I remembered when I was seven years old, and my family spent a weekend at a cabin that had been my grandparents’ home before they passed away. The cabin sat on ten wooded acres with a shimmery pond. After my grandparents had passed, the ownership of the place transferred to my dad. We made occasional trips there as a family, and I had always figured these trips would continue as I grew up.
But then my dad decided to sell the cabin, all of its ten acres and its pond. It was the practical thing to do, he would explain to me, because the cabin and property were worth a good deal of money, and it would be a hassle to keep and maintain it all.
His explanation made sense to me. I knew it was logical. But, I hadn’t been happy about it. I wanted more cabin days ahead of me. I didn’t think my last visit there would be as a seven-year-old.
During that final weekend at the cabin, I remembered my dad waking me up Sunday morning. Cambria, only three at the time, was asleep on her own twin bed across the room. My dad whispered to me to get up, get dressed, and not wake my sister.
My dad and I went outside, and the world was bright. It must have been Summer, because my memory didn’t cover the ground with any blankets or even patches of snow. I followed my dad up the hill behind the house, out into the woods. I stayed close behind him as he taught me the names of the trees we encountered on our walk.
It stuck with me—those trees and their names. Those trees, I could see in my mind clearly. To this day, I can identify almost any tree I come across in Washington state. Ponderosa Pines: tall, straight trunks, thin needles, bushels of pine cones. Douglas firs: full and fluffy, branches shooting toward the sky. Oak: wavy, barely symmetrical leaves, stout but strong.
And my dad’s favorite was cedar. Fragrant when you got near it. Bark that was a muted scarlet. Intricate leaves that reminded me of lace wedding dresses. I never had any trouble understanding why it was his tree of preference.
Lying in bed that morning as these images returned to me, I wondered how I could’ve forgotten about that morning in the woods with my dad. Maybe if he had kept the property, he and I would have shared more nature walks together like that one, more memories. Then again, maybe not. My dad was always so busy with work. And as Cambria aged, she would have undoubtedly been included in those walks, and then I would have resented her for stealing some of the attention.
Still, I remembered the names of those trees.
My alarm went off, inches from my face. I reached over and slapped the top of the clock to turn it off. It was time to get out of bed and get to work.
◈ ◈ ◈
Scrubs never really fit me right.
It was something that I’d noticed back in college, when I first had to start wearing them for clinical rounds. The first pair of scrubs I had ordered had been too big for me: they hung from my body limply, looking more like pajamas than work attire. After that, I tried going down a size, but then I found that they were too tight. The shirts would pinch me around my waist and shoulders, and the pants fit uncomfortably snug around my knees.
Now, a year after graduating from college, I was still experiencing the same problem. I had experimented with different brands, too, but nothing seemed to work. Ultimately, I had settled for the looser-fitting size. It wasn’t perfect, but this way, my movements weren’t so restricted as the days wore on.
“You’re back. Can you please tell Dr. Fowler that I can go home now? I feel just fine.”
My first patient I was checking on that day was a fifty-seven-year-old woman by the name of Tiffany Schneider. She had been in the hospital for a pacemaker procedure and was staying an extra day to be monitored, as she’d experienced surgery complications in the past. She was a little on, what my coworkers and I liked to call, the difficult side.
“Good morning, Ms. Schneider. Let me have a look at your vitals, then we’ll see about talking to Dr. Fowler.”
“It’s Mrs.,” she corrected me. “I’m a married woman, although I guess it wouldn’t appear that way, seeing as how my husband hasn’t been in to visit me.”
“I’m sure he will soon,” I said as I focused in on her monitors and electronic charts. Really, I had no idea if her husband would visit or not, but that wasn’t any of my business. I tried to keep a professional distance from my patients. Otherwise, I became too worried.
I worried all the time at this job, actually. I had to develop any strategy I could to dial down the stress. When I’d graduated from college the previous June, I had applied to all of the pediatric offices in town that were accepting applications. To my disappointment, I had not gotten any of those positions—not even any interviews for them. So, instead, I had taken the first position that came up at the hospital in Freya, and had been working on the cardiac recovery floor for almost a whole year.
I knew deep down that I was well-trained and qualified for this job. I had stepped up my game back in my college clinical rounds, and I’d learned a lot by doing so. On top of that, I had been doing this job for a decent length of time now, and I had helpful coworkers. Still, I worried. I worried that I would make a mistake. I worried that my patients would worsen instead of recover. I worried that I would be doing this job my whole life, worrying on an endless loop.
“Are you married? What is your name again?”
Turning away from the computer, I went to the whiteboard in the cramped room and wrote my name under where it said: Your nurse for the day is:
“I’m Drew. And no, Mrs. Schneider, I’m not married.”
“Oh? A boyfriend perhaps?”
I looked over at her. She was a stately woman. She had pale blonde hair with a subtle silver tinge to it, and she was wearing a pearlescent lipstick. She even wore a pair of small, diamond earrings, which was not something I was used to seeing on my patients. Her eyes were the only part of her that softened her appearance, tapering at the ends as though she were smiling (I had not actually witnessed her smile). She was sitting up in the hospital bed and was pretty talkative considering she’d just had a surgical procedure the day before. But, then again, she’d been talkative yesterday, too.
“No boyfriend,” I said. “You do seem to be feeling well today, don’t you?”
“Don’t patronize me, Drew. What I’m getting at here is that I think you should meet my son.”
I fought back a surprised laugh, instead just smiling at her.
“I don’t know about that, Mrs. Schneider. But I will let Dr. Fowler know how you’re doing. He should be here in the afternoon to see you. My guess is you will be going home later today.”
“I’d rather it be now. But fine. I’ll try to nap. Let me know if my neglectful husband shows up.”
My lunch break finally came at noon, and I met up with Chloe at a sandwich shop located halfway between the hospital and the Rite Aid. Walking into the small building, I tugged at my scrubs self-consciously, knowing I probably looked like a giant marshmallow in the loose, white material. When I looked over to the table where Chloe and I usually sat, I was surprised to see Cambria there, too. She and Chloe were sipping out of plastic cups and laughing.
“Hey, guys,” I said as I perched on a stool across from them. “Hey, Cam. Whatchya doing here?”
“My physics class was cancelled today.” She was talking through a crooked smile. Her makeup looked fresh and flawless, as always. “Seriously, best day ever. So, I thought I’d come join the cool kids for lunch.”