Good Medicine Senior YearChapter 56 Holy Week and Pascha Part I
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Good Medicine - Senior YearChapter 18: Dénouement free porn video
August 31, 1984, Duquesne, Pennsylvania
“Anything I need to know?” I said as we neared Lara’s house.
“Not really. I told you about both sets of parents.”
“Names? I mean other than I know your biological dad is Sergei Viktorovich Federov.”
“My step-mom is Alisa, my step-dad is Albert, and my biological mom is Elena. My step-siblings are Karolina and Pavel. Oh, and my cat is named Lilia Felicksovna Koshkaa,” she added with a laugh.
“Cute! I take it that your step-dad’s house is typically American?”
“Yes. My biological dad’s house is pretty typically American, too. Remember it was my maternal grandmother who taught me Russian.”
“So then much like my house,” I replied. “Other than our icon corner you wouldn’t know we were Russian, and once my grandmother stopped watching us in the afternoons after school, there wasn’t much Russian in the house.”
“Turn right at the stop sign,” she said.
I did, turning into a neighborhood of large houses and huge lots.
“First right, then first driveway.”
I followed her directions and pulled into a long driveway which led to a house which dwarfed my parents’ house, and, for that matter, the Malenkovs’ and Kozlovs’ houses.
“Park in the empty spot to the left of the garage.”
I pulled up, parked and we got out of the car. We got our bags from the trunk, then I followed Lara to the front door and into the house.
“Good evening, Miss Laura,” an Hispanic woman who was in the hallway said.
“Hi, Luisa,” she replied. “This is my friend Mike.”
“Your dad has him in the blue guest room.”
“I’ll show him,” Laura said. “Where are my parents?”
“In the TV room,” Luisa replied.
“Thank you. Follow me, Mike,” Larissa said.
She led me upstairs and to a large bedroom which had its own couch and TV, a large bed, and its own bathroom. I set my bag on the bed and followed Lara to her room.
“Seriously?” I chuckled.
“What?!” she asked with a smirk.
Her room looked like a warehouse for a company which made stuffed animals, of which cats and rabbits seemed to be the majority. In addition, there were Care Bears posters on the walls.
“Stuffed animals and Care Bears? Really?”
“Hey, I’m entitled to enjoy whatever I want!”
“Sure, but it’s such a contrast!”
A calico cat came into the room and rubbed against Lara’s leg. Lara scooped her up and rubbed noses, then put the cat down.
“I take it that’s Lilia?”
“Yes. Are you over your shock enough to meet my parents?”
I chuckled, “I think so.”
I followed her downstairs, with the cat doing her best to trip us as we went down the stairs. We passed through two rooms before we came to a room that looked almost like a movie theater, with reclining chairs and a projection TV. I’d never actually seen one, except in a store.
“Hi, Mom! Hi Dad!” Lara called out.
“Hi, Honey!” her mom replied.
Both her parents stood up.
“Mom, Dad, this is Mike. Mike, my step-dad Albert Bragg, and my mom Elena Bragg.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said.
I shook hands with Mr. Bragg.
“Nice to meet you, Mike,” he said. “Can we get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Soda?”
“A Sprite or 7-Up would be good, thanks.”
“Laura?”
“7-Up is fine.”
Mr. Bragg pressed a button on a small box on the table and spoke into it. A female voice, presumably Luisa, spoke back. He asked for two 7-Ups and got an acknowledgment. He picked up a remote and turned off the TV.
“How was your drive?” he asked.
“No trouble at all,” I replied.
“Please make yourself at home while you’re here.”
“Thank you.”
“Lara tells me that you scored in the 98th percentile on your MCAT.”
“That’s right.”
“And you want to go to McKinley Medical School?”
I nodded, “I do.”
“With scores like those, you could go anywhere - Harvard, Yale, Stanford, UCLA, Cornell.”
I nodded, “That’s true, but I prefer being close to home.”
“You could practice there after going to one of the top schools.”
“I could, but I prefer to stay in the area. My second and third choices are University of Cincinnati and Ohio State. My backups are Indiana and Pittsburgh.”
He shook his head, “It just seems a waste of very, very good scores.”
I wasn’t sure what else to say to him, so I just stayed quiet. Fortunately, Luisa came in just then with two bottles of 7-Up. Lara and I each thanked her and she left.
“What do your parents do, Mike?” Mrs. Bragg asked.
“My dad is a supervisor in the Harding County Property Division and my mom is a legal secretary.”
“I see,” she replied.
I was getting an odd feeling from Lara’s parents, one of disapproval of my choice of schools and of my parents’ choices of careers. I wasn’t quite sure what to do or say, so once again I remained quiet.
“I’m going to give Mike a tour,” Lara said.
She took my hand and led me from the room, beginning a tour of the ground floor of the house.
“Sorry,” she said quietly.
“Your step-dad doesn’t approve.”
“He didn’t approve of me going to Taft, either. He felt I should go to an Ivy League school, but in the end, he said it was up to me. From my perspective, I don’t need to spend $40,000 a year on tuition and room and board to teach High School. And given that you need to borrow, why go to a more expensive school? If you were going to do research, maybe it would make sense.”
“And your mom’s reaction to what my parents do for a living?”
“Honestly, I have no clue. That I didn’t expect at all.”
“You might have told me your parents had a maid.”
Lara shrugged, “It’s like the ‘vette - I don’t want anyone to think of me as something I’m not. And don’t worry about them. I make my own decisions.”
My initial estimate of the size of the house was borne out, and it was much bigger than the Kozlov’s house. The basement was finished and had a built-in bar, as well as a pool table. The ground floor had, in addition to the TV room, a large great room, a dining room, a large kitchen, and a study. Upstairs were five large bedrooms, with the master bedroom having a whirlpool bath that looked big enough for four.
“Does Luisa live here?” I asked.
“Yes, her room is off the kitchen, and has a private bathroom. Why don’t we go to my room and listen to some music and talk?”
“I don’t want your parents to think I’m rude.”
“They won’t. We’ll join them for breakfast in the morning.”
We went into her room, she turned on her stereo, and we sat down on the couch, Lara cuddled close and I put my arm around her.
“Just remember, Mike; this is my parents, not me. I’m the girl you see at school.”
“I don’t have much room to talk,” I said. “We can’t even see my parents right now.”
“So we agree our families aren’t part of the decision-making process?”
I felt that ought to be true, but I thought about Elizaveta’s family who had welcomed me with open arms and were already treating me as a son-in-law. While it wasn’t a deciding factor, I couldn’t ignore it.
“I’m not going to hold your parents against you if you don’t hold mine against me,” I replied.
Lilia found her way into the room and hopped up onto the couch and settled in Lara’s lap.
“Want to pet my pussy ... cat,” she teased.
“Cute!”
“Hey, you’re the one who bought me the little pussy ... cat with black fur!”
“True,” I said with a laugh. “How old is your pussy ... cat?”
“Six. She’s my second one. The first one my parents had when I was born, and he died about six years ago, right before I got Lilia, when she was a kitten.”
“Is her name really Lilia Felicksovna Koshkaa?”
“No,” Lara laughed softly, “but I knew you would get the Felix the Cat joke.”
“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” I asked.
“The same as we discussed earlier in the week. Breakfast with my parents then a day in Pittsburgh, including dinner. As for Sunday, we’ll go to church in the morning, then spend the day with my dad, step-mom, and my half-siblings. They only have one guest room, so unless one of us sleeps on the couch, we’ll come back here for the night. Then on Monday we’ll head back to Taft.”
“Sounds good.”
“You know what sounds good right now?”
“What?”
“Making out!”
September 2, 1984, Greater Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
“Dad, this is Mikhail Petrovich; Mike, this is my dad, Sergei Viktorovich,” Lara said when we met her family outside the church.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, extending my hand.
“We’ve heard so much about you from Lara! Once the services are finished, we’ll skip lunch and Sunday School, and head home so we can get to know you.”
“Thanks!”
“Allow me to introduce my wife, Alisa, my daughter, Karolina, and my son, Pavel.”
“Nice to meet all of you!”
“Hot!” I heard Karolina whisper to Lara.
She was, I guessed, about twelve, and her brother about eight, which lined up with the timing of the divorce Lara had told me about.
“Shall we go in?” Mr. Federov suggested.
I put on the cassock I’d carried from my car, and we went into the church. While the others waited in the nave, I went to the right-hand deacon’s door and asked to speak to the priest. The acolyte, seeing my cassock, allowed me in and the priest beckoned me to a small side room. I asked his blessing, which he gave, and then kissed his hand.
“Subdeacon Michael, I presume? I’m Father Philip.”
“Yes, Father. I wanted to confirm with you that it’s OK to receive the Eucharist.”
“You’ve confessed in the last month?”
“Yes.”
“And are in good standing with your bishop?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Then by all means. If you would like to serve, you’re welcome to join us.”
“I’d rather worship with Lara Federov and her family, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all! It was good to meet you!”
“And you.”
I left and went to stand next to Lara. As I stood quietly, reciting the pre-communion prayers, my mind went to the night-and-day difference between Lara’s two families. The Braggs were stuffy and cold, whereas the Federovs were welcoming and warm. I pushed those thoughts from my mind and focused on worship. About three-and-a-half hours later, when the liturgy was finished, Lara and I left the church building. I removed my cassock, put it in the trunk, and then she and I headed to the Federovs’ house.
The house, in Robinson township, was very similar to Katy’s house, and much more modest than the Braggs’. Whereas I’d almost felt like I was in a hotel at the Braggs’, here I felt as if I was in a home, and that I was very welcome. Her dad and step-mom were very nice, and her step-sister clearly had a crush on me, while her step-brother was, as best I could tell, a normal eight-year-old.
We had a nice lunch, then hung out in the spacious back yard and I got to know her dad. He didn’t seem bothered by my choice of schools and didn’t have a negative reaction to my parents’ jobs. All in all I got the feeling he liked me, whereas all I could say for Albert Bragg was that he tolerated me. It was obvious that Lara took after her biological dad, and that was a good thing.
About midway through the afternoon, Lara asked me to take a walk with her.
“Feel better?” she asked as we walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk.
“Much,” I replied. “This is like being amongst friends. With your step-dad, it felt almost like a formal job interview, or maybe a police interrogation.”
“I have to say it was a bit strange for me, too. That never happened with the few guys I dated.”
“Yes, but you weren’t planning to marry one of them in less than a year,” I replied. “I get the feeling he doesn’t think I’m good enough for you. Your biological dad, on the other hand, is making me feel like part of the family.”
“True. But neither my step-dad nor my mom said anything negative to me.”
“Well, it’s not them I’m interested in marrying, so unless their opinion matters to you, it doesn’t particularly matter to me.”
“It does, but not enough to influence my decision. You know the issue I’m struggling with.”
“Is that the only one at this point?”
“I think so.”
“Clarissa’s observation was that if I wasn’t going to be ordained, this would be a ‘done deal’.”
“Except that if you weren’t going to be ordained, then there wouldn’t be a rush for YOU to decide and you would have more options. I’m not saying you’re being railroaded, by the way, just that from what I can tell, several of the girls you’ve been interested in, like Kimiko, created impediments to ordination. Basically, you’d have had more time to find common ground if there wasn’t a rush.”
“I suppose that’s true, but that’s all speculative now, unless I put off ordination for several years. I COULD do that, but I don’t want to.”
“It’s your calling, Mike, just as being a doctor is your calling. I think you’re making the right decision, even if it might not look that way to the outside world.”
“Thanks,” I replied, squeezing her hand. “I guess the question for you comes down to whether or not being ‘Matushka Larissa’, in addition to being a High School teacher, is your calling.”
“I think that sums it up quite nicely.”
And at that moment, I realized something. It wasn’t her calling. If it had been, she wouldn’t be struggling. That didn’t mean it was impossible for her, but it did mean it wasn’t going to be easy.
“But it’s not your calling, is it? And that’s why you’re struggling.”
“You knew?”
“I just put together all the pieces in my head. May I tell you what Clarissa actually said?”
“Sure.”
“That you would make the perfect wife for a doctor and Elizaveta would make a perfect wife for a deacon.”
“Angie was the one would could easily be both, wasn’t she?”
I nodded, “Yes, though her condition calls everything into question. Does that upset you?”
“I’m practical, Mike, and I understand the issues. I had some good talks with Clarissa and Tasha both before the Summer and since I’ve come back to Taft. And I’ve talked to Jocelyn, too. All three of those girls love you deeply and want what’s best for you. Me, too.”
“And you’re trying to decide if you’re best for me or not?”
Lara smiled, “I believe you think I am, but with the caveat of me being able to live under a microscope.”
“You can’t successfully pretend to be someone you aren’t,” I said. “It’s one thing for me to put my Prince album in a locked cabinet and only display Mozart, or whatever. It’s an entirely different thing to suppress your personality to please others. Maybe I’m worth it, but that’s a heck of a sacrifice for you to make.”
“Are you saying I shouldn’t?”
“Not at all! We both know the commitment you’ll have to make, and, to be honest, only you can decide to make it. There’s a reason I haven’t raised this with you before, and why other than the implied deadline of next Summer, I haven’t pressured you at all.”
“Far from it! You even gave up sex for me!”
“I guess the question that comes to mind is - what next?”
“Do you know my biggest fear?”
“No.”
“That I end up doing what amounts to stringing you along and making a big mess of things.”
“There are no hard deadlines, Larissa,” I replied.
“You say that, but you’re walking a tightrope now with Elizaveta and me. If you fall off, you could lose both of us.”
“Honestly, that has been my concern, but so far, there hasn’t been an issue.”
“But eventually there will be,” Lara said. “Maybe not now, but soon enough.”
“Why do I have an uncomfortable feeling about this all of a sudden?” I asked.
“For the same reason I do, actually, you just haven’t realized it.”
“Realized it? What are you talking about?”
“There is a fundamental difference between going to church, or even serving as a subdeacon, and being a deacon.”
“Yes, of course.”
“In the same way, it’s different for me going to church now, as Lara, than it would be as ‘Matushka Larissa’. I actually didn’t realize how much I missed going to church until I started going regularly with you, but think about it, Mike. Going to church as Father Deacon Michael and Matushka Larissa is a very, very different thing.”
“I agree, obviously.”
“Yes, but contrary to what everyone else, including you, thinks, being a deacon is the harder of the two callings. And I wonder why you don’t think that’s the case.”
I stopped short, and Lara did as well after one additional step. She’d made a very good point, and one I hadn’t even considered. But when I thought about it for a moment, I felt she was right, but perhaps not the way she meant.
“For me, being an Orthodox Christian is simply who I am,” I replied. “It’s in my blood, if you will. My earliest memories are of my mom holding me up so I could kiss the icon of the Theotokos. I began serving as an acolyte and singing in the choir as soon as I was able, and from there, it’s been a natural progression. In a sense, wanting to be a doctor is in my blood as well, or, perhaps, in the blood of that little girl I helped save in fourth grade.
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