Good Medicine - Medical School I

June 6, 1985, West Monroe, Ohio

When we arrived at Jocelyn’s house, Gene answered the door and let us in.

“How is she?” I asked.

“Probably about like you would expect. There’s a cease-fire in the mother-daughter war, imposed by her dad.”

“Which is why you answered the door?”

“Jocelyn’s mom decided to go shopping after Mr. Mills laid down the law that Jocelyn was to decide what was best for her.”

I chuckled, “He was always better about that, though I did get a bit of grief from him about our extended love affair.”

Gene nodded, “I’m pretty sure if it were up to him, I’d have been able to stay in Jocelyn’s room when we visited; her mom was having none of it.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, shaking my head. “How’s her pain?”

“Manageable. they have her on Percodan, and it seems to be working.”

“Oxycodone and what?” I asked.

“Aspirin. I asked because the name was close to what Lee was taking, but with a different ending.”

“And her mood, besides her mom?”

“Pretty good, actually. She says the pain is from the incision not from the nerve, so I think that’s a good thing.”

“You all can come in and stop talking about me behind my back!” Jocelyn called from the living room.

Clarissa and I both laughed, then she, Elizaveta, Gene, and I went into the living room where Jocelyn was lying face-down on a roll-away bed.

“Hey, Jos,” I said. “Gene was just filling us in on your mom’s sudden shopping trip.”

“Hopefully it’ll last until August!”

I bent down and kissed her cheek, then Elizaveta greeted her.

“When can you sit up?” I asked.

“I can, but it’s not comfortable, and I have to use a wooden, straight-back chair for a couple of weeks.”

“Can you at least use a cushion to sit on?” Clarissa asked.

“Yes. It’s the back support, not to mention that if I sat in the recliner I probably couldn’t get out of it. I have a check-up with the orthopedic surgeon on Tuesday. Where will you be?”

“Amsterdam.”

“How can we get in touch with you, if something comes up?” Jocelyn asked.

“I’ll mail you the itinerary when we get back home. There are phone numbers for each of the youth hostels, the hotel in Paris, and Anicka’s villa in Spain. I left a copy of the itinerary with Tasha as well.”

“Anicka is Professor Blahnik, right?” Gene asked.

“Yes, and if ‘something comes up’ means you’re going to the courthouse for a marriage ceremony, I’m going to be very put off at missing it!”

Jocelyn laughed, then grimaced, “As tempting as that might be to get away from my mom, I’m not ready for that and neither is Gene. Just because we’re sleeping together doesn’t mean we’re ready to get married!”

“And you told your mom that, didn’t you?” I asked.

“Yes!”

“Putting out the fire with gasoline! Not that it wasn’t warranted, but you knew she’d be upset by that.”

“You’re a pain in the butt at times, Mik!”

“Only at times?” Clarissa asked snarkily. “I thought you knew him better than that!”

“Well, yeah,” Jocelyn said with a wink. “That was Bowie, right?”

“Yes, from Cat People.”

“Is there anything we can do for you, Jocelyn?” Elizaveta asked.

“Not really. Gene is here full-time until I’m able to get around OK, and maybe beyond that. My dad is being totally cool and keeping my mom out of my hair as much as possible.”

“So like with us, then,” Elizaveta said. “My mom is being super nosy. I think she thinks I’m still a little kid, but I’m a married woman, even if I’m only sixteen. And I’ll be a matushka in July!”

“A standard refrain amongst all of us,” Clarissa said. “Which is why all of us were glad to be shut of Dean Wormer! And it was Mike who was on ‘double-secret probation’!”

All of us except Elizaveta cracked up and I had to explain it was from Animal House. We chatted for about twenty more minutes, until Jocelyn said she needed a nap, so Clarissa, Elizaveta and I said ‘goodbye’, she wished us a good trip, and then the three of us left the Mills' house to head back to McKinley.

“She’ll be very happy when she can get back to school,” Clarissa said as we get into my new Mustang.

“No kidding,” I agreed. “Jocelyn is at the same place I was when I just had to get out of the house for good. Liz had the same issues, as did Tasha. Clarissa’s situation was different, but taking Abby to her parents' house is probably a non-starter.”

“No kidding,” Clarissa replied. “That said, my mom is slowly working her way to accepting me as I am. My dad is like Mike’s dad - he has his opinions and the best I think I can hope for is grudging tolerance.”

“We all have each other for support,” Elizaveta said. “That’s part of what tomorrow night’s dinner is about, though Tasha and Nik already had plans, so it’ll just be the three of us, Abby, Alyssa, and Mark.”

Which Tasha had planned purposefully because of Nik’s discomfort with Clarissa and Abby. Tasha was working on that, but it was a much more difficult task than trying to get him to loosen up a bit.

“Church behavior rules?” Clarissa asked.

“Sort of,” Elizaveta said. “In private, with the teens and young adults, we can let our hair down a bit, though Nik’s a bit of a stick in the mud.”

“Don’t you think Tasha will fix that?” Clarissa asked.

“She’s working on it,” I replied. “But, he’ll only ever see me as clergy, so around him, like most of the congregation, we’ll need to be a bit more reserved.”

“You won’t wear your cassock at home, will you?”

“No. I’ll keep the ryassa by the door in case we have visitors from church, but if we’re just hanging out, even with the teens and young adults, I’ll wear shorts and a t-shirt in the Summer and sweats in the Winter. and that includes going to the main house, too.”

“It’s going to be weird seeing you in a cassock at school. Would you wear the ryassa as well?”

“It’s an outer garment, usually, so I’d wear it to and from school, but hang it up like I would a coat or whatever. The reason for wearing it inside at home if some visitor shows up unexpectedly is that it would take too long to change clothes every time. If I know they’re coming, I’ll put on the cassock. but again, not for the teens and young adults if we’re just hanging out.”

“Abby’s shift started at 11:00am today, so if you want, we could have dinner together and I’ll come to Vespers.”

“We’d love that!” Elizaveta exclaimed.

June 7, 1985, McKinley, Ohio

“Ready for your trip?” Alyssa asked when she, Mark, Abby, Clarissa, Elizaveta, and I gathered in the living room of the cottage on Friday evening.

“Pretty much,” Elizaveta replied as she served everyone soft drinks. “We packed this morning.”

“Backpacks, right?” Mark asked.

“Yes, though we’ll each take a carry-on. We bought small gym bags that have handles and shoulder straps. and we both bought fanny packs.”

“What about cameras?”

“Just my Instamatic,” Elizaveta said. “Neither of us is a big photographer and we don’t want to carry an expensive camera with us, or worry about film spools. My camera just takes a small cartridge and it has a built-in flash. It’ll be fine for what we want.”

“Abby has a nice Nikon she’s going to bring,” Clarissa added. “That will let us get some nice shots when we need them. She was in the photography club in High School.”

“Alyssa, what are you guys doing over the Summer?” Elizaveta asked, coming to sit in my lap in the chair.

“Just hanging out, really. Church and spending time together. Neither of our families has a Summer vacation planned.”

“Why not take a trip yourselves?” Abby asked.

“That would never fly with Alyssa’s parents, and mine wouldn’t be too happy about it, either.”

“You could do day trips,” I suggested. “King’s Island, the Cincinnati Zoo, the Cincinnati Art Museum if you go west; the Columbus Zoo and the Botanical Gardens if you go north. Those are all close enough to be easy day trips. Your parents wouldn’t object to those, would they?”

“I don’t think so,” Alyssa said. “Those are good ideas. what do you think, Mark?”

“I think it gets us away from McKinley in a way which won’t upset your dad, so I like the idea.”

“Mike, what does it take for Mark to become a subdeacon?” Alyssa asked.

“Right now? Time. The canons forbid ordaining new believers. The OCA sets that at two years. He’ll need to serve in the altar, come to church faithfully, attend Sunday School, and then either petition the bishop directly or have someone suggest it to the bishop. I’d also strongly recommend marrying first.”

“You didn’t!” she protested.

“And ran the risk of, God forbid, having a new bishop who chose not to exercise «ekonomia» and allow me to marry. The risk was small, but it was real.”

“What would you have done?” Mark asked.

“Are you kidding?” Clarissa said, laughing. “He’d have asked to be laicized.”

I nodded, “That really would have been my only option. Celibacy is not something I’m called to. Obviously, I could still end up that way, God forbid, but let’s not even think about that, please. There’s no rush for Mark, really. My situation was unique because my grandfather used his friendship with the bishop to push to have me ordained at a younger age than is usually done. And then the sad circumstance of Deacon Grigory’s repose brought on the current situation.”

“Would that have happened if you weren’t a subdeacon?”

“I would have expected so,” I said. “There would have been three consecutive ordinations - reader, then subdeacon, then deacon, but they have to be at least a day apart. When married seminarians graduate, they’re often ordained a deacon one day and a priest the next, though a lot depends on the bishop’s schedule and where they’re being assigned. And graduation from a seminary is no guarantee of ordination; that’s always at the bishop’s discretion.”

“So your grandfather used his friendship with your bishop?” Abby asked.

“Yes, but the bishop wouldn’t have agreed if he felt I was unqualified. and it was Elizaveta’s dad who approached the bishop on behalf of the Parish Council before she and I even considered marriage.”

“Before Mike considered marriage!” Elizaveta declared firmly. “He knows I was interested from the first time he showed up at the church!”

“You were TWELVE, «Котёнок»!” I protested.

“And your point is? I waited until I was fifteen to approach you, but that was only because you were being an idiot!”

“As if THAT is anything new!” Clarissa teased. “Petrovich could be a real blockhead at times!”

“Could be?” Elizaveta asked petulantly. “More like CAN be!”

“I love you both, even if you give me grief.”

Elizaveta got up to check on dinner and came back to announce it would be ready in five minutes. I got up to get everyone their choice of beverage, and a few minutes later we all sat down at the table to eat. I gave the blessing, and then everyone helped themselves from the ‘family-style’ pasta, garlic bread, and salad.

“How did you learn to cook so well?” Alyssa asked.

“I started helping my mom when I was about five, which is when I started learning to sew and do needlepoint. Then I took Home Ec, which really was just practice.”

“Which is why I basically insisted she substitute chemistry, physics, and calculus for Home Ec,” I said. “She could TEACH the Home Ec class!”

“Mike, you’re a Reds fan, right?” Mark asked.

“The baseball cap gave me away, didn’t it?”

He laughed, “Sorry. What do you think of their chances?”

“I think with Pete Rose managing and playing, and with Dave Parker having a good year, and with Mario Soto, Tom Browning, and John Franco pitching, they have a decent shot. Unfortunately, I suspect the Dodgers are going to win the NL West. I was pleased with the draft; Barry Larkin looks like an awesome prospect.”

“Sadly, I think you’re right about their chances, but I like the Larkin pick. What about football?”

I shook my head, “Not really. I follow the Pittsburgh Penguins for hockey, but that’s about it for sports besides baseball. I haven’t been to a baseball or hockey game in years. You?”

“We go to three or four Reds games a year with our parents,” Mark replied. “And I go to the Bengals games against the Steelers in Pittsburgh and Cincinnati with my dad. What about you, Clarissa?”

She shook her head, “I never got into professional sports. I went to High School basketball and football games with my group of friends, but it was more like a social time than watching the game.”

“Abby?” Mark asked.

“Baseball, but I’m from up north, so I’m a hapless Indians fan.”

“Could be worse,” Mark chuckled. “You could be a Cubs fan!”

“It’s almost as bad!”

“Hey, they won a World Series in 1948! The Cubs haven’t won since 1908!”

“I’ll give you that, but that’s poor consolation and not something I can take much solace in!”

“What do you do at the Women’s Clinic?” Alyssa asked.

“I’m a general nurse, so all the stuff you’d imagine a nurse would do.”

“Do you assist with abortions?”

“Yes.”

“And let’s leave that one right there, please,” I suggested gently.

“You object?” Abby asked.

“It’s a very difficult subject which has no easy answers and which can quickly become volatile. I can quote the church’s teaching which won’t mean a thing to you, and you can cite Roe v Wade, which won’t mean anything to Mark or Alyssa. I’d rather cover this some other time, not at dinner the night before we’re leaving.”

“He’s right,” Clarissa said to Abby, putting her hand on Abby’s arm. “Another time.”

Abby looked as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she nodded and kept eating. I knew her position through Clarissa, but it appeared Clarissa hadn’t said anything to Abby about my struggles with the topic.

“Mike, a one-word answer is OK,” Abby said, “but is the Orthodox position on birth control the same as the Catholic one?”

“There is no definitive answer to that question,” I replied. “The bishops' and theologians' thinking about that is all over the map. Generally speaking, it’s handled between the married couple and their priest. There are some hardliners who say that the rhythm method is the only acceptable birth control, but most bishops accept the idea of birth control for family planning. We don’t live in an agrarian society where having more children can be helpful with farm work. Given children can present a serious burden on a family, using birth control for timing and to limit the number of children to the number you can properly care for, our bishops usually leave it to each individual’s conscience.”

“You?”

I nodded, “Yes, of course, because it’s unreasonable and irresponsible to have kids before Elizaveta graduates from High School.”

“That actually sounds reasonable.”

“Thanks,” I chuckled. “I know you aren’t big on religion, but you’ll find that in most things, we’re pragmatic, practical, and reasonable, and that we respect science in its own domain.”

“What do you mean?”

“Science can answer pretty much everything except existential questions. That’s the realm of philosophy and theology. And even if you say there is no meaning, that’s philosophy, not science, because you don’t have a testable hypothesis.”

“But you can’t prove God exists.”

“And you can’t prove He doesn’t. Impasse.”

“But you’re making the assertion; I’m simply rejecting it.”

“The cool thing about faith is that it’s personal, so the only person I have to convince is me. Have I, even once, tried to convert you? Or Lissa?”

“Not directly.”

“It’s not MY fault if the way I live my life and the way I answer questions makes people curious!”

Abby actually laughed, “Nice judo move. Suddenly, I’m on the back foot because I appear to be trying to convert you to my belief!”

“Yes.”

“Wow, that’s slick.”

“It’s simply a byproduct of following the direction of Seraphim of Sarov - to look to my own salvation and the world around me will be saved. In other words, live the Sermon on the Mount and let the world notice and react.”

“And it’s very, very effective,” Clarissa said. “Mike loves everyone, does his best to model his life to the Sermon on the Mount, and teaches only when asked. Probably two dozen students have come to his church over the last four years. I believe that’s because Mike is the opposite of that preacher who stomped around campus haranguing students.”

The rest of the evening was enjoyable, though our guests didn’t want to stay late because we were all going to be up early in the morning. Before we went to bed, Elizaveta and I double-checked that we had everything we needed - tickets, train passes, passports, traveler’s checks, and cash. We moved our bags near the front door, then said our evening prayers before heading to bed.

June 8, 1985, Columbus, Ohio

“Good morning,” the young woman wearing a blue blazer said as Elizaveta and I came up to the check-in desk. “May I have your tickets, please.”

I handed over the tickets and she looked over them.

“I see you’re connecting through Chicago to Amsterdam. May I see your passports, please?”

I handed her our passports, and, as suggested by the travel agent, our marriage certificate. I also had, in my pocket, a letter from Viktor allowing Elizaveta to travel with me, but neither the travel agent nor Viktor’s attorney felt I’d need it. The agent looked over the passports and the marriage certificate, then checked the passports again. She tapped some keys on her computer terminal, then picked up the phone.

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

“Usually anyone under eighteen needs parental permission to fly overseas. I just need to verify with my supervisor that it’s OK to override the system based on your marriage certificate. It’ll just take a minute and I’m sure it’s OK, but procedures require me to check.”

I took Elizaveta’s hand and squeezed it, hoping she’d simply let the process work. She had definitively declared herself independent of her parents, and chafed at anything that implied she was still under their control. That was why the letter was in my pocket, and would stay there unless there were no other alternatives. The LAST thing I wanted to do was start our European vacation on a sour note.

“Everything is OK, Mr. Loucks,” the agent said, returning the phone to its cradle. “How many bags do you have?”

“The two backpacks, plus our carry-on bags.”

“If you’ll place the backpacks on the scale to your left, I’ll check them through to Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam.”

“I’ve never flown before,” I said. “Does that mean we don’t have to get them in Chicago?”

“That’s correct, Mr. Loucks. They’ll be moved to your KLM flight directly. I’ll print your boarding passes for both flights, so at O’Hare, you’ll simply need to go to the correct departure gate for your flight to Amsterdam. Your seat assignments are 8A and 8B from Columbus to Chicago, and 40B and 40C from Chicago to Amsterdam. Both are non-smoking.”

She tapped a few more keys on her keyboard, then affixed baggage tags to our backpacks and stapled the stubs to the ticket envelope. A few more key taps and she handed over four boarding passes, two for the flight to Chicago, and two for the flight from Chicago to Amsterdam.

“The flights are both listed as ‘on time’,” she said. “You’ll have six hours of layover in Chicago, so delays on the flight from here shouldn’t cause you any trouble making your connection. Security is to your right. Have a nice flight.”

“Thanks.”

Elizaveta and I stepped aside so that Pete and Sandy and Clarissa and Abby could check in and get their boarding passes. Once they were set, we headed to the security line where I read the posted sign to know what to do. I put my carry-on bag and fanny pack on the conveyor which led to the x-ray machine, then put my keys and watch into a small plastic bin and put it on the conveyor as well. I walked forward through the metal detector, passing without setting it off, and then reclaimed my things. Elizaveta followed immediately after, and then the other four. We followed the signs to our departure gate and sat down to wait for the flight to be called.

“Think you’ll get hassled in Europe about Elizaveta being sixteen?” Pete asked.

I shook my head, “The travel agent said that the age of consent in every country we’re visiting is no more than sixteen, so there won’t be any hassles. Basically, the big issue was going to be getting on the flight because most of the airlines require some kind of parental permission if you’re under eighteen to protect themselves.”

“Kidnapping?”

“That or custody disputes,” Abby responded quickly. “And in many cases, you need both parents' approval. I heard about was a case of a Saudi guy trying to take his kids back to Saudi Arabia without his wife’s consent. Basically, she had custody under US law and he had custody under Saudi law, but they wouldn’t allow him to take his kids on the plane without her consent.”

“I bet THAT was ugly,” Sandy said.

“I have no idea how it turned out in the end, because the local paper never followed-up.”

It was about twenty minutes before our fight was called, and the six of us approached a flight attendant at the door. She checked our boarding passes, detached part of them, then directed us out the door. We walked down a set of steps, across the tarmac, to the steps of the waiting plane. Another flight attendant directed us to our seats, with Sandy and Pete in front of us and Clarissa and Abby behind us. We stowed our carry-on bags above our seats, then sat down as other passengers boarded, nearly filling the plane.

I pulled a safety card from the pocket of the seat in front of me and looked it over. The plane was a Fairchild FH-227, and the card gave instructions on how to fasten my safety belt, as well as what to do in an emergency. 'Die!" was the first thought that came to my mind, given we’d be flying and any ‘emergency’ would likely be a result of some problem with the plane which I didn’t want to contemplate. I returned the card to the pocket in front of me and buckled the safety belt, cinching it tight.

“Nervous?” Elizaveta asked.

“Just a bit. You know how it is with first times.”

She laughed softly, “Cute.”

When everyone was seated, the doors were closed and the twin-turboprop engines were started.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. Our flying time to Chicago today is one hour and forty-five minutes, and we’ll be flying at 24,000 feet. We expect a smooth ride, so please sit back and enjoy. Now, if you would please pay attention to the flight crew for the safety presentation, I’ll be back to talk to you once we achieve our cruising altitude.”

I watched as the flight attendant demonstrated everything that was on the safety card, and as soon as she was done, we began taxiing for takeoff. About five minutes later, a chime sounded, the engines roared, and we began moving down the runway. I said a silent prayer, took my wife’s hand, and a few seconds later, we were airborne.

June 8, 1985, Chicago, Illinois

We landed in Chicago after what was, with the exception of being my first-ever time flying, an uneventful flight. It took a long time from the time we landed until we got off the plane, but we arrived just five minutes after our scheduled arrival time. We now had six hours to kill.

“We have six hours to kill,” Pete said. “Sandy and I checked because of the amount of time we’d have, and we could take a small excursion into the city. The L - what they call their subway and elevated train system - has a stop here at the airport. It could take us downtown, we could have some Chicago-style pizza, and go up the Sears Tower, and be back in plenty of time to board our flight. I’d say if we leave now, We’d have at least two hours downtown.”

“I’m game,” Abby said.

“Sounds good,” Clarissa agreed.

I looked at Elizaveta who nodded, then I told Pete we were in. He went to an information kiosk and asked how to find the L, and what it cost, and how to buy tickets, and once he had the information, we made our way through the terminal to the station. We bought tickets from an attendant sitting in a small booth, locked our carry-ons in lockers, then went through turnstiles to board a train which was already waiting. Five minutes later, a chime sounded, the doors closed, and I was having another first - a train ride, albeit as part of a subway.

“This is a day for firsts,” I chuckled. “First time on a plane; first time on a train; first time having Chicago-style pizza; and first time in any building taller than Riverfront Stadium or Space Mountain at Disney World!”

“You’ve been in Chicago, right?” Clarissa asked.

“No, actually not. The two times we visited my grandparents when I was younger we just went to their house in Naperville, which is somewhere west, and I’m pretty sure it’s over thirty miles from the Loop, which is what my grandparents call Downtown Chicago.”

“Supposedly that’s from how the L runs around the center part of the city,” Pete said.

“So, first time in Chicago, then!” Clarissa declared. “Same here, for my firsts today.”

“I flew before,” Elizaveta said, “but otherwise, me, too.”

“I’ve been on the L before, and on the New York subway,” Abby said.

“Boston T, for me,” Pete said. “And I was in England when I was little. My dad had a two-week assignment in London and took my mom and me with him. It’s too bad I was five, because I don’t remember a whole lot.”

“None of this is new for me,” Abby said. “Besides what I said about subways, I was in France and Italy right after I finished High School, before starting nursing school. I’ve traveled a bit in the US, including Chicago, New York, California, and Florida.”

“You’ll have a first tomorrow, right, Mike?” Elizaveta asked.

I chuckled, “I actually missed a few Sundays over the years. Once when we were in Florida, once when I had the chicken pox, and a couple of other times for reasons I don’t remember. But it will be the first Sunday since I was fourteen, or so.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Yes, but not terribly so. I have the bishop’s command to enjoy my honeymoon and not worry about fasting or church.”

“I’d say Mike has his bishop’s permission to eat, drink, and fuck to his heart’s content on his European honeymoon,” Clarissa said with a smirk.

“That should be true for ANY honeymoon!” Sandy declared.

“And when will THAT be?” I teased.

“Don’t ask! We’re not even close to that decision. Fran and Jason are N-U-T-S, nuts!”

“And yours truly?”

“I don’t think there’s a word for what YOU did!”

“Hey!” Elizaveta protested.

“Come on,” Sandy scoffed, “you have to admit it’s pretty far outside the mainstream! You guys get questioned about it at every turn!”

“That’s because society is TOO modern in some ways,” Elizaveta declared.

“Sure,” Abby said. “Things like child labor laws, the minimum wage, Social Security, medical care; those aren’t good.”

“Did I say ‘all’?” Elizaveta protested fiercely. “No! I said in some ways!”

“Wow!” Sandy smirked. “Kitty has claws!”

“Oh, she does,” I smirked.

“And I know how to use them!” she said feistily.

“Orthodox aren’t like the Amish,” I said. “But there are some changes to society that we certainly think aren’t necessarily beneficial.”

“Tasha’s dad?” Clarissa asked.

“Would be happy living in 19th Century Russia!” I chuckled. “But he’s a rarity. And even the good Deacon likes Bob Dylan and Aerosmith!”

The others all laughed.

“Pete, where do we get off the train?” Sandy asked.

“Monroe, according to the guy in the information booth. We go south to Adams, then walk west to the Sears Tower.”

“What about pizza?”

“Giordano’s,” Abby said. “It’s about a block south of the Sears Tower, if I remember right.”

“Have you been up the tower?” I asked.

“Yes, when I was in Chicago, but it’s worth doing again, for sure.”

“So, like sex, then!” Elizaveta giggled.

“You’ve corrupted the poor girl,” Sandy teased. “Good job!”

Everyone laughed, as did a couple of people sitting nearby who, I was sure, had heard our entire conversation.

When the conductor announced ‘Monroe’, we all stood and moved to the door. We exited the train when it stopped and the doors opened, then walked up a flight of steps to reach the sidewalk. Pete got his bearings, and we began walking towards the Sears Tower. It was impossible to miss once we got to Adams Street, so we knew exactly where to go. Given the time, we decided to go up the tower first, and then have lunch. Just as we crossed Franklin, I stopped in my tracks.

“What’s wrong, Mike?” Elizaveta asked.

“That guy walking towards us was on a tour at Taft. I remember he was from Puerto Rico but can’t remember his name…no, I got it!”

I walked quickly to him, smiled and said, “Jorge?”

He did a double-take, clearly recognizing me but being surprised.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he said. “I don’t recall your name.”

“Mike. And I suspect you remember Clarissa.”

“Sure,” he said. “Hi!”

“Let me introduce you to everyone. This is my wife, Elizaveta.”

“Wife? Wow! You just graduated, right?”

“Yes.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jorge said to her.

“Same here!”

I introduced Pete, Sandy, and Abby and explained how I knew Jorge.

“Where are you going to school?” I asked.

“IIT. It’s a good engineering school. You were pre-med, right?”

“Yes. I’ll be starting at McKinley Medical School at the end of August. You have one more year to go, right?”

“Yes. What are you guys doing in Chicago?”

“A layover on our flight to Europe,” I said. “We’re backpacking and taking the train around Western Europe. Basically a last fling before Clarissa, Sandy, and I start medical school, because we won’t get a real vacation for at least five years. If you aren’t doing anything, have lunch with us.”

“I could. There’s nothing going on today. I have an errand to run, though.”

“We’re about to go up the Sears Tower, but we’re having lunch at Giordano’s in about an hour. Will that work?”

“Sure. It’s right around the corner. Meet you there in an hour?”

“Cool,” I said.

We shook hands and he continued on his way while the six of us went to the entrance for the elevator to the 103rd floor, bought our tickets, then got in line for the elevator. Fifteen minutes later we were on the observation deck and I was blown away by the view. The view from the plane had been fascinating, with white, fluffy clouds, and houses, farms, and roads visible on the ground, but the idea of being in a building around 1000 feet above street level was overwhelming.

“According to this,” Elizaveta said, holding up a brochure, “you can see Naperville to the west.”

“If I knew any landmarks or could reasonably judge the distance, that might help. But this is so cool!”

“Let’s go look at the Lake Michigan side!”

We walked to the opposite side of the observation deck, and through a light haze, we could make out the Michigan shore. After a few minutes we moved to look south, then west again, then north, and finally, east once more. When everyone felt they’d seen enough, we took the elevator back down to street level, then headed to Giordano’s. It wasn’t quite an hour, so we walked around a bit, but there really wasn’t much to see. When we got back to the restaurant, Jorge was waiting, and we went inside and got a table for seven.

“Any recommendations?” I asked.

“Pan pizza, for sure, if you’ve never had it.”

“Are you living on campus?” I asked.

“No. I just moved in with a guy. He and his dad bought a big house earlier this year. He’s actually from close to you in Ohio. Milford, I think is the town.”

I started laughing, hard.

“Mike?” Elizaveta asked.

“Jorge,” I asked, “is his name ‘Steve’?”

He rocked back in his chair, “How did you know?”

I chuckled, “He’s been kind of a ghost on the edge of my existence! He invented ‘Strip Chess’ in High School. Well, I guess his girlfriend did.”

“Jennifer,” Jorge said. “But she’s lesbian and is getting married to her girlfriend tomorrow.”

“Wait a minute!” Abby protested. “I keep up on the news and I KNOW Illinois didn’t start allowing gays or lesbians to marry!”

“Not a legal ceremony. But they’re calling it a marriage.”

“I have to ask,” I said. “But does he have a girlfriend?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Jorge said, shaking his head. “More like dozens of girlfriends!”

“I think I need to meet this guy,” Pete said, then grimaced and exclaimed “Ow!” when Sandy elbowed him in the ribs.

“That’s the reputation he had in the rumors. I suspect he’ll never get married.”

Jorge laughed, “You would suspect wrong. Unless I miss my guess, he’s going to marry a doctor who’s at the University of Indiana.”

“OK,” I chuckled. “Let’s go for Double Jeopardy and you can tell me her name is Jessica.”

Jorge rocked back again, “You HAVE to be pulling my leg! How did you know?”

“I didn’t, but she was a medical student we met when we interviewed and I was joking. You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack! He’s been dancing around things with a girl from back home he calls his ‘Sweetheart’, but I swear, every time they try to be a couple it blows up in their faces.”

“A former Milford cheerleader, right?”

“How the heck do you know so much about him?”

“From a girl he dated named Dona who I went out with last Summer, from a friend of a friend, and things I’ve gleaned from the therapist I’m seeing in Milford.”

“Doctor Mercer?”

“Yes,” I laughed. “This is just bizarro world! I wish we had more time, because I’d ask you to introduce us. Where’s the house?”

“South, near the University of Chicago. It would take about forty-five minutes to get there by the L and then a walk.”

We were interrupted by the waitress taking our orders, which we deferred to Jorge who ordered a large pan pizza with sausage and mushrooms, along with a pitcher of Coke and a pitcher of root beer.

“That’s too far, unfortunately,” I said. “We have to head back to the airport in about an hour.”

“Does he know you at all?” Jorge asked.

I shook my head, “I doubt it, unless Dona or Anna said something to him, which I can’t imagine they did. It’s just funny how his life and my life have intersected, but we’ve never met.”

“Maybe you’ll get to Chicago again soon.”

“Highly unlikely, because we don’t get any time off between semesters after our first year, and the only thing we’re going to want to do is sleep!”

“I can imagine! Where are you going in Europe?”

“Amsterdam, Paris, Madrid, Rome, Athens, Vienna, Geneva, Munich, Copenhagen, and London.”

“Very cool! How long?”

“About five weeks.”

“I wish I could do something like that!”

“Maybe when you graduate?”

“A job is the most important thing! Is everyone here going to be a doctor?”

“I’m a nurse,” Abby said.

“And I’m starting a Master’s and PhD program in biochemistry,” Pete said.

“And I’m a High School student,” Elizaveta said.

“I swear, all you gringos are crazy!” Jorge said, shaking his head. “And I thought Cirque du Steve was crazy!”

I laughed, “My life isn’t THAT crazy, I just had a need to marry because of impending ordination to the diaconate.”

“Ah, you must be Orthodox, then.”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“I’m Roman Catholic, so I know about the Byzantine rite, and married clergy, so long as they marry first.”

“What’s your major, Jorge?” Pete asked.

“Electrical engineering. I’m just getting a Bachelor’s, but I should have some good job prospects. I’ve been working Summers, which helps get past the lack of experience when I graduate. And I’ll look at grad school once I’ve worked for a few years. The girl who helped Steve invent ‘Strip Chess’ is an electrical engineer. She went to Stanford.”

“I have a friend at Stanford in the CS program,” I said.

“Small world!”

“Tell me about it!”

Our pizza arrived and it was the best pizza I’d ever had, bar none. Thick, gooey with cheese, heavy with sausage, and with a crispy crust. When we finished eating, there was nothing left but a few crumbs. We split the bill, Pete paid the waitress, and then as we were saying goodbye, Jorge and I exchanged addresses and phone numbers, though the chances our paths would cross anytime soon were small.

About an hour later we were back at O’Hare, sitting at the departure gate, waiting for our flight to be called.