suspect, too, he knows enough about my faith to hazard a guess that I believe in repentance. That’s true even if he thinks we’re just ‘Catholic’ without the Pope.”

“You were pretty ballsy to threaten him.”

“He needs me, and he knows how I answer is very important. Think of the difference between telling the facts in differing ways.”

“What do you mean?”

“The difference between ‘Melissa tried to explain her surprise and Doctor Gibbs refused to listen’ versus ‘Melissa tried to justify her negative reaction and Doctor Gibbs understandably had no interest in hearing a justification of anti-gay bias’. Both are recitations of the facts, but the spin is VERY different.”

“Jesus, Petrovich! You’re a crafty, sneaky so-and-so!”

“Bastard?” I chuckled.

“Yeah,” Clarissa laughed. “Normally I’d have used Russian, but you stopped, so I stopped. Would you really do that?”

“How I answer will depend a lot on what I hear today. The attorney for the Medical School will certainly try to elicit the second statement. It’s up to me to say it or not.”

“What if nothing happens today? Or she decides to go to trial?”

“Then I simply state the facts without opinion. ‘Melissa protested, though I have no idea why, nor do I know what she was thinking. In addition, I do not know what Doctor Gibbs was thinking’.”

“You realize you might save her, right?”

“You have noticed the cassock, right?” I chuckled. “That is the business I’m supposed to be in!”

Clarissa shook her head, and we went into the building. We went upstairs to the courtroom where ‘Felony Court Call’ was being held and took seats in the back of the room. Melissa was sitting just behind the bar, and her attorney was at a table on the other side. We ended up waiting about ten minutes before the case was called.

“The State of Ohio versus Melissa Bush,” the Clerk called out, then gave the case number.

Mr. Braun signaled for Melissa to join him, which she did.

“Jonathan Taft for the State.”

“Arthur Braun for Ms. Bush, who is here before Your Honor.”

“Where are we?” the judge asked.

“Your Honor, we have reached a plea agreement with the State,” Mr. Braun said.

“Mr. Taft?”

“Yes, Your Honor. The defendant agrees to plead guilty to disorderly conduct, a 4th-degree misdemeanor. The proposed sentence is fifteen days in the county jail, suspended, contingent upon completion of anger management counseling, along with a $250 fine. I have an Information prepared for the plea.”