Chapter 17: Prom

April 22, 1986, McKinley, Ohio

“What’s your next Preceptorship?” Doctor Lawson asked when we sat down on Tuesday afternoon to go over my evaluation.

“Surgery. I’m assigned to Doctor Owen Roth, an Attending in general surgery.”

“He’s a good guy, and probably the best golfer in the hospital. He was on his High School and college teams in the LA area. Do you play?”

“My father-in-law paid for lessons, but I don’t have the time to play.”

“Did you turn in your evaluation at the medical school?”

“This morning when I arrived. I had no complaints or concerns.”

“Technically, you aren’t supposed to say anything until you hear my evaluation.”

“And if I thought there was the remote possibility that would influence you in either direction, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“You’re attentive, ask good questions, and have an above-average grasp of psychiatric health concerns.”

“Mostly because of my friend Angie,” I replied. “And quite a bit of counseling of my own.”

“Seeking help when you need it is a good sign. We physicians often think we can treat ourselves. The fact that you’ve learned the value of counseling before you become a doctor will serve you well. You told Doctor Stern you plan to do an extra psych rotation during your fourth year?”

I nodded, “I did. It’ll be one of my electives. My goal is trauma.”

“You’ve made that clear, and I respect that, but given what we’ve seen and your calling as a clergyman, a counseling role may suit you better.”

“In the Orthodox Church, a deacon is a servant, not a pastor. My role is to serve at the altar, assist the priest, and handle almsgiving. I don’t hear confessions, nor do I do pastoral counseling. In fact, in usual practice, I’m forbidden from doing so.”

“Interesting. I assumed from the clerical garb ... well, never mind, that’s not important. In any event, I think you’d be very good at it. I’ve noted that on my evaluation, which gives you top marks. If you change your mind, let me know when you do your psych elective during your fourth year.”

“Thank you. I doubt that will happen, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Did you have any questions?”

“No.”

“Then let’s see if we can find Joana and Milo and do our rounds.”

Four hours later, I shook hands with Doctors Lawson and Stern, and then Milo, and headed home. The call I’d been expecting since Sunday came just as we finished eating.

“When is the funeral?” I asked Father Nicholas after he’d informed me of Deacon Vasily’s repose.

“That’s a bit complicated because next week is Holy Week, and Alexandra wants to wait to bury him until after she makes a special appeal to the Metropolitan to allow her husband to be buried in his vestments.”

“What are the chances of that happening?”

“I have no idea. It would be the right thing to do, but it would also effectively restore him to the diaconate.”

“Do you think it would help if the members of the Spiritual Court sent a letter to the Metropolitan?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Father Nicholas replied. “I think at this point it’s probably better to leave it to Alexandra.”

“Is there a tentative day?”

“Thursday of Bright Week. We’ll do a memorial tomorrow at Vespers, and one will be conducted at Holy Transfiguration as well.”

“OK. Please let me know the firm date as soon as possible so I can arrange to miss class.”

“You’ve missed quite a few classes. Are you still taking off Thursday and Friday of next week?”

“Yes. I made those arrangements when school started. And I’m keeping my word to Robby.”

“How is he?” Father Nicholas asked.

“I saw him yesterday for a few minutes. He’s happy to be out of the hospital, but his rehab is going to be tough.”

“OK. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

We said ‘goodbye’ and I hung up.

“When?” Elizaveta asked.

“4:07pm,” I said. “The funeral is tentatively set for Thursday morning of Bright Week, so you’ll need to arrange with the school for the day off once it’s confirmed.”

“You’ll write me a note?” she giggled.

“I doubt they’ll ask, given they know we’re married, but yes, if necessary.”

“What was that about chances?”

“Matushka Alexandra is going to make a special plea to the Metropolitan to allow her husband to be buried in his vestments. That’s the reason for the delay until Bright Week.”

“Do you think that will work?”

“I have no idea,” I replied. “It should, but it’s not up to me.”

“How is Tasha?”

“Distraught, according to Father Nicholas. I suspect she’s still upset at Sasha.”

“She certainly was when I went to see her yesterday after school. I tried to talk to her about it, but it didn’t do any good. She’s convinced it’s all Sasha’s fault.”

“I believe the scandal at the cathedral contributed as well,” I replied, “because, without that, I’m pretty sure the thing with Sasha would have blown over without discipline from the bishop. But do what you can to get Tasha to at least be civil to Sasha.”

“Easier said than done,” Elizaveta replied.

I was sure that was the case, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. I’d need to talk to Father Nicholas and get his input before I did anything more than encourage Elizaveta to try to calm Tasha down.

“I understand, but please try.”

“I’ll call her tomorrow. Shall we do the dishes?”

April 24, 1986, McKinley, Ohio

“Imagine if you were still single!” Clarissa teased as we walked away from our cars on Thursday morning.

“I’m happily married!”

“Obviously! But, seriously, imagine a gym full of legal teenage pussy, all dying to give it to the good-looking, guitar-playing medical student!”

“Are you trying to cause trouble, Lissa?”

“ALWAYS!” she exclaimed. “Think your stalker will be there?”

“I have no idea, but Elizaveta is one of our stagehands, as is Dona.”

“Guarding their men like a lioness guards her cubs!”

“Our contract actually says we can’t mingle. There’s a room where we take our breaks.”

“That actually makes sense, as you don’t want potential groupies distracting the band!”

“Just stop, Lissa!” I chuckled.

“You love me!”

“I do!”

“You know,” Clarissa said, “I was thinking, being a deacon in your church seems dangerous.”

“Both Deacon Grigory and Deacon Vasily smoked,” I countered, “though Deacon Vasily quit when Tasha was born. Neither of them got much exercise, either, though Deacon Vasily wasn’t out of shape the way Deacon Grigory was.”

“You’re still running in the morning, right?”

“I am; well, Elizaveta and I run every morning. We either run through the neighborhood or at the Y. What about you?”

“Abby and I take a walk every morning. It’s not as good as running, obviously, but it’s better than nothing. Did they schedule the funeral yet?”

“No. They’ll wait to hear from the Metropolitan.”

We reached the building and headed to the cafeteria to get our coffee before heading to our morning class. After class, I ate lunch with my study group, but then left to head home. I spent two hours practicing, then packed up my guitar and balalaika. I had decided, at Elizaveta’s urging, to play Lara’s Theme as an extra encore, before we played Up Where We Belong and Endless Love. I’d cleared it with the rest of the band and they were receptive, so we added it to our playlist. Kim had called the coordinator at High School to confirm it was OK to add the song.

I arrived at the school just as classes were letting out for the day and waited by my car for Elizaveta to join me. We greeted each other with a chaste hug, I got my instruments and sheet music, and we went to the gym where the band director was waiting to help with the mics, amps, and other sound equipment we were borrowing from the band. José arrived a few minutes later, and together with Elizaveta and Dona, we began setting up.

We finished about an hour later, with Kim and Sticks arriving just as we finished testing the mics and our electric-acoustic guitars.

“Shall we run through a couple of songs?” Kim asked. “I ordered pizza for 5:30pm — one is just cheese to accommodate Mike and Elizaveta. Dona, would you and Elizaveta go to the middle of the gym and see how things sound?”

“Sure,” Dona replied and she and my wife headed to the center of the gym while the band members took their places.

We played Heart of Rock & Roll and after getting feedback from Elizaveta and Dona, Victor, a Sophomore, who was running the soundboard, made some adjustments. We then played Old Time Rock and Roll and Victor made some additional adjustments. He asked me to play my balalaika so he could set the levels for the pickup mic, which was by a stool I’d sit on to play.

We’d adjusted the order of our songs to move the faster songs towards the beginning and the slower songs to the end. We reviewed the playlist and rehearsed our patter, which none of us felt was nearly as good as what Robby and Lee could have done. We had just finished when four students came into the gym, one of whom was Erin.

“Hi, Mike!” she exclaimed. “Is everything ready?”

“Hi, Erin,” I replied. “We’re all set, thanks.”

Elizaveta, who was standing just to my right, had her arms crossed, and stared intently at Erin.

“If you need anything, just let us know!”

“We will.”

They left and Elizaveta turned to me.

“If you need anything, huh?” she asked.

“Relax, Kitten,” I soothed. “She didn’t put any emphasis on the word.”

“Just stay away from her, please.”

“I will,” I confirmed. “You have nothing to worry about.”

The six of us left the stage and went to the room which was reserved for us. There were cans of soda, a couple of pitchers of water, and some cookies.

“That was the stalker?” José asked quietly as we got something to drink.

“Yes.”

“Did you know she was on the Prom committee?”

I shook my head, “No. Kim handled all the communication.”

I carried two cups of ice water, one for Elizaveta and one for me, over to where she was standing with Dona. I handed her one of the cups, then we went to sit on a couch.

“What is this room?” Dona asked.

“A teachers’ lounge,” Kim replied. “The pizzas will be delivered here.”

We relaxed, ate our pizzas, then went to the gym to warm up by playing a couple of songs which weren’t on our playlist. Everything was good, so we went back to the room to wait to be called to begin playing. About ten minutes before time, Erin and a male student came to escort us to the stage where the curtains were closed. We took our places and waited to be announced. Erin and the male student gave some opening remarks, then the curtain was raised.

“INTRODUCING CODE BLUE!”

There was applause from the assembled students and we kicked off with our first song, We Will Rock You. When we finished, I began our patter by introducing the band while Kim played backing music on the keyboards.

“We’re Code Blue with José Ochoa on lead guitar and vocals; ‘Sticks’ Mason on drums; Kim Liang on keyboards and vocals; and I’m Mike Loucks on backing guitar and lead vocals!”

Kim’s playing shifted to a lead-in for The Entertainer. After that, we began a sequence of danceable music, though mostly ‘fast songs’. We closed out our first set with While My Guitar Gently Weeps, and then we took a break.

“So far, so good,” Kim said when we gathered in the teachers’ lounge to relax and drink some water.

Our second and third sets went really well, and after we each had a cup of water that Elizaveta and Dona brought to us, Elizaveta brought me my balalaika. I played Lara’s Theme and the students danced, then applauded loudly when I finished. I handed the balalaika back to Elizaveta, picked up my guitar, and we performed our final two songs. I wondered, as we played Endless Love, how many of the couples dancing would be dancing horizontally later in the evening.

We took our final bows, and the curtain dropped.

“How many of those guys do you think we helped get laid?” Kim asked with a smirk, clearly having had the same thought I’d had.

“We’ll never know!” I chuckled.

Martha Jacobson, the head of the Prom Committee, came backstage and handed each of us our checks for the performance. I handed mine to Elizaveta, which caused the others to laugh, but it was only because I was wearing scrubs and needed to pack up my guitar and sheet music. Fifteen minutes later, we were on our way home.

“You guys really were awesome,” Elizaveta exclaimed. “And playing three love songs at the end was exactly the right thing to do.”

“I’m sure all the guys thought so, too,” I chuckled.

“Boys!” she huffed. “What is it with you?!”

“Because girls hate sex?” I asked. “I mean, we can stop doing it...”

“That’s not what I meant!” she protested.

“And I recall someone asking me to do it before we married!” I teased.

“Husband...” Elizaveta warned.

“What?” I asked innocently. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but...”

“But nothing, Kitten! I know your opinion on the matter, but I also know what you wanted. You were quite clear!”

“You’re very annoying!”

“Thank you!”

“I’m going to use my toy!”

“Yes!” I exclaimed triumphantly.

“Have I told you how annoying you are?”

“About ten seconds ago! But, if you behave for the rest of the ride home, I’ll be happy to fuck you silly for as long as you can handle it!”

“You know what to do!” she exclaimed breathlessly.

April 25, 1986, McKinley, Ohio

“I didn’t get enough sleep!” Elizaveta groused groggily when the alarm rang at 5:30am.”

“Says the girl who demanded ‘more’ at 1:45am!”

“I’m not sure I can run this morning,” she said, yawning.

“Then stay in bed and sleep for another forty-five minutes,” I replied. “Doctor’s orders.”

“You aren’t a doctor!” Elizaveta protested.

“Yet!” I replied. “Just go back to sleep.”

She snuggled back under the covers and I took my running clothes from the closet and went to the second bedroom to put them on. Once I was dressed, I went to the front door, put on my running shoes, and left the house. I was extremely tired, and certainly hadn’t had enough sleep, but I’d very much enjoyed the four hours of awesome sex we’d had after arriving home from the Prom.

As I reached the end of the driveway and turned right, I thought about how things would be during Residency and how tired I’d be after a thirty-six-hour shift as part of a ninety-hour week. I had the impression I’d be a complete zombie and would simply collapse into bed as soon as I arrived home, no matter the time or situation.

The next week, which was Holy Week, was going to be tough. I’d miss all of my study sessions except for Thursday, because there were services every night, from this evening until a week from Sunday, plus morning services on Saturday, Sunday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, though the ‘morning’ service on Sunday was actually at noon.

I quickly ran through the list of services in my head — Little Compline with the Canon of St. Lazarus this evening; Matins and Liturgy for Lazarus Saturday tomorrow morning; Vespers for Palm Sunday tomorrow evening; Matins and Liturgy for Palm Sunday the following morning; First Bridegroom Matins Sunday evening; Second Bridegroom Service on Monday evening; Third Bridegroom Matins on Tuesday evening; Holy Unction on Wednesday evening; a Vesperal Liturgy commemorating the Last Supper on Thursday morning; the Twelve Gospels Service on Thursday evening; The Royal Hours beginning on Friday morning, leading to Vespers and Lamentations Friday afternoon and evening; a Vesperal Liturgy on Saturday morning; Paschal Matins and the Divine Liturgy for the Resurrection beginning just before midnight on Saturday; Agape Vespers on Sunday at noon.

The entire week was ‘upside down’ in that we’d sing Matins in the evening and Vespers in the morning, all done by ‘anticipation’ about twelve hours earlier than ‘normal’ time. A close examination of the services showed that they had once been done at the ‘correct’, if there was such a thing, time. The Saturday morning Vesperal Liturgy was obviously about finding the empty tomb, and with fresh bay leaves being strewn about victory over death. At some point in history, it had moved to the morning and the Paschal Matins had moved from sunrise to just past midnight. In the end, though, the topsy-turvy nature of the week helped create the proper swings of emotion, as the Crucifixion approached, and then the anticipation of the Resurrection.

All of that, in the here and now, meant missing classes on Thursday and Friday, in addition to missing my study sessions. I’d actually have two quizzes to make up, but given I’d arranged everything in advance, I wouldn’t lose any credit, and would be able to take those quizzes at lunchtime. That would cost me my time in the steam room, and I’d have to eat while taking the quizzes, but I felt it was a reasonable trade. The real struggle would come during third and fourth year when religious accommodation was unlikely, and would have to be worked out separately for each rotation with the hospital or doctor to whom I was assigned.

And all of THAT brought to the fore something that had been swirling around in my mind for weeks — should I, or should I not, ask to be laicized when a new bishop was enthroned. It would depend, at least in part, on who was elected bishop. I was reasonably confident that my grandfather’s and father-in-law’s networks of friends would result in Father Jeremiah being one of two names submitted to the Holy Synod, but there was no guarantee they’d choose him. There was an outside chance of outright election, but getting two-thirds of the vote was nigh-on impossible.

And thinking about that brought back to mind the petition which Tasha’s mom had made to the Metropolitan. We hadn’t heard anything about it, and the funeral was still tentatively scheduled for Thursday of Bright Week. I hoped the Metropolitan would relent, but I had no insight into his thinking, as he’d deferred any decisions to the newly elected bishop. I felt that would have led to Vasily Antonov being restored, but there was no guarantee.