Chapter 28: “Grow a Pair!”

July 11, 1986, McKinley, Ohio

“It would help if you would tell us why Nadine wants to leave her group,” Fran declared.

“That’s just it,” I replied. “I can’t. As I said, it’s something that I had to promise not to reveal. I am going to speak with Doctor Mertens, but I can’t guarantee I’d be able to tell you.”

“I suspect I know the problem,” Clarissa said.

“Speculate all you want, Lissa, but I can’t reveal what was said.”

“What do you think, Clarissa?” Maryam asked.

“Her group was four guys and her, after the other girl transferred. I suspect they were hitting on her.”

“That’s one reason I asked to join your group,” Maryam said. “I was sure Deacon Michael would never put up with that kind of nonsense. It’s bad enough that doctors hit on me every chance they get!”

“I wasn’t aware,” I replied,

“Because you’re a guy,” Fran said. “My wedding ring has ZERO effect on doctors hitting on me. But hang on! You complained about the nurse who was hitting on you!”

“Sorry. What I meant was I wasn’t aware of you being hit on; you never mentioned it.”

“Why bother?” Fran asked. “Nothing will change.”

“On the contrary,” I said, “it will change if we insist that it changes. Sure, it might take time, and it will certainly take a lot of effort, but it stops when WE make it stop. All of us, together.”

“So that WAS it then,” Fran declared.

“No comment,” I replied.

When we finished eating, I excused myself and went to Doctor Mertens’ office. She wasn’t available, but her assistant suggested I stop back after our afternoon class session. I did just that, and once our afternoon lecture session was complete, I returned.

“Nadine Cross approached me about joining our study group,” I said. “And made it clear I can’t disclose the reasons to anyone. That’s a problem, as I absolutely need to be able to tell my wife, my pastor, or my bishop the reasoning, should they ask.”

“Our concern is that the accusations were not made public, and if they were, the young men in question would be able to take legal action against us.”

“I can’t believe the legal system would allow that,” I replied.

“They’d consider it defamation or slander, especially if neither of the young women was willing to make a public complaint.”

“The system needs to change,” I replied.

“Yes, it does, and it’s going to take men like you, Peter, and others to force a change to the ‘Old Boy’ network that not only tolerates, but accepts and promotes the objectification of female medical students, doctors, and nurses.”

“Don’t forget the objectification of male medical students by nurses,” I replied.

“Is there something specific you want to report?”

I shook my head, “No. I handled it. And I suppose that’s the real difference. I can say ‘no’ and make it stick without fear of retaliation. But none of that changes the fact that I need to be free to tell my wife, pastor, and bishop. This isn’t a medical privacy concern, and I’d have to say ‘no’ to Nadine if you won’t allow me to disclose the reasons, at least to a limited audience. None of them would ever disclose anything I said to anyone else.”

Doctor Mertens was silent for a moment, then nodded, “You may tell them. Nadine is an honor student and I want her with other honor students.”

“Then I’ll let Nadine know she can join our group; she’s actually waiting downstairs.”

“Thanks, Mike. I appreciate your discretion in this matter.”

“You’re welcome.”

I left Doctor Mertens ‘office and went down to the lobby where Nadine was waiting.

“You’re in,” I replied.

“Thanks, Mike. I really appreciate it.”

I gave her my address, as well as directions to the house, and said I’d see her on Sunday evening. Once that was accomplished, I headed home, where I let Elizaveta know that we’d have an additional person in our study group, starting on Saturday.

“What IS it with men?” Elizaveta huffed.

“You mean because they like sex as much as YOU do?” I asked with a smirk.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it!” Elizaveta protested.

“Relax, Kitten!” I chuckled. “I was teasing. There’s a difference between treating the hospital as a harem and enjoying sex!”

“I would hope so, husband!”

“Kitten, I am yours, now, and forever. You are the only person I will have sex with, or even THINK about having sex with, for the rest of my life! Now, let’s eat so we can get to the lake for the concert!”

After we ate dinner, I put my electric-acoustic guitar into the Mustang, along with the balalaika. We drove to Milton Lake, and parked in a reserved spot, then carried my instruments to the band shell where we’d be playing.

“I had a call about a gig,” Kim said after greeting us. “It’s a ten-year High School reunion at the end of August. The band they had hired backed out. Our playlist is acceptable to them, but I didn’t confirm because I needed to check with you. What restrictions do you have?”

“If they’re serving alcohol, that would go against what my former bishop said. I actually didn’t discuss that component with our new bishop, but I suspect his rule will be similar — maintaining proper decorum.”

“You realize that just about every adult attending tonight will have beer, right?” José asked.

“Yes,” I agreed, “but it’s neither sold nor served.”

“Could you get permission?” José asked.

“I need to let them know tomorrow morning,” Kim interjected.

“My bishop will be in attendance tonight, so I can ask him when we’re done.”

“I think you better warn Robby!” Sticks said. “He and Sophia were discussing their schtick, and some of it was risqué.”

“I’ll speak to him when he gets here, but given we’re subject to the city’s ‘decency code’ I know it won’t be too bad.”

“I can’t believe they can enforce that,” Sticks said.

“It’s a standard part of the contract,” Kim replied. “We have to keep it PG.”

“So no My Ding-A-Ling?” I asked with a silly grin.

“What’s that?” Elizaveta asked.

“A song by Chuck Berry, which is famous for its innuendo. You can imagine what he means by that phrase, but in the song, it’s always about ‘bells on a string’. Anicka has a video tape that we can watch. It’s absolutely hilarious, and a fantastic example of how to involve your audience in your act.”

“What about George Carlin?” Sticks asked.

“They won’t have us arrested,” Kim said, “but we don’t get paid if we violate their rules. Shall we warm up?”

We began our usual warm-up routine, but when Robby and Sophia arrived a few minutes later, we stopped so I could check with them about their schtick.

“Don’t worry,” Sophia said, “some innuendo, but it won’t break the rules Kim showed us.”

“Vladyka JOHN is here, along with Father Nicholas and Father Alexi, and their matushkas.”

“So all you need is a Tsar for a proper command performance!” she teased.

“No thanks! They were more trouble than they were worth, though the Communists are worse, which is saying something! Thanks for stepping up to work with Robby.”

“You’re welcome!”

I rejoined the others, and we finished our warm-ups, and waited for the clock to strike 7:00pm, when we’d begin. Someone from the city went to the microphone to make announcements, then turned the mic over to Robby and Sophia. They began with a brief dedication to Lee, then did a short patter about the band before introducing us.

“And now, for the first time at a public venue, I give you CODE BLUE!”

We played our standard playlist for our first set, beginning with I Write the Songs, and ending with Piano Man. Our playing was well-received, with plenty of applause and cheering. We took our break while Robby and Sophia entertained the crowd. Before we began our second set, I played Lara’s Theme on my balalaika, which the audience loved, at least as I judged their applause and cheering.

Our second set went well, and after a break, we played a shorter third set, with songs we’d used for the Prom, concluding with Elizaveta and me singing Up Where We Belong, which brought down the house, as the saying went. When the cheering finally died down, we played our usual encores, concluding with Thank You For the Music.

We took our bows and then left the stage. I had seen where the bishop and priests were sitting, and was surprised to see my grandparents, my mom, Stefan, Liz, and Paul sitting near them. Viktor and Yulia were there, of course, along with Geno and Anna. Even more surprising than my mom, Liz, and my grandparents having come unannounced, about fifty feet away, were my dad and Holly. My obligation was to greet the bishop first, so I walked up to him and requested his blessing, which he immediately gave.

“I wasn’t aware Matushka Elizaveta was part of your act!” he declared. “She has a lovely voice.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

“And your emcees are Orthodox?”

“Sophia is cradle Greek, and Robby is an inquirer. Did you enjoy the concert?”

“Very much so, though I would have preferred more Beatles and Rolling Stones!”

“I’ll speak to the band members. I do have a question about which venues are appropriate to play, if I may ask.”

“Yes, of course.”

“We have an opportunity to play at a ten-year High School reunion in Cincinnati in August. The original band canceled, and the organizers called Kim to see if we could play. I said I needed to check with you, as Bishop ARKADY had forbidden me from playing at bars or other places which serve alcohol.”

“Where is this reunion?”

“In a hotel ballroom in Cincinnati. There would be an open bar, so I’d need your blessing to participate.”

“Father Nicholas, have there been any concerns raised by anyone in the congregation about Deacon Michael playing in the band?”

“Just one,” Father Nicholas replied. “Many of the congregation are here tonight.”

“What’s your view of this request?”

“I don’t see a problem with this specific request. The member of the congregation who objected has an objection to any participation in a band, which they base on the canonical disqualification of actors from the ranks of the clergy.”

“Then I believe I can give my blessing, Deacon. I think the rule against bars is appropriate, but I will make an exception for this.”

“Thank you, Vladyka. If you don’t mind, I’d like to say hello to my dad.”

“By all means, Deacon! Will I see you on Sunday?”

“Yes, Vladyka.”

I asked for and received his blessing, quickly greeted everyone, then went to speak to my dad and Holly, while Elizaveta stayed with our families and the clergy.

“Hi, Dad,” I said. “Hi, Holly.”

“Your band is very good,” Holly said, “and your duet with Elizaveta was fantastic!”

“Thanks. I’m glad the two of you were here.”

“Mike,” Dad said. “Holly is pregnant.”

“Congratulations,” I said quickly, to avoid saying the wrong thing, and give myself a split second to think. “Does Mom know?”

“I think it would be better if you tell her,” Dad said.

“Dad, it’s up to you to tell her. She’s not going to go off on you. She’ll accept it, and, to be honest, she won’t be surprised. I’m not; not really. Are you going to marry?”

“We were married by a judge on Tuesday.”

“And you didn’t tell me?!”

“I knew you had your practical training, and didn’t want you to skip it for a ten-minute ceremony. And I knew I’d see you tonight.”

“Now I’m SURE you need to speak to Mom directly. Not to be disrespectful, but a real man would have the balls to tell her.”

Dad nodded and sighed, “You’re right. Tonight is probably not the time to tell her.”

“Call her tomorrow and tell her.”

“I will. Go be with the family.”

“Thanks for being here, Dad.”

We shook hands, and I headed back to where everyone else was standing. The bishop bade us all ‘goodbye’, and he and Father Alexi and Matushka Nicole left. A few minutes later, I did the same, returning to the band shell to get my instruments and speak to Kim. I let her know that the bishop had given his blessing for me to play the gig, and she promised to get me the details once the contract was agreed to. I picked up my guitar and balalaika and carried them to the car, Elizaveta and I got in, and we headed home.

“Dad and Holly married on Tuesday,” I said. “Holly is pregnant.”

“What?!” Elizaveta gasped. “And they didn’t tell you until today?!”

“He claimed that he didn’t want me to miss my Preceptorship for what he called a ‘ten-minute ceremony’.”

“You sound skeptical.”

“I suspect it’s my dad’s usual passive-aggressive behavior.”

“Passive-aggressive?”

“It’s when you behave in a hostile way by NOT doing something, accompanied by lack of communication. People who exhibit passive-aggressive behavior evade problems, obstruct, play the victim, and avoid conflict. It describes my dad to a ‘T’. I used to be like that.”

“What happened?”

“All the stuff that happened with Liz. I thought my dad had changed after that, but apparently not. It’s difficult to change the way you’ve been your whole life.”

“How did you do it?”

“With a lot of help from my friends, and the realization that if I didn’t change, I’d never make it through medical school and Residency. Being an RA helped as well, because I put myself in a position where I had to get involved. And I learned the lessons I needed to learn.”

“What did your mom say?”

“He hasn’t told her. He asked me to do it.”

“What did you say?”

“That he should grow a pair, man up, and tell her. I won’t do it. I insisted he tell her tomorrow, but knowing my dad, he’ll put it off. If he doesn’t tell her in a few days, I’ll reconsider.”

“So what do you think?” Elizaveta asked.

“I think it’s not my business,” I replied.

“Come on, Mike! I’m not talking about moral questions or anything like that. I’m wondering how you feel about having a half-brother or half-sister. And,” Elizaveta giggled, “a step-mom younger than you!”

“She’ll never be my step-mother except by the strictest legal definition,” I replied. “I will respect her as my dad’s second wife, but that’s it. As for a half-sibling, I’ll be twenty-four when the baby is born, so it’s not like there would be a normal sibling relationship. I think I’ll have to figure that one out as I go. Kind of like being a dad.”

“Because you think your dad did a poor job?”

“I think that I, like my dad, will do the best I’m able to do, while learning from the mistakes I believe he made. And that’s true about you, too, as I’m sure you believe your mom made mistakes.”

“Obviously!” Elizaveta declared with a soft laugh.

“And we’ll make mistakes, too. And when we do, we’ll get help from the Sokolovs and the Church, two things my dad did not do.”

“If it’s OK to change the subject, do you know who complained to Father Nicholas?”

“Know?” I asked, shaking my head slightly while keeping my eyes on the road. “No, I don’t. But I’m pretty sure you can work out who I suspect.”

“Nik,” she said flatly. “It’s always him, isn’t it? Why doesn’t he just go to a monastery?!”

I thought, but couldn’t say, that if I were married to Tasha, the last place I’d want to be is a monastery. That was not meant as a slight to Elizaveta in any way, but I had sampled Tasha’s charms and they were amazing. Only a damned fool would complain, and, in my estimation, Nik was a damned fool in many ways. I quickly set that unChristian thought aside.

“It has to be,” I agreed. “If it were anyone else, they’d have gone to the Sokolovs or to your dad or my grandfather, not gone to Father Nicholas to complain. I mean, a good half the congregation was at the lake tonight.”

“I saw Tasha and Larisa with Serafima and Elias, but not Nik.”

“Of course not,” I said with resignation. “Heaven forbid anyone enjoys music! Deacon Vasily loved rock music, and while he kept that private, he understood my love for music.”

“But would he have approved of you playing in the band?”

“He would have followed the bishop’s instructions in that matter. Perhaps he would have counseled against it; perhaps he DID counsel against it, but in the end, he would be obedient. Nik, on the other hand, has no obligation of obedience to the bishop in this matter, as it’s one purely of conscience, not the canons. I mean, it’s not like I’m an actor!”

Elizaveta laughed, “It’s SO true what you say about thespians! The drama club has a reputation of enjoying sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll!”

“Two out of three ain’t bad,” I chuckled.

“So put on some heavy metal and bang the headboard when we get home?”

“I will, I will, rock you!” I sang.

July 13, 1986, McKinley, Ohio

“Good morning, Deacon!” Father Alexi said when Elizaveta and I arrived at the cathedral on Sunday morning.

We exchanged the usual clerical greeting of kisses on the cheek, then went to the nave while Elizaveta went to be with Matushka Nicole. A priest I recognized as Father Luke Johnson was waiting near the icon screen.

“Deacon Michael, I believe you’ve met Father Luke, from Holy Assumption in Canton?”

I nodded, “Yes, at clergy meetings, as well as at the meeting to elect the bishop. Good morning, Father.”

“Good morning, Deacon,” Father Luke said, and we exchanged the clerical greeting. “His Grace will be appointing me Protopresbyter just prior to the Divine Liturgy.”

“Congratulations,” I replied. “Or is it condolences?”

He laughed, “Well, it’s not like I’m being sent to Alaska, or to Iron Mountain, Michigan, which the Antiochians do for ‘troublesome priests’!”

“I believe the exact quote was ‘turbulent’,” I replied with a smile. “And I’m pretty sure the diocese has had its fill of ‘turbulence’.”