One
Sadie
The warm water rushes out of the showerhead in a steady stream, colliding perfectly against my aching muscles. Twelve hours at the hospital working the night shift has me unbelievably exhausted. It’s noon, and I haven’t had a chance to get to bed yet. I have one month left of school before I get my licensed practical nurse degree. I’m looking forward to graduating because school and studying will be eliminated, and I can fill that time with sleep and some semblance of a social life. I plan to work at the hospital for a year before going back to nursing school to get my registered nursing degree. My parents call me dedicated, and my best friend, Kate, says I wear the world on my shoulders and need a break. However, I still wonder if I am doing enough. Having a life while fulfilling my aspirations is a balance that I have yet to figure out. Alas, here I am still juggling life on a tightrope.
At some point, everything will fall into place. All the hard work, sleep deprivation, and time spent will pay off. Life is on track. But then, like that, the voice in my head that often places self-doubt, creeps in. Is it, Sadie?
There’s a tap on the bathroom door, followed by my mama’s voice.
“Sadie, I made lunch! And Kate called, she said she’s going to stop by soon. She said you didn’t answer your phone.”
“Thanks, Mama! I’ll be out in a few minutes,” I holler over the running water.
I’m sure we’re the only house left that has a landline. I often tease my parents about it. I remember I turned my phone off at the start of my shift, and realize I must have spaced on turning it back on. When I’m at work, it’s all I focus on—no distractions. Do I need to impress anyone? No, but I am a pathological people pleaser, so I do it by habit.
Portland General, the nationally renowned institution where I’m doing my LPN clinicals with Dr. Bailer, has offered me a full-time internship after graduation, and achieving this goal has been on my vision board ever since I started on this path. I’ve been working hard to get into the nursing program since before I even started school. Completing a successful internship is like trying to find a needle in knee-deep haystacks. The chances of getting in are slim, but I did it. No slipups can happen—not a 0.1 percent decrease in my grades, nothing. I have to make sure I stay focused on being the best at what I do.
I finish washing up, step out onto the fuzzy white bath mat, and towel myself off. Reaching for my plush white robe, I wrap myself up and band the towel around my wet hair. I open the door that leads me straight into my bedroom, where I’m met with my mother’s sweet smile. Her long brown hair is pulled up and out of her face, showing off her barely-there wrinkles and the blue eyes that resemble mine. I have my daddy’s blond hair, but my pouty lips and the light sprinkle of freckles on my nose and cheeks match my mother’s.
“Here are some freshly washed scrubs. How was your shift?”
Though I’m exhausted, it’s kind of her to ask, and I don’t want to send her away. I muster up enough energy to enjoy some small talk. Grabbing my moisturizer, I take a seat at the end of my bed.
“It was long. I got to help two gunshot victims. That was a first.”
“I remember my first time removing a bullet. I thought I was going to pass out. Nearly considered a career change.”
My mother’s Southern charm coats each of her words, and I can’t help the grin that widens across my face. I love the story of how my parents met, and had Mama changed her career, I wouldn’t be here.
My dad, Stanley, was an ER doctor in South Carolina while my mama, Raydean, had just graduated with her nursing license. Her first year of nursing was at the same hospital. They met soon after she started, and after a few rotations together, my dad knew he needed to marry her. She couldn’t say no to his gentlemanly ways and Southern charisma. My daddy really is a sweet man, with more patience than a saint, and he always trusts the good in people—giving them the benefit of the doubt, if you will. He’s the greatest example of a good man I’ve ever seen, and I hope to marry someone as profoundly kind as him someday.
Shortly after they started dating—three months after, to be exact—they got married, and within a year they had me. We stayed in South Carolina until I was fourteen. That’s when Mama was diagnosed with breast cancer. The memory feels as new to me as if I found out yesterday. Even though I’m nineteen now, and she has been in remission for two years, I still remember the fear and the pain we endured during that time.
We left South Carolina to come to Portland, where they have some of the best cancer treatment facilities. Between them and God, Mama was healed and continues to be in remission. My parents are highly religious, and while I wouldn’t say I’m as devout as they are, I lead my life with the morals that our faith teaches. It hasn’t steered me wrong so far.
“Surprisingly, that wasn’t the worst injury I’ve ever seen.”
“You don’t say,” she says matter-of-factly, putting my scrubs in the closet.
“Yeah. Hey, I can put that away. You should go relax.”
She’s too good to me. My parents decided she needed to quit working after her diagnosis, and even though she’s better now, she still tires easily (a disease like cancer takes a lot out of someone). At first, she hated not working, but now we think she secretly likes being the stay-at-home wife and mother.
For years, she was scared she would leave us and miss out on all the monumental moments in our lives, especially mine. But once she started staying home, the little things, such as cooking for her family and putting my laundry away, make her feel like she’s serving a greater purpose—at least, that’s what she says. Raydean McCallister is everything that serves a greater purpose. She’s the first to lend a hand, the first to open her home to a stranger, and the first to give the clothes off her back. All my life, I’ve tried to follow each step she has taken—another reason why I simply cannot get distracted and fail.
Sometimes, though, I’m only human, and it can be a bit much when your mother puts away your laundry and cooks your dinner when you’re an adult. Sometimes, I almost tell her the naked truth, but I understand the happiness it brings her to take care of us. Zipping my lips and giving gratitude to my mother is best for all of us.
“I’m not tired, and you just worked your little butt off. Get some rest. I told Kate that you were going to take a nap before she comes over. She said she gets off work at five, then she’ll be here. Dinner will be ready by then.” My mom walks up to me and cradles my face, looking me over with a prideful smile. “We’re so proud of you, baby.”
She kisses my forehead then leaves the room.
“Love you. Thanks, Mama.” I squeeze the words out before the door clicks.
I climb into my warm bed and let slumber not just take me but knock me out and pull me under.